#hands. the doctor wipes blood off her nose and her chin. tilts her head up and goes ‘aaa’ sticking his tongue out until she does it too.

[quietwingsinthesky]

in the amelia pond au, amelia’s aunt does still send her to therapy between doctor adventures, but since amelia is now secure in the fact that he’s Definitely Real since both rory and mels have also met him and because she lost a tooth last week from tripping on the stairs of the tardis, she doesn’t bite any therapists this time around. and besides, her therapist is a very funny lady. she reminds amelia of her doctor, with how her voice will flip and jump in volume and accent and tone on a whim, with how she’ll talk to amelia like they’re conspiring together. she keeps the pictures amelia draws of the doctor and their adventures for her, even hangs one or two on the walls. she listens very intently to every detail, which no adults in amelia’s life do save the doctor himself and river song, whenever she’s around. and best of all, whenever she tells amelia’s aunt that amelia is doing just fine, don’t you worry, she’ll grow out of this, she winks at amelia so that amelia will know her therapist is only playing along to wave away her aunt’s suspicion.

it is a little odd, though, that she insists on only being called Missy. but amelia is quite used to odd by now.

#not the point of this post but. please do imagine amelia and rory and mels and the doctor all having escaped from Real Actual Danger #rory has the energy of a cat with its fur all puffed up and looks like he’s either going to start crying or yelling at the doctor #mels is standing on the box the doctor got her so she could see the tardis console better and studying the way he flies it very intently #and amelia is still full of energy and adrenaline and can’t stop racing around the tardis like a hyperactive gerbil. because if she stops #she might have to be scared instead but if she can run long enough she’ll forget to be scared at all and when she collapses exhausted all #she’ll have left are the exciting happy memories #and then she misteps racing up the stairs. shouts! the doctor and mels and rory are all at attention immediately. mels moves first but rory #is closer and helps amelia back up. and then the doctor is crouching down in front of her. ‘let me see. oh that’s a lot of blood. that’s. #how much blood are you able to lose again? its more than this. probably.’ amelia’s whole face hurts. but the doctor’s rambling is familiar. #it helps. and he’s only so talkative when he’s sure he has a solution. besides. rory’s head’s nestled on her shoulder and mel’s got her #hands. the doctor wipes blood off her nose and her chin. tilts her head up and goes ‘aaa’ sticking his tongue out until she does it too. #and he tells her to feel her upper row of teeth with her tongue. she does until she finds the gap. #it still hurts. hurts more when she nudges it with her tongue all bleeding and raw. but she just lost a tooth! and you know what that means. #they have to find it. or else how will the tooth fairy leave her any money? #(the doctor hears her say that to mels as they search. and he glances off to the side and makes a note to go back and make sure it *was* her #aunt leaving her those coins. and not something else. which he does. and finds out her aunt wasn’t leaving her any coins at all. #he can’t just let that stand! so the doctor becomes amy’s tooth fairy as well.) #and that is how amelia loses a tooth on the tardis. #amelia pond au

[paperstorm]

wip wednesday

I was tagged by @inflarescent @alrightbuckaroo @birdclowns and @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

Season 3 of Missing Moments is in the initial phases baybee so have a scene I wrote at 4am while insomniatic and trying to dig into Carlos's mindset at the hospital. (does that low key count as self harm lol probably)

-

Carlos tugs his jacket tighter around his shoulders as he steps out into the still-falling snow thought the automatic sliding doors. He passes by others, concerned visitors braving the storm to visit their loved ones. The chill seeps quickly through his clothes and into his bones. Carlos has lived his entire life in Austin, he’s never felt cold like this. TK used to tell him about winters in Manhattan, about snow and sleet and the kind of cold that burrows into muscles and tightens skin and leaves a person with chattering teeth and lungs aching from inhaling ice crystals, but Carlos could only ever imagine it until now. It’s worse than TK’d described. But come to really think of it, the cold might not be the reason he’s having trouble gasping for a proper breath.

He finds a brick half-wall, a built in planter than in the summer months would be filled with flowers, and he sits onto it. It’s all he can do not to collapse onto the snowy ground. Carlos tucks his shaking hands into his own armpits, clenching every muscle in his body as his molars press together in a useless attempt to stop himself from bursting into tears. His eyes burn, his head pounds, his breath comes in uneven bursts through his nose.

It can, the doctor had said. Their chosen course of treatment can work, for someone in TK’s condition. She hadn’t meant it. Carlos may not be a medical professional like she is, he may not be the same sort of hero as her and Captain Vega and TK and Nancy, but he’s still a first responder. He still knows that dance. He knows intimately the mask of sympathy to wear and the tone of voice to adopt when the situation calls for kindly offering a grain of false hope to someone in a sand-dune of despair.

His shoulders shake. A woman with a teenaged daughter in tow crosses in front of him on their way towards the parking lot, and Carlos tucks his chin down against his chest so they won’t see the way his eyes are filled with tears.

It’s important to know when a thing is over, he’d said to Marjan, only hours ago before his world was tilted off its axis. Like the well-meaning but misleading doctor, Carlos hadn’t meant it. The mask he’s constructed out of his grief and anger and loneliness and heartbreak disintegrates right off his face and seems to crumble to dust at his feet. He wipes in annoyance and tears on his cheeks, that freeze to his skin almost as soon as they’ve spilled from his stinging eyes.

When to move on, he’d said. She saw through him.

Once upon a time, Carlos was a master of this deception. He built a home for himself constructed almost entirely in lies, in half-truths and secrets and pieces of himself given only on a need-to-know basis, and he wasn’t happy, but it was good enough. It was enough that his parents still invited him over for dinner. It was enough that his coworkers only speculated about his sexuality in private and to his face behaved at least cordially and professionally, even if behind his back they were sneering at him. It was enough that Michelle knew he was gay and accepted him for it, even if she was always too consumed with loss to ever really take an interest in Carlos’s wellbeing after Iris was gone. It was all enough, and then TK came along, and then it wasn’t. And Carlos’s ability to lie to himself so successfully burned up along with everything else he lost in the fire.

He never moved on, he’s still stuck right where he was the day TK walked out on him, and if he loses TK forever, Carlos can’t see a way to ever extricate himself from this spot.

He untucks his right hand, exposing his bare skin to the frigid air and reaching with trembling fingers into the pocket of his jacket for his cellphone. He’s been avoiding this very action for months, but Carlos hurts in every inch of his body as he sits here in the snow and considers a future in which TK is just a jumble of increasingly bittersweet memories and a gravestone he’ll never work up the courage to visit, he can’t avoid it anymore. He presses his thumb into Mama in his contacts and brings the phone up to his ear, choking on an inhale as his heart races while it rings.

“Carlitos,” she answers. “Hola, mi amor, are you keeping warm?”

Carlos vibrates. A miserable noise escapes from his throat and he quickly covers his mouth with his free hand, reduced to clawing back desperate sobs the very second he hears her warm, familiar voice in his ear.

“Carlos?” Andrea says sharply. “Mjio, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Carlos gasps and squeezes his eyes shut so tightly he gives himself an instant headache, rocking back and forth just slightly against the flowerbed as he fights to pull himself under control – or at the very least to wrestle back enough control so that he can stop scaring her.

“Carlos!”

“It’s not me,” he manages to force out, with a cough. “It’s TK.”

Andrea inhales. “What happened?”

“He was … there was a little boy trapped under the ice.” Carlos’s voice shakes but he pushes through it. “His team was trying to rescue him, and TK went into the water. I’m at the hospital, he’s … they’re saying he might not wake up.”

“I – might not why?” Andrea asks. She sounds so upset, and it only makes Carlos feel even more like he’s about to throw up on the sidewalk underneath his boots.

“Hypothermia. They’re trying, but …” He trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

“Oh, mijo,” Andrea sighs.

“I can’t …” Carlos sniffs and shakes his head. “I just wanted you to know.”

“What hospital?”

“Austin General.”

“Stay right where you are, I will be there in 30 minutes.”

“No.” Carlos sits up a bit straighter and shakes his head. A few fractions of the anguish fall away. He wipes at the tears on his face and new ones don’t replace them. “It’s dangerous, there are people sliding into ditches all over the roads and the first responders are all slammed. Stay where you are.”

“Carlos – ”

“I mean it,” he insists, kind but firm. “This is bad enough without me having to worry about you stuck in a snowbank somewhere the paramedics can’t get to you. Okay?”

She’s quiet for a moment and Carlos thinks she’s going to continue arguing, but she doesn’t. In a heavy, displeased voice, Andrea replies, “Alright. Keep me updated.”

“I will.”

“Te amo. I’m so sorry this is happening.”

“Thanks. I love you, too.” He sniffs again and ends the call before he can catch her response. If he hears her voice for one more second Carlos thinks he might break apart into a million pieces, and he can’t do that right now. He shoves his phone back into his pocket and stands, scrubbing hands over his face one last time to make sure it’s dry and then heading back inside.

Tagging @theghostofashton @strandnreyes @reyestrandd @heartstringsduet @bonheur-cafe @goodways @beautifulhigh @carlos-in-glasses @liminalmemories21 @redshirt2 @orchidscript @freneticfloetry @whatsintheboxmh @wtfuckevenknows

#wip wednesday #911ls fanfic #missing moments #paperstorm writes

[slenbee]

I posted 3,199 times in 2022

That's 1,325 more posts than 2021!

18 posts created (1%)

3,181 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@silverdrip

@izhunny

@sanshofox

@dirtychocolatechai

@plumadesatada

I tagged 92 of my posts in 2022

#strange supreme x reader - 4 posts

#<3 a wonderful job as always - 2 posts

#i love this so much - 2 posts

#hoh - 2 posts

#walter de ville x reader - 2 posts

#prompts - 2 posts

#bucky barnes x reader - 2 posts

#slothspaghettiwrites - 2 posts

#doctor strange - 2 posts

#strange supreme - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 76 characters

#i wish this every time i see or hear the creek across the road from my house

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

My baby boy Tony. He turned 8 this year. <3

6 notes - Posted November 18, 2022

#4

writing-prompt-s: “Nobody will hear you scream!” the serial killer said to their would-be victim. Too late did they realize that this also means that no one would hear them scream either.

pairing: Vampire!Bucky x Reader

warnings: blood, violence, blood drinking

length: eh, kinda short.

--------------- Your facade cracked, the terrified expression that you wore replaced by amusement. Your would be killer stared at you, completely taken aback as you covered your mouth to try and stifle a laugh. “You hear that babe?” You say with a playful crinkle of your nose. Your eyes flicker to the shadow moving behind him, your hand dropping to reveal your smile. “Nobody’s gonna’ hear him scream.”

A heavy metal hand clasped around the serial killer’s mouth, his head yanked to the side with enough force to snap his neck. Sharp fangs buried their way into his flesh, crimson nectar spilling past pale lips as they closed around the gushing wound. You stood, dusting yourself off as your super soldier drank his fill, his glowing eyes never leaving you. Leaning against the ally wall you bend down to rub at your ankle, a frown forming as it throbbed in pain. “Think I twisted something this time.” You comment, your eyes lifting as a muffled shout of pain escapes the killer’s throat the moment Bucky bit down even harder. It might not be your type of revenge, but hey, it was the thought that mattered. The knife that the killer held clattered to the ground, his body going limp in Bucky’s arms before he tossed the lifeless corpse to the side. “Scum like you don’t deserve to live in this world.” He spat, wiping his lips and chin off with the back of his hand. “So did you find out where he left the bodies?” The soldier sneered as the twisted memories of his victim danced through his mind. “Unfortunately.” “Better call Sam so he can alert the authorities.” Taking a few steps forward you wince and hiss at your ankle, only to find a pair of strong arms lifting you off your feet. “Sam can wait. First, I’m getting you home.” You smile, reaching up to wipe off a stray smudge of blood from his lips.Bucky tilts his head, kissing your fingertips. “Let’s go home, doll.”

29 notes - Posted November 9, 2022

#3

Ok, so.

I had the pleasure of seeing The Invitation (2022) about a week ago and since then a certain Mr. De Ville has been living in my head rent free. I’ve since seen the movie... two more times? And I’m honestly surprised there isn’t more content on this hellsite about it.

i just gotta talk about this for a moment:

SPOILERS and some ranting below the cut!

To me, the first 1 hour and 7 minutes of the movie was by far the best part of the entire thing. (That’s right before the ‘twist’ is revealed btw.) I’ve always been a sucker for vampire romance novels and knowing that the movie was- y’know, about falling in love with a vampire, was what left my monster-fucker lovin’ ass giddy and smiling in eagerness.

There was SO MUCH potential to be had before the big reveal. Specifically the scene after Evie’s nightmare where Walt arrives and stays with her until she falls asleep. He says this:

"i just...I just want to share all this, i want to enjoy this with. I'm tired of the facade, constantly keeping up appearances. Yes it's a grand life, but... It's isolating.

I want someone to see me for who i truly am. Doesn't try to change me into an idea, or a concept. An itch they need to scratch. Someone that accepts me. "

LIKE??? They drop this seriously sweet moment on us and honestly it makes me go feral. I know Walt ends up (spoiler!) being ‘Dracula’ and vampires = bad in this movie and all but gosh. He honestly deserved better by the end. If all of what he said was true even he deserves a break and someone who will love him for who he is.

Which is where fanfics and reader inserts come in! And my heart goes out to every single person in this tiny fandom who’s written something for it. I’ve thought about writing for Walt x Reader myself but I haven’t gotten that far yet. xD

tl:dr, He may not have found true love in the movie, but he’s found it in all of our hearts.

PS: there’s an alt ending if you didn’t know. (:

58 notes - Posted September 27, 2022

#2

83 notes - Posted July 7, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

122 notes - Posted October 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[aries-writingblog]

Whatever It Takes

Summary: When Sam gets injured on a mission, YN will do anything to fix her mistakes. While she worries about fixing Sam, Bucky picks up on her guilt. Picking up the pieces of herself she dropped in her frantic efforts.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2322

Warnings: panic/ anxiety, mentions of blood and character injury

AN: This was one requested by the lovely and wonderful @cherry-season who gave me so much inspiration to write! I hope I did it justice. Happy reading!! GIF is not my own, credit to original creator.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, threatening to break free of its skeletal cage. Anxious adrenaline flowed in her veins as she paced. Hand rubbing across the back of her neck, impatiently waiting for answers.

It had been an hour since she and Sam returned from their mission. The mission that went completely and horrendously wrong. It started off fine- it started normal. Then it got twisted in a way YN couldn’t even comprehend.

She had been watching his back. She always watched her partner’s back. So what went wrong? What went so off rails- what did she do? How could she have let this happen?

“Miss LN?” YN’s head snapped to the source of the noise. A doctor- still in their surgery gear. She took a shaky inhale, her nerves were decimated. “Why don’t you take a seat- just… try to relax a bit.”

“How- how, where is Sam? Is he okay?” She demanded, moving a step toward the doctor. The woman eased her backwards, gently settling her into a chair. Latex covered fingers pried in between her own glove covered hands. Unclenching the tightly wound fists she had created.

The doctor gave a small, apologetic smile. It quickly fell, giving way to a pressed line of condolence. YN’s stomach plummeted, nausea crawling across her organs. Turning her stomach. Bile rising in her throat. She knew that look. It was the one she had to give to victims when they weren’t going to make it.

“There’s been a slight complication.” She reported quietly, her gaze soft as she studied the agent before her. She was unraveling and quickly. Hands shaking, goosebumps raising on her arms.

“I don’t understand,” YN swallowed, throat aching as her nose burned. Eyes watering from unshed tears. Blurring her eyesight. She blinked them back roughly. “You said you would fix him- what complication?”

“Both kidneys were compromised during the mission- he made it here just in time for us to stabilize him but he is going to need a rapid organ donation to survive.” The doctor informed steadily, keeping her voice even and low. YN’s fingers curled again, trapping her hands between her own. The doctor didn’t blink, unfazed by the strength in her grip. “It’s a difficult task but we have everyone we can working on finding at least one quickly. It’s more complicated due to his blood type- we haven’t been able to find anything available nearby.”

YN sniffled, her nose stuffing up as water slipped down her cheeks. She bit down on her lip, hard enough to draw blood. The coppery taste coating her tongue.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. It had been an easy mission- what did she screw up? Why did it have to be Sam? It should’ve been her, she should’ve-

Her eyes snapped up, meeting the doctor’s concerned features. She could still do something. It wasn’t too late. YN released her hold, wiping across her face. Erasing the remnants of her distress. Her bottom lip trembled but she forced the sentence out anyway.

“What’s the type?”

“He’s O positive.” The doctor didn’t hesitate in a response.

A heavy weight began to lift from her chest, she swallowed back the rough, scratchy feeling in her throat.

“I’m O negative- does that work, can that match? I’ll give whatever he needs.” Her words tripped over themselves, rushing out. Any way to compensate. She was the one who got Sam hurt, she was responsible. She should clean it up.

The doctor’s face brightened almost instantaneously, her eyebrows lifting. Eyes wide.

“It can-“ She cut herself off, pulling YN to her feet. “We need to run a tissue sample test to make sure that you’re compatible. While it’s running, fill out the paperwork just in case.”

YN rushed after the woman, hurrying through the hallways. She could save Sam. The guilt burned in her chest, sinking to meet the rising anxiety in her stomach. Creating a turbulent, vile mixture of self loathing. It had to match… this has to work. Otherwise… she would forever be known as the person who killed Sam Wilson.

~~~~~~

The first thing she became conscious of was a tense pressure on her hand. Then came a muted, muffled noise. It was familiar, albeit distorted and distant. A small groan fell from her lips. In response, the pressure became more intense. A firmer hold. Her eyes blinked open slowly, her head felt light, as if it was floating a thousand feet above her body.

“There she is.” YN turned her head as far as possible, which wasn’t much distance, eyes cutting the rest of the way. She tried to clear her vision, blinking to wear the groggy remnants of sleep away. “How you feelin’?”

“Like shit.” She groaned, throat scratchy and dry. Bucky released his hold, standing to pour a glass of water for her.

“Well, it’s to be expected.” He sighed, stepping closer to her bedside. He grasped her chin gently, angling the lip of the cup to her mouth. Tilting the glass slowly, allowing her time to swallow the water down greedily. “Unlike a major surgery cause, there’s no need to tell the people you love you’re having surgery. Especially not if it’s emergent.”

YN’s lips quirked at the corners. She hadn’t really been thinking of anyone but Sam in the moment. It all happened so fast, the whole day seemed to have been but a blur in her memory. She couldn’t recall details, her thoughts crashed against a hazy wall as she glimpsed back.

“Sorry… didn’t really know what was happening until it did.” She spoke slowly, words felt like molasses on her tongue. Bucky didn’t seem to mind, gently brushing her hair back before returning to his previous seat at her bedside. He pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles, giving a quick squeeze of reassurance.

“I understand…” He told her, a soft smile playing on his features. There was a melancholy glimmer in his irises. They betrayed him, as usual. “I was just scared that you… left.”

All Bucky had received was a phone call from the medical wing. Just that he was written down as YN LN’s emergency medical contact and that she had been in surgery. Granted, it had mainly been his fault- he didn’t listen any further for more details. The phone dropped from his hand and he bolted from their shared apartment. Rushing frantically toward her. Panic sloshing, ripping into his chest. Shredding his last hopes of sanity as his thoughts raced.

YN moved her fingers up to his wrist, the bass of his heartbeat thumped prominently into her own body. In response, Bucky’s fingers curled over her wrist, searching for the same feeling. It was slightly weakened, her heartbeat, but it was there. She was alive. A gentle, sleepy smile appeared on her lips. Eyes almost closed again.

“I’m never leaving.” She promised, applying pressure to his wrist. Bucky returned the smile and the gesture, the knot of emotion in his throat unraveling in steady increments. Allowing him to breathe easier.

He reached over, tugging her blankets back up with his free hand. Over her torso in an attempt to contain some of the heat the flimsy hospital sheets provided. He sniffed, clearing his throat. Turning his face away from her view.

“Get some rest, daredevil.” Bucky instructed, sliding his chair closer. Head resting beside their entwined hands. His blue eyes twinkled with tears he had kept bottled away. All YN wanted was to reach over and brush them away but she felt unconsciousness creeping up from behind. Waiting to drag her back into the darkness. Her mouth wouldn’t open, tongue wouldn’t move. Her eyes drifted closed; her last picture was Bucky’s beautiful face resting beside her.

~~~~~~

Bucky sighed gently, curling closer into the warmth she provided. They couldn’t sleep like they used to. He was accustomed to wrapping around her like a vine, keeping her body close to him. The weight, the pressure and warmth, kept him present. Kept him calm. Even if he awoke in a panic, which had eased in the past few months, the feeling of YN’s figure pressed to his always seemed to relieve his frazzled, frayed nerves.

But now, after the surgery, he couldn’t hold her the way he wanted. He couldn’t provide the comfort he craved to give her. And she needed it. He wasn’t blind. Bucky knew exactly why she had rushed into that surgery. The blame that she had placed on herself was too vast. Much too heavy for her to bear alone.

So he tried to convey the comfort in other ways. Helping her to the bathroom and to the shower. Making her meals and sitting with her while she ate. Reading to her, going through as many pages as it took for her to fall asleep. Keeping her distracted from her bed rest. Bringing her presents, mostly just notes that Sam had written and asked Bucky to deliver.

Sam didn’t blame her. Especially not after she saved his life like she did. Bucky had visited when he woke up, explained the situation. How she felt, how it was eating away at her. And he couldn’t get out of bed yet- he was still being heavily monitored by the medical staff. So, for the past few weeks he had resorted to video calls and notes to her. An attempt to cheer her up. Bucky was relieved to see it was working.

“Buck?” YN’s voice was muffled by their shared comforter. He hummed in response, not fully committed to the idea of waking up. His senses were still slightly dull, lulled into submission by the warm body at his side. “Your arm is really heavy and I really have to pee.”

Bucky grunted, shuffling to slide his arm away from her hips where it had lain. YN shimmied over to the edge of the bed, groaning as she pushed her weight over the side. She stumbled, her hand pressed to the gauze padding on her abdomen. Bucky scrambled out of the bed, sheets tangling around his ankles.

“You’re not suppose to do it on your own.” He grumbled, his tone was sleep- laden. His eyes weren’t even fully open yet. YN scoffed, accepting his arm anyway. Together, they crept toward the bathroom slowly, most of her weight against his side. “You coulda asked, doll.”

“I can handle going to the bathroom by myself, Bucky.” YN insisted, her side glare was fatal. Eyes narrowed and full of frustrated fury. “You don’t have to wait on me hand and foot.”

“But I want to.” He replied simply, leaning against the doorframe, gazing into the bedroom to give her privacy. He didn’t need to, he had already been witness to every inch of her skin. Every mark on her skin, every freckle and scar. But he figured she would appreciate it none the less. Give her a controllable amount of autonomy. “I like doing it.”

It was the honest truth. Bucky reveled in the fact that every ounce of his attention was placed on her and her alone. He liked to care for her. He liked making her coffee and meals, helping her up and down. It was something he knew the old Bucky did often. The old Bucky took care of Steve when he was sick, and Steve’s mother when he could help. When his sisters were under the weather. It was something engraved in his bones: caring for those he loved. Providing comfort.

“It’s rotten work.” YN’s voice was quiet, the running water almost drowned the words out. But Bucky heard them. He turned slowly, giving her a hand towel to dry her hands. Her eyes were down, staring at the fabric between her fingers. Taking her time, hoping he would move past her sentence.

“Not to me,” Bucky responded. His fingertip brushed against her cheekbone, wisps of her hair passing through his fingers. He tucked them gently behind her ear before tilting her chin up. Persuading her watery eyes to meet his. He smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes portraying the overflowing kindness he couldn’t vocalize. “Not if it’s you.”

YN chuckled, a weak smile on her lips. Shaking her head, she carefully shuffled forward. Wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his chest. Bucky’s response was instant. Instinctively holding her delicately to his body. Molded against the other. He inhaled deeply, the smell of her shampoo overwhelming his senses. YN pressed closer, the swell of his chest was achingly comforting. His t- shirt soft against her cheek.

“What do you say, I steal a wheelchair and we go up to Tony’s floor. We can bribe his chef to make some of those pancakes with the…” Bucky’s nose scrunched, brows furrowing. His fingertips that had been tracing shapes on her back stilled as he wracked his brain. Mouth twisting with frustration when he came up blank. “What’s the… those color things, again?”

“Sprinkles?” She suggested, pressing her chin to his chest. He glanced down, their noses almost pressed together. Bucky grinned, leaning forward to smack a kiss to her nose.

“Those. How bout we get some of those and we can meet Sam for breakfast?” He asked, squeezing her hips lightly. She nodded, successfully distracted from her thoughts that had been rampant in her head.

“Can he eat those yet? Isn’t he on, like, a hospital diet or something?” YN inquired, wrapping her arm around his waist.

Bucky hummed, helping her hobble out of the bathroom. He had tried carrying her places but she vehemently disagreed. Claiming she would never get better if she didn’t exercise. Eventually, as always, she would get tired and most of her weight would be on him anyways. He didn’t mind it.

“That sounds like a Sam problem.”

“You’re ridiculous, James Barnes.” He grinned at her laughter. His fingertips digging into her side teasingly.

“It’s all for you, sugar. All for you.”

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james barnes x female reader #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x you #james barnes x reader

[nctsjiho]

Bloody Accident

warnings: mentions of blood and injury

❀ A little accident in the practise room becomes something a little more serious

The 10 members of NCT 127 had gathered in the practise room to prepare for their next Japanese release. They hadn’t recorded their songs yet, but the demo for the tittle track ‘gimme gimme’ served as good enough material to learn the choreography to.

The members were either sat down on the floor or standing up in their spots as the choreographer explained one of the moves the oldest member was struggling with. “Jump and then let go.” The choreographer said, putting emphasis on the order of the movements. Once Taeil finally understood he was asked to repeat it a few times. Though he was doing the moves right, something seemed a bit off. JiHo watched his every move until she realised how she could help him. “Oppa! I think I can help you. If you just-” As fast as she had stood up, was as fast as she was crouched on the floor again. Her hands covering her face when her vision becomes blurred.

“JiHo!” Taeil was immediately at her side checking up on her. The girl had stood up just as he threw his hands back powerfully to practise the aforementioned dance move, he had barely noticed her standing up and he definitely didn’t realise how close she was standing next to him. His hand had made contact with her face, in particularly her nose, with an incredible amount of force and now she was hunched over, most likely in so much pain.

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Quickly the other members gathered around asking her if she was okay and not in any pain - though it was pretty obvious she would be in pain after the loud sound the impact produced. “Yeah.” She mumbled, but had yet to look up or remove her hands from her face. “I hit you really hard, please let me check. I want to see if I didn’t do any damage.” Taeil hated the fact that he had to say that out loud. He feared for the worst. His head filled with desperate wishes that he didn’t break her nose or anything severe like that.

“I’m going to take a look now okay?” His voice wavered a little before he placed his index finger under the girl’s chin. He noticed how his finger felt slightly wet and - oh God - did he wish it were tears, but he was almost positive that it wasn’t the salty liquid he hoped for. He gulped and then pushed up her face, his other hand carefully pulling one of hers away. “Oh my God.” Jungwoo gasped as he saw the red stained palm of JiHo’s hand. More worried sentences filled the room but JiHo just waved her hand as a sign to tell the boys she was fine.

The choreographer had ran over with some tissues. He gently wiped her nose, holding it and slightly pushing on each side to check if it was broken or not. “I don’t think it’s broken JiHo, but it’s still bleeding a lot so let’s go to the hospital okay?” She nodded reluctantly and soon felt a hand on her waist to help her stand up.

JiHo finally decided to open her eyes for the first time since the initial impact, but quickly regretted it as a painful sting surged through her head. She stumbled a little but Yuta, who hadn’t let go of her waist yet, was there to stabilise her. “You sure you’re okay?” Taeil asked concern so visible in his eyes it made JiHo feel bad. If only she hadn’t been bleeding so much, everything would’ve been fine. Her eyes lowered towards the ground were she was confronted with the sight of the pile of bloodied tissues. “Oh my- Is that my blood?” Her words were slightly slurred as she pointed towards the tissues. Taeil nodded but lifted her head telling her to keep her head up since she still hadn’t stop bleeding from her nose. “Don’t worry about it.”

Blood had never been something to trigger JiHo. She doesn’t even get set off when someone throws up in front of her, but for some reason, whether it be the blow to her face or the fact she was sleep-deprived and suffering the beginning of a cold - or maybe even the combination of both - but this time the sight of blood had made her sick to her stomach. Yuta had brought his hand up to JiHo’s forehead to brush away her bangs and tilt her head backwards a little, but what he didn’t intend to happen was that the girl’s legs would give out from underneath her and without his second hand he wasn’t in time to completely break her fall. The girl heard a few frantic calls of her name, before her world became completely dark.

  JiHo’s eyes fluttered open and she was met with the sterile white walls of a hospital room. She looked around a bit until her eyes met the back of Johnny and Taeil’s heads. In front of them sat Mark with a clear view of JiHo. “Dude! You can’t just faint on us like that!” He stood up once their eyes met and walked towards her. The older boys, slightly startled by Mark’s sudden outburst, caught their breathes and walked up to JiHo as well.

“The doctor said that you’ll be fine, but you need a lot of rest and you were also dehydrated.” Taeil sounded almost disappointed, but more so worried. JiHo just looked at him knowing that if she were to apologise as she planned it would only be met with protest because she didn’t really have a reason to apologise anyway. She just felt bad that her poor health had paused practise for at least 3 of her members. “We’re practising for a comeback JiHo, you need to take better care of your body. Even though I’m the reason your nose started bleeding in the first place...” “It’s okay oppa, I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” She placed her hand on his giving it a gentle squeeze. “And besides, I think you got the move down now. It looked pretty decent. Besides the hitting me in the face part of course.” JiHo’s attempt to brighten the mood sent Mark and Johnny into a laughing fit and the oldest had to stop himself from cursing at the girl, but his hard look quickly turned to a smile.

Taeil then ruffled the girl’s hair, who tried her best to lean away from his hand feigning annoyance. ”You better get the bloodstain out of this shirt when we get back to the dorms, it’s one of my favourites.” He argued, pointing towards the stain on his white tee. “After you cook me dinner for almost breaking my nose.” She smirked at him and now the two were in a stare - more like glare - contest. “Okay! Enough, can we just call the nurse and get out here, Mark needs to go to the bathroom.” Johnny yelled causing the oldest and youngest to burst out laughing with Mark yelling at Johnny for throwing him under the bus like that. “Man, I’m never telling you anything anymore.”

#jiho.writings #nct 24th member #nct addition #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct reactions #nct imagines #nct female member #nct extra member #nct additional member #nct taeil imagines #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

[someonestolemyshoes]

Come to Me

This is my submission for @levihan-drabbles Trope Tuesday - I jumped firmly on the bandwagon and went with prompt #4: Injured/hurt Levi & caring Hange. Juuuust eeked inside the max word count, but I’ll take it! 

Warnings: This fic does contain some depictions of injury, nothing too graphic, but be aware if this is something that bothers you! 

**

“Who was it this time?”

Hange expected no answer. As such, they were unsurprised at receiving nothing but a grunt and a hiss as they pressed an alcohol-soaked swab to the apple of Levi’s cheek, where the flesh, feverishly red and swollen now, had split like a burst seam.

Only rarely did Levi disclose the particulars of his adventures, and never when prompted. Hange knew better than to press. It wasn’t their role to ask questions, but the silence quickly grew oppressive when left unattended, and Hange would much rather listen to the sound of their own voice than the stifling quiet.

“Do they at least look worse off than you do?” They asked, tilting Levi’s bruised jaw to angle him better beneath the hanging bulb. Levi gave another noncommittal grunt, this one accompanied by a shrug of his shoulder and a grimace that tugged at his bust lip. The forming scab cracked open, and a thin trail of blood dripped towards his chin.

He was quiet, tonight. Moreso than usual. It wasn't in Levi’s nature to divulge too much of anything, but he could be vocal, in his own way. Hange’s poking and prodding was most often met with a grumbled ‘mind your damn business’ or ‘keep your nose out of my shit’ and occasionally, when Hange was in a particularly obnoxious mood, ‘quit jamming your finger into my ribcage’.

There was none of that now. Levi remained perplexingly silent while Hange disinfected the open wounds on his face and knuckles, cleaning smeared blood and palpating the joints, checking the swollen flesh for signs of damage they couldn't hope to fix in their parents' tool shed.

This had been their routine for a little while, a semi-regular occurrence since the first night Hange had found him crumpled over a bench in the park, sucking wet breaths through his teeth and trying in vain to stem the blood flow from a yawning gash on his arm. He had colourfully refused Hange’s offer of calling him an ambulance, and had vehemently denied that he needed to see a doctor, but he had eventually resigned himself to at least allowing Hange to help however they could with the first aid kit in their kitchen and what little medical knowledge they had absorbed from their mothers medical journals.

He had been a relative stranger to Hange, then. They’d seen him around sometimes, in school corridors between classes, or in the lunch hall, or around the back of the science block, where Hange had caught glimpses of him sparking up or stubbing out a cigarette, but besides these sporadic sightings, Hange's knowledge of Levi came only from whispered rumours.

The rumours, more than anything, made Hange worry that this was not a solitary incident.

“Just come to me,” Hange had said, as they'd finished wrapping the bandage around his wounds. “If you need help again. I kinda like my evening walks, and I think it’d ruin my night if I found you dead next time.”

In truth, Hange hadn’t expected him to take their offer seriously at all. Shocked as they were to see him turn up bloody and bruised at their window, they had stayed true to their word. Levi had tolerated their needling questions with surprising resilience, but eventually acquiesced to give some vague answers when Hange had suggested that he might be involved in something highly illegal.

“You’re in a gang,” they’d said.

“Like hell.”

“Selling drugs?”

“You think I’m stupid?”

“I got it—human trafficking."  

“For fucks sake, four-eyes! I’m not—no, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Hange had accused him of every offense under the sun, but as it had turned out, there was nothing so terrible, nor so immoral or unlawful, about Levi’s affairs.  

“I just get in fights, sometimes. I live in a rough neighbourhood. Tensions are high, people snap easy.”

“Do you? Snap easily, I mean.” Levi had given her a noncommittal shrug.

“Depends,” he had said. “Whether something’s worth snapping over.”

Hange had never asked what held that kind of wealth, for Levi. He had a deceptively calm aura about him whenever Hange saw him in passing; a little grumpy perhaps, with his thin eyes and drawn brows and pouted lips, but he never exuded the crackling energy of a bomb ready to explode.

Now, though, he seemed stormy. There was an intermittent twitch in his jaw where the muscle bunched and flexed. Despite Hange's close proximity, sitting with their knees tucked between his splayed legs, his gaze remained resolutely fixed somewhere over their shoulder. His freshly bandaged fists rested clenched atop his thighs. There was a pallor to his skin, the sickly hue of it exacerbated by the fluorescent glow from above them; the angle of the light deepened the shadows beneath his eyes and in the hollows of his cheeks. He looked, if possible, more sullen than Hange had ever seen him.

Perhaps more tenderly than intended, Hange smoothed their thumb over the last steristrip on Levi's cheek. Something in the softness of the action must have caught his attention, for he drew his gaze towards Hange's face for the first time since turning up tonight. Hange tilted their head at him.

"Are you okay?"

Levi scoffed. "Do I look okay?"

No, Hange thought. You never do. "You've looked better."

"I'm fine."

Hange fought the urge to roll their eyes.

"Like pulling teeth," they mumbled. Levi shot them a look, something petulant and withering. Hange poked their tongue out at him, and winced when he aimed a kick at their ankle.

"Stop being difficult," Levi said. Hange looked at him incredulously, chest swelling and cheeks puffing with indignation. Levi was watching them calmly now, his brow quirked, and Hange felt the futility of arguing with him before they even began. Instead, they blew out a long, calming breath, and began packing the first aid supplies back into the kit.

Silence swelled between them, broken only by the crinkle of plastic as Hange, perhaps with more force than necessary, jammed spare wipes, swabs and bandages into place.

For once, Levi broke it.

"Oi, Hange."

Hange, not looking up from repacking their first aid kit, huffed loudly, and tried their best to ignore him. In the end, though, curiosity won out. "Mm?"

"If—" Levi began, then cut himself off with a harsh huff, and ticked his tongue against his teeth. "If anyone bothers you. Come to me, okay?"

Hange looked up at him, surprised. Levi wasn't looking at them, head turned away and eyes cast down towards the floor.

They weren't friends, exactly. Outside of their strange arrangement, they never really spoke to one another. Hange had, once or twice, caught Levi watching them with a curious expression on his face, but he never spoke to them in public. Hange was mostly at ease with the whole thing. There was an itch of intrigue they longed to scratch, but Levi's responsiveness to questioning had already made itself well known. Excluding their meeting in the park, they had never shared a single word with one another beyond the confines of the tool shed. Why, then, would Levi expect Hange to approach him anywhere else?

"Why would anyone bother me?" It was an earnest question, but Levi met their questioning gaze with a scowl. He opened his mouth with the kind of frustrated ferocity that preceded an argument, then closed it again, and huffed through his nose.

"I heard some things," he said. Hange said nothing, only blinked openly at him, and Levi was pressed to fill the silence. "Someone saying shit. About you."

Hange's brows lifted towards their hairline. "Oh?"

Levi scuffed the toe of his boot over the floor, face twisted in a sneer. Hange found it difficult to tell where his disgust was aimed; at whatever conversation he had overheard, or at himself for bringing it up.

Hange shuffled forward in their chair, one of their knees bumping against the inside of Levi's thigh. His eyes flickered down to the point of contact, then up to Hange's face. Hange nudged his leg harder.

"C'mon, you can't say that and not tell me."  

When Levi showed no signs of budging, Hange sat up straighter and folded their arms over their chest. "At least tell me who."

Levi rolled his tongue between his cheeks, deliberating. His gaze flitted over Hange's face as though he was hoping he might find something reflected in it. Whether he found what he wanted Hange didn't know, but after a long moment, he slumped back in his chair and crossed his arms to match Hange, and said, with no absence of venom, "Zeke."

Ah. That at least explained some of Levi's seething. He and Zeke had a history. Hange was unclear on the details, and much of the story was based on rumours passed down in hushed whispers, morphing with each new retelling, but what was clear enough was that the two disliked one another. On Levi's part, it was all clenched fists and frosty glances, while Zeke carried himself with a mix of smug satisfaction and barely restrained resentment.

Still, Hange found it hard to believe that Zeke would have anything too terrible to say about them. Their communication had been inconsequential at best—he had an air of self importance that Hange found a little grating, and an overconfidence in his own opinions, but the handful of instances in which they'd spoken to one another hadn't been unpleasant. Hange told Levi so, and watched with interest as a hint of colour rose in his cheeks and his frown deepened.

"He's a creep," Levi said. Hange's brows arched even higher.

"What, did he threaten me?"

Levi said nothing.

"Is he gonna beat me up?" Still nothing. "Did he call me ugly? Say I smell bad?"

"You do smell bad."

"Did he perv on me?"

Levi's response was both fascinating and telling. He tensed visibly, spine snapping straight, fingers curling tight into his palms—even his thigh, still resting against Hange's knee, clenched hard. Hange's grin widened.

"Jackpot," they said. Levi curled his lip

"Well, I'm honoured by your chivalry, Levi. But you didn't have to pick a fight with him just because he thinks I'm hot. It's kinda flattering, you know?"

"He doesn't even mean it," Levi said harshly.  "He's just saying it because I—" but Levi cut himself off again, sharply, and pressed his lips into a thin line. The forming scab tugged, threatening to tear anew.

"Because you what?"

But Levi had had enough. He stood quickly, barely avoiding the low hanging bulb, his chair scraping back with a clatter. The new angle of the light cast his nose and brow into deep shadow, and illuminated his cheeks with a bright glow—despite the washed out look the light gave his skin, Hange could see twin strips of pink on either cheek.

"Thanks," he said. Hange blinked owlishly up at him, their mouth open. They wanted to press him, demand he finish saying what he'd started—and perhaps they would have, perhaps this time, curiosity would win out, and Hange would succeed in wrestling an answer from him for once, but he didn't give them the chance.

He ducked around the bulb and moved to brush past Hange's chair and out the door. Beside them, he stuttered in step and paused; Hange thought—hoped—that perhaps he might be debating telling them the full story. He opened his mouth, and closed it again, opened, and snorted quietly to himself.

Then he raised a bandaged hand, and ruffled it into the messy hair atop Hange's head.

"Thanks," he said.

And before Hange could speak, could move, could do much of anything but stare ahead in shock, Levi had gone.

**

If, come the following morning, Hange was at all surprised to see the cuts and bruises colouring Zeke's face—a rather delightful collage of red and purple, black, and blue—they hid it very well.

Levi's self-satisfied smirk was far less subtle.

#levihan #screams in exhausted #my schedule the last two days has not been conducive to writing anything ghjhg #they're supposed to be in like high school but I do not have the brain power to make it more obvious #snk #my writing

[cacoetheswriting]

if we made it - spencer reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Warnings: blood/gore, mentions of injuries etc., explosion, (usual cm stuff tbh), other than that just fluff Word Count: 1.5k Request By: anonymous: “can you do a spencer reid x fic where one or the other gets severely hurt??”

-

The sound of wailing sirens in the distance caused you to slowly open your eyes. Agonising pain coursed through your aching body. The damage you sustained in the explosion was quite severe. Left arm was definitely broken, a deep laceration spread across your torso oozing blood, blood also gushed down your forehead and cheeks. Your right hand moved to your face in a desperate attempt to identify the wound but the sudden movement only caused you to wince in misery.  

“Sp-pencer...” You managed to croak. “Spencer.” Gently you tilted your head from side to side analysing your surroundings. It was hard to see through all the heavy smoke, not to mention the throbbing sting from your head wound. You called out his name again a little louder but there was no response. 

Carefully you managed to sit up. That’s when you spotted the young doctor; laying motionless about ten feet away from you. “Spencer. No, no.” Panic overcame you. Despite the ache of your injuries you tried to stand. From experience you knew you were losing too much blood yet you ignored your better judgement and limped your way towards him.

“Spencer.” His name rolled off your tongue once again as a mere whisper. There were now tears in your eyes. You sat beside him, your whole body shaking. He didn't seem to have any major visible injuries apart from a few cuts and bruises here and there yet he was still unconscious. 

“Help! HELP!” The screams were tiring you out.

You fumbled through the pockets of his FBI jacket in search of his phone, since yours was in the car when it exploded, whispering ‘It’s gonna be okay Spencer’ over and over again. Luckily the device seemed to be working just fine and you managed to dial for help before dizziness completely overcame you and everything went black.

ABOUT SIX HOURS AGO

“So let me get this straight.” Emily stated curiously. “We’re now thinking this was arson? That we’re dealing with an arsonist?” She glanced between the team and sighed. “Couldn't this guy still be a pyromaniac like we profiled?” She enquired further.

It was Spencer who spoke next. “Pyromania is an impulse control disorder characterised by the pathological setting of fires. Interestingly enough most acts of arson are not committed by pyromaniacs.” “Of course they’re not.” Emily muttered under her breath and leaned back in her chair. This made Rossi snicker under his nose. 

Spencer continued: “A person with pyromania doesn't set fires for gain, ideological reasons, to express anger or for vengeance.” “By that definition they certainly don’t set fires to cover up another criminal act which we’ve now learned is what happened in this instance.” JJ chimed in. Spencer nodded.

“We have to relook at the whole profile.” Hotch stated. He proceeded to divide the team and assigning them various tasks. As usual you were paired with Spencer - not that was ever a reason to complain. 

As the rest of the BAU members scattered, Spencer got to his feet and walked up to the bulletin board. He turned back around to look at you. “Are you okay? I know arson cases are hard on you.” You tilted your head up to meet his gaze and smiled softly. “I’m okay Spencer.” He nodded and turned his attention to the map, your eyes still glued to the back of his head.

The rest of the afternoon flew by in a blink of an eye. Before you realised the sun outside had set and the sky now glistened with a million little stars. A small yawn escaped your mouth, The faint moan caught Spencer’s ear and he turned his attention from the map to you. “Coffee?” He raised an eyebrow. “Bed.” You replied with a soft giggle. Spencer smiled and looked at his watch. “Well we have been up for almost eighteen hours.” 

You looked back at the scattered papers on the table in front of you. It was no use to continue this tired. “On second thought, coffee does sound good.” You got up from the table and headed for the door. “Would you like one?” “Please, with creamer and suga-” “Sugar, I remember.” Spencer smiled and watched you walk out of conference room. 

The young doctor followed you with his gaze. He couldn't help but notice how incredible you looked lately. If he was being honest you were always beautiful, but lately it was as of he paid attention to it more. He did not realise until now how when you smiled your whole face lit up, how your eyes glistened. How your hair perfectly fell around your face complimenting your jawline. 

Maybe one of these days he'd have the courage to ask you for coffee outside of work, on a date. “One of these days.”, he thought to himself and looked back at the map. 

You waltzed back in shortly with two coffees in hand. “I’m just off the phone with Hotch.” You began whilst handing Spencer his drink. “Everyone is heading back to the hotel, we’re gonna pick up tomorrow morning.” “Would you like to go too?” He enquired. “If the hot chocolate instead of coffee in your cup isn't clue enough.” You joked, hoping he'd laugh. He did. 

Spencer got behind the wheel, like he always did with you. He waited for you to get settled in before starting the car. Click. “Did you hear that?” “No.” You looked around for the source of the noise and decided it was just your mind playing tricks. 

About ten minutes into the drive back to the hotel - click. “Okay you must have heard it this time?” You furrowed your eyebrows confused. Click. Click. That’s when you knew what was coming. 

You locked eyes with the young doctor. Panic. 

Before either of you could react there was an enormous explosion. A rift of orange flame engulfed the vehicle. Windows shattered. Smoke and fire rushed in. You blacked out. 

The ringing in your ears brought you back to reality. White. All you could see was white. You blinked a couple of times; until the hospital room came into a clear view. Someone grabbed your hand.

“You’re awake.” The voice you knew all too well. “Spencer...” His name rolled off your tongue with such ease it made your heart skip a beat. “Spencer you’re okay.” Your hands travelled to his face, surprisingly he did not flinch. Instead he shifted in his spot closer to you. 

“How? How are you sitting here right now? You were unconscious and yo-ou were-n’t-t breathing and-d-” There were now tears in your eyes. Your chin began to tremble. 

Spencer squeezed your hand tighter. “The doctors checked me out and I’m all good, just some bruises.” He reassured, his voice soothing. He wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumb. 

There was a brief moment of silence in which the two of you simply looked into each others eyes. The young doctor cleared his throat. You bit your bottom lip, your heart now in your throat. 

“You should rest.” Spencer consoled. “I’ll be right outside in the waiting room getting some work done.” “You can work from here.” You said almost too quickly. “I mean-” “I’ll stay.” A smile spread on your face from cheek to cheek. It made Spencer smile. 

The young doctor watched as you leaned back in your pillow. His mind was racing at this point and he couldn't pinpoint one thought, which was something he didn't experience often. What he did know however was that the two of you were lucky to be alive. “It was a gas explosion.” You wanted to interrupt but he continued. “As gas explodes, it produces a powerful shockwave that surges away from the ignition point. This blast, and the heat radiated from the combusting gas, are extremely dangerous.” 

“I’m not sure where you're going with this Spencer.” “In most gas explosions, the heat of the blast is hard to escape, because it radiates in all directions.” He took a deep breath. “We survived and it doesn't make sense to me.” “Spencer, not everything in the world has to make sense.” “This should.” 

You wish you knew what to say - you usually did. Instead you reached for the folder on your lap and began going through the file. Work. Work always helped him. He of course knew what you were doing and in that moment it brought everything into perspective.

“Y/N?” “Yes?” “Would you like to have coffee sometime?” “We have coffee all the time at work.” You joked. “Well then would you like to have coffee sometime outside of work. I would like to take you on a date.” Your eyes darted from the papers in your lap. “A date?” “A date.” 

There was nothing to think about. No hesitation. “I would love to have coffee with you sometime Spencer.” The young doctor beamed at you. “Only took us almost dying for you to ask me.” You teased. “Better be some really good coffee.” “The best coffee you’ve ever had.” Spencer replied. Gently, he lifted your hand to his lips and kissed it softly. 

-

masterlist

#criminal minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #CRIMINAL MINDS FANDOM #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fluff

[doyumacy]

𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐘 — 11

pairing: taeyong x doyoung x reader

warnings:「dotae x reader, polyamorous relationship, mentions of blood, using of weapons such as gun and brass knuckles, character death, smut (oral f. and m) (threesome) (anal sex) (unprotected sex) (use of handcuffs) (m/m sex) 」

word count: 「 5,5 k 」

Doyoung shakes his hand after removing the brass knuckles. They’re red and swollen. They’re broken for hitting Jackson’s face at least five times. Doyoung turns to Jackson and there’s a gash along his right cheek, which won't stop bleeding. His lips are bleeding and he lowers his head, panting.

Jackson is seated in a metal chair and his hands are tied to it, which makes Doyoung bend down to his height and tilts his head. “Tired already? We just started.”

“Keep this energy, Doyoung. You have a funeral to throw,” Jackson says between

his teeth, and then spits out, saliva mixed with blood.

And just like that, Jackson feels the crack of Doyoung's brass knuckles against his cheekbone.

There’s a new broken blood vessel spreading along the smooth skin of Jackson's upper cheekbone and over the side of his nose. Jackson laughs, throwing his head back. "Hit me as much as you want, it won't bring her back."

Doyoung groans and is ready to throw another fist when Ten grabs his arm. “Don’t. He is just provoking you. You gotta be smarter.”

“Yeah, listen to the short one,” Jackson mocks.

Doyoung takes a deep breath and stares at Jackson; jaw aches, almost like it does when you have a cavity so deeply rooted that it turns your gums black. Gums that are inflamed and bleed when picked. He tastes the metallic bitterness on his tongue, but it was from his nose.

Doyoung wants to end him so bad, but he needs to know first if you're okay. If Taeyong managed to take you out of the water before it was too late.

“I’ll be right back,” Doyoung tells Ten and he nods.

Doyoung exits the small warehouse pulling out his phone. He calls Taeyong. “Tae?”

“Oh, God,” Taeyong sighs relieved. “You’re okay. I was so worried.”

“I am, it’s okay, honey,” he says. “How’s y/n??

“She’s okay, she’s getting some warm intravenous fluids to help warn her blood and is resting now,” Taeyong runs a hand through his hair. “Doctor said if I had been 5 minutes late, she wouldn’t have made it.”

Doyoung feels like a big amount of weight has been lifted from his shoulders. You are okay.

You are alive.

He holds onto the door, ducking his head trying to quiet a sob, tears streaming down his and he nods as if Taeyong is watching him. “Doyoung? Babe? You’re still there?”

“Yeah,” Doyoung says with a crackly voice. “I just… please take care of her. Don’t leave her alone, you know she hates hospitals.”

“I won't,” Taeyong says. “Babe? Are you okay?”

Doyoung stands straight again and wipes his face. “Yes. I’ll be there in a few hours, okay? I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Taeyong gives a shy smile. “And Doyoung?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t kill Jackson. Let Ten take care of it,” Taeyong asks him.

Doyoung sighs. “Okay.”

Doyoung goes back inside the warehouse and places the brass knuckles on the table. Jackson smirks, looking at him. “Giving up already?”

Doyoung scoffs and smiles, squatting down in front of him. “I came to the conclusion it’s not worth it to stain my hands with your blood.”

“That’s why, here my friend Ten will do it,” Doyoung turns his face to Ten, who’s already loading a gun. “A head shot sounds very pleasing right now.”

Doyoung steps aside when Ten stands in front of him and raises the gun to the level of Jackson's forehead. Jackson's eyes widen and he begins to fidget in his chair desperately. "Wait! Don't do it, and-I'll talk to the police. I'll turn myself in.”

Doyoung ignores him and Ten takes his silence as a no. Ten pulls the trigger and the warehouse is filled with a very sharp and loud sound.

(...)

Waking up to rhythmic beeping and the steady flow of air through a tube is something you never thought you would go through again.

You open your eyes to a white ceiling, your eyelids are heavy, threatening to close again as she gathers the strength to look around, and your chest feels tight. Pain racks your body as she cranes your neck to look around.

There is an EKG machine next to you and an intravenous drip that you assume is attached to your arm. You also wear an oxygen mask.

You spot Taeyong sleeping uncomfortably on a chair next to your bed, he has his arms crossed against his chest and head almost hanging. You glance to the other side and see Doyoung also sleeping on the small couch.

How long has it been since you arrived at the hospital? Days? Weeks?

Your head hurts and one of your hands reaches to your forehead and you whimper when one of your fingers touches your stitches.

You try to slide a little on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position and you let out another whimper. Your whole body aches.

It seems that Taeyong notices your last whimper and he wakes up almost jolting. He stands up and places himself next to you. "What is it, baby? Do you want me to get the doctor?"

You shake your head. "I'm f-" you clear your throat a few times. "I'm just thirsty."

Taeyong nods and presses a button calling a nurse. The nurse enters the room with a pitcher of water and two glasses. She checks on your vital signs and after updating the chart, she announces the doctor will arrive soon to finish checking on you. You nod as you slowly drink water.

Doyoung wakes up and he places a kiss on your forehead carefully. He rests his hand on the back of your head and looks at you. "Are you sure you feel alright?"

"I wanna go home," you almost whisper.

"Soon, baby," Taeyong holds your hand and looks at Doyoung, then he eyes his bruised knuckles.

Doyoung puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans, hiding them. The less you know, the better.

The next morning you’re discharged but the doctor tells you still have to rest and stay in bed for at least two more days.

You’re laying in the bed trying to find something to watch on Netflix but everything looks boring. You sigh turning off the tv and place the remote on the bedside table. You’re bored, sore and upset.

Upset at Doyoung that he hasn’t talked to you since the hospital. He’s avoiding you.

Again.

If he wants to break up with you just needs to say it, why bother and stay around and when he clearly doesn't have any intentions?

You roll on the bed, hugging a pillow closing your eyes. You hear someone opening the door and ignore it. They might think you’re sleeping.

By the steps, you can tell it is Doyoung. He walks to the bathroom and after a few minutes, he leaves the bathroom and walks towards the bed. He leans down a bit and places a kiss on your temple.

As he walks to the door to leave the room, you open your eyes. “Will you finally stop bullshiting around and talk to me?”

Doyoung holds the knob and gulps. He finally turns and stares at you. “Not now.”

You roll your eyes. “Just… break up with me already.”

Doyoung frowns. “What?” He walks towards the bed again. “What would I break up with you?”

“You had been ignoring me for days before the accident and you’re still ignoring me,” you state. “If you don’t want to have kids with me or ever just say it.”

Doyoung bites his lips and giggles a bit. You glare at him. “What 's so funny, Doyoung?” You almost groan.

He shakes his head and smiles looking at you softly. “Of course I want to have a family with you, y/n.”

“Then why do you act all weird?!” You glance at him.

Doyoung sits on the edge of the bed and rests one of his hands on your legs. “Because I’m scared.” He looks you in the eye. “Starting a family never crossed my mind before meeting you. I didn’t have the best dad imagine growing up so I don’t think I’m capable of raising a kid.”

You growl, sitting on the bed. “Now I’m the one being a dick.”

He nods looking at you and then laughs slightly. “When I saw you holding Aera that’s when I knew, but I also got even scared because I think I won’t be a good dad.”

“Doyoung,” you say softly, holding his hand, ignoring the bruises on his knuckles. “You won’t make your dad’s mistakes. You’re different from him. You should not reflect yourself on his actions.”

Doyoung presses his lips together and looks at you. “I am not that different.”

Doyoung barely speaks about his father, and the time he spoke about it, it made him vulnerable and hurt.

His dad was involved in a drug cartel and left him and his mom when he was seven years old. He still remembers the scene, coming back from school, seeing mom crying in the living room and his dad standing next to her holding a suitcase. Doyoung’s dad didn’t even say goodbye to him and left.

A year later, he was arrested.

“Doyoung,” you begin, cupping his face. “You know what makes you different from him?” Doyoung’s eyes dart to you. “You would never let your greediness step above from those who you love. That is what makes you different.”

Doyoung lowers his hand and rests it on your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you play with his hair. “Next time try talking to me, okay?”

Doyoung nods and places a kiss on your shoulder. “There’s something you need to know.”

“Is it about Jackson?” You inquire.

Doyoung goes back to his last position and nods, looking you in the eye. You shake your head. “Then I don’t want to know. Whatever happened to him I don’t want to know. He deserved it.”

Doyoung takes a deep breath and cups your face kissing you. “I love you. So much.”

“I know you do,” you smile and kiss him back. “Call Taeyong. Let’s make love tonight.”

Doyoung chuckles. “As much as I want to make love to you both we can’t. You’re still not fully recovered and I don’t want to hurt you.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ve been sex deprivaved for days. It’s enough.”

“You can take a few more days,” he rubs your chin.

You groan. “That’s rude.”

He hums in response and gives you a peck on the cheek. “You want something to eat?”

“Pizza,” you smile. “Spinach and pesto pizza, please.”

Doyoung nods standing up from the bed. “Oh! Also, some roasted asparagus with bacon.”

“You’re pregnant already?” He mocks.

“Yes, and you better hurry up or the baby will have an asparagus face.”

Doyoung laughs. “I’ll be right back.”

Doyoung goes downstairs and spots Taeyong going to the kitchen. “Babe?”

Taeyong turns. “Yes?”

“y/n wants her favorite.”

“Oh,” Taeyong nods. “Did you guys finally talk?”

Doyoung nods. “She kind of scolded me.”

“I mean, you sort of deserved it,” Taeyong shrugs.

Doyoung nods. “She also wanted to have sex.”

Taeyong giggles. “I get her. I’m horny too.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Am I the only one not thinking with his second head?”

“Oh come on, honey,” Taeyong scoffs. “I heard you this morning jacking off in the bathroom.”

Doyoung blushes and Taeyong laughs. “I relieved some tension.”

Taeyong hums. “You know, I’m still here.”

Doyoung bites his lips. “Why don’t you order the food and see what we can do while we wait?”

“But you need to keep it down,” Taeyong kisses him. “Or y/n will get upset.”

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “You’re the one who’s very vocal.”

Taeyong chuckles and his lips goes down Doyoung’s neck.”We’ll see.”

Taeyong hovers closer and leaves a warm kiss on Doyoung's lips, as Doyoung responds back with his tongue swerving inside.

Taeyong lest out a deep moan when Doyoung is so immersed into kissing him. Taeyong pauses the kiss, and breathes heavily, noses still in contact.

"The office, now?" Doyoung panting, still from their kissing session.

Taeyong locks the door, and he holds Doyoung by his waist. Taeyong looks straight into his eyes, making him spill his intentions.

Doyoung gives his own lips a quick lick, giving Taeyong a demanding look. Taeyong chuckles and kisses him again. "You're so needy today, honey."

"I am horny," Doyoung spits back and nips at his lip. "Bend me over the desk."

"Yes, you're very horny," Taeyong unzips his pants. "You never let me fuck you."

"And I won't if you don't shut up," Doyoung clenches his jaw, undoing his belt.

Taeyong giggles and grabs Doyoung by his hips. He turns him around and bends him over the desk.

By the time Doyoung is doing his pants, he hears the ringbell and smiles. “Just in time.”

Taeyong sits on the big black chair and hands him a $50 bill. “For your services, honey.” He jokes and Doyoung laughs.

“It’s more than $50 buck, I ain’t that cheap, Lee,” Doyoung takes the bill.

“If you give me head next time I’ll think about it,” Taeyong smirks.

(...)

“You two bitches had sex,” you say after you swallowed your piece of pizza. Doyoung and Taeyong look at each other. “And before you ask how I know it’s pretty obvious. Doyoung gets his cheeks all red and Taeyong’s lips are literally smashed.”

Doyoung and Taeyong slightly laugh and you groan. “This is unfair! I’m horny too!”

“Baby, we’ll do anything you want when you feel better,” Taeyong smiles at you.

“I feel better now,” you grin.

Doyoung shakes his head. “Doctor said no sudden moves for at least five more days. You know we ain’t soft, love.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine, but you know what this means right?”

Taeyong frowns. “No, what does it mean?”

“War,” you smile big.

Doyoung chuckles. “Love, it’s not that deep.”

“Yes it is,” you squint your eyes. “You’ll beg me eventually to stop.”

The next morning, Doyoung wakes up to a high-pitched sound. He rolls on the bed and opens his eyes. He gulps at the scene, you have your eyes closed, biting your lip and fingers between your folds. You let out another small moan and arch your back a little.

It 's not fair.

You keep fingering yourself when you feel Taeyong rolling on the bed as well and he groans. Doyoung rests a hand on your thigh and you yank it off. “No touching.”

“Love,” Doyoung clenches his jaw.

When you reach your climax, you run two fingers through your dripping pussy and take them to your mouth, licking them clean. Taeyong swallows hard and he knows this is just the beggining of their torture.

You sigh and smile at both. “Gentlemen,” you get up from the bed and find your panties in the way, you throw them to Doyoung and wink an eye at him. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

You lock yourself in the bathroom and Doyoung and Taeyong look at each other. “We’re so fucked up.”

“I know,” Doyoung sighs. “Did you see her ass? It got bigger.”

“Fuck yeah,” Taeyong groans. “I can’t wait to spank those cheeks.”

The same day, all you wear is one of Doyoung’s shirts and a pink lace thong. The one you know it drives them crazy. You walk past them and they won't help themselves from watching your ass and much less when you bend down slowly to pick something up from the floor.

Taeyong presses his lips together and sighs at the scene. Doyoung clenches his jaw and groans, it’s going to be a long day.

But they can also play.

The following day, you’re getting ready to go to bed when you hear moans coming from the bathroom. You want to scream.

Taeyong is on his knees giving Doyoung maybe one of his best heads ever. Fuck.

Doyoung throws his head back, moaning. He has never been this vocal, but now that he knows you’re outside, he’s feeling it. He won’t quiet down.

Moans become louder when Doyoung pushes Taeyong up against the wall and fucks him. Hard. Just the way Taeyong likes.

You bury your head in the pillows and choke a moan. It’s two against one. You need a new plan.

Then, it comes to your mind. You smile internally and take off your pajamas laying down naked. You hear the door of the bathroom opening and when they’re  outside, you spread your legs in front of them and start playing with your vibrator. You moan quietly as you suck one of your fingers.

Doyoung and Taeyong get hard again and they groan. You let out another moan and stare at them with your lips partly opened.

“Fuck this shit,” Doyoung murmurs before approaching you and placing himself between your legs. He presses kisses on your thighs before giving you the most erotic glance. “Safeword.”

“Disneyland,” you say and you hear Taeyong’s giggle.

“Good,” Doyoung hums against your skin. He turns to Taeyong. “Bring the black velvet box that’s in the closet.”

Taeyong nods and you look at Doyoung. “I thought you didn’t want to hurt me.”

“And I won’t,” he says and stares hungrily at your dripping heat, and with both thumbs he spreads it open, lightly blowing air against your clit. A gasp comes out from your mouth at the cold feeling.

Taeyong is back holding the box and he opens it, placing it on the bed. “Pass me the handcuffs, please.”

Taeyong hands him them and you bite your lip. You feel your heart hammer against your ribcage. You want this so bad. You shiver at the sensation of the cold metal circling your wrists.

Doyoung pins your arms above your head and he kneels down and leans over. “You little minx,” he whispers. “I think you need to learn a lesson in patience.”

“Don’t move,” he commands.

Taeyong helps to carefully but snuggly ties each of your wrists to the bedposts. After making sure you are comfortable but unable to undo your restraints, they both strip off their clothes and get on the bed next to you.

Taeyong runs his index finger over her plump bottom lip and your tongue automatically darts out to swirl around the digit. He allows you this small pleasure as he imagines your warm mouth doing something very similar to another part of his body. He then, ever so slowly, moves his hands down your neck over your shoulders and across your collarbone. They travel between the valley of your breasts and over your stomach, circling around your navel before moving back up. when they return to your collarbone, you whimper with need.

“Is there something you need, baby?” he asks casually although his erection is pressing against your arm.

“I want to suck you," you say, taking his length with your hand.

"It's all yours, baby."

As you take his length with your mouth, you feel Doyoung's hands between your breast cupping them and rubbing your nipples with his thumb. You moan against Taeyong's dick.

You push your chest further into his touch, feeling the pull from the handcuffs against your wrists. Doyoung massages your breasts and pinch at your nipples while he settles between your thighs again, his lips on your stomach. He kisses your creamy skin, his tongue moving from one freckle to the next.

You take Taeyong's dick out of your mouth and rest your forehead against his crotch, after a few seconds, you go back to suck his cock. You watch him throw his head back, biting his lip.

You squirm, once again tugging at your restraints. You want to touch them, to run your fingers through their hairs and knowing you can't is both extremely frustrating and incredibly arousing. You can feel how wet you are and you are sure it will be coating your thighs if they aren't spread so far apart. When Doyoung begins to lick and nip at your pelvic bone, you bring your feet up to his hips and push downward.

Doyoung quirks his eyebrow but takes the hint and kisses even further down your body, his hands making the journey as well. He runs a single finger through your wetness rubbing your clit for a moment until he makes his way to your entrance. He pushes a finger then two inside of you at the same time that he lowers his mouth to you, his tongue tasting your juices.

“Oh Doyoung,” You moan, your thighs instinctively tightening against his head. You stare down the expanse of your body to look into his eyes. His eyes are dark and lidded with desire and he moans against your clit causing your body to shudder with pleasure. His fingers and tongue are hitting all of the right spots and you are so close.

Abruptly, Doyoung pulls away from you completely and you can't stop the protesting whine that comes from your throat.

“What did I tell you about patience?” he asks although from his tone it's obvious he doesn't have much remaining himself.

“You have me tied to the bed and are having your way with me, how much more patient can I be?” You groan.

"Finish Taeyong and then we'll discuss your options," Doyoung winks at you.

You bob your head up and down the length of Taeyong's cock. You keep your tongue wrapped around the base as you move your head along every inch, taking it all in one fell swoop over and over again. You quickly work yourself into a steady rhythm of bobbing your head along his dick, taking it all. Taeyong moans taking your hair in a ponytail and looks down at you. "Fuck, baby girl. You're so good."

You look up at him as you take it all again. He chokes on a moan, gripping your hair. "Shit, shit... I'm gonna cum."

You feel his white warm liquid seep from his dick into your mouth. And you are more than happy to swallow it down, causing your tongue to constrict around his member each and every time that you do.

"Good girl," you hear Doyoung praising you and rub your thighs. He leans down for a kiss and you release Taeyong's dick with a 'pop' and kiss him.

As you kiss him, you spit some of Taeyong's cum on his mouth and both men groan. "Naughty," Doyoung swallows it and kisses your neck.

Taeyong releases your hands from the handcuffs. Your head falls back onto the pillows as Doyoung goes down and holds your legs apart. Your hand goes down to Doyoung's hair, lacing your fingers in his soft black locks and rolling your hips against his face while his tongue continues to lap at you.

“Fuck,” you choke out, “Doyoung, your mouth feels so good.” You whimper out.

Doyoung pulls away, again, his chin glistening from your arousal, “why don't we let Taeyong have a taste?"

While Doyoung sensually licks your cunt, Taeyong dives right in sucking harshly on your clit and slipping two fingers into your cunt. He curls them upwards and strokes your soft walls with the pads of his calloused fingers.

Doyoung sits back, watching Taeyong lapping at your cunt. He pumps his hand up and down his length letting out soft groans that mixed with yours and Taeyong's.

Your breaths begin to get more feverish and despite Taeyong's holding your hips down, your hips are writhing and grinding against his face. Just as you are about to come he pulls away, ceasing all of his contact with you.

"For fuck's sake!" You whine.

Fucking tease.

You whimper and frown, letting your head fall back against the pillows. Taeyong clears his throat, catching your attention “Think you can take both of us, baby?” He asks with a devilish smirk.

You nod your head. "The question is, can you take me?"

Before you know it you are seated atop Doyoung while laid at an upright angle, positioning him over your entrance and sinking down onto his length. Your mouth hangs open and you let out a shaky sigh feeling him fill your tight pussy before you lean forward, moving your hips against him.

Doyoung grips your hips tightly and bucks against them as you bury your face into his shoulder. He cups your face, pulling you into a soft kiss and moving his mouth against yours, taking your lower lip into his mouth and sucking on it. You moan into his mouth when you feel Taeyong's well lubed fingers against your ass and spread your legs more. Taeyong inserts one of his fingers into your tight hole, pumping his fingers into your slowly to loosen you.

Even without Taeyong's full length inside you, you still feel incredibly full, feeling them both moving against you and keeping pace with each other. You rock back onto Taeyong's finger as he inserts a second one and moans in Doyoung's ear. His hips sharply slap against yours, rocking you against Taeyong's fingers.

When he pulls them from you, you frown at the loss of fullness. But it's quickly replaced with a moan when you feel his length pushing against you and slowly entering your ass. You grip onto Doyoung's shoulders, digging your nails into his skin. The pressure between your legs is unbelievable.

They sit for a moment, allowing you to adjust to having both holes filled and waiting for you to give them the okay to move. You sit up lightly, and let out a shaky breath “It’s okay, you can move.” You say, your voice ragged.

Doyoung is the first to move, setting the pace and slowly moving in and out of your cunt while Taeyong follows suit. You moan, feeling them both rubbing against you and letting out a high pitched whine at the new foreign feeling. Taeyong kisses along the back of your neck and shoulders, licking over the dark marks he leaves in his wake while he rutted against you. He lets out soft gasps feeling your tightness around him and begins to thrust harder and harder, causing you to fuck yourself on Doyoung's cock. He leans over, planting his hands on either side of you and Doyoung to get a steady foundation as he pounds his hips into you frantically.

“Fuck, you’re taking us so well.” He grunts in your ear, “Feel good having Taeyong and I fucking you so well?” He asks.

You let out a high pitched moan, feeling Doyoung brushing against that spot that drives you crazy. “Oh, fuck,” You gasp. “Yes, fuck Doyoung, you and Taeyong feel so good.”

You feel Taeyong kissing the side of your face and neck, so you turn towards him and awkwardly capture his mouth with a sloppy kiss before you turn towards Doyoung, placing your lips against his. He swallows your moans while he and Taeyong continue to thrust into you.

Taeyong and Doyoung's thrusts slow, and you see his hand come up, brushing some hair from Taeyong's face and watch the tender touches intently before you see Taeyong lean in. Doyoung's hand cups his face softly and their lips touch and move against each other with familiar motions. Taeyong pulls away and glances at you before pulling you into a kiss, it's slow and erotic. His mouth feels hot against yours and you can't help but preen into their slow thrusts.

Your walls clench, causing Doyoung to pull away from the searing kiss and hiss out, “You close, baby?” he asks, reaching his hand down between your legs and rubbing harsh circles around your clit.

You nod, squirming against his touch and crying out once they begin to pick up their pace again, “Yes, yes, yes,” You chant, your brain unable to form any other words.

The string in your belly begins to ware dangerously thin before it finally breaks. Your walls clench and pulsate, and your mouth hang open as you let out a strangled moan.

The two men begin to rut into you at an unforgiving pace and desperately chase their release, your arms shake before they finally give out. You lay against Doyoung's chest as he holds you tightly against him, “Come on, darling, I know you’ve got one more for us.” He says, bucking his hips into your still sensitive pussy.

You sob out, tears beginning to prick the corners of your eyes. You are sweaty and look like a fucking mess, but he is right. With no time to recover from your first orgasm, your second one begins to rapidly approach. The familiar warm feeling spreads from your belly and creeps up the back of your neck as your back begins to arch, pressing your chest against Doyoung and your head falling back.

Taeyong reaches up, gripping your hair and holding your head in place, forcing your back to remain curved “Be a good girl and come for us again,” He growls into your ear.

You groan, clenching your jaw and digging your fingernails into Taeyong's shoulders, raking them down as your second orgasm washes over you. You cry out and your chest heaves as you fall forward onto Taeyong's shoulder. Taeyong moans, chasing his release holding you tightly.

The three of you sit slumped and catching your breath, attempting to calm yourselves from the excitement of your previous activities. Your whole body aches, and you look as though you have been through hell and back.

"Oh fuck," you say, your head against the pillows. "Fuck, my body aches."

"Are you okay, love?" Doyoung places a hand on your head. "Were we too rough?"

You shake your head. "I'm fine, I'll just... need a moment."

And the next morning, you wake up limbing and for that, Taeyong and Doyoung won't stop making fun.

(...)

It has been two weeks since the events. You’re back to work and you’re thankful that your mind is occupied with different stuff. You ask Donghyuck to stuff you with work and he does as you do. He tells you everyone in the office missed you and they’re happy you’re back.

After the day’s over, you drive to Jaehyun and Johnny’s house. Of course they won’t stop asking questions about everything that happened. You tell them and Jaehyun freaks out and gets angry because he didn’t know you almost drowned to death.

Johnny reassures him, telling him that everything is fine and that you are fine, which is the most important thing. Jaehyun sighs. “What about Jackson?” Jaehyun inquiries.

You shrug. “No one has heard from him since that night.”

“Maybe he fled the country?” Johnny says.

“I don’t care,” you rub your chin. “Can I see Aera?”

“Sure,” Jaehyun smiles and stands up.

The three of you walk to Aera’s room and as you go upstairs, Jaehyun spots the marks on your neck. “Try at least covering them up, bitch.”

You laugh. “Shut up, Jaehyun.”

“Working on a baby already?” Johnny smiles as he opens the door.

“Not yet, I could say we’re practising,” you grin.

“Wait,” Jaehyun looks at you. “Are you trying to get pregnant? For real?”

You nod, holding Aera. “I mean, I got off birth control a month ago, it’s not going to be easy but why shouldn’t we have fun?”

“I hate you so much right now,” Jaehyun groans. “Johnny and I used to have sex 6 times a week, now the man falls sleep every second. I am sleep and sex deprivaved.”

You burst out laughing and Johnny rolls his eyes. “Fatherhood is not easy, and apparently I’m the father of 2.”

“I need to have sex ASAP,” Jaehyun sighs.

“I could take care of Aera so you guys can have a date,” you smile. “She seems to love me.”

“Really? You don’t mind?” Johnny looks at you.

“Yeah,” you say and looks at Aera in awe when she holds your index finger. “We’re besties already.”

“You’re the best!” Jaehyun smiles.

So on Friday, after leaving the office you arrive home with a baby carrier, a diaper bag and Aera inside the baby carrier.

Doyoung and Taeyong are already home and it is Taeyong who notices your little companion. "I hope you didn't kidnap her."

You laugh. “You caught me.”

Doyoung approaches Aera and smiles at her. “Hi beautiful, what are you doing with this little witch?”

“I’m right here, you ass,” you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Language, my love.” Doyoung glances at you.

“Stop perturbing this little princess,” Taeyong takes Aera out of the baby carrier. “Hi cutie.”

You place the baby carrier on the floor and the diaper bag on the couch. “Can you guys watch her while I make her a bottle?”

“Yes, of course,” Taeyong says, not paying attention to you.

“Come on, Taeyong. Let me hold her,” Doyoung complains.

“Give me a minute, we’re playing,” Taeyong replies.

You smile as you prepare her bottle.

For the first time in many time, you feel happy and excited for what’s to come.

#doyoung smut #doyoung x reader #doyoung imagine #doyoung nct #taeyong nct #taeyong smut #taeyong x reader #taeyong imagine #Johnny smut #jaehyun smut #dotae smut #dotae x reader

[mldrgrl]

Broken Things 23/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall (THIS CHAPTER RATED R) See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

“Go on,” Melvin says to Mulder.  “Take care of your wife.  I’ve got the horses.”

Mulder holds Katherine close and takes her out of the stables.  She’s weeping, hiding her face in his neck and clutching at his shirt.  He can feel her tears against his skin and her trembling against his chest.  Her choked little cries are tearing him apart.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs to her, over and over again.  “You’re alright, I’ve got you.”

He brings her into the washroom and kicks the laundry washtub over so he can set her down on something.  He’s able to keep an arm around her as he lights the furnace and then shifts her from one side to the other so he can work the pump and fill the bathing tub.  He finds a bottle of bathing oil in the cabinet and pours a bit in.  The room suddenly smells of roses.  

“We’re gonna get you warm,” he tells her.  “And clean.”

“I’ll never be clean,” she whispers, and drops her head into her hands and cries harder.

“Yes, you will.”

When the bathing tub is full and the water is warm enough, he undoes the knot holding Katherine’s robe closed and pushes the ruined garment off her shoulders.  Her nightgown has a few stains on it and can probably be salvaged, but he’ll throw them both out anyway.  He’ll buy her a dozen new nightgowns and robes, ones that aren’t soiled or hold any terrible memories in them.

“My hair will get wet,” she says to him, when he tries to get her into the bathing tub.  He runs to their room and gets the box of hairpins for her.  He takes a cloth and wipes her hands clean and then she winds her braid up high on her head and even with no looking glass and shaking fingers, manages to pin it into place and off her neck.

“Okay?” he asks.

Katherine nods and then takes the hand that Mulder offers and climbs into the bathing tub.  She folds up almost immediately with her legs bent and her back hunched and her head resting on her knees.  Mulder takes up the rag, soaks it in the bathwater and then washes her back.

“I’m afraid of what you’ll think of me,” Katherine murmurs, her voice slightly muffled by her legs.

“I think the world of you,” he answers.  “That will never change.”

She turns her face towards him and rests her cheek on her knees.  He just keeps washing her back and shoulders, rubbing soft circles into her skin with the cloth.  She blinks slowly at him and in her eyes he can see the pain and exhaustion of a heavy burden she’s been carrying.

“I’ve loved you from the day I met you,” he says.  “And loved you even more every day since.  Whatever it is, Kate, I promise you without a shadow of a doubt that I’ll still love you even more tomorrow.”

She breathes deep, ribs contracting under his hand, and then exhales swiftly.  “My father is a Navy captain,” she says.  “He’s highly respected and very strict.  And my mother is very pious.  They’re both very set in their ways.  The only person I fear more than my father, or my mother, is God.”

“Mmhm.”

“I have an older brother named Bill.  Bill Jr.  And I have two younger sisters, Melissa and Charlotte.  I was very close with Melissa.  I miss her terribly.”

“Did something happen to them?”

“No.”  She blinks without really closing her eyes and her head sways slightly.  “My father didn’t believe much in education for girls, I think I’ve told you as much, but I begged him to stay in school.  He told me I could stay until I turned sixteen and then I would have to prepare to be married.  I agreed, even though I wanted so badly to be a doctor that I secretly applied to medical colleges, hoping that if one said yes, he would have to let me go.  Well, there was one college that accepted me, but my father still wouldn’t let me go.”

“You were accepted to medical college?”

Katherine nods and sniffles quietly.  “I told him that if he refused to let me go, then I would refuse to marry any man he tried to match me with.  He said that it was my duty to marry well and that if I refused to do so, he’d put me out on the street.  I said I would go happily if it meant I would no longer be under his tyrannical thumb.  It’s the only time I’ve ever defied my father and I did think then he would turn me out, but  instead he struck a compromise with me and said I was allowed to go to a nurse’s training school that was nearby, but that once I’d complete the training, I should have to find a husband.”

Katherine turns her face back into her knees and sighs heavily.  Mulder drops the cloth into the bathing tub and massages the back of her neck.  He waits for her to continue, wanting her to alleviate herself of this load, but not wanting to push her too far.  The balance between encouragement and pressure is delicate.

“There was a doctor there,” she says.  “Doctor Waterston.  Everyone revered him, including me.  Listening to him lecture, you knew right away he was brilliant.  When I had my placement interview, I told him that I hoped to be a doctor one day and he seemed to take an interest in helping me.  He allowed me to attend his surgeries and even permitted me to perform a few minor ones of my own, instructing me every step of the way.”

“You’ve performed surgeries?”

She turns to look at him again and nods a little.  “I’ve removed a bullet from a shoulder and closed the wound and amputated a foot.”

“Incredible.”

Katherine swallows and her body weaves slightly as she closes her eyes.  “Doctor Waterston invited me to dinner one night and told me he’d just received a new medical text that he thought I’d be interested in and took me to his personal office to look at it.  He told me he saw a lot of potential in me and knew I could be as brilliant of a doctor as he was, one day.”

A feeling of dread creeps up Mulder’s spine.  There is something about the monotone change in Katherine’s voice leads him to expect something sinister to come up.

“He…”  Her voice hitches slightly and pinches off.

“You don’t have to say it, Kate, if you can’t.”

“I need to.”  She shakes her head and takes a deep breath.  “He offered me a glass of brandy, which I did not accept, and then he offered me a glass of water and...and he sat beside me on the sofa as I tried to review the text.  I remember thinking that I felt a bit uncomfortable because he was sitting so close. And then...and then I couldn’t focus and I felt very tired and my limbs felt paralyzed.  I told him that I felt strange and he said it was nothing to worry about.  But...then he was holding me down and I did not know why and I told him he was hurting me and he got very angry and told me to stop talking and he put his hand over my mouth.  I remember that there was some kind of stain on the ceiling and I stared at it.  I don’t know how long I stared at it.”

Mulder feels like he’s going to vomit.  He breathes in and out through his nose and rubs Katherine’s back, but he thinks he might be coming out of his skin.  He would like to find this Doctor Waterston and rip him apart with his bare hands.

“I don’t remember getting home,” she says.  “I remember waking the next morning and feeling ill and...and very sore between my legs.  After that night, he behaved as though I was a stranger.  He didn’t call on me in class, didn’t offer to allow me to observe any surgeries, and didn’t seem to acknowledge I existed at all.  I didn’t know what I’d done wrong and I was sick over it.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I must have let him believe he could touch me.”

“No, you didn’t.  You thought he was being kind and he took advantage of you.”

“My father had told me that no good would come of me going to school and he was right.  God has been punishing for my ambition.”

“I don’t believe that.  I don’t believe that at all.”

“I was so sick about the whole thing that I went to see a specialist about the constant nausea and body aches I was experiencing.  He told me I was with child and I told him I didn’t know how that was possible because I wasn’t married.  He must have thought I was so ignorant.  I was ignorant, though.  I’d...I’d read about pregnancy and childbirth in my medical texts, but nothing told me how it happened.  My mother told me only married women could have babies.  I know now how ill-informed I was.”

Katherine pauses there and then lifts her head.  She tilts her face up and Mulder can see the slow tears that run down her cheeks and drip from her chin.  He wipes them away, but they keep coming.

“I tried to tell Doctor Waterston about my condition, but he told me would publicly accuse me of blackmail and have me expelled from the program.  He said that no one would believe me if I said the baby was his and that the word of a respected doctor meant more than that of a fallen woman.  And then he gave me a five dollar note and the name of another doctor that he said would get rid of the problem.”

“Oh, Kate.”

“I didn’t.  I couldn’t.  That would be a sin.”  She shakes her head.  “I left school.  I told my mother what had happened and she was very upset with me.  She didn’t know how I could do such a vile and wicked thing and bring such shame to the family.  She didn’t know where she went wrong to raise such a common whore of a daughter and said the devil had to have taken hold of me and the best I could do now was repent for my sins and pray that He would forgive me.”

“You did not do anything wrong,” Mulder says, emphatically.  “I am sorry that your mother said those things to you, but you have to believe me when I tell you that none of that is true.”

“I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

Mulder does not know how to soothe her.  He was not raised religious and until now has held no real opinions on the church, but his blood is boiling.  He will forever hold malice in his heart for the ideology that would make the most wonderful woman he’s ever met feel so worthless and wicked.

“Believe me,” he says.  “Trust in me when I tell you that you are not sinful.”

Katherine sighs.  She sniffles and wipes a wet hand down her face.  “Then why was I punished so harshly?” she whispers.

His mouth goes dry and his heart feels like it drops into his gut.  Her sorrow pains him.  He remembers once that he happened upon his aunt in her study while she was reviewing correspondences and she seemed very angry over a letter she had received.  When he asked her what was wrong, she told him that women were always suffering for the whims of men.  And then she’d stared at him hard and told him to never, ever trifle with a lady unless he intended to be a husband or a father.  He was eight years old at the time, but he’d never forgotten it.  And he vowed then and there to never, ever have a whim, whatever that might be.

He looks at his wife and he knows she has suffered, more than he even first suspected.  He wishes he’d known her sooner.  Wishes he could have had occasion to bump into her one day before anything bad had happened to her.  Because he knows deep in his heart that he would have known right then and there that he would marry her, just as he knew a few months ago.  At the very least, maybe if he’d gotten to her first, she would not have married Jack Willis.  But, how did that happen?

“How did you come to marry Jack Willis?” he asks.

“My father knew of him and knew he had some sort of trouble with a debt.  He offered to pay the debt if he would marry me.  Jack agreed, but I don’t think that either of us knew that even though I now had a husband, my parents told me I had to leave and never to come back.  They said I was a bad influence over my sisters.  They said I could ruin their chances for a good marriage.  They thought that if anyone were to ever find out the truth about the baby...”

Katherine trails off and then turns her face up again.  Tears leak so constantly down her cheeks he’s afraid she may never stop crying, but she’s silent and her gaze becomes utterly vacant.

“Kate, what...what happened to the baby?”

“Jack had people in Kentucky and so he took me there.  A lot of that time is...I have a hard time remembering some of it.”  Katherine wrinkles her forehead and closes her eyes.  She touches her face with her fingertips like her head is aching.  “They weren’t very kind to me, or to Jack.  An Aunt or a cousin of his said she was a midwife and said she’d see to me when the time came.  It wasn’t that long before I started having pains one night and bleeding, but I had barely let out my skirts by then and I knew it was much too soon.  To answer your question, I don’t know what happened to the baby.  They wouldn’t let me see it.  I’d lost a lot of blood and was too weak to protest.  Jack said it was just as well since he didn’t want to raise a bastard anyhow.”

“That sonofabitch,” Mulder mutters, before he can stop himself.  He grits his teeth in anger.  Jack Willis is lucky he’s already dead.

“There were three more babies that came and went after that.  I think they must have known what kind of world they might be coming into and it was a blessing that they decided not to stay.  I wanted each one of them, I truly did, but I didn’t know how I would protect them when I couldn’t even protect myself.”

Kate breathes out a huge sigh after that and drops her head to her knees once more.  Her shoulders start to shake and Mulder feels his throat constrict and his eyes burn with his own tears.  He cries with her and for her, resting his head against the back of her shoulder as he wraps his arms around her.

↭

She’s never felt so exhausted in all her life.  She wants to lay down, curl up, and sleep for days.  Her eyes burn with four years worth of tears.  She’s cried herself dizzy and it takes her some time to realize that Mulder is crying as well.  She reaches up to run her fingers through his hair.  He turns his face and kisses her shoulder.

“I’ll understand if you want me to go,” she says.

“Not a chance in hell, honey.”  He lifts his head and cups her cheek.  “I knew you were strong, I knew you were brave, I just didn’t know how strong and how brave.”

“I don’t feel very strong.  Or brave.”

“You are.”

“I’m so tired.”

“Come on.  Let’s get you to bed.”

Mulder helps her out of the bathing tub and wraps her in a towel.  He lifts her easily and carries her to bed.  He gets her into fresh nightclothes and undresses down to his drawers and then climbs into bed with her and pulls her tight into his arms.  They’re face to face, nearly nose to nose.

“I am terribly sorry that I lied to you,” she says.

“You never lied, you just needed time.”

“I was just so afraid that...I didn’t want you to know how low I really was.”

“It never would have mattered to me.  It doesn’t matter to me now.”

“I believe that you mean that.”

“I do.”  He shifts and holds her cheek, stroking her brow with his thumb.  “There’s something that I should tell you too.  Something about my family as well.”

“Alright.”

“Are you familiar with Fawkes Publishing House?”

“I think so.  Maybe.”

“Do you know the writer, E. M. Abbott?”

“Of course.  I read all his books.  They call him the Charles Dickens of the Americas.”

“Mm.”  Mulder chuckles.  “E. M. Abbott is my aunt.”

“Your aunt?”  Katherine pulls back a bit from Mulder and opens her mouth, aghast.  ���E. M. Abbott is your aunt?  The aunt that raised you?”

“Yes, great aunt Emeline.  My grandmother and Auntie were the daughters of William Fawkes, who started Fawkes Publishing House.  When my aunt began writing at a young age, her father told her no one would buy books written by women, but he still thought she was extraordinarily talented and of course he wasn’t going to pass on the opportunity.  He told her he would publish her works under a pseudonym.  Everyone called her Em since she was a young girl and she liked Abbott because it was the first name she could think of that came first, alphabetically.  And so Emeline Beatrice Fawkes became E. M. Abbott.”

“That’s extraordinary.”

“And a well-guarded secret in publishing.”

“How sad though, that she could never get the recognition she deserved.”

“Oh, Auntie actually enjoyed that she’d so thoroughly pulled the wool over the literary community’s eyes.  She took great delight in reviews that particularly focused on her unique perspective that was like ‘no other man.’  I would tend to get angry on her behalf though.  I found it very unfair, very unjust.”

“It is.”

Mulder nods.  “I have done my best to try to change things though.  Fawkes Publishing puts out more novels by women than any other major house out there.”

“What?”  Katherine raises her brow slightly.  “When you said that sometimes you conduct business in Boston, what did you mean by that?”

“I sit on a board representing the family’s remaining interests in the company.  We don’t necessarily handle any of the day-to-day anymore, but we own a significant share, which gives us, or me, rather, a fair amount of control.  Let me tell you, publishing women writers has proved to be profitable over the years.  Extremely profitable, actually.”

She ducks her head a little and snorts softly.  “I was a little worried at how freely you spent your money.”

“I can assure you that money is not something you’ll ever have to worry about.”

“I think you could have absolutely nothing and I would still love you.”

Mulder lifts his head from the pillow and leans up on his elbow.  “You love me?” he asks.

“I do.”

He smiles and then lays back down and pulls her against him with a sigh.  She tucks her head down under his chin and wraps her arm around his back.  A strip of moonlight shimmers on his arm and she gazes at it with heavy eyelids.  She must be very tired or her imagination is playing tricks on her, but his skin seems to radiate a brilliant blue hue mixed with a bit of red.

#i wrote this #broken things #chapter 23 #MSR #AU #rated R #upsetting content warning

[yourneighborbakugou]

To Love’s End, Part 3 / Bakugou x Reader

Read Part One / Part Two  Summary: When love isn’t enough to mold fate together. Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader Warning: angst, fluff, death Word Count: ~4.7k Playlist: Beautiful Japanese Piano Music Quirkless AU! Feudal Japan AU! A/N: I’m sorry this chapter took me so long to release. Thank you for patiently waiting and for reading! 

“Shit!” You say cursing under your breath when you realize you’ve overslept. You rise from bed, slide into your Kimono and head towards the maids quarters. Last night you slept like a baby all thanks to Bakugou and now you’re paying the consequences. You adjust your kimono as you enter the hall filled with other maids. Finding Uraraka at the front, you squeeze your way through to hear the duty announcements from the housekeeper. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead. Did you see him last night?” Uraraka whispers as you both try to focus on what duties you had for the day. “Come on, spill the beans.”

Some maids shush you both but you pay no attention. The smile you’ve been holding in all morning finally breaks. You’re grinning ear to ear and Uraraka knows that can only mean one thing. You bit your bottom lip replaying last night's scene in your head. The housekeepers' voice is fading and the only thing you could think of were Bakugou’s lips. 

“Do what you want, women.” Bakugou interrupts you mid-sentence, getting up to enter his room. He takes a seat at this table and motions to the box on it. “There should be some bandages in there.”

Closing Bakugou’s door with a thud, you turn to face him. You’re so nervous you end up standing by the door fidgeting with your fingers. Shyness has always been your weakness. 

“I don’t bite, you know.” Bakugou says, raising an eyebrow. You tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear as you step towards him. The cut on your cheeks becomes visible and Bakugou takes notes how it has since healed. The bandages around your hand were also gone. 

“Can you take your yukata off so I can clean the wound?” Avoiding his eyes, you look around his room not wanting to admit how hot your face felt. Despite the awkwardness in your actions, you take in the small glimpse you were able to get of Bakugou’s room. It was tidy, clean, and very simple. There wasn’t much in the room besides a picture neatly tucked in the edges of the wall frame next to his bed. A family portrait looks like. 

Bakugou nods and starts to take off the top of his yukata. Sitting adjacent to him at the kotatsu (low table), you wait for him to finish. He struggles unfortunately and hisses from the sting of the cut. You quickly move closer and help hold his yukata sleeve as he pulls his arm out. You knew Bakugou was in tip top shape but to see his abs up close and personal like this? It had your knees weak; good thing you were sitting. 

When the bandages are completely off, you see some fresh red blood oozing from his wound. The alcohol in you suddenly have you thinking about how many times he’s come home injured but you didn’t know. This was truly the first time you’ve seen him return injured. The fading alcohol in your body gives you a push of courage to ask.

“Have you come back injured before?“ Taking a clean cloth, you start cleaning his wound. Bakugou is hyper focused on how close you were to his body. Your sweet scent tickles his nose, you smelt so good. 

When Bakugou doesn’t answer your heart aches thinking of all the times you’ve watched him return home, smiling like a doofus not knowing he was probably hurt. How come he never told you? Did he not trust you to help him? Or was it that you weren’t worthy? A million questions race through your mind and he knew from your demeanor. You were now mindlessly cleaning the blood around the wound, sometimes wiping the same clean area twice. 

“Sometimes, but never this bad.” Bakugou grabs your hand to get your attention. “I didn’t think it mattered.” 

“It would’ve been nice to know.” You replied fast. “I could’ve helped.” You peer through your lashes, again letting the liquid courage give you one last boost before it fades away completely.

“Oh yeah? Guess I have to get injured again to find out then hmm?” Bakugou says, smiling softly. Your heart won’t stop pounding. Damn him. He always knew what to say, always making you feel flustered, always feeling butterflies. 

Bakugou lets your hand go to continue your work. Keep your calm, Y/N! You place the bloody cloth into a pile on the side, thinking of anything to say to carry the conversation. 

“Did it hurt?” 

“It was the lease of my worries.” Bakugou then mutters something you didn’t catch when you turn to grab the ointment from the box--something about needing to come back home. Come back home to who/what you wandered. 

Two fingers dip into the small jar of green paste, an ointment the doctor made from a mixture of herbs. With steady hands, you begin rubbing the ointment over Bakugou’s torso with care. Your fingers left trails of warmth wherever they touched. Shit, he needs to calm down. 

The room fell silent, too silent for your comfort. You decide to ask Bakugou about the family portrait.  “My parents.” He again was brief in his answer, can’t say you were surprised. 

You yearn to know more about him beyond his duties but didn’t want to pry. Instead you nod and continue your work. Leaning in, you rub more ointment over the deeper parts of the wound. Bakugou hiss here and there but for the most part gave you no trouble. Finishing, you wrap clean bandages around his torso. His chest was mere inches from your face making his smokey caramel scent tickle your nose, he smelt so good. 

Bakugou is glad you’re occupied with the bandages that you don’t see the way his eyes and nose crinkle or the way he blows out his cheeks. You cautiously tape the bandage tightly at the ends, grinning at the accomplishment you’ve done. You haven’t bandaged wounds in a while but it wasn’t half as bad as you thought. 

“You're all done.” You say, adjusting to sit away from Bakugou. You clean your hands on a clean towel before bundling all the used materials while he adjusted his yukata to wear properly. 

“Not bad, women. But, I think Camie did a better job.” Bakugou teased, throwing his head back and leaning on his arms. His steady eye contact and raised brows study your response and chuckle when your shoulders tense. He doesn't miss the way your eyes sadden for a second before changing your demeanor. Was his joke too harsh?

“Camie is a very talented lady. She’s one of the finest court lady here at Yueei. I could never do as good as lady Camie.” You stammer, stretching your palms forward, smiling to hide the hurt. 

Your palms are now on full display for Bakugou, he takes the opportunity to take hold of them. Before you can object, your elbows are now resting on the table, hands are cupped and you see Bakugou resting his chin on them. Your heart picks up seeing Bakugou admiring you so close, you can't think straight. 

“B-Bakugou what are you doing? What if someone comes in and sees?” You try to move your hands away from him but he protests by turning his head, cheek now resting on your palms instead. 

“One more minute.” Bakugou closes his eyes, cherishing every second he’s got left. He was being so soft with you right now you almost feel like you don’t know him. As much as Bakugou is capturing the last few moments you have together, so were you. Without thinking, you lean in more to him. His blonde hair tickles your nose as you do and then you feel him tense, you freeze too. 

Bakugou lifts his face and turns to you. Your noses brush each other and a bolt of electricity rushes through your body leaving an intense heat in its wake. Your breath hitches when Bakugou moves intently forward, face tilted and lips slightly parted. 

“Earth to Y/N!” Urakaka whispers loudly as she nudges you, bringing you back to reality. “You did kiss huh?” 

“You ruined the moment, Urakaka.” You pouted, playing with your fingers. 

“Well while you were having day dreams of kissing Mr. Knight in shining armor, Housekeeper said you’re unfortunately doing yard work again.”

You groan. You really hate yard work. All the maids then began to disperse to their assigned duties. Urakaka waves you goodbye after mocking you with kisses. You playfully shush her and tell her to leave you alone. 

Yard work. This means Camie was still angry and now you have to walk across the palace to grab your tools. Existing the hall and into the corridor, you see the King accompanied by Camie and Ibara. They must be on their way to see Bakugou and Kirishima.  

The days roll by one by one and soon you’ve lost count of how long it’s been since you’ve seen Bakugou. If it wasn’t for Kirishima and Ibara, you wouldn’t know at all how he’s been. As the morning sun peaks through the window, you rise from bed to get ready. As shitty as the last few weeks have been not seeing Bakugou, you’re thankful Ibara has helped get you out of yard work. You can only imagine how that conversation could’ve gone. 

Ibara has always been kind to you. Since the day she arrived and to the day she chose you to serve her. Truth was, life at the palace was tough for Ibara at first. Ibara was the newest member to a handful of court ladies, all who were fighting for the same goal: Marry a wealthy and influential man who can benefit their family bloodlines. Ibara was different from most court ladies you’ve seen in your time at the Yueei though. Ibara never looked down on the maids/servants and never abused her powers. You admired Ibara for that. So much actually, that you wanted to befriend her--not for the benefits of what a personal maid will give you but to have another friend you can talk to. 

The day Ibara asked you to be her personal maid, it felt like a proposal. Ibara took you out for a delicious meal in the city and even gifted you the prettiest tsumami kanzashi hairpin/comb you own-- orange sakura flowers with a green wisteria tassel. 

Walking past your bed to the door, you spot the tsumami kanzashi on your kotatsu. You ought to wear it at least once. The lunar festival was coming up, maybe then. Maybe you can show Bakugou.

The light outside illuminates Bakugou’s room early in the morning. It’s been a few weeks since he’s seen you. He lost track of time being stuck in his room all day and with Kirishima occasionally only visiting and with Camie as his daily visitor he wasn’t thrilled. That damn shitty hair, did he not care about him? Well, Bakugou can’t complain too much since he himself hasn't gone to see Kirishima either. The sun had just risen and boredom already crept in. Sitting up on his bed, Bakugou mindlessly flipped through his book in hand. 

Great--he’s bored from the book now too. Bakugou exhaled sharply, frustrated. How much longer until we can leave? Turning his attention to the kotatsu instead, memories from your last visit come to remind him how much he longs to see you. The image of you with him felt so right. 

“One more minute.” Bakugou closes his eyes, cherishing every second he’s got left. He was being so soft with you right now you almost feel like you don’t know him. As much as Bakugou is capturing the last few moments you have together, so were you. Without thinking, you lean in more to him. His blonde hair tickles your nose as you do and then you feel him tense, you freeze too. 

Bakugou lifts his face and turns to you. Your noses brush each other and a bolt of electricity flashes through your body leaving an intense heat in its wake. Your breath hitches when Bakugou moves intently forward, face tilted and lips slightly parted. 

He sees you close your eyes, ready to accept his kiss. Fuck. How are you doing these things to him? He’s never wandered about kissing any one or being with anyone. He encountered many suitors prior to Yueei, each easily dismissable but you? A King’s maid--a beautiful, captivating, mysterious maiden with a heart of gold. You had him chasing the treasure in your heart. 

“Can I kiss you, Y/N?” His lips graze yours, nose tickling your cheeks. 

This was the first time he’s called you by your first name. If your heart wasn’t having trouble beating before, it was now. With palms clutched on your thighs, you nod. Bakugou doesn’t waste another second with your consent. 

He pulls you into a kiss, one hand cradling your head. His kiss was gentle and invigorating. Your lips meld together like it’s made for each other, and you let him pull you in more. 

Bakugou is the first to pull away for air. He couldn’t hide his smile if he wanted to and you caught sight of it all. 

Fuck. 

There he goes again, daydreaming about you. 

Bakugou stands and starts to change out of his yukata into a kimono. It’s been a few weeks since the incident and he’s healed nicely. If it wasn’t for the King’s order, he'd be at the training grounds right now. He really misses training. A thought then occurred to him. 

Was today laundry day? He pondered before deciding to sneak out to the wash house where he normally would wait.for you. After a few minutes of waiting outside the wash house and seeing no one, Bakugou decides to walk to the courtyard to check if you were there instead. When he reached the courtyard, white sheets were already neatly hung. Stepping back inside the entrance, he leans his head against the wall and lets out a disappointing breath. He missed laundry day with you. 

Suddenly, droplets of water hit Bakugou’s cheeks, then it began to really pour. Shit, the sheets! Bakugou rushes into the courtyard and freezes when he sees you have already beat him to it. You’re cursing the weather as you grab the sheets you just cleaned earlier into the nearby basket. 

Grabbing the last sheet on the line, you puff your cheeks in disdain of the rain. Stupid stupid rain! You turn around to place it in the basket when a familiar blonde man catches your eyes. Bakugou’s kimono was soaked and his hair laid flat on his forehead. You watch him pick up the basket and walk away towards the covering. Still processing that he was there in front of you, you remained unmoved until you watched him return and grab your wrist to follow. Both your kimonos, drenched at this point. You place the wet sheet into the basket, eyes still trying to figure out if Bakugou was truly in front of you or if you were imagining things because let’s be honest you haven’t seen him in weeks and all you do is daydream about him. 

“Baka.” Bakugou lets go of your wrist to shake off the water in his hair. His word brings the realization that he is in front of you and that you weren’t hallucinating. Gently patting the water off your kimono, you take a good look at him this time and you instantly regret it. His white kimono was soaked, revealing the bandages underneath. Bakugou faces you when he is done shaking off the water on his hair and he doesn’t like the worried look on your face. Looking down to see what you were staring at, he understood.

“It’s healed.” Bakugou says, tapping his torso for you to see. “The damn doctor keeps insisting I have bandages even though I haven’t bled in a week.”

You nod in response, finding the courage now to smile at the fact that he’s doing so much better. 

“You didn’t wait for me.” Bakugou says as he takes a step closer to you. You hear the disappointment in his tone but don’t take it personally. Bakugou took a sheet that hadn’t been fully soaked and tossed it over your head, helping you dry your hair. 

“Wasn’t sure I was going to see you.” You replied jokingly, making sure to add a big grin at the end to let him know you were teasing. Your joke earned you a chuckle from him. 

“Guess that makes two of us.” Bakugou says before turning away to look at the rain and placing the sheet back in the basket. “Tch. The day I sneak out of my room is the day it rains.”

“Wait--Bakugou you snuck out? You’re going to get in trouble. Go back.” You pulled the bottom of his sleeve. 

Bakugou looks over his shoulder and you’re peering through your lashes at him with the cutest pout. 

“I do what I want. It’s fine.” Before you can object, your attention turns to the yell across the courtyard. 

“Bakugou?!” You both look across the courtyard and see Camie searching for him. 

Of course, she’s looking for him. He’s not in his room. You can only guess what’s going on in her mind right now. Hopefully she hasn’t figured out that he’s with you. 

“You should go. Your lady is looking for you.” You say as you nudge him to go but he doesn’t move a muscle. Instead, he turns to face you, towering over your figure. 

“My lady?” He questions, tone harsher than he meant but eyes never wavering from you. Camie's calls become louder through the nearby corridor. 

“How can my lady be looking for me when she’s already looking at me?” Bakugou says, grazing his thumb over the healed cut on your cheek, relieved to have another moment with you before he has to go. Vermillion orbs stares into your soul whispering his deepest wish, hoping you’d understand him. 

Another call from Camie indicates she was around the corner. Hearts still not content yet, Bakugou selfishly steals another moment with you for himself. Gliding his thumb over your bottom lips, memories of your first kiss clouds his thoughts. He remembers how you wanted to reciprocate his kiss, the way you leaned into him, the way you let him hold you. He wants to kiss you so bad. 

“See you around.” Bakugou lets go and rushes to enter the corridor, just in time to cover the entrance from Camie seeing you. “Bakugou what happened? You’re soaked!” 

Your knees feel like jelly, unsure how they are supporting the weight of your heart at this moment. When you’ve regained your strength, you sneak a peek through the crack of the door to see Bakugou again. Camie is drying Bakugou’s hair with a towel and your heart aches despite being flustered a few seconds ago. Grabbing the basket, you make your way back to the wash house, not wanting to see or hear what was going on in the corridor. 

Bakugou swat Camie’s hand away from the towel and begins walking away drying his own hair. 

“His Majesty asked me to come get you!” Camie yelled at Bakugou’s back.

“I can go myself.”

Camie watches him disappear at the end of the corridor and stomps in frustration. The glimpse of you with Bakugou when she found him fueled her anger more. Camie needs to get rid of you. Obviously the King would not agree to let you go based on her words. You’ve been at the palace longer than she has. The only true power Camie has over you was your court lady, Ibara, and she knew just the right buttons to get you punished. 

“Your Majesty, you were looking for me?” Bakugou stands at the door of the King’s war room after making a quick detour to his room to change. 

King Sasaki, Bakugou and Kirishima are sitting, sipping tea as they talk business.

“It’s been a few weeks since we last spoke. I’m glad to see you both are healing nicely.” King Sasaki says, sitting tall and firm across Bakugou and Kirishima. “I had some soldiers investigate the leads you provided and we found something.”

Bakugou and Kirishima look at each other, intrigued at what leads King Sasaki found. Kirishima thinks back to that day of the assinanation attempt.  

The trek back to the palace wasn’t far, another few hours. The countryside of Japan is lush green stretching as far as the eye can see. 

“Can’t wait to go back and relax with Ibara.” Kirishima says, crossing his arms behind his head as he rides his horse, Red.

Bakugou huffs riding next to Kirishima; He’s had enough of Kirishima talking about how much he misses Ibara. 

“Do you miss L/N?” he nudges Bakugou with his sword. 

Bakugou quickly swats the sword. “Shut up, Shitty Hair.”

“Oh come on Bakubro. I see the way you stare off into space. I know that ‘look’ very well.”

“Yeah? And what the fuck does that mean?”

“Means I know you miss L/N. It’s the same look I have when I think about Ibara.” 

Bakugou can’t deny it at this point because Kirishima was right. Bakugou missed you. Leaving the palace a few days ago after you got hurt didn’t sit well with him. 

“Bakubro, I know I said it before but—“

“Stop.” Bakugou cuts Kirishima off. “It’s not your fault so stop apologizing. We would’ve gone training that morning whether or not you had nagged. Besides, we caught the bad guy and no one was seriously injured. L/N included.” Bakugou looks at Kirishima and his calm expression quiet the guilt in Kirshima’s head. 

Suddenly, both their horses neighed and resisted moving forward. Something ahead of the crew invoked enough fear in the horses. 

“What’s wrong boy?” Bakugou says as he coos at this horse, Zero and rubs its neck. 

“Something feels off.” Kirishima sits tall grabbing hold of his sword. Bakugou nods to the crew and all 5 of them grab hold of their swords, instantly regretting not wearing their masks after they had lunch. 

Silence…..Nothing but the wind flows by. 

WHOOSH! 

An arrow is shot towards Bakugou at lightning speed! But it’s not fast enough. Bakugou shifts his body slightly and grabs the arrow as it flies by his cheeks, grazing him. Enemies then appear out of the nearby bushes, swords drawn. 

They have some false courage to be ambushing in broad daylight. Nonetheless, this doesn’t look good. King Sasaki placed Bakugou in charge and now he needs to protect his men. 

“What do you want?” Bakugou takes his sword and gets off his horse. He slowly approached the enemy soldiers, keeping his men guarded behind him. There’s at least 20 men that he can see and 1 man who seems to be the general leading the group. 

“Samurai Bakugou, we’re here to kill you.” The enemy leader speaks. 

“Who isn’t now-a-days? Give me your best shot, extras.” Bakugou sneers. Kirishima and their men quickly get off their horse to battle. 

Enemy soldiers roar with determination to assassinate Bakugou before running full speed towards Bakugou and his men. The ground shakes as enemy soldiers approach. 

“Let’s all get home in one piece.” Bakugou says, shifting his body in defense. 

“You heard the man! Let’s do this!” Kirishima grins, ready for a fight. 

Bakugou faced multiple men head-on with his sword before eventually making his way to the enemy leader. Their swords clash with strong swings before he is led away from the group. With Bakugou alone, the enemy general tried to defeat Bakugou with no avail. Their swords clash one more time--this time Bakugou overpowers the enemies strike, causing him to fall on the ground.

“Who sent you?” Bakugou says, one foot pining the enemy down while he angles his sword to the enemy's throat.  

“Like I would tell you.” The enemy snarls at Bakugou before spitting at his shoes. 

“Dishonorable death you’ve chosen.” Agitated, Bakugou applies pressure with his sword to the enemy's throat. 

“Bakugou!” Kirishima calls out, huffing as he tries to catch his breath after slaying the last enemy soldier.

“Find our horses and gather our things. We must make haste home before enemy reinforcements arrive.” Kirishima says to the 3 men who nodded and went off. “Damn it, Bakugou, Where did you go?” Kirishima hurries off in search of Bakugou. 

Kirishima doesn’t get far though. He spots an enemy soldier who was still alive, limping away to escape.  Before he can move to slay the soldier, an arrow hits in the shoulder. He yelps at the impact before pulling it out. 

“Hiding in the shadows to attack is an unmanly thing to do.” Kirishima says as he throws the arrow to the ground. His eyes widen at the sight in front of him. 

“Running is a dishonor.” A mysterious cloaked man plunges his sword into the enemy soldier, killing him. 

“You had one job.” The man says as he wipes the blood from his sword with his dark cloak. The yellow pin shaped like a hand catches his eye and Kirishima takes a mental note of it.“It is an honor I must say, to finally meet in battle the great Samurai Bakugou Katsuki and Kirishima Eijirou.”

“Who are you and why do you want Bakugou dead?” Kirishima gripped his sword and shift his feet.  

“An eye for an eye. Surely you understand, Samurai?” The cloaked man takes a step forward, pulling down his hood to reveal light blue hair; his face littered with scars. 

“Tell me, Samurai. Why do good men do bad things?” The mysterious man inches forward. 

Kirishima has fought many worthy opponents and knows a capable soldier when he sees them. This blue-haired man was dangerous. 

“Cut to the chase.” Kirishima growled.

“Tsk Tsk Tsk. Why the rush?” The blue-haired man raises his palms. Suddenly, another dozen or so enemy reinforcement soldiers begin to line up behind the man. 

“I’d like to really know how well you fight, Eijirou. I’ve heard so many great things.” The blue hair man says, grinning evilly.

Bakugou nudges Kirishima in the arm to get his attention. Kirishima stares wide at Bakugou for a second, recalling that he was currently having tea with the King. Bakugou doesn’t miss the way Kirishima’s orbs were warped in fear, just like the day he got injured. Bakugou silently cursed himself for not being able to protect Kirishima in that moment. 

“I’m so sorry, your majesty.” Kirishima says as he bows to King Sasaki. 

“It’s alright, Samurai. Please, have some tea. It’ll calm the mind.” King Sasaki motions for them to drink. 

“We found some leads, all thanks to your sharp eye Kirishima. The yellow hand pin you saw on the enemy general’s cloak resembles the pin of a rumored coup I heard about far south of the land: the League of Villains, or LOV. They’ve been deceiving people, promising them goods and fortune for their loyalty.”

King Sasaki further explains his suspicions. He believed the LOV is working with a lord who’s been revolting against the throne--Lord Ujiko. For decades now, Lord Ujiko has been causing trouble for the King; it's not surprising they partnered with such a coup. Lord Ujiko was a smart man though; he’d never exposed himself publicly for such a wicked scheme. King Sasaki fears Lord Ujiko was on the brink of revolting. The yellow hand pin found on the enemy's cloak can only be made using rare-earth minerals that are native to a region south of Japan--a region Lord Ujiko oversees. 

“The evil that plagues this country is far from over. In a week all the lords will meet to celebrate the lunar new year. Lord Ujiko will be here. I am no longer sure of who I can trust. I need you to be my eyes and ears. We must continue to stay vigilant and keep the peace in the land. Do you understand Samurai’s?” King Sasaki says to Bakugou and Kirishima who nod in response. 

To be continued….

Read Part 4 here!

Taglist: @cayofdreams 

#bakugou x reader #Bakugou Katsuki #bnha bakugou #feudal japan AU #bakugou angst #bakugou fluff #bakugou series

[something-fanfiction-ie]

I Thought I Dreamed

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Dismembered body parts, mentions of blood, and that’s about it??

A/N: HOLY SHIT GUYS ITS FINISHED. Oh my goodness that was hard, I don’t understand why. I still hardcore hate it, but I love you guys too much to leave you hanging. So here is part two to Dreams. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for sticking around through my terrible writer blocks.

...

[ Part One ]

“You’re sure it isn’t just a concussion?” Your fiancé says, his voice cracking with nerves. The bathroom tile of your hotel room is cool beneath your legs, Spencer sits directly across from you with your feet in his lap and his fingers tracing worried patterns across your shins.

Above your head on the bathroom counter, is a pregnancy test that still has three more minutes to come up with a yes or no answer to the question you were pretty sure you already knew the answer to. Balanced in your lap is a book about dream analysis that you’d picked up on the way to the hotel tonight.

“I had a dream, Spence. This books says that nearly everything about my dream pointed to me being pregnant.” His eyes narrow, one hand reaching out to flip through the pages you’ve tagged with sticky bookmarks. Your soon to be husband is a book fanatic, you’d learned early on that dog-eared pages were the antichrist of all book lovers everywhere.

“If you are pregnant, I can assure you that the dream was just your subconscious telling you what it had already pieced together before your conscious mind.” The clock outside the bathroom door ticks slowly. You think back to the little boy in your dream, and as scary as having two children so close together in age may be, you can’t help but be a little excited at the thought of a baby Spencer in the world.

“You don’t believe in dream analysis, so your opinion on the matter is biased.”

“Arguably, every opinion is biased. No one person can be one-hundred percent objective no matter the circumstances.” He’d have Spencer’s eyes, Graeson does already and she’s not even half a year old. Was it wrong of you to hope that all your children with Spencer would look and be exactly like him? Hopefully, in terms of intelligence, they would both be carbon copies of their father.

The tears that come to your eyes surprise you when you think about him taking the kids to a museum, holding your son in his arms and one of his fingers wrapped in your daughter’s grasp as he explains every artifact and display. Hastily, you reach up to wipe at the streams of water that wet your cheeks. Spencer sets the book aside, leaning forward worriedly.

Ashamed of your sudden mood swing, another blatant sign that you could be pregnant, you avoid eye contact by staring at the clock.

“Hey,” his voice is gentle, his hands reaching out to smooth down the sides of your arms, “Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” Your nose crinkles as you try to bite back the next onslaught of tears, hoping the last minute will go by fast. When you finally meet his gaze, the puddles of emotion that collected in your eyes spill over once again.

“You’ll take them to museums, right? You’ll make sure our kids aren’t dumb, right?” You don’t know why it’s so important to you, but the helplessness you feel is all too familiar as you recall a similar moment from your previous pregnancy.

“(Y/N). Breathe. Calm down.” You look up at your boyfriend from the bathtub, feeling not unlike a beached whale with your oversized stomach poking over the surface of the water surrounding you. The sides of the tub dig into your fingers as you grip the edges so tightly that your knuckles turn white.

“I can’t calm down, Spencer! I don’t have enough time. I’m not prepared. If I’m not prepared now then who is to say I’m even supposed to be a mother? What if I completely screw our kid up? I don’t-” The air in your lungs doesn’t feel like enough and it feels like all too much at the same time. You’ve never felt like this before, especially not in the middle of a relaxing bath.

Slowly, Spencer reaches into the tub and pulls the stopper out of the bottom. With his other hand, he helps to pull you to your feet and wrap you in a soft, pink towel. He keeps making shushing noises like it’s going to help the overwhelming anxiety of becoming a new parent and, as much as you love him, it makes you want to scream.

But just before you give into your urges, he steps in front of you and lowers himself so that you don’t have to look up to meet his eyes. Either one of his hands come up to cradle your cheeks, you wonder if he notices the weight you’ve gained there since you started nearing your due date.

“You won’t screw our kid up. We will, together.” And you can’t help but let the laughter bubble out of your chest as you lean into him, letting his arms wrap around you as you lay your soaking wet head over his heart.

“We will, together.” He says again, reaching up to wipe a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. When he closes the distance to press a kiss to your forehead, causing you to close your eyes and force a deep breathe in through your nose, he plucks the test from the counter.

“Spencer! I thought this was a together thing!” You jump to your feet, reaching for the test that he has hanging over your head just out of reach.

“It is babe, but you have the advantage of knowing before me when it comes to these things and I just really want to know first one time.” You whine in protest, trying to determine the results on the small pink stick by profiling his body language.

His hand still up in the air, he tilts the small window toward his face. Both eyebrows go up, but his expression stays emotionless otherwise. Not even a muscle in his cheeks twitch. He’s way too good at hiding things when he wants to.

“Spencer.” You warn in your best imitation of Hotch’s commanding voice, stretching back up on your toes, your fingertips brush the plastic siding before he wraps his free arm around your back and pulls you to his chest. His kisses are like soft butterfly wings against your cheeks, eyelids, chin, forehead, and eventually lips.

In the two years you’ve been with Spencer, there have been all kinds of kisses. Kisses of burning passion and simmering anger, kisses of a deep and slow love, kisses of overwhelming joy and uncontrollable relief, but it’s this kind of kiss you’ve only ever felt once before.

The hand holding the test comes down to cradle your face, a thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek. It reminds you of the way an art enthusiast might reach out to touch a painting or sculpture in awe, his lips moving against your own like you were a Goddess that he was praying to with complete faith and devotion.

When he finally broke away, his eyelashes damp with happy tears (and maybe a few scared tears), the facade is shattered and you can read his face like an open book.

“You’re getting really good at that mom voice for someone with a five month old.” He teased.

“And one on the way?” You have to make sure, you want to hear it come from his lips. Screw the test.

“Did you dream it was a boy, because I think it would be really cool if we had a boy this time.” You laugh into his lips, throwing both arms around his neck and bringing him down to your level. The curls that sway at his shoulder brush against the crooks of your elbows before you tangle your fingers into his hair.

And then, just like the horny teenagers you two definitely were around each other, he bends down and swoops you into his arms. The high pitched squealing laugh that bubbled between both of your lips came from you as he started to turn back to the hotel room.

“Now I’m really gonna have to make up for lost time while I can.” He teases, turning sideways so your feet and head don’t hit the doorframe.

The next day, back on the case of the dead girls with missing hands, the team notices the different energy between you. Like the way Spencer’s mouth opens in protest when Hotch suggests you accompany Morgan to the house of a possible suspect. You glare daggers at him from the door, a silent conversation flying between you before he finally closes his mouth and sinks into his seat. It did not go unnoticed by every other person in the room.

Or the day after that, when you offer to go get coffee for everyone instead of letting them drink nasty precinct coffee. (Something you used to do a lot when you’d been pregnant with Graeson and the places you went didn’t have decaf.)

The biggest tip off is the passing of peppermints between you and Spencer, the young doctor having somehow found the time to go to a convenience store and buy a bulk sized bag of the red and white candies to help with your nausea. The bag crinkles when he reaches into his satchel every so often.

Despite the fact that they all catch on pretty quickly, nobody says anything. They figure that you’ll tell them when you’re ready. Instead they focus on the case, which had been your hope the whole time.

You’re near the end of the investigation at this point, sucking on a peppermint and racing for one of the two addresses that Garcia had sent to your phones. Just this morning, another body had been found. His fuse was getting smaller as the days had passed and the investigation crawled at an unusually slow pace, meaning you were cutting it close to the wire if you wanted to save whatever poor girl had unknowingly incurred this man’s wrath.

With you, on the way to the workplace of a Ryan Christopher, is JJ, Hotch, and Prentiss. Rossi, Morgan, and Reid have their own car headed for his home. You’re in the backseat, holding onto your stomach and the edge of the leather bench seat as Hotch races through traffic. Garcia is explaining her findings over the speakerphone, you can hear Morgan and Reid interjecting every so often with their own thoughts and comments.

It isn’t until the SUV that you’ve been sliding around in finally bumps into the parking lot outside of a carpentry workshop that Hotch ends the call. The boys on one of the other two ends of the line say their own salutations, also approaching the unsub’s home.

“Be careful!” Spencer shouts to you over everyone. It’s really cute. You would dwell on it more, but given the fact that you were about to walk into a possible altercation with an unsub, you decided that staying sharp and focused was the way to go.

Quickly, all three FBI Agents slip out of the car, clustering together long enough to come up with a game plan. You rush for the back door, JJ gets the side, and Hotch readies himself at the front. It isn’t until every room in the workshop is clear that a little tension leaves your shoulders.

It’s obvious that he’s been here though, with giant pools of blood dried onto a workbench in one of the rooms. And if you weren’t sure of this man’s guilt before, then the small freezer full of hands that is bolted shut is enough to convince you otherwise.

“What is the point in bolting something shut if you have bolt cutters lying in the same room?” JJ comments, tossing her pale gold pony over her shoulder before letting the tool settle against the strap of her Kevlar.

You turn away from the freezer to try and quell the rolling in your stomach.

“I’m going to call Morgan to see if they have anything.” At this point, they should have cleared the house or arrested him, making you feel comfortable enough to pull out your phone and dial Derek’s number. He answers on the second ring, his tone of voice telling you everything that you need to know.

“Hey Mamacita, I’m gonna go ahead and assume he’s not over there?” The rest of the tension that you had been unconsciously holding in your chest leaves with the breath of relief that deflates your lungs. You shake your head, walking away from the freezer of hands to tell him everything you’d found in the ten minutes you’d been inside the workshop.

“That’s just a little gross,” Morgan comments. “Hey Spencer- Spencer!” His voice goes up an octave, booming through the speaker and reverberating in your ear.

“Morgan?! Morgan, what’s wrong?!” The sound of the phone clattering to the floor and a single gunshot is the only response you receive before you’re racing back outside.

The tires of the SUV screech against the asphalt outside Ryan Christopher’s home. Your heart leaped out of your chest with the wild swing of the vehicle underneath you. Ambulances, SUVs, and police cruisers scatter the road and lawn in front of you, several faces lifting to find the source of the sound.

“(Y/N)!” JJ cried, white knuckling the arm of her seat and the ‘Oh Shit’ handle above her head. The car was barely in park when you fumbled for the latch of your seatbelt, kicking the door open and rushing into the hordes of first responders.

You should have never agreed to let them separate you from each other. That was the only thing you could think the moment you heard Morgan cry your fiancé’s name over the phone.

“Spencer?!” You pushed past a couple of local cops who shot you dirty looks when you shoved your way between them. Your eyes couldn’t take in all the details around you fast enough, all you could focus on was finding the top of a curly brown head of hair. Rossi was the first to come up to you, grabbing you by the shoulders and meeting your eyes with a steady gaze.

“Don’t panic.” He said in the least reassuring manner humanly possible. You didn’t give him time to explain before you tore from his arms and ducked around him.

Ambulance. He would be in an ambulance. If he’s hurt that bad, you hope the ambulance has already left, but at the same time you need to see him. If you don’t you might actually vomit right here in the middle of everyone.

“SPENCER REID!” The sound came from your chest, booming over the clamor and bustle of everyone around you. More people stopped and stared as you stumbled toward the emergency vehicles parked at the other side of the mass of people. You didn’t care. The lack of response was setting you on edge.

Just before you could yell his name again, he suddenly appeared like a ghost might appear out of thin air. He certainly was as pale as a ghost, sitting at the end of an open ambulance with an ice pack gingerly held against the back of his head. One of his lanky arms was raised into the air, waving you over.

When you flew into his arms, burying your face into his chest and inhaling his familiar scent of coffee and laundry soap, he grunted a little in pain.

“Careful, I’m not broke but I’m definitely sore.” You loosened your grip from around his ribs, leaning back and beginning an assessment of his limbs and appendages. Everything was, thankfully, in its rightful place, but cuts and freshly forming bruises were littered all over his arms and face.

“We weren’t even separated an hour and this is how I come back to find you? Do you have no concern for my nerves? My sanity?!” Your voice is shrill with residual panic, your fingers gripping onto the back of his shirt so that they wouldn’t shake. Slowly, Spencer lowers the ice pack to the ambulance flooring before looping his arm around the tops of your shoulders. He doesn’t say anything, letting you ramble away the hysteria as he presses his lips to the crown of your head.

“You can’t ever get hurt, Spencer. We have a baby. We have two babies, actually. Stress is bad for pregnant women, you can’t put me under this kind of stress, I just, how could you be so careless? What even happened? You know what, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I’m so mad at you right now, Spencer Reid. Just you wait until I’m not consumed with relief that you’re not dead, I might kill you myself.”

The tears wetting your cheeks betray your words, the rant loosing any of its sting as your voice cracks through it.

Putting his hands on either side of your face, he lifts your head up until you’re staring into those eyes you love so much that it actually rips your heart into a thousand tiny pieces every time you think about it.

“Breathe. Didn’t you just say stress isn’t good for the baby?” You want to punch him in the mouth and kiss him senseless at the same time, narrowing your eyes and fighting the smile that Spencer can already see twisting the edges of your lips.

“If you ever do that again-” You start to say, trying and failing to shake away the nightmarish possibilities you’d conjured up in your head on the twenty minute drive from Ryan’s workshop. Spencer smothers your rant into his chest when he folds you back into his arms, cradling the back of your head in one of his large hands.

“I will be more considerate of your nerves going forward, Mrs. Bennet.” He teases. You playfully swat at his back before finally letting his embrace settle over you with it’s usual calming affect.

…

“So are we allowed to talk about how you’re pregnant again?” JJ teases from the front of the elevator, unable to contain her own excitement when she notices the way you and Spencer have your heads leaned together in secret near the back.

Your head pops up, nearly bumping against your fiancée’s with the speed in which move to look at JJ. A cursory sweep across the faces of the rest of the team tells you that JJ isn’t the only one who had connected the dots.

“I hate working with profilers.” You groan, thankful for the ding that signals the opening doors. The sight of the BAU is very much welcome, calling to your fatigued limbs the way a siren might call to a pirate ship. This is your last stop before your bed. Your mother always babysat Graeson in your own home, which made it so much easier when you came back late and you weren’t in the mood to stop by her house at one or two o’clock in the morning to pick up your daughter.

“Hey, don’t get mad at us because you and pretty boy are terrible at keeping secrets.” Morgan teases, elbowing Spencer on his way out of the cramped elevator.

“And using contraceptive, apparently.” Prentiss comments as she goes about shuffling papers and files between bags on her desk. You send her a teasing glare, only letting her slide when she pulls you in for a congratulatory hug.

After she lets go, everyone files in one by one for their own congratulations, patting Spencer on the back (lightly, he has a minor concussion and some serious bruises) and squeezing you into excited hugs. Once Rossi pulls away with a teasing remark about how you find the time for sex between cases and a five month old baby, you pick up your things.

“Ready to go home?” Spencer smiles from his desk, gathering his own things into his arms before making his way over to you.

“I’ve been ready for hours.” You sigh, making your way back to the elevator. Someone shouts a last minute congratulations to you before you get to the clear doors. The sound of hurried heels clicking against the floor stops you in your tracks.

Somehow, in all the exhaustion and all the chaos, you’d forgotten Garcia.

“YOU’RE WHAT?”

#criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #criminal mind imagine #spencer reid angst #spence reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert

[uniqorrn]

John Murphy Imagine

Location: The Dropship

Summary: After Clarke accused Murphy of killing Wells, he was beaten up by the other camp members and almost hung by his best friend, Bellamy Blake. After this, you find yourself preparing some different medicines and treatments for his wounds. Being the camps personal doctor you are one of the only ones that knows how to heal and treat wounds. However, you had never really spoken with Murphy, and he had never spoken to you but only a handful of times. But, you can't control the attraction the two of you grow for each other.

Pairing(s): Murphy x reader

Warnings: blood, angst, violence, language, mentions hanging, fluff, kinda smutty? not really.

Words: 1,734

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"Murphy! What did you do to Wells?" Your head shot up into the direction of the sudden shout, your eyes watching as Clarke stormed out of the tent she had been in previously. Bellamy and a few others following shortly after her. She looked furious but also hurt. You furrowed your brows as you watched her, growing progressively angrier the closer she got to Murphy. You swallowed the lump in your throat, your leg beginning to bounce up and down where you sat. You didn't really know Murphy that well, as the two of you never really spoken to each other. You knew nothing of his past or what kind of person he was truly like. You only saw what he wanted everyone to see, that tough-guy persona he put on every day here at the camp. However, you were smarter than that and knew that the windows to the soul were the eyes and everyone had a past you just didn't know his yet. "What the hell are you talking about?" He spat, eyes glaring into her as she reached behind her and around to her pocket. Pulling out a very familiar knife. "We found this with two of Wells' fingers where his body was." She held up a knife, a bend at the end of it, signaling that it was his knife. "What and you think I did it?" He scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You were the one who threatened to kill him!" Gasps and hushed whispered were heard from the group that had formed around Clarke and Murphy. The quiet whispers were turning into shouts of protests, each person growing angrier with Murphy. "I'm saying that you killed Wells." "Yeah, he tried to killed Jasper too!" Octavia joined in, creating several more gasps and whispers throughout the crowd. You stayed where you were; your leg began bouncing up and down anxiously. A few more words were said and sudden shouting was heard throughout the camp. Suddenly, Murphy was dragged off somewhere, people shouting and throwing their fists up into the air as they vanished somewhere in the camp. You quickly followed behind them, your heart beat speeding up the closer you got to the shouting. When you got there, your eyes widened at the sight before you. You stood there frozen to the ground, as you watched Bellamy push the creature out from underneath Murphy's feet, the noose wrapping around his neck tightly as he struggled for air. You can imagine the shock on your face when you saw what was going on. You were on the sensitive side—you didn't like things that were very violent. You didn't like fighting, blood, killing, anything related to violence wasn't your thing. Most people picked on you for it, or made comments about how you won't survive here on earth if you don't learn to fight and defend yourself. Going into the medical field was a surprise, since you didn't like to look at blood. However, your heart was stronger than your dislikes and fears. You wanted to help people feel better. You wanted to help save people's lives. That's why Abby picked you to go down to the ground. So someone could watch over the 100 that were sent to a planet they weren't even sure was livable. "Stop! I killed Wells! It wasn't him.." A small girl shouted, making her way into the small circle, bringing you out of your dazed state. You watched Clarke cut the ropes, and Murphy falling to the ground before you tired and walked away. Suddenly, feeling sick from the situation that just happened, you entered your tent, sitting yourself down on the edge of your makeshift cot. You tried to bring your breathing back to normal, placing your hands in your head to rub at your forehead in an attempt to get rid of the headache that had formed. You stayed like that for awhile, sitting on your cat as you just stared at your shoes. It was quiet and there was no one to bother you. However, that was short-lived when Clarke entered your tent. "Y/n, can we talk?" You looked up at her with tired eyes and gave her a short but stern nod. You stood up, pulling your loose jacket over your shoulder as you shifted your weight onto your right side. "To make this short, I need you to come treat Murphy's injuries before they get infected. I would do it myself, but I wouldn't know where to start." You stared at her for a good minute, wondering why someone like her---that wanted to create peace would cause such a situation to occur--. It irritated you, to say the least. "That's why I'm here isn't it?" You cocked a brow, crossing your arms over your chest. "Just give me a few minutes to grab my things." You added turning on your heels to look through your supplies. "I'll send him in." You ignored her as you grabbed little containers of different powders and herbs, rags and bowls of water, along with any other supply you might need for treating his injuries. "I don't need someone to look at my wounds!" You rolled your eyes at his words, placing down the last container of herbs on your small makeshift table. He entered your tent, throwing back the tent flaps rather roughly. You gestured to your makeshift cot, grabbing your bowl of water and rags first. "You can sit there." Your voice was quiet and soft as you spoke like honey. He sat down with no complaints, placing his hands on his knees. You walked in front of him and grabbed his chin to tilt his head up. Your kind eyes examined the wounds on his face, studying each cut, bruise, and gash on his face. You then moved to his neck, your eyes filling with sadness at the bruised lines that formed on his neck. Your fingers reached out to them slowly touching the skin lightly with your finger tips. Murphy flinched back, sucking in a breath at the contact. You pulled your hand back, mumbling a small sorry as you reached for your wet rag. You gently wiped the blood off his face, careful not to press too hard on the bruises already forming. "Why are you helping me?" He asked as you wiped the blood off of his nose. "it's my job to help heal the injured." You rinsed the bloody rag out in the bowl of water next to you before turning back to wipe the blood from his lips. Your left hand cupped his face gently, letting your thumb rub over his slightly chapped lips as you cleaned the small cut on his bottom lip. "But, no one else would." He whispered, referring to what happened merely an hour earlier. His eyes looked down to the ground, staring at his boots as you placed the rag in the bowl. You stood up, staring at him for a moment before trading the bloody water bowl for a small container of herbs. You stood back in front of him, tilting his head back up so you could look at him. "Because, unlike most I actually care about some people.." You whispered back, rubbing a smooth paste against the cuts on his face before covering it with a bandage. After his face was patched up, you moved to his neck, you looked up to him for approval before reaching out this time. He slowly nodded, granting you permission to touch the sensitive skin there. You rubbed a different paste on his neck, gently moving your fingers along the surface so you wouldn't hurt him. "This will help the bruising heal faster." You said when you pulled back, offering him a small smile. You met his gaze, swallowing thickly as a blush rose up your neck and to your cheeks. You looked away, placing your empty medicine tray on the table next to you. Murphy continued to gaze at you as you cleaned up, wondering why you were showing such kindness, even though you didn't really know each other. He saw a kindness in your eyes that no one's ever given him before. It did something to him.. It made him feel tingly. It was crazy how a simple gaze could make him feel so different. You grabbed one last bandage to cover the small cut he had on his neck. You gently applied it, your breath fanning across his skin softly, which caused a small shiver to crawl up Murphy's spine. When you pulled back, you didn't realize how close your faces were, your foreheads were almost touching and you could feel his breath fanning against your lips. His eyes flickered down to your lips, then to your eyes. Your breathing became heavy as he pushed his lips onto yours in a soft, innocent kiss. Your lips molded together perfectly like two puzzle pieces. Your hands wrapped around his neck, playing with the hairs at the base of it. He swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for entrance to your mouth, which you gladly granted. His tongue explored your mouth, wrestling with yours in a battle of dominance. When you pulled away for air, you were both gasping. You leaned your forehead against his as he placed soft pecks against your slightly swollen and bruised lips. You didn't say anything to each other and just enjoyed the silence that fell around you. You moved to sit on his lap, pushing him back onto your cot as you hovered over him, placing another sweet kiss to his lips.

#the100 #100 #bellamy #bellamyblake #clarkexbellamy #bellamyimagines #john #johnmurphy #murphy #murphyxreader #murphyimagine #imagines #fluff #angst #stories #fanfiction #maywemeetagain #clarke #clarkegriffin #lexa #lexakomtrikru #octavia #octaviablake #xreader #onshot #drabble

[kandyrezi]

– red carnations;

⌜anonymous asked: Ok so I know there's been a fair bit of Sin stuff, but I feel the need to ask - how would Sin react to her darling hunting her down to confess to her, despite her being in a relationship? They just couldn't hold in the feelings anymore, despite knowing that it's foolish to expect someone as incredible as her to be into them, etc.⌟

pairing: yandere(?) sin x reader (funamusea)

(a/n: there can never too much naga wife love to go around~ u v u tbh i’m not sure how cute of a scenario you wanted it to be, but i hope this is to your liking!)

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

The earthly scent of the flowers reaches your senses, in that moment it’s almost easy to become lost in a feeble, little fantasy where nothing in life can go astray.

You’re trying to wrap your head around what has possessed you to such notion involving you piecing together what was previously shattered to lost courage in order to get it off your chest. By how many times your heart beats above the norm whenever she’s near, you could almost mean it quite literally.

…she is married for Elux’s sake, how could you ever hope to think there being a chance of her returning your feelings?

What would that make you anyhow, a concubine of some kind to a harmonious marriage?

For the most part you are an observer from the sidelines; she is always busy, so you aren’t sure if there is a correct time you are supposed to approach her. Sin is nearly always in presence of her wife otherwise, so it would be difficult to get her alone. Unless you want to tell her you have feelings for her in front of Reficul or Mors, who would no doubt bury you alive.

You had no problem conversing and spending time as acquaintances before, but something quite clearly has changed if you’re behaving differently, leaving you to wonder if she would like an explanation for it – when she’d attempted to make small-talk at times when other demons were nearby, but you would more often than not, run away to avoid saying something you might come to regret in messy tumble of words. Now you were seriously re-considering and actually wondering whether admitting your deepest, inner thoughts out loud to the most powerful creature in Pentagram World would be an intelligent idea.

You find her near the edge of the precipice surrounded by pearly gates with rare sprouting orchids clinging to the metal poles, looking as the burgundy dusk settles and stars decorate in the sky behind the gate. It reminds you of a painting that would otherwise be dull were it not for the subject at the focus point to make it whole. You know exactly what – rather whom, makes it complete.

The weather is usually awful all-year around, but in this time of early night the stars had finally aligned for you. You had acquired the flowers from Alibe, who almost too politely allowed you to pluck them from his houseplant collection it almost seemed a little suspicious, but you barely cared about that then.

Minutes tick by in your head then – you go to approach her, but your footing fails you and you trip over a rock, falling off the hillside. You tumble downwards, painfully faceplanting against the soil-covered ground.

A familiar, concerned voice rings from afar a few seconds later.

“Oh! Oh dear, are you alright?”

Waiting for the vivid distortion to clear from your vision, you look up to see her leaning down, placing her palms on underneath your own to grasp your fingers carefully helping you back to mildly unstable feet.

“I’m alright, i-it didn’t even hurt…”

Not nearly as much as it hurt your dignity – or whatever scraps were left of it anyway. You wince, feeling a killer headache rapidly spreading through your scalp, no doubt a far cry from a developing bruise.

(stupid rock. stupid, stupid hillside. and most importantly – stupid, clumsy you.)

Before the mortifying ordeal of knowing you’d just embarrassed yourself in such manner can sink in, you quickly pick up the flowers, hastily try to wrap them together again to look decent, then extending your hand out.

Her gaze follows your mini-bouquet, observing it with curiosity now.

“Hm? Who are those fo—” the serpent doesn’t get a word in, before you blurt out a confession.

“I love you. I’m sorry.”

Covered in layers of dust and dirt from head to toe, you present her with spray made of red carnations. The low whistling of wind only continues to quietly breeze by. You mentally grimace at catching a glimpse of her blinking, being otherwise motionless.

Then she’s frowning.

You feel a pit forming in your stomach, clutching at your insides painfully—

“Dear, your nose is bleeding.”

You nearly gape, tongue stuck at the back of your throat. Sin slithers a bit closer until there’s almost no space left in between bodies.

“Allow me to fix that.” she says and wipes away the blood with a handkerchief kept in a pocket embroidered in her olive cape reaching down long as her hair. Folding the cloth together and putting it away, she places her palm against your temple. It fades away quickly as it merged; pain is no longer coursing through the area from where you hit your head.

(you nearly blush at being tended to like this.)

It’s still a morbid silence that becomes too much for you to bear. You were almost on the brink of wishing the Devil would emerge and slam you six– no, sixty feet deeper into the ground as far as the underworld goes for this foolish act… until Sin extends her arms to take the flowers from you, looking like she wants to say something about it, but an interruption cuts through when one of them begins to blossom and tilt upwards, petals extending, a mouth forming and opening, sinking its razor-like daggers into the serpent lady’s index finger, surprising both you and her.

‘Damn you, Alibe—!’ you curse that doctor in your head for ruining any and all zero point one chances you might have had at that point.

“Oh, what playful ones you are.” The serpent remarks to the plants, not looking deterred in the slightest as she hums a soothing tune to get the red crawlers to calm down, sharp teeth disappearing and eventually reverting to their original state of looking like regular pretty red carnations, petals stopping their shaking.

“Meat-eating plants are quite fascinating, aren’t they? Beautiful in appearance and quite curious in essence, but… they can cause a great deal of hurt if one isn’t aware of their actual, deadly nature.” she says – you swear you see something mischievous in the look she’s giving you, but you can’t decipher what it is.

“Y-Yes, they are certainly a source of interest…” you say, every neuron alert for any potential sign of displeasure, “I thought… you’d like them… maybe.”

“Now… would you like to tell me why have you been running from me as of late every time I try to talk to you?” she inquires, allowing the plants in her hands to now rest idly.

It seems there was no escape after all. You fumble with the hem of your shirt, not sure what to suddenly focus on. You suspect she probably knows your answer already by now, but as you wait a few minutes in silence, you realize she expects you to say it out loud.

“I… I was nervous because you’re the most extraordinary, elegant being in this world and I am just… nothing compared to you. Just one, ordinary blade of grass next to a grand tree that can reach even the far above skies and beyond. I wish I could offer more than what I am, but even that turned out to be a catastrophe in making…” you grumble, recalling that earlier mishap.

Your words cause her to go deep into thought for a minute and you’re anticipating her words.

She speaks again then, “How do you expect me to reciprocate your feelings if you have such a low opinion of yourself?”

You blink, confused at her answer, “I… h-how do you mean?”

“Do you not see yourself as worthy of being in my presence?” she asks, still cradling the gift close in her embrace, whilst her knuckles rest underneath her chin – you see the first sign of displeasure, but not from the actions you’d previously anticipated.

“Um, no, I… I want to feel worthy. I’ve been looking… just observing far too long from a distance, I think my own rotting heart would have turned to dust from inside out if I let this fire in me continue on burning, but now I’m not sure if I should have just let it happen,” you sigh, “I’m sorry for being a bother, but I hope you won’t hold any ill will against me for it… I just needed to get this off my chest.”

Before you allow your own inferiority complex to gnaw away your senses, Sin’s response back to you is almost immediate.

“You may have misunderstood me, it wasn’t my intention at all to dismiss your confession.” she says, with the same gentle voice you’ve become so used to.  She is even smiling with sincerity now.

“Your heart isn’t rotten in any way. In fact, you’re very cute with many things to admire. I know you always speak from the most inner of your soul, and… you should know I’ve reciprocate your feelings from the very beginning, perhaps with even more so the amount of passion you do, if you would allow me to show you more thoroughly, if my words alone are not convincing you.”

You feel foolish to the point you’re only able to quake slightly, swallowing the lump in your throat to clear your voice, “B-But… what about Refi— I mean, the Devil Queen?” you remember to address her with a respectful title for she is still technically your superior, especially in presence of her lawfully-wedded wife.

“I’m sure she won’t mind me having another beloved of my own. After all, love is meant to be shared, whether that’s between two unified persons or more.”

She gestures for you to place your hands towards her, as she hands you one of the very same red carnations you just gifted her.

“I… y-you knew all this time then…?” you accept the flower, holding it within your grasp, wanting to suddenly never let go of it.

“Darling dove, never shy from what your heart desires with this burning, ardent ache. I was wondering if I would have to wait for another eternity for you to approach me again to tell me about this.” she’s jokingly exaggerating her claim, but the words are not lost on you.

“I’m very perceptive of people’s emotions and it’d be sinful of me to lie and say I haven’t had this… desire to keep you all to myself alongside all my other possessions,” she tells you, offering you her hand to take, you swear her eyes are a deeper shade of red than you’ve seen before, “So, how would you like to accept my invitation to accompany me to my garden?”

You don’t need to think over your answer for too long this time.

- : - : -: - : -

(a/n: this is also partially dedicated to Piralos, i don’t know if this was her request but since as an avid Sin worshipper lover, i hope you like this!! 🍷)

#mogeko #funamusea #yandere x reader #sin (funamusea) #yanderecore #deep-sea prisoner #okegom #dsp #female yandere #the gray garden #yandere #tgg #ficlets

[saintsofvoid]

Not my best work, but ya know trying. Umbra torture porn, just him solo jacking it to Execution Time and some of his own archives.

Words - 2267

Not super graphic, but normal blood and suffering would expect him to be into. I am full of regret, so enjoy.

For most the screams would have been ear splitting, the sight too much to take in, but for some this was their fantasy. For Umbra, it was welcoming company now, the normal names popping up in chat, clipping moments, discussing the details. The screams continued as the electric volts shot through the victim, their head snapping back as their spine arched. Straining against the restraints on the chair holding them in place.

Umbra is sat propped up in some dark corner of a run down motel, blood smears on the wall and used needles shoved under the mattress. Some place you stay to hide for the night or die, a place where nobody recognizes names and has never seen faces. The internet is solid though and that's all he really needed.

Laptop screen illuminating the darkness, image of the fried body reflected in his black eyes. Chat continued to scroll, eddies being passed around on bets, messages on how the eyes popped, begging the cameras to be moved closer. Umbra shifted on the filthy mattress taking in the smoking form of the dead man before him. Part of the thrill, knowing that could be him, could be any one of the pervs in chat. He loved it, watching the filth who got caught be killed, survival of the fittest, and the fit sat laughing at it.

The screen goes black as the next execution is queued up. A quick section on the criminal, what state they're out of, and method of execution. Lethal injection. Chat sparks up immediately with links to place bets on the time, money being thrown around to switch out the vials. Arguments starting that they should just use bleach, an internal cleaning for the damned. Umbra can't help but smirk at some of the messages flying through, people so deep into the BD addictions they were no different than him. Wanting to witness torture, suffering, felt morally right because these were criminals. He knew they couldn't separate reality from their fiction though, that this was all content and nothing more. A few may be just as twisted as him, enjoying it for what it was. As he began to learn though it was all just an addiction now, another chase for a different type of high, the line between morals skewed and erased. Was all just content, entertainment, nobody was in the wrong here.

He sits in silence, metal fingers tapping across the keyboard on the laptop. Sending messages back to a small group engaged in more graphic types of execution. The screen eventually comes back and a woman is standing in front of the camera. Final rites are being performed, whatever follows for the legal course. Everything is muted, but he can tell by the look the woman doesn't care. No remorse, no fear, she's accepted her fate and just wants to get it over with. She moved back to sit in the execution seat, leaned back and arms bound to the armrests. Umbra watches intently, head tilted to the side playing with a ring weaved into his dreadlocks. He can see the furrowed brow, the annoyance on the woman's face. The doctor comes up and injects the needle and she spits in his face. Chat lights up with people laughing, emotes and money flying bye, both cheering her on as one of them and chanting for her death.

She looks dead into the camera after that, waiting for her death to come. Something washes over him at that glare. It mimics his own, a reflection he's seen in the mirror so many times. He smirked back at the screen, pushing the laptop to the side, adjusting himself on the bed. Watching as the injection is given, his hand moving to grope himself through his pants.

Free hand running up his side to the exposed vent, metallic fingers dancing across where synthetic flesh meets metal. Fingers slipping in and his system lights up, hud display flashing a warning that he quickly dismisses. He knew his limits, how far he could push his system before it went critical. The first jolt has him rolling his head back, squeezing his cock through his pants. Had been too long since he found pleasure, the sensation feeling almost foreign.

He watched with interest, intent, imagining what the prisoner was feeling. He could see the rage in her eyes, not about her death but that she had been caught to begin with. She was a fighter, and this was a pathetic way out. Only riled him up more. Could tell the moment the poison hit her system, the veins jolting out, the sudden attack to her body. He sunk further into the filthy mattress, groping at his stiffening cock. Free hand running along his body, under the torn tank-top and along his torso. Metal fingers catching at the splits of skin where the metal peaks through, metal bones shifting just beneath the flesh, body responding to the touch.

Doesn’t take long for the woman to succumb to the poison in her system, final moments of struggle leaving her body, fading out as she goes slack in the seat against her restraints. It's all too quick he thinks, there’s nothing involved in this method, it's just a glimpse and then everything is over. Finds himself siding with the chat, should have used bleach or some acid, given a real show for the money they’re throwing around.

Doesn’t take long and the next stream is up, another hanging, but the scene has him perked up. Prisoner has blood on his forehead and the guard has a busted nose, another bastard with some type of fight to the very end. Everything is harsh with how they move him, the positioning, they tighten the noose too tight around the convict’s neck and he knows where this is going. They’re going to make his last moments hell, make the poor gonk suffer to his death.

Anticipating he can feel his cock twitch under his grip, straining up against his pants. Final rites are given and Umbra is pulling himself out, kicking his pants off to the side of the bed and letting his legs fall open. Stroking slowly as he watches for the drop. When it does he’s not disappointed, the eager twitch in his palm as he squeezes his own grip. His free hand finding the ends of his dreads wrapped around his neck, tightening them to the scene. Neck only cracked, convict very much alive swinging as dead weight as its up to suffocation to take him. Body jolting in a natural display for survival as everyone simply watches and counts down the seconds.

His pace picks up on the strokes, chin lifted as a display of his own throat, dreads pulled tight to the resistance of metal. It's enough though, barely, he can feel the edge somewhere deep down and a faded high he’s chasing. Stroking himself to the dying heartbeat, to every twitch, to the look of pain and horror. Everyone is a tough bitch until death is consuming them, then the begging starts, the tears, the pleads. Oh how he loves it, how he wishes he could hear their thoughts, the bastards pleading to be spared.

Doesn’t take long for him to get into the motions, hips jerking up to meet his strokes. He’s seen enough people hung he knows how it all goes, but when the vendetta is met where it becomes personal- makes it all the much better. Hips jerking up as his hand squeezes down around the base, straining for friction, wanting so much more. What he wouldn’t give to have a warm body beneath him. Have his toy taking the brunt of his frustration, pent up rage and lust. The snapping of a neck has never sounded so good.

His cock twitched in his hand, a bead of precum dripping down from the head. Robotic fingers stretching to smear it down his shaft. Slow stroke up and teasing the head. Shifting as he watched the body twitch, the final moments of life dying out. His cock pulsing in his hand as he pulled tighter on the dreads around his neck. Felt teased at this point, executions were too quick. Nothing drawn out and truly painful. Feel the frustration boiling over in him. Pulling up a separate tab and plugging himself in, split screen of his own archives. Decades of interrogations, torture sessions, and murders. Attention flickering back to the execution page for what's to come.

Spitting into his hand he leaned back, laptop screen illuminating his face with footage and pictures of his own doing. The second screen comes back with another 3 women to be hung. Stroked himself slowly to the tears, the pleads, the bruises and blood. His grip tightened around himself as the nooses were secured around the women's necks.

A glimmer of a moment, where oddity would set in. That this was wrong, but the fixation of death is what always did him in. Those seconds where people would stand in the in-between. That's what he loved the most out of it, all he could get from these sites. Watching those like him, lessers to him, be met with such a fate, riled him. Watching others be tortured and murdered at his hand was only the next substitute to get him over.

Feelings were rare, he just needed to get off and be done. Transfixed though, dragging it out, choking himself, fingers slipping into his side vent and his hips bucked up into his fist. Jaw clenched tight as he steadied himself. Twisting his fist down his shaft, squeezing at the base and twisting at the swelling head. Warm metal against hot flesh, watching intently at every move on screen. The words meant nothing, but the silence he knew what was about to happen. The floor falling out and the last seconds of misery wiped away.

All dead within seconds, necks snapped and twisted around the ropes. Feet twitching as the body processes its over. Umbra lets out a long slow breath, grabbing his cock at the base and slapping it against his abdomen. Attention shifting to his own videos, the blood spurting out of open gashes, gurgling up from the throat. Desperate hands trying to fight him off, watching the last of their strength fade away, the life in their eyes go dull snuffing out, and their hands falling back to the ground.

Flicking to the next capture, the next memory, biting hard enough on his lip to draw blood. He remembers the man, a corpo in the wrong place at the wrong time. Trying to find his dealer and stumbling upon a monster feasting. A low moan escapes between parted lips and he doesn’t recognize it as his own. The sheer look of horror, the panicked scream and tumble as he tried to turn on heel and run. Blade sinking into the man’s ankle dragging him back into the mess. Then it's just blow after blow, blood spraying up with each pull of his fist. The point of submission came too quickly and he had backed off.

Umbra groaned as he watched the scene, the man spitting up blood from busted teeth and broken nose. The perfect façade broke as he laid there suffering on the floor. Long slow strokes speeding up, fisting at his cock as he watched, fingers again playing with the vents at his side. The electric racing through his body, making him arch back into it, hips stuttering up into his fist. Tongue flicking out smearing the blood from his lip, only making it all feel so much more real.

See himself climb on top of the corpo blood coated hands running along his beaten face. The soft hush and broken whimper, grasping him with such care, thumbs stroking over bloody cheeks before pushing them into his eyes. Screams engulfing the room, and Umbra can’t stifle the moan that wracks through him. Watching himself pull back to admire the scene, blood running from the eye sockets, mumbled pleas to be let go. Was no fight to begin with, but the man made such a pretty image. Watching him slowly bleed, removing the knife from his ankle and slicing a clean line across his chest. Only drawing a whimper but soon the front of the shirt stains red, and another gash joins it.

He’s close then, such a simple action, a simple kill and it's got him spiraling over. He watches as the knife comes up, the pathetic cry for it to end, and then it's over. Knife plunged deep into his chest, twisted and ripped back out. Throwing his head back as his cock strains and pulses, stroking himself over the edge. Moan leads to a choked off scream as he cums, body shaking with the climax. Ropes of cum spilling onto his abdomen and up to his chest. Stroking the last of it out up to a squeeze on the swollen head. Wiping what ends up on his hand onto the mattress and just falling back onto the bed. Slapping the laptop closed, over the whole thing.

Lays there in silence for several minutes, staring up at the ceiling. Part of him really hates himself, not so much for getting off but only being able to at his own work. Yet only able to think of that corpo, if it wasn't for the heat of the moment, would have dragged it out. Such a waste of a pretty face. Then the smile cracks, that dangerous laugh, and he’s floating. He’s got another.

#nsft #cp77 umbra #fics and shit #i guess idk

[untaemedqueen]

The Bird Cage

Mafia!Jimin x Reader

Chapter 19.

Warnings: Excessive Cursing, Angst, Cunnilingus

Blood, Guns, Knives, Smoking (Cigarettes)

Tag-List: @imaforeigner​, @q1st1na​, @gensneverland​, @autumnnflowers​, @toddsgirl27, @yaniposts22​, @babyboytae1, @dearlydreadful, @vivpurple7, @kthfeed, @probably-trying-too-hard, @si-deus-me-hanyu-senshu, @bts-chub, @ayyyocee, @taeslittletiger, @yeonkiminfr, @xcharlottemikaelsonx , @topthis808, @brilee64, @mini-coop25

"1320." Jimin whispers as you eat your toast. You nod to him as you sit back in your chair at the breakfast nook. He sips his screwdriver before sighing. 

"You aren't healed yet, you shouldn't go in there yet." You pick up your tea before raising an eyebrow at your husband. 

"Mhm." You mumble as Jimin gives you an eye roll. 

"Kitten, we have to go to see Doctor Song today. Can't you wait until you're fully healed?" You stand up before leaning over the table and pecking his lips. He eyes your bare stomach wearily as you smile at him before walking to the closet. 

"My little brat." Jimim mutters before slinging back the rest of his screwdriver.

You open the chamber door before wrinkling your nose. 

"Hi, Four." You say with a sweet smile as you step into the large room. Four is chained to the wall, arms spread out as well as legs as she lifts her head. 

"I brought you food." You say putting the tray down on the floor and kicking it towards her. 

She lifts her head as Jimin steps into the room behind you. You fix your black dress before sitting down on the chair next to the door. You look over at the table of clean torturing devices as the sterling silver sparkles in the bright light of the room. 

"How are you?" You ask putting your fist under your chin as you cross your legs. 

"Fuck you, bitch." You hum in agreement as Jimin closes the door putting his leg up against it as he leans back. Four spits at the tray of food before meeting your eyes. 

"I'm terrified." Jimin smirks as he sips his glass of whisky before looking at his watch. 

"Listen, Four. Just do me a favor and tell me what the Jungs want? Hmm? And then this will all be over." Four stands and as she does the chains through the wall get pulled tighter to restrain her. Interesting technology to have, you look up at Jimin impressed who simply shrugs with a wink. 

"I'm not telling you a fucking thing. You little cunt." You smile before tying your hair up in a ponytail. 

"You will. I'm sure. Make sure you eat. Gotta keep up your strength to keep fighting the good fight." You stand up and Jimin goes to open the door. 

"I hope Kim Shin kills your sister and rapes her dead body." Jimin takes in a deep breath as you still. 

"What did you just say?" Your vision going red, your neck turning at a frightening speed that makes Four blink quickly. 

"Kitten." Jimin calls as you grab the bread off of the tray. 

"Say what you just said." You step over the tray before stepping in front of Four as the restraints press her up against the wall uncomfortably. You grab her face, your nails digging into her skin making her flinch. You slap her cheek hard before pulling at her chin. 

"Open your mouth." She spits in your face and you scoff stepping back and wiping your face with your sleeve. 

"Hey, baby!" Jimin says quickly as he rushes towards you, you elbow Four in the stomach making her mouth drop open in pain. You shove the bread into her mouth before pushing her jaw closed. 

"Choke on it, you bitch." You spit in her face before Jimin grabs your arm and pulling you back towards the door. 

"Think of the baby, hmm? Think of our baby." Jimin whispers in your ear as you keep your eyes locked on Four. 

"They're going to get you!" She yells, spitting the bread out onto the floor. 

"Not before I get you first, you little bitch." Jimin rips open the door before pulling you out into the hallway.

You stare out the car window, watching as the Seoul streets pass you by. The beautiful trees lining the sidewalks dotted with bright green leaves. Jimin side eyes you as you put your hand on your stomach. The car ride was silent, not uncomfortably, just silent. 

"Do you think it's a boy or a girl?" Jimin asks, trying to break the silence, you turn your head to him with a smirk as he grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers. 

"I'm not sure. What do you want?" 

"A boy." Jimin says absentmindedly as he pulls into the hospital parking lot. 

"Boy first then a girl. So he takes care of his little sister." You raise an eyebrow, 

"Oh so you had plans for this to happen?" Jimin snorts before pulling into the VIP parking space. 

"No, but I've been thinking about it a lot more lately. Sometimes I lay in bed awake at night, rubbing your stomach just thinking." Jimin shuts the car off before putting on his sunglasses. 

"Thinking what?" He looks in the mirror before fixing his hair. 

"Thinking how lucky I am that I have you, how lucky we are to be having a baby. The future, how miserable I was before you. That shit." He says as you unbuckle your seat belt. You hum to him as he opens up the glove compartment and grabbing his gun. As he leans over he kisses your cheek making you smile. 

"You definitely bring a joy to my life I didn't have before." He opens his car door before hopping out, you stare at the hospital through the windshield as Jimin opens your door. 

"Okay, let's go see our little bean." He says slinging his arm over your shoulders as you step out of the Bentley.

You lay down on the table, legs up in the stirrups as Doctor Song sits in front of you squirting cold gel onto the end of what you could only describe as an alien probe. 

"So you can do everything then? Heal people, be an ob/gyn, do surgery." You say impressed, making Jimin smile as he fixes his suit jacket before sitting down in the chair next to you. 

"Yes, I've been doing this a long time." You hum to him as he looks up at you taking off his glasses. 

"You might feel some discomfort, just take some deep breaths." You nod as the sonogram machine invades you. You grip on to Jimin's hand at the awkward feeling. Jimin stares at the screen, his lips to the back of your hand as he waits with bated breath to see his child. 

"Have you had any morning sickness?" You nod fervently,

"A lot but I've never thrown up, just queasiness. And, I'm always tired." Doctor Song nods.

"Yeah, that can happen. That's good though, means your body is changing for your child." Jimin smiles kissing your hand again. 

"Breast tenderness?" Jimin nods thinking of his advances on you yesterday that were fought off by your tender pain. You roll your eyes, shoving him with your elbow. 

"That's good too. Your body is getting ready to make milk." Jimin's eyes begin to light up as the screen goes from black to being dotted with light grey. You cringe uncomfortable as the probe reaches your cervix. Doctor Song clears his throat before looking at the screen as he angles the probe. Appearing on the screen was a small body, incredibly tiny that makes Jimin gasp. 

"That's your baby." Doctor Song says and you smile. He begins to take measurements as Jimin's eyes begin to water. 

"Wow." He whispers, kissing your hand. 

"The baby is seven weeks and two days, roughly. This is what will make you cry." Doctor Song tells Jimin as he pushes a button. 

The sound of a heartbeat comes on and it comes out strong. The noise filling your ears as Jimin does indeed cry. His eyes screwing shut as he puts his forehead to your hand. You giggle before leaning over and kissing the top of his head. 

"What do you think Mrs. Park?" Doctor Song asks with a smile.

"I think the baby looks like a worm." Jimin clicks his teeth before narrowing his tear filled eyes at you. 

"A cute worm." You clarify making Doctor Song laugh. 

"Is the baby healthy? Is it safe?" Jimin asks, wiping at his face. Doctor Song nods looking at the screen. 

"Strong heart beat, the baby is the right size for its age. Everything looks normal so far. In a month you can come back and we'll do another sonogram." Jimin nods before standing up and kissing you. 

"Thank you, for giving me a child." After seeing his child Jimin was sure, he could never love anything more in his entire life. He would do everything and anything for his family. No matter what. Doctor Song prints out a few pictures before handing them to Jimin. Jimin bows his head before pulling money out of his pocket and handing it to the doctor. 

"Thank you so much." Doctor Song bows to him and then to you. 

"See you in a month." You bow your head to him before closing your legs. With the help of your husband your feet find the floor as you groan at the tenderness of your back. 

"Take it easy, when we go home you two can take a nap, okay? You and little bean can sleep." It was odd to hear the sweet nickname coming from him but you couldn't help but smile.

You lay down on the bed as Two hands you a tea. Jimin takes off his suit jacket before throwing it on the chair. 

"Thanks Two." She gives you a gentle smile as you groan sitting up against the headboard. Jimin pulls the pictures of your child out of his pants before sitting on the edge of the bed, his thumb running over the picture. 

"Amazing, isn't it?" He asks before looking at you, you tilt your head and give him a smile. He smirks before turning his head back down to the picture. 

"Seven months and the baby will be here. Wah. So crazy." He mumbles as Two leaves the bedroom. 

You sip your tea as Jimin throws himself back on to the bed, the picture held high above his face as he stares at it. His dress shirt rises to show his abs as he smiles at the picture. 

"I wish my parents were here to see this." He mumbles before clearing his throat and furrowing his eyebrows. He rarely talks about them, it was nice to hear him voice his thoughts freely. 

"They would love you." He presses the picture to his heart before caressing your calf. You hum in appreciation before giggling. 

"Big bad mafia bosses have hearts then, huh?" He snorts before turning on to his side putting his hand underneath his head. 

"Only for their loved ones, I'm sure." You chuckle before setting your tea aside. He puts his hand on your stomach before laying his head down on his arm. 

"You know... Last year... I tried to kill myself." You freeze at his words before sitting up straighter. Jimin hums at your surprise. 

"Yeah, I know. The all powerful lion tries to off himself. But, I did. I did try. Jeongguk found me, saved my life as per usual." 

"Why?" You find yourself asking as Jimin puts his cheek on your stomach. 

"Because I felt like I had no purpose. I was supposed to just sell guns and kill people without anything of my own for the rest of my life? No family, no love in my heart. I had nothing." You nod to him before sniffling. A world without Jimin would be no better off. Although he does what he does, he deserves to be happy too. 

"Now I have a wife, y'know? A child coming." 

"An escort business." You say making him laugh. He sighs before kissing your stomach and sitting up. "It's all coming together. Everything is falling into place."

You stare at the chamber door, the house was silent. Jimin sleeping soundly as you enter the code into the door pad. You open the door before stepping inside and sitting down crossing your legs. Your eyes on Four as she sleeps on the cold ground. You turn the lights on blinking at the brightness before clearing your throat as you close the door behind you. 

"Good morning Four." You say loudly looking at the tray from this morning. She stirs from her sleep and you put your fingers to your lips whistling loudly. She lifts her head with a groan and you fold your arms before smiling at her. 

"Hi there." She sits up cringing as she puts her head back to the wall. She looks filthy, her hair becoming a rats nest of tangles as you smirk. 

"Did you miss me for the past month?" She spits in your direction and you nod. 

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way." Your hormones were raging, just one mishap on Four's part and you would tear her apart like an animal without any remorse. 

"Fuck you, bitch." You hum to her before standing up. 

"It's not...uncommon to have anger towards someone who deserves it. But, I haven't done anything to you." She narrows her eyes at you, sleep encrusting the corners of her eyes as you crouch down a few feet away from her. 

"You have no idea what you've done." She says with venom in her voice. You snap your fingers before pointing at her. 

"Exactly! You're right. So why is it that you cut me? I don't even know you." You sit on the floor cross legged and she does the same. 

"I don't hate you Four, I thought you were pretty and a nice girl and look, you almost killed me and my child." You say with a shrug, her face pales at your sentence. 

"Y-You're pregnant?" You nod to her before tilting your head. 

"I promise you, anything that the Jungs said to you, promised you. Will no longer come true. Ever. I mean you live in here now." You point at the steel walls. She swallows before looking at the floor.

There was silence for a short while. Four looking at the floor and then back up at you countless times. You groan standing back up. 

"I didn't know you were pregnant." 

"Neither did I." She clears her throat as you walk back to the chair. Four stares at the large pink scar she caused before sighing. 

"I'm not a violent person." She promises you.

"What did they promise you?" She goes quiet again as you sit back down on the chair. 

"I love him." She says quickly, you lean forward as her comment peaks your interest. 

"Who?" She opens her mouth to answer as the door is shoved open. Jimin stands wide eyed before sighing.

"Who?" You ask again louder annoyed that he came in. Four looks up at Jimin before laying back down on the floor without a word. 

"You should be sleeping! What are you doing in here? The baby needs rest!" Jimin says loudly, you sigh putting your hands to your face. 

"Four, just tell me who." You beg of her before shoving Jimin's chest. 

"Get to bed." He whispers, shoving the door open wider. You yell out in anger towards him.

"Four!" She looks up at you through her dirty hair and you sigh. 

"Go, Kitten. Both of you need your rest." You stand up before shoving him as you walk out of the room. He sighs loudly.

"Kitten!" He says as he closes the door shut behind him as you barrel towards the bedroom before slamming the door behind you. 

You could have had it. The answer was right there, she could have told you if Jimin hadn't come in. You pace the room putting your hands to your hair grabbing fistfuls. Jimin enters before leaning against the doorpost. 

"Baby-" 

"I could have had it! She was talking to me!" He watches you running his fingers through his hair. 

"You need to sleep. You're obsessing over this." He says as you narrow your eyes at him. 

"I COULD HAVE HAD IT. SHE WAS GOING TO GIVE ME A NAME." You scream at the top of your lungs before closing your eyes out of frustration. Jimin licks his lips.

"I don't care, you're more important that a name! You need to take care of yourself!" You scoff before putting your hands over your face. 

"They could have killed our fucking baby. I want answers and I want them now. I COULD HAVE HAD MY FUCKING ANSWER. RIGHT THERE!" Jimin nods before pressing his hands together. 

"Kitten, I'm sorry but you're more important to me than finding out a name. Okay? You need to calm down, it's not good for the baby." He steps inside the room, closing the door behind him. 

"Are you taking this seriously? Are you taking any of this seriously? Your retribution for the Jungs, do you even fucking care? What if they killed me, if they killed our baby?" Jimin groans out in frustration. 

"Of course I fucking care! I've been killing off every Jung I see that looks at us the wrong way." 

"WELL IF I HAD THAT NAME YOU COULD JUST GO FOR ONE PERSON!" Jimin walks towards you before wrapping his arms around your waist. 

"That may be true, but I will not have you losing sleep over this. We will find out the name, we will figure this out." His touch makes you calm down, against your own will which is frustrating. He rubs your lower back soothingly, kissing your cheek and your neck. 

"I promise, we'll find out the name. But, if you don't lay the fuck down and sleep every night from now on, I'm making her a warehouse body." You put your forehead to his chest before punching his arm. 

"Go ahead. Take your frustration out on me. Hit me, punch me. But, I won't apologize for coming and getting you. I want what's best for the both of you. And, the best thing at night is to sleep." You sigh, he's right. Your rage is unrelenting towards her, you can't stop thinking about it when you lay in bed at night. 

"Okay." You whisper as he pulls back. 

"Okay?" You nod to him and he kisses your lips gently. 

"Lay down." He tells you nodding to the bed as he pours himself a shot of whisky. You pad over to the bed before laying down as he shoots back the shot. 

"Don't you ever fucking ask me if I care about you and the baby, again. You must be out of your fucking mind to ask me something like that." He says slamming the glass on to the table. You sigh, putting your face into the pillow as he walks over towards you. 

"You know you're my world, so is our baby. You are really something else." Jimin scoffs as he kneels down in between your legs. 

"You hear me?" He asks loudly and you look up at him and nod. He lifts up your nightgown before kissing your stomach. You pick your head up confused as his lips begin to trail lower. 

"Nu-uh!" You say shoving at his head as he pushes your thong away from your core. 

"Lay down and shut up." He tells you, looking up at you with narrowed eyes. You swallow before doing as told as Jimin pushes your legs open wider. 

"Daddy will make you forget about everything outside of this room." He pulls your thong off of you and you take in a deep breath. He kisses at your pussy lips, spreading them open with his fingers to lewdly look at your cunt. 

"Jimin I-" He looks up at you again and you shut your mouth. 

"Who am I?" You whimper out as you close your eyes. His tongue runs a flat lick over you that has you panting within seconds. Jimin begins to give kitten licks to your clit, your thighs squeezing around his head. 

"Fuck!" Jimin pulls away making you whine. You hadn't had something between you in a long while and this was overdue. 

"Answer me. Who am I?" His fingers begin to tease your opening picking up your wetness as your pussy becomes swollen for him. 

"Daddy!" You whine out pulling at his hair. 

"Good girl." His lips find purchase against you once more, sucking at your swelling clit as he enters a finger into you. You open your eyes to watch him eat you out. His cheeks beginning to become coated in you arousal. 

"Daddy, fuck. Yes!" Jimin hums in agreement before adding another finger. 

His fingers pumping in and out of you at a steady pace as you moan loudly. Your stomach tightening and feeling as if it is swelling as you grab fistfuls of Jimins hair. He begins to moan himself as he feels your cunt beginning to throb for him. 

"Oh shit, Daddy!" Your eyes rolling back as your mouth goes dry. 

Just a few more harsh suckles and the curling of his fingers on the rough patch within you has you orgasming your husbands name loudly. Jimin pulls back watching you as you ride out your high. His fingers going at a slower pace as he smirks before licking his lips. You open your eyes before whimpering out and opening your arms making him chuckle. 

"That's my good little kitty." He wipes his mouth before laying down next to you. 

"I don't want you going to that door after 8 o'clock, you hear me, baby?" You nod tiredly as you put your face into his chest. 

"That's my good girl." He whispers putting his hand on your stomach.

#the bird cage #bts smut #bts story #bts series #bts imagine #jimin x reader #jimin x you #mafia!jimin #mafia!bts #mafia!au #jeongguk #jimin #taehyung #seokjin #hoseok #yoongi #namjoon

[nalgenewhore]

With My Life - Chapter Ten

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter 

warnings: (all graphic) violence, guns, blood, smut, PTSD

an: here she is. i dont have anything else to say. 

Elide paced in the parking garage, obsessively checking her index cards. 

Her neat, precise notes and paragraph prompts stared up at her until they became jumbled. They started moving off the page and Elide nearly cried in distress. “L, it’s not- nothing’s working.” 

Lorcan’s dark head popped up over the roof of the car, his eyes soft with concern, but there was something else. Ever since they had woken, Lorcan had been withdrawn. Detached. “What’s not working?” 

She gestured to the cards, hating that tears stung the back of her eyes. “I can’t- I don’t know what I’m talking about! It’s like- it’s like I’m faking my way through it.” Elide looked down at the ground, ashamed that she was talking about her measly little thesis when Lorcan was packing and planning for their lives as runaways. “It doesn’t matter.” 

Her vision blurred with tears. Elide sniffled as she heard his steps grow closer until he was standing in front of her and tilting her chin back. “Princess, it does matter. Your work is important and I care about it.” She laughed tearfully, finally smiling. Lorcan’s thumb stroked her chin and he smiled down at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve grown up in this shit - you know it better than any of those reviewers, ok?” 

Elide nodded, rising onto her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck and press her face into his chest, “Thank you,” she whispered, the steady tattoo of his heart calming her. Pulling away, she wiped her cheeks, “Remind me what the plan is?” 

Lorcan nodded and kissed the top of her head, leading her to the car. He opened and closed the passenger door for her before going around the back to toss in the last heavy bag - Elide didn’t want to think about what was in it, given the contents of the hidden compartment in the back of his closet - in the trunk. 

She reorganised her flashcards, making sure they were in the correct order. Lorcan slid in the driver’s seat and breathed out slowly, “You have office hours until nine thirty. Your thesis review isn’t until eleven, that’ll last one hour, at the most, yes?” Elide nodded and he continued, “Then, I’ll pick you up and we’ll go to the airport. Everyone else will meet us there, and we’ll leave.” 

Elide nodded, reaching over to grip his hand. She was staring straight out the windshield, a small smile tugging at her lips when Lorcan kissed the back of her hand. “Don’t worry, princess. This’ll all be over before you know it.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan parked his car three blocks west and one block north of Vaughan’s apartment. 

He walked up with nothing more than his car keys and wallet, only keeping his phone in case Elide called. 

When he went in, Vaughan was tinkering with something on his kitchen table, playing OutKast’s Rosa Parks as he worked. He slapped Lorcan’s hand away when he poked the device, cursing him away in their mother tongue, “Away, bastard.” 

Lorcan laughed and pulled the end of his brother’s braid, leaping away when Vaughan threatened him with the mini blowtorch. He grabbed the kitchen knife lying on the counter and aimed it at Vaughan, making a slashing motion.

They were locked in a dangerous dance, circling each other slowly, Vaughan’s blowtorch lit. Lorcan went to strike when Nehemia walked in, clearly unimpressed and altogether unsurprised by the predicament. “Down, children. Vaughan, stop trying to burn his hair and Lorcan, away with the knife.” They glared at each other, but did as they were told. 

Lorcan went to sit next to Nehemia, looking over her shoulder at the computer. “Find anything new?” 

The woman shook her head, sighing as she put her braids into a bun and swearing when she realised she didn’t have an elastic. Lorcan pulled one off his wrist and handed it to her, squinting to read what was on her screen. “Are these her Wyrd connections?” Lorcan asked, dragging the cursor over a map. 

“Yes, and no. Not all of them are Wyrd… it’s complicated,” Nehemia huffed, grabbing the computer and typing something. Its motor clicked and whirred as it worked. “She’s hidden her imports well. Various legitimate cargo.” She opened an image, “See this, this was a container of produce from Eyllwe.” 

Nehemia went to change the image, but something had Lorcan pausing her, “Wait, just hold on… I think I’ve seen that container before.” 

“What container?” Fenrys asked as he walked in, carrying a long, suspiciously shaped duffel bag. 

Vaughan looked up and frowned, “Hellas, Fen, maybe next time, choose a different fucking bag? It’s like you’re trying to make people think you have a sniper rifle in there, gods damn, man.” 

“That’s what I fucking told you,” Connall muttered, slapping the upside of his twin’s head. 

“Boys, shut up, I’m trying to think,” Lorcan said, digging out his phone. “I’ve seen that container before. That number, I know it.” 

“I’ll reverse search it,” Nehemia said, opening the database of images the agency had access to. 

Lorcan clicked through a batch of photos from the largest arms bust they had done. Maeve had wanted each of them to take pictures on their personal phones - for reasons she never explained and ones they all knew better to ask about. 

“Here,” he said, showing Nehemia the picture. “It’s the same container.” 

She took his phone from him and used a cord to attach it to her computer. The pictures loaded onto the screen and Lorcan got up to pace, “She’s selling guns, isn’t she?” 

“Yeah, she is,” Nehemia said, “and it goes back a decade, Lorcan. She’s been in on this since the beginning. Before Erawan started anything, she’s the mastermind.” 

They all looked at each other, sadness and defeat flickering in their eyes. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide breathed in slowly and exhaled calmly, waiting to be called into the room. Her presentation was memorised and no one knew the subject like her. 

“Miss Lochan?” Elide opened her eyes, looking to one of the reviewer’s assistants. “We’re ready for you.” 

With a slight, polite smile, Elide picked up her bag and followed the young woman into the cold office, nodding to the panel that sat on one side of the desk. 

Darrow was sitting there too and he winked at her. Elide’s tense posture relaxed a bit as she put her bag down. 

“Welcome, Miss Lochan.” 

“Thank you for having me,” she said, trying to remain calm as she handed out copies of her presentation and connected her laptop to the projector. She checked to make sure it was on the white screen behind her and prayed briefly to Anneith, hoping her goddess would allow a small mercy. 

There was a rustle of paper as the reviewers flipped through her presentation and then the man sitting in the middle nodded once, “Whenever you’re ready.” 

Elide nodded and picked up her index cards. She didn’t need them and she had hardly ever used them, but they brought a sense of reassurance if she ever lost her place. “Of course.” Elide picked up the fob to click through her slides and clicked to the introduction slide. 

Thinking of herself as a child, scared and alone, thinking of the others like her and the ones the system had let down, Elide opened her mouth and the words flowed out of her. 

Her words were succinct and precise, no need to embellish a thing. Elide held the room’s attention, she commanded it, and her presentation flew by. 

With one minor stumble over the abstract of her latest lab, Elide was proud of what she had accomplished and that shone through her as she finished her delivery. 

Then came the questioning period. She answered their queries without hesitation, save for when an older woman asked why she had chosen this particular subject. 

“Um, I-” Elide coughed, her throat suddenly feeling very, very dry. She took a sip from the glass of water she had been given at the start, using the momentary pause to collect herself. “I have always been interested by the inner workings of the human mind, I suppose. When I was a child, I was rather shy and could always be found with my nose stuck in a book that I probably shouldn’t have been reading.”

A light chuckle went through the panel at that and Elide smiled, waiting to continue. “When my parents died, the only living relative I had was deemed unfit to care for me, which he was, and I was placed in the foster system. I was never adopted and I aged out eventually. I spent most of that time trying to find a way to get out and the only viable option that wouldn’t have left me dead was school.” 

A repressed memory of a foster parent burning her school materials and books, projects and papers she had worked tirelessly over, in an oil drum flashed through her mind. Elide was ashamed of the way her throat burned with the threat of sobs. 

Somehow, she managed to finish off, “I have lived through what I study and I can attest to the fact that no one would wish it on another person. The foster system hasn’t changed practically since it was created and it sets children up for disaster, in more ways than one.” With a shaky smile, Elide said, “I want to help and I want change. This is simply the best way I know how.” 

Pity, mixed with respect, swam through the questioners’ eyes and they all thanked her, standing to shake her hand as she exited. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The bags were all packed. Everything, everything was planned and they had strategized where they would all be going. 

Elide and Lorcan would be going to Suria by plane, then take the train to Orynth in two days' time. Vaughan and Nehemia were flying to Rifthold and catching a connecting flight to Orynth. 

On account of Aelin’s delicate condition, her doctor - after Rowan had said they would be returning to Terrasen for a funeral - suggested keeping flights to a minimum, she and Rowan would be flying directly to Orynth and staying in the safe house. 

Vaughan handed out fake passports to them all. Nehemia took hers and stepped out onto the balcony. 

She let the boys say their good-byes, knowing it was always the hardest part of an assignment for them. If one was hurt, they all bled. 

Nehemia pocketed her fake passport and wrapped her arms around herself, tucking her chin into the collar of her jacket. It was too cold in Wendlyn and she dreaded spending the coldest months in Orynth. 

She had never quite adjusted to anything but the balmy temperature of Banjali. 

Nehemia looked up when the sliding door opened, seeing her husband standing there. She glanced back into the apartment, just catching the end of Vaughan’s double braid as he closed the door behind him. 

“Mi…” Fenrys began, his dark eyes rippling with a deep sadness. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

She shook her head and stepped to him, tucking herself into his chest. “Don’t say sorry, please. It’s not the time for apologies.” 

Her kind and loving husband wrapped his arms around her, dipping his chin to rest it on her head. “I still am.” 

Nehemia pressed her face into his neck as tears pricked her eyes, “It’s not supposed to be like this.” She slid her arms around him, feeling like she would crumble to the ground without it. “I don’t want to say good-bye, Fen.” 

Graceful fingers tilted her chin up and soft, heartbreakingly soft eyes met hers. “I don’t want to say good-bye either, but…” 

“We have to,” she finished for him, smiling sadly. Fenrys nodded and unclasped the golden chain he wore every day. A gold band hung from it. Nehemia shook her head, whispering, “No, Fen, please–” 

He pressed it into her hand, gently gripping her jaw, “I need you to keep it safe for me, Mi.” Fenrys closed her hand over his wedding ring. It was still warm from his skin. Neither Fenrys nor Nehemia wore their rings on their fingers. 

It meant more to them to wear them on necklaces - that way they remained close to their hearts and souls. Nehemia wanted to fling it back at him, wanted to scream no, she wouldn’t wear it, but she held it close and nodded. Fenrys cupped her face, brushing his thumbs over her regal, majestic cheekbones, “Hold it when you miss me.” He leaned down, kissing her brow. “Hold it when you’re mad and squeeze it tight enough that I can feel it.”

His lips dusted soft caresses over her eyelids, “Scream at it and be angry because your man had to do the hero thing and save the world.” Nehemia laughed tearfully, her inhale unsteady when he kissed her cheek, “Wear it when you’re sad and wear it when you’re happy.” 

Fenrys pressed his lips to her other cheek, whispering softly, “Wear it until I come home to you, ok?” 

Nehemia rose on her tiptoes, kissing him soundly, her promise in the embrace as she held her fist to his heart. The other hand cupped the back of his neck as Fenrys dipped her, his arms banded around her waist. “I promise,” she whispered. 

Pulling away, Nehemia stroked her fingers over his neck, gazing up into his eyes. “Don’t do anything dumb, you hear me?” 

That swaggering, signature Marama twin happy-go-lucky grin tugged at his full lips, his wicked sharp teeth flashing white. Nehemia could’ve sworn she saw fantom fangs ghosting over his smile. “Yes, ma’am.” 

She rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek, “I’m going to the bathroom. Don’t save the world until I’m back.” 

Fenrys laughed, the sound rich and rolling, “Of course. I’ll try to stop the boys.” 

Nehemia chuckled and walked back into the apartment, going into the bathroom and closing the door behind her. She locked it and braced her hands against the sink, sobs trapped in her chest. 

She looked at the mirror, the flickering light catching on the cuffs adoring her hair. With shaking hands, Nehemia clasped Fenrys’ chain around her neck and began undoing the cuffs until her hair was plain save for the intricate pattern of her tribal braids. Her tears spilled down her cheeks, but still, her chin remained up. She would not bow her head, not once. 

Nehemia didn’t bother wiping her cheeks as she strode back into the living room to find that everyone had returned. Subtly, she tucked the chain beneath her top. Nobody but her and Fenrys had to know that intimate detail of their life. It would be their little secret.

She didn’t look at anyone but Fenrys and walked over to him, pressing her jewellery into his hand. In Eyllwe, she told him, “Keep these safe for me.”  

“Mi–”

“Please.” 

Fenrys pocketed the adornments, glum acceptance flashing in his eyes. He leaned down, kissing the top of her head where three cornrows crossed before joining the countless others in falling freely down to her waist. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she murmured, pulling away and wiping her cheeks. “We should go. Ellie’s meeting ends in ten minutes and she’ll be anxious if we aren’t on time.” 

No one dared to go against the command in her voice. They said one last farewell as Connall lifted her off her feet, practically squashing the life from her. Nehemia laughed, her hands on his shoulders when her brother in law finally set her back down. “Bye, Con. Take care of him for me.” 

Fenrys spluttered and pulled her back to him, his hands squeezing her hips reassuringly, “I don’t need to be taken care of.” 

Nehemia just smiled and pulled him down for one last kiss, “Humour me, ya hayati.” 

He nodded, finally letting her go. Fenrys slung his arm around Connall’s shoulders and shooed her out the door. With one more smile, Nehemia turned and walked away, resisting the urge to look back. 

Later, when all was said and done, she would regret not taking one more second to memorise the way they looked. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide kept her chin up while she strode through the hallways to her office and collected the things she would need while she was… away. 

“Knock, knock.” 

She turned, smiling at the sight of Darrow. “Oh, hi.” 

“That was very well done, Elide,” he said, stepping in and passing her the various things she had put on her desk. “You’re really leaving, hmm?” 

Elide paused, her computer charger held above her bag. She put it down and turned, nodding slightly. “Yes. I just- I’m sorry, Darrow.” 

He waved his hand dismissively, “Oh, don’t mind me. Just being a crotchety old man. You deserve a break, Elide. You’ve been hitting a few snags in your work so go. Be with your lover,” he teased, laughing when she made a face. 

“Don’t tell him you called him my ‘lover’. He’ll never let me hear the end of it,” Elide said. Darrow held his arms open and Elide stepped forward, hugging him tightly. Tears sprang unbidden in her eyes and she whispered, ���Thank you for everything. I can never repay you.” 

“No, you can’t,” Darrow said, pushing her thanks off like it made him uncomfortable. “Alright, I have a class to teach. You take care of yourself, you hear me? I won’t be tolerating any calls from some foreign hospital because you decided to let loose for a night.” 

Elide laughed and wiped her eyes, “I make no promises.” Darrow rolled his eyes and hugged her one last time before walking out of her office. 

She sighed and finished packing her stuff up, remembering to leave the key with the receptionist. 

It was cold and grey outside, which seemed to fit the day. Elide crossed her arms over her chest to conserve heat as she waited on the curb for Lorcan. 

Just as she was about to pull out her phone to call him, a black car pulled up in front of her. An unbidden grin appeared on her face and Elide bit her lip to quell it as she walked down the stairs. The passenger door unlocked, popping open by itself. 

Elide bent at her waist, peering into the car. She tucked her hair behind her ear, frowning, “Can I help you?” The man sitting behind the wheel was decidedly not Lorcan, nor was it any of the other boys she’d become close with. 

He had mousy brown hair cut in a shaggy, unkempt style, that he had obviously attempted to brush into some sort of shape. His eyes were blue, but watery. Vapid. Insipid. The man smiled and she suppressed the shudder that ran through her. “You must be Elide. My name is Cairn, Cairn Beinn.” 

She straightened, dismissing him. Lorcan would be by soon. Elide cocked her jaw, not in the mood to be tricked by anyone and certainly not whoever this piss-baby male was. “No, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong person.” 

He chuckled unkindly and got out of the car, watching her over the car top, “I admire your self-preservation skills, Ms. Lochan, but I assure you, I’m not here to harm you.” Elide held in her scoff and shifted on her feet, uneasily glancing down the street. No one else was there. “Mr. Salvaterre sent me to bring you to the airport. Please, I can call him for you from the car.” 

Elide looked at her watch and tapped her foot. With a tired sigh, she offered Cairn a tight-lipped smile and walked down the path to the car. She missed the way Cairn’s smile turned predatory. 

With one hand on the door, Elide took her handbag off her shoulder, half in the car. The voice at her shoulder told her to look once more down the street. 

She did, tossing a tired glance over her shoulder just as Lorcan’s Aston Martin turned the corner. She gasped, looking in fear at Cairn. He, alerted by her sound of surprise, looked in the mirror and swore, leaning over to grab her long coat and roughly yank her in. 

Elide pushed at him when he leaned across her to close the door and he spat at her, “Sit fucking still or I’ll shoot your precious boyfriend. Again.” Without another word, he revved the engine and sped down the street, tires squealing on asphalt. 

She looked in the side mirror, through the cloud of burning rubber, and saw Lorcan’s car speeding after them. Fear seized her, Elide was frozen. Until, that same voice reminded her of the blade she kept in her bag. 

Carefully, Elide reached her hand into the outer pocket, her fingers closing around the cool weapon. Cairn swerved violently around a truck, causing her to bump into the window and cry out softly. 

He whipped his head to her, snarling something nasty, but Elide wasn’t listening as she withdrew her fist and stabbed, managing to get his eye. Cairn screamed, slapping his hand over the wound, “You bitch!” He slapped her backhanded across the face, sending her crashing back in her seat. “You’re fucking dead.” 

Elide gripped her bag as he slammed on the breaks, managing to stay in her seat and not go flying. 

Cairn turned to her, blood dripping down his face, which was purple and twisted with rage. “You’re fuckin–” 

She lashed out with her foot, the thin heel of her stiletto ramming into his gut. While Cairn was incapacitated, doubled over, Elide wrenched the door open and shot out, the tires of Lorcan’s car screaming as he braked. 

She didn’t look back as she grabbed her bag and ran. Lorcan leaned across to open the door for her and Elide dived in, quickly slamming the door shut behind her. “Go,” she breathed, bracing her hands against the dashboard as Lorcan nodded and ripped away, shooting past Cairn as he stumbled out of the car, holding a gun up.

Lorcan looked in the rearview mirror and swore low, “Fuck, what did you do to him, princess?” 

“Stabbed his right eye,” she said bluntly, feeling numb as the adrenaline faded away. Her face really fucking hurt from the slap and the cut, courtesry of Cairn’s rings. Elide worked her jaw, hissing through her teeth. “And kicked him. Really fuckin’ hard. With my stiletto heel.”

Pride glowed in Lorcan’s eyes as he turned into an unmarked alley and parked the car. He turned to her, scanning her for injuries. His eyes were practically spitting flame as he gently gripped her jaw to tilt her head. “What did he do.” 

Breathing out slowly, Elide put her hand over his, “He slapped me after I stabbed him.” She attempted a soothing smile, “That’s it, L.” 

He grunted, narrowing his eyes. Then, he covered her eyes with his hand, “Close your eyes, love.” 

She held in her sigh, knowing she didn’t need to be checked for a concussion. “L, I don’t need–” 

“Humour me,” he said, not able to hide the tremble in his words. He was scared. Her big, terrifying, intimidating, and aggressive boyfriend was… scared. 

Elide did as he asked, the smarting sensation in her face fading as she waited. After a minute, Lorcan pulled his hand away, checking to see how her pupils dilated. He nodded, his smile relieved, “All good, Lochan.” 

Gently, he cupped her face, stroking his thumb over the cut on her cheekbone, “Still wears the rings, huh?” 

“It’s not funny, L. Who is he and how does he know me? How does he know where I work?” 

Lorcan didn’t say anything as he reached across her lap and opened the glove compartment. He took out the first aid kit and opened it. “He’s… an old employee. Holds a grudge, I guess.” 

Elide ran her tongue over her teeth, fuming silently. “You guess? I just stabbed someone and the best you can come up with is I guess?” 

“El–” 

“No, you know what? I’m done. I can’t do this, Lorcan! I don’t want to do this,” she said, her voice shaking. Her eyes were wide. Lorcan tilted her chin to the side, focusing on the cut. Elide wanted to scream, but his fingers were soft and soothing on her skin, grounding her as her thoughts swirled around her mind like a storm. 

He kissed her forehead after he cleaned the cut, “Just a flesh wound. I don’t even think it’ll scar.” 

Elide exhaled, pulling away from him just enough to look into his eyes, “I’m scared.” 

Lorcan sighed through his nose and brushed her hair back, picking out a piece of something. “I know.” Those two little words tore at his heart. He wasn’t sure Elide had once let herself break and with two words, her cracks were showing. He moved his seat back and pulled her into his lap, tucking her head under his chin. 

And it was there, in the front seat of Lorcan’s car, that Elide Lochan finally broke. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Vaughan was the first to hug Elide when she and Lorcan arrived at the airport. She’d gotten a chance to change out of her meeting clothes. Now, she was wearing a pair of leggings and a hoodie. Perfect for air travel. “Ellie-Boo!” 

“Hey, V,” she whispered, offering a tired smile. 

“L said you stabbed someone?” 

She froze, her shoulders tensing. Lorcan noticed and stepped up behind her. With a supportive touch on the small of her back, Lorcan gently tugged her to his side. He spoke in his mother tongue to Vaughan, always preferring the melodic language of his childhood over the common speech.

The man nodded, quickly distracted. Elide all but sagged against Lorcan, turning her head and pressing her forehead against his body in thanks. 

Aelin trailed up, sipping on something through a straw. She smiled and rested her hand on Elide’s upper arm, rubbing softly, “Hi, sweetheart. Do you want some milkshake?” 

Elide huffed a laugh and shook her head. She raised on her toes to kiss Lorcan softly and whisper something before turning back to Aelin. “Oh, I’m not hungry.” 

“Well, I’m starving and these parasites need some food. Come with me?” 

Lorcan looked at Aelin over Elide’s head and relief flooded his face as he mouthed, Thank you. He knew what Aelin was trying to do. 

Elide looped her arm through Aelin’s and nodded, “Let’s find you some food, then.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

They met up in front of security, just to the side and in a camera blindspot. Elide was picking at a wrap and sipping on a lemonade. It wasn’t much, but at least she was eating something. 

Nehemia distributed their boarding passes out. Her face was closed off after saying farewell to Fenrys. Elide slid up to her, wrapping her arm around Nehemia’s waist and offering her the extra lemonade she had gotten. 

It was ironic that Elide was forcing her into consuming some sort of nutrients. “So, where are we going?” 

“V and I are going to Rifthold. Ace and Ro are going straight to Orynth, I wanted to minimise flight travel for her. You,” Nehemia said, exchanging a pair of passes for the lemonade, “and Lor will be going to Suria. We already got a hotel room for you two, so don’t worry about anything, ok?” 

Elide wanted to make sure Nehemia was ok, but Nehemia did best when she was fussing over everyone else. “Thank you, love.” 

Since her and Lorcan’s flight was the soonest, they had to get going. Elide hugged everyone, leaving Nehemia for last. 

As she hugged the elegant woman, Elide felt Nehemia slump against her and braced her. “You got this, ok, Mi?” 

Nehemia sniffled and nodded, standing up straight. “I know. It’s not forever, right?” She nodded to Lorcan, standing by the entrance. He was talking quietly to Vaughan and Rowan. “Go, go. I’ll see you soon, anyhow.” 

Elide nodded, reaching up one last time to wipe Nehemia’s eyes, “I’ll see you soon, ves’tacha.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Ya hayati: Arabic, ‘my life’ (i previously used Xhosa for Eyllwe, but since i see nehemia as east african - specifically sudanese - i changed it to match the local languag) 

inspo for nehemia’s braids

Ves’tacha: Romani, ‘beloved’ (i use Romani for Blackbeak) 

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @ladyverena @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012​ @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse e @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @minaidss @superspiritfestival @lovemollywho @queen-of-glass @jlinez @sleeping-and-books @ireallyshouldsleeprn @verypaleninja @januarystears @magicalunicorngypsy @sis-it-dont-add-up @keshavomit

#with my life #wml chapter ten #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore #very intense no #i wonder what cairn meant by 'again' hmm