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brittledame · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Semi Eita/Reader

Warnings: Explicit, Mildly Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Scent Marking, Possessive Semi, Claiming, Mention of violence/gore, Alternate Universe, Fantasy AU, Wolf!Semi, Witch!Reader

Word Count: 9.1K

Summary: After Goshiki and Ushijima are thrown into an alternate universe after getting hit by a truck, they're thrown into a generation-old prophecy to defeat the Demon King that had been terrorizing the land. Joining the whirl-wind adventure, you face off the feared Wolf at a great disadvantage. Prepared to meet your fate in order to protect your team, you never anticipated him making a move on you and for it to end in you promising yourself to him.

Notes: Inspired by chapter 24 of Haikyuu-bu!! I started working on this in the middle of the 2nd installment to ‘Semi’s Blow Blow Up’ which I’m hoping to get out before the end of September. Also, I let Semi keep his ears and tail in this, please don’t send me to hell for that. Other than that, please enjoy!!

When Tsutomu and Ushijima ended up on top of a hill surrounded by acres of green rolling-hills, the younger honestly assumed the worst had happened. The bus had hit him and now he was dead in heaven. Of-course Ushijima would be there with him, he’s probably never made a misdeed in his life, meanwhile Tsutomu was slightly shocked he’d end up in heaven after spitefully cutting his older sister’s hair off when she teased his haircut when he was younger.

No, that can’t be right, he can't be in heaven. Everything felt too real. A breeze tousled his hair and he could smell the dirt under his scuffed runners. He couldn’t be dead, meaning that this place wasn’t heaven or purgatory, but someplace else. From the odd-looking trees sporting large purple leaves and expansive Elysian scenery, Tsutomu couldn’t shoot down the absurd idea that he was in an alternate dimension.

Patting himself down, he knew he was physically fine and felt his heart anxiously pounding away inside his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Ushijima standing tall, giving the area around them a surveying glance before his olive eyes landed on his shaky form.

“Goshiki, are you alright?” His deep timbre did calm his frayed nerves, it was hard not to trust his dependable senpai.

Nodding his head, Tsutomu responds with number one question of the day: “Ushijima-senpai, where are we?”

He tried to conceal the fear in his tone, but it would seem that he failed miserably as Ushijima places a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“That truck must have hit us quite a fair way away.” Ushijima states, looking nowhere near as panicked as one should in their situation.

Goshiki gives him bewildered look, gesturing to the land in front of them.

“You think we would be fine after getting hit by a truck?” Tsutomu didn’t try to hide his hysteria. “No matter what way you paint it, this place doesn’t look like anywhere in Miyagi!”

“But there’s Shirabu.” Ushijima points somewhere over Tsutomu’s shoulder.

Half scared that he’s going to turn around and it’s some eldritch terror standing behind him, he froze in place. Although Tsutomu knew Ushijima would never put him in danger, Ushijima had no sense of danger; case and point the ghost incident. Gathering his scattered courage, he turns around and is dumbfounded to find Shirabu indeed standing before him, albeit he was now dressed in unusual garments.

“Shirabu?” Tsutomu exclaims, half relived that at least someone with a brain not solely filled with volleyball would see the insanity of their situation.

“Shirabu? No, I am not a Shirabu, I am Elf.” Not-Shirabu responds while pulling his hood off to expose comically long ears. Tsutomu could feel his mind take a temporary holiday, leaving him half-cocked and not nearly prepared enough to deal with this shit.

“We’re in an actual alternate universe…”

A short trek later, Tsutomu found himself being hosted by Not-Shirabu, who was scarily similar to Shirabu - right down to his mannerisms. Tsutomu could’ve sworn that every time he asked a question about this world, Not-Shirabu fought down a grimace, but never failed to give him a short response. He was polite but was obvious about his distaste towards Tsutomu’s inherently curious nature.

“Shirabu, everyone will worry if we do not return to school soon.” Ushijima succinctly summarises their situation.

“It’s Elf,” Not-Shirabu says immediately. “You want to return to your world?”

At their nods, Not-Shirabu slumps in his chair with a hefty sigh.

“I’m afraid there’s an issue with that. I would love to get you back home, but an evil Demon King has taken over this land. I’m afraid to say that going home is out of the question.”

Tsutomu felt his heart sink at the words. They couldn’t return home? What were they going to do here for a living? They could farm, but Tsutomu is nowhere near well-read in that field compared to Ushijima. Even in this dire situation, Tsutomu was reluctant to admit defeat.

“A Demon King?” He queried, obviously fishing for information about this Demon King. Maybe there was a way to convince him to let them home?

“Yes.” Elf drily responded.

Tsutomu could feel his eye twitch at the Shirabu-like response. Even in an alternate universe, his senpai was a short and antagonistic towards Tsutomu.

Only when he was prompted by Ushijima’s nod, did he continue.

“He is a malicious being with the sole incentive is to spread misfortune across the land. It started with small mischievous deeds, such as cutting individual’s hair into odd styles.” Elf pauses here to raise a hand to his fringe and Tsutomu had to smother the laugh that could threaten his life. “Now he has moved onto terrorising villages and increasing tax prices to an unbelievable high.”

“That is no way to run a country.” Ushijima hums in disapproval.

Tsutomu clasped his hands over his head, already feeling a headache coming on. So we’re going to completely ignore that Shirabu’s weird ass fringe was the result of some Demon King that has apparently ravaged the land by hiking up tax prices? And why did this all sound like something Tendou-senpai would do? He felt latent hysteria rise to the surface again.

“I’m sorry that he got you too, Goshiki.” Elf says solemnly.

Head snapping up, Tsutomu felt outraged at the comment. He worked really hard for his fringe to be this straight. Tsutomu would swear up until his deathbed that bowl cuts were cool.

“Hey! My fringe is untouched by the Demon King. This was my choice!” Goshiki defended his hairstyle, patting at the dark strands, making sure there wasn’t any odd fly-aways.

“We can’t go home as long as the demon king reigns?” Ushijima interjects, effectively ending the argument before it started. Ushijima was all too used to being the only one to stop arguments between Goshiki and Shirabu, he knew all the warning signs.

“Yes.” Elf says with an apologetic look. “I’m very sorry. If only the summoning of the ‘Otherworldly Hero’ passed on from past generations had succeeded. They are the sole hope we have.”

A silence envelopes the room, heavy and suffocating.

Tsutomu knew that panicking would do nothing but waste valuable energy, but he couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed at the insane situation they found themselves in. A niggling thought heaped more anxiety onto him when it raises a good point. What if they were able to go home, what happens if time passes differently here? A day here may be twelve years back home. What would he do if he went back home and all his friends were old, his parents dead and –

Elf startles Tsutomu out of his downward spiral by suddenly jerking back with a gasp, wide eyes focused on Ushijima’s left hand holding a spoon laden with soup. The sudden motion had caused a cup to fall and clatter loudly against the stone flooring, which went widely ignored as Elf raises a trembling finger pointed at the stoic brunette.

“You’re using the spoon with your left hand. Are you –!” He cuts himself off as he rushes over to Ushijima’s side, not quite believing his own eyes. “The Otherworldly Hero!”

Tsutomu could not point out a time he’s ever heard so much emotion poured into Shirabu’s tone, he was almost swept up into Elf’s zeal before his logic kicked back in.

It was that easy?! Tsutomu internally screamed. This was just getting ridiculous at this point, honestly.

After a singular trial of pulling a sword out of stone and Tsutomu embarrassing himself and losing Elf’s respect, they found themselves starting a quest. The fanboy within him was super excited that he was going on an actual quest, exactly like the ones in his RPG campaigns.

“Remind me why we need this witch again?” Tsutomu questions, much to Elf’s evident annoyance.

“We need her to get through the Mystical Woods. It's prowled by one of the Demon King’s acolytes.” Elf slides his eyes to give Tsutomu a warning look, not wanting to answer anymore questions.

Gulping at the intimidating look, Tsutomu waved away the twenty billion other questions that came to mind as they made their way towards a tall stone tower. Tsutomu wonders what the witch would look like. Would she be someone they know, or someone completely new?

At this point in the trip, he silently begging any listening deities that she’s friendly. Ushijima and Shirabu have never been the best talking companions in his world and this trip has highlighted to Tsutomu how much he’d taken Yamagata’s and Reon’s friendly conversations for granted.

The tower ahead of them slowly grew in size until Tsutomu estimated it stood at least 5 stories tall. Following in Elf’s shadow, they pause a few feet away from the base. Looking at the structure, Tsutomu was quick to notice that there was no door present. Maybe they were on the wrong side of the tower?

He was just about to voice this before Elf cups his mouth and proceeds to yell up at one of the open windows.

“Hey Witch, come down! I found the Otherworldly Hero!” He shouts, uncaring at the ruckus he was making.

Tsutomu winces at the volume, shocked at how loud Elf could get. Absent mindedly, he wonders if the Shirabu in his dimension could get that loud too. Looking back up at the window, the youngest saw a head peak out.

“What?!” A familiar voice yells back down. The head disappears out of sight before any of them could respond.

No even a moment later, a dark door appears on the once-blank wall before them. Opening, the door reveals a figure that Tsutomu never thought he’d see. He should've expected it, this situation was crazy enough as it was.

Walking out of the dark room, you come to stand out in the sunlight, confirming your identity. Tsutomu blushed when he noted your attire. You looked exactly how you did before their run, minus the dark blue dress that hugged your curves and loose hair. Not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to himself, he subtly glances to the side to catch Ushijima’s reaction to your appearance.

With his usual neutral expression, he exclaims your name with no more vigour than any other time he’s said it. Tsutomu put too much faith into Ushijima, he should have expected the lack of a reaction as well.

You give Ushijima an odd expression, looking at Elf to explain what was going on.

“Manager-chan?” Goshiki interrupted. Elf shot him a nasty look at the interruption and ended up sighing whilst rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“They've been calling me weird names all afternoon too. Just ignore the short Otherworlder.” Goshiki whines at his harsh words.

You pique an eyebrow at the bowl-cut boy. “So I look like someone you know from your world?”

“Yes,” Ushijima answered monotonously. “You look exactly like our team’s manager.”

You hum as you mull over his words. “Curious. So that would mean you're from a world that is directly parallel to ours, a completely different dimension with shared similarities.” Your tone picked in pace and excitement as you spoke, the end of your sentence becoming a smear to the males around you.

At their collective blank looks you made an odd hand gesture in the air. “Anyway… You found the Hero?” Giving Ushijima a curious look, you completely ignore Tsutomu’s existence.

It kind of hurt for one of his kindest senpai's to outright disregard his presence. Reminding himself of parallel universes, he had to actively tell himself that you weren’t technically you.

Wow, he really hated this alternative universe stuff.

“I’ve been told as such.” Ushijima supplies, not at all weirded out by you invading his personal space to prod at his biceps.

Turning on your heel, you make your way towards Elf and throw a casual arm around his shoulders. Not at all bothered by your antics, Elf stands there as you lean against him. Tsutomu knew in his world that you and Shirabu got along quite well, that must have translated into this universe as well.

“Why are you here instead of saving the lands now that you have the Hero at hand?” Your question is a legitimate one, one that Tsutomu would’ve asked if he wasn’t scared of Shirabu’s infamous back of the knee kicks. If Ushijima was supposedly strong enough to take on the Demon King, surely he'd be able to take on one simple lackey lurking in the woods they needed to cross.

“We’re here to recruit you. You’re the only one I know powerful enough to conceal us to get past the Demon King’s pet monsters.” He patiently explains.

“Aw and here I was thinking it was because you missed me. I missed you, y’know?” You teased. Truly, you did miss Elf and all the shenanigans the two of you would get into, but you would never pass up an opportunity to needle him.

Elf simply rolls his eyes at you and shrugs the arm off of his shoulder.

“I mean it. We need you to get through the Mystical Woods without being detected by Wolf.” You frown at Elf’s serious expression, the reality of the situation dawning upon you.

“You know I’m never going to turn down a quest with you, but his senses are ridiculously enhanced. It’ll take a lot out of me.” Running a hand through your hair, Tsutomu recognised it as your nervous tick. “I won’t be much help during the final battle.”

“Don’t worry about that. You can rely on me.” Ushijima simply states but the effect on you and Elf is immediate.

The Hero’s simple words eviscerated your reservations, the conviction in his tone was all you needed to hear. That paired with the large sacred sword still embedded in stone was all it took to convince you it wasn't a fool's mission.

Agreeing to join their party, you rush to grab your wand and some other resources to assist the party later on in the journey before setting off.

By the time you all stood before the ominous-looking trees of the Mystical Woods, the sun was starting to settle on the horizon, warning you that you had little to no time to make it through before night came along and the true battle began.

“Before we enter, I must tell you all that Wolf’s senses are second to none. He’ll hear a whisper, smell you an acre away, and could destroy you before you could blink.” Your warning only served to scare Goshiki. You rushed to complete your weak pep talk. “But, I’m here so it is very unlikely that he will catch us, much less even be in this neck of the woods.”

Your words did little to soothe the youngest, although he did put a brave face on. You had to stop yourself from cooing at how cute he looked with his chest puffed out and a serious expression adorning his young face.

“Hey, uh, what does this wolf look like? That way if we spot him we can seek some cover.” Goshiki suggests.

Impressed, you gave him an encouraging smile and ignored Elf snorting behind you.

“That’s a brilliant idea, good job Goshiki.” You praised, noticing the way his eyes lit up at it. “Wolf roams around in his human form as far as I’m aware of. He’s taller than Elf but shorter than Hero.”

Elf indignantly huffs at your comment, not all liking your unintentional poke at the sore topic.

“He has pale hair, it almost looks white sometimes. Oh, he also constantly has this really grumpy look on his face.” You continue to list off a series of characteristics that describes Semi to a tee. There was no doubt in Tsutomu’s and Ushijima’s mind about who Wolf was.

“That sounds like Semi.” Goshiki remarked once you finished.

Receiving blank looks from you and Elf, Tsutomu stumbled over his words as he tried to articulate his thoughts.

“Ah, well, the person you just described sounds exactly like my senpai back home called Semi.” Tsutomu let out a small chuckle as he’s hit with a funny nickname for his senpai.

“We’re going to avoid Semi-Wolf so that we can get to the castle, defeat the king and go home, right?” Tsutomu smoothly recovers.

You laugh at the odd nickname Goshiki coined.

“Semi-Wolf you say? I quite like that.” You raise your hand to cover your grin, very amused at how much the ever-serious Wolf would hate it.

Always forced to be the voice of reason, Elf clapped his hands to refocus everyone’s attention.

“We can’t lose focus now. Once we enter these trees we can’t afford to be found by Wolf, even with Witch and Hero on our side, it would be a tiresome battle if he spots us.” His grave tone quickly sobered up the party.

Taking a deep breath, you withdraw your wand, starting to draw out an intricate rune in the air. A familiar tingling sensation overtakes your body as magic begins to flow from the earth up into your fingers and into the wand.

Finishing the last line, a glowing circle with swirling line and sharp strokes stood before you. Fastening the members behind you with a heavy look, you offered them one last chance to back out.

“Are you all ready?”

All three nod back at you, already having steeled themselves whilst you prepared the rune. Turning back to the rune, you finished the casting and walked through it with the three males hot on your tracks. It evaporated as soon as you stepped through it, effectively masking your scents and dampening all sounds. Even Ushijima could sense the tangible weight of the magic casted over his body.

The woods were exactly as you remembered it from when you were a child and wasn’t claimed by the fearsome Wolf. The trees looked the same with rough and peeling bark, along with the ground looking as damp and spongy as the days you ran through it barefooted and free-spirited.

While you didn’t explicitly state that they couldn’t talk, you were secretly glad that they didn’t. It would’ve made your life much more difficult to funnel more energy into the rune to mask them, it was already bad enough that your couldn't completely conceal everyone. Your combined efforts of creeping between the threes on light feet was counteracted by Ushijima nicking every second tree with the sword's sharp blade, creating a trail of bark.

Eyes and ears stayed vigilant even as you noticed a landmark for the half-way point through the forest. You paused at the large outcropping of rocks resembling a sleeping lady and mouth at them that it you were half-way there. Elf and Goshiki looked relieved whilst Ushijima sported the same bland look.

You were tempted to suggest a short rest before continuing through the woods, where Semi-Wolf commonly prowled. The words died on your tongue as you noticed an abnormally thick fog rapidly approach your group. Not even a blink later and the fog had consumed all visibility below the waist.

You’ve spent your whole life surrounded by magic, you knew that this fog came from an unnatural origin. You had hoped that the fog would stay at that height but those were quickly dashed when you saw it slowly creep up your body. It wouldn’t be long before your entire vision was obscured.

This was not good, not good at all.

Whirling around, you went to grab at your team’s clothing to anchor them to you. As your hands cut throw empty air, your fear doubled. You doubted that they abandoned you, it was likely the doing of the magical woods. While you loved to experiment and witness all types of magic, always keen to expand your knowledge, the magic in these woods never failed to unnerve you even as a young child.

Not only was there a predator out here, the woods were also working against you.

Considering your options, you concluded that you were rapidly running out of choices.

Calling out their names was objectively a stupid choice, but it was the best thing you could do with breaking the fragile magic coating them. It was almost a form a self-sacrifice. If you drew enough attention to yourself, they would hopefully find their way to you - or at least something would.

A few tense moments go by, each call answered with dead silence. Not even the insects and birds dared to make a sound.

Casting a tracking spell was completely off the table. Not only was the fog thick enough that you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face, it would shatter the meagre concealing magic coating them. At least it was something to protect them, it was much better then leaving them completely defenceless.

“Shit.” You hissed. Worriedly, you eye the magical fog that was becoming more oppressive, feeling like a physical weight pressing down on you.

“I didn’t know good witches like yourself cursed. So unladylike.” A deep rumbling voice sounded right next to your ear. It was close enough to for warm breath to caress your cold skin. Your skin immediately breaks into goose bumps.

Freezing, your mind descends into chaos as it crowds with worrying thoughts. The most prominent one pointed out the fact that Wolf was able to get dangerously close to you without your notice, magical fog aside. There was no doubt about who he was, there was no other that claimed the woods like he has.

You whirl around, trying to find the voice’s owner, full well knowing of whom you were seeking out. Fear coiled inside of your gut, trying it’s hardest to paralyse your muscles and haze your mind over in fear at the thought of facing Wolf alone at a disadvantage.

“You speak as if you’re a gentleman yourself, Semi-Wolf. You don’t have much room to condone my language when you have the mouth of a foul-tempered troll.” You rebuked, falsifying the confidence in your tone. Showing an ounce of trepidation in front of him would be deadly.

Eyes frantically flitting about, attempting to catch a glimpse of a shadow or anything that would reveal his whereabouts. Your eyes were met with nothing but swirling white, not a single sign as to where he could be. This whole situation had you on edge.

He chuckles at your weak jab. The sound reverberated off of the trees and felt like it came from all around you, only serving to further confuse you about his whereabouts.

While every drop of mana was precious, you thought it prudent to at least being able to see your enemy. It should at least put you on equal footing with him. Flicking your wand, you cast a spell to temporarily filter out the fog around you, creating a clear bubble around you and the menacing man before you.

Even though he looked just as you had described to your otherworldly companions, viewing Wolf not even two meters away from one’s self was always a different experience. The first feature that caught your attention was his dark eyes, iris colour similar to richly stained wood, secondly was his elongated nails coming to a fatal point. Claws sharp enough to shear through flesh with ease were paired with pointed canines exposed by his predatory smile.

Your heart speeds up as you recognised how doomed you were, armed only with your wand, half of your mana and a pouch of useless herbs. The fluffy white dark-tipped ears sitting atop his head flick at the thundering sound of your palpable fear. Wolf's smile widened at that, tail swishing side-to-side in glee. This was going to be all too easy for him.

“Found you Semi-Wolf” Your white-knuckled grip around your wand belied your light tone.

“Don’t call me that.” He growls out, eyes narrowing at you. He was not impressed at your impertinence.

You would normally roll your eyes at the needless display of anger, but you couldn’t afford to take your eyes off of his intimidating figure slowly walking around you.

“What are you doing in my territory,” he continues. You knew he didn't care about your answer, it was more so to draw this out.

Fine, you’d bite.

“We’re on a quest, so please kindly don’t interfere.” He pauses to the left of you, now not even an arms-length away from you. Your body instinctively tenses at this, acutely aware that he could take you out faster than you could cast at this distance.

“I can’t let my reputation suffer just because you asked politely to cross through. There’s consequences to encroaching my land without permission.” His tone darkens at the end of his sentence, acting as if you personally offended him by doing so.

You knew he wouldn’t let you go so easily but a girl could always dream, right?

Lowering your centre of gravity, you subtly shift your body into a fighting stance and forcibly relax your wrist. A stiff wrist would hinder casting and it would frankly be embarrassing to be taken down so quickly, regardless of Wolf being the second toughest opponent controlled by the Demon King.

His keen eyes catch onto your slight movements and he moves in kind. It appears that you’re confident enough to take him on directly off the bat and not even attempt to run away. Whether this choice was misguided or made by underestimating him, Wolf was going to make you rued the day you thought you stood a chance against him.

Not wanting to wait for him to make the first move, you immediately cast a paralysing spell. The spell missed widely as he simultaneously lunged towards you at that very moment. This back and forth of casting and dodging goes on for a while and it wasn't long before you could physically feel your mana decrease and muscles grow tired. Maybe locking yourself in a tower for months on end didn’t have the best effect on your stamina.

Knowing you didn’t have a chance in hell against him while half-powered thanks to the prior masking spell, you could do nothing but futilely dodge him and cast the occasional fire ball his way. In the back of your mind, you spared a thought to the rest of the party and prayed to the deities that they were making their way out of the woods.

An exposed root caught your foot as you danced out of reach from a swipe of his deadly claws. Time seemed to slow down as your world tilted and the ground rose up to catch your body. Catching yourself on unsteady hands, you hiss as the rough ground scrapes your palms and knees enough to bleed.

Seizing the win, Wolf walks over to your stationary form, savouring the smell of your blood on the air. It smelt sweet, Wolf licked his lips and nudged you onto your back with his foot. He briefly wondered if you would taste just as sweet. You had put up a good fight and Wolf always loved a good challenge.

Semi-Wolf cages your body with his own, his large hands trapping yours above your head, with his legs pinning yours down. At this point, you had resigned yourself to your fate. You never really thought that you’d die like this, a hot guy murdering you was always a bonus you supposed.

Bringing his face towards yours, your breath falters when his lips floats above yours. Eyes wide, you noticed the hunger in his dark eyes, a hunger that you knew yourself all too intimately. Seeing his lips tilt into a dangerous smirk, your eyes lock onto them much to Wolf’s evident amusement. He uses the opportunity of your diverted attention to closely check you out, his eyes sweeping down your form.

He vastly appreciates the simple dark gown you wore. The dress exposed enough cleavage without becoming a disaster and had a leg slit that exposed a fair amount of soft-looking skin. Wetting his lips at the delicious sight you made underneath him, Wolf knows his evaluating looks were far from one sided, he could feel your gaze burn into his skin in kind.

Making eye contact with you, he decided he was going to indulge himself just this once. After weeks of dealing with Demon King’s shenanigans and then having to come back and patrol the woods with nothing in terms of companionship, he was admittedly lonely. He also harboured a lot of frustration and pent-up sexual desires and then there you were, waltzing on in with a form-fitting dress and smelling of ripened strawberries.

Wolf leans down and brings his mouth to your neck. All that filled your mind was the different but all equally as gruesome ideas of how he could kill you in this position. Him tearing out your throat was at the forefront of your mind.

Wolf licks a hot stripe up your throat, tasting your rabbit-like heartbeat. It was almost cute how much he scared you. He was almost tempted to assure you he can be gentle if he’s in the mood for it. From how you reacted to his each and every touch, he knew his self-restraint would truly be tested tonight. He did so love a sensitive lover.

“What are you going to do to me?” Your voice shakes and serves to further spur him on. Temptingly, he brushes his lips against yours, as light as a feather and no where near the pressure you now craved.

This close up you could see the flecks of near obsidian accentuating his mahogany brown irises that swirled with unspoken promises of what he was planning to do to you tonight. He doesn’t answer, choosing to stare instead.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Pushing him probably wasn’t the smartest decision. Then again, you never would have gotten into adventuring if you had all your wits about you.

Again, silence meets your ears as he rolls his eyes at you in response, much to your shock. The action was unexpected, completely out of character for him, judging from the gossip you’ve overheard from the townspeople.

“I’ve got a much better use for that cute little mouth of yours then asking pointless questions.” He purrs into your ear.

You very nearly swallowed your tongue, eyes wide in disbelief. Your mind was still spinning at the sudden turn the night has taken. You were ready to fight for your life, not get pinned down and get propositioned. His actions spoke leagues, he didn’t leave any room for misinterpretation of what he desired from you. As much as that thought should’ve scared you, a thrill of anticipation sparked down your spine.

Noticing your receptiveness, Wolf planned to test how far he could push you before you pulled back. Testing the waters, he bridges the short gap between your mouths and kisses you. To his amusement, you froze for half a breath before reciprocating, soft lips moving skillfully against his.

Deepening the kiss, he doesn’t wait for permission to lick into your mouth, earning him a gasp. You never really spared any thought to him before this day other than reluctant acknowledgement of his strength, that even armed with an arsenal of spells you’d still struggle to defeat him. Never in a hundred years would you think that he was a good kisser and yet here he was doing his best to thoroughly prove you wrong.

Warmth spread through your body as you tried to pay him in kind, but he was intent on dominating the kiss in every way. Your mind wondered over the thought of him dominating you in another way and your heart gave a concerning lurch inside our chest.

Semi-Wolf ends up breaking the kiss to chuckle down at you after a moan escaped. Embarrassed flush tinging your cheeks pink, you use the break to catch the breath he stole from your lungs.

“That doesn’t answer my question, Semi-Wolf.” You whisper against his lips.

“How much more direct do I have to be with you, little witch? Do you want me to say that I want to fuck that cheeky mouth of yours until you cry?” Heart palpitating, your eyes zero in on him wetting his lips, wondering what else his tongue could do. “Or maybe that I’m horny enough to fuck you regardless of your incessant questioning.”

This time you shiver at the way his deep voice seemed elicit lust to cloud your mind. Horny yourself from countless days of self-imposed isolation in your pursuit of knowledge after your last disastrous quest with Elf, you weren’t exactly in the right mind-frame to deny him.

At the same time though, who said you would make it easy for him?

“Even the big bad Wolf gets lonely guarding the creepy woods.” You goad him, eager to get a rise from him.

Rising to the obvious bait, his grip tighten around your wrists enough to hurt. Meeting his scowl with a jovial expression, you inwardly crowed at how easy it was to rile him up.

“You’d be so much cuter if you didn’t open your mouth. Don’t worry, I’ll fix that for you.” He promises darkly. His thumb presses into your bottom lip and urges you to open your mouth.

You do deny yourself the desire to bite down on his thumb, not wanting to truly make him mad. You just wanted him mad enough to take you without holding back.

Releasing your other wrist, he makes quick work of undoing his pants. Enjoying the view, your tongue licked his thumb, drawing his attention for all of a second before he presses his thumb on top of your tongue. You whine around the intrusion, earning an unimpressed look from him as he reveals his sizable length.

He nearly laughs when he hear you audibly gulp as he shucks down his pants one-handed. His slowly filling dick swelled even more at your groan from just witnessing his length. Even at half-mast he was long and girthy enough for you to wonder if he was going to fit in you.

Not liking the way your attention drifted inwards, Wolf gripped himself and gave a few tugs. To both your fascination and horror, you watched as his cock was stroked into full hardness. At this, you swore to yourself to make it fit, no matter what. There was no way you were going to pass up this once in a life-time opportunity.

Wolf considers the position you were both in and decided that it wouldn’t do. Releasing his cock and removing his thumb from your mouth, he grabs you by the shoulders and forcibly moves you into a new position. You relished the way he manhandled you, you elect to make it easy on him and be pliable for him.

Pushing a hand through his wild hair, he looks over at your new placement. Dress strewn around your legs, the side slit now exposing an indecent amount of flesh as you laid out beside him. Once again grasping your shoulder, he moves your upper body to lean over his spread legs, bringing your face towards his rigid length.

You didn’t fight him as he brought your mouth towards his cock, nor did you wait for permission to start. Wrapping your mouth around the leaking tip, you gave a slight suck before trying to take more of him in all while swirling your tongue around him. His hand moves up into your hair as you slowly make your way down his shaft, cute little mouth already stretched wide.

About half-way down your jaw was starting to get sore from how wide you had to keep your mouth from grazing your teeth harshly against him. You weren’t ready to admit defeat yet, you still hadn’t even taken him fully yet. Throwing caution to the wind, you decide to take the rest of his cock in all the way, sore throat be damned. You gagged at the feeling of him being shoved down your throat, mouth impossibly full as his hips jolt up and keep himself in as you started to pull back.

A loud groan rumbles through the air, rewarding your efforts. His fingers tighten in your hair, locking your head in place. You fight against his grip and win, coming up with a gasp and a thick strand of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. Giving him a withering glare, you lick up his shaft once, twice, before engulfing him yet again. This was for your benefit, hearing him growl as you sucked him off was just a benefit.

He watched on with delight as you forced yourself to choke on his cock, evidently he was too large for you to handle. Not wanting you to do all the work, he started to slowly roll his hips up and took control of your pace by moving you up and down his member by his grip on your hair.

Unable to take back control, you could do nothing but to let him guide you as he fucks into your mouth. This turned you on incredibly, feeling yourself become wet as he pants and groans into the still air. Distantly, you could hear his tail thump against the ground.

While fucking your willing mouth, he’s struck with a brilliant idea. Wrapping a hand around your throat, he’s now able to feel himself being deepthroated. A rush of blood left him light-headed, absolutely loving the fact that he can feel himself when he shoves his cock even further down your throat, not caring that at how you dug your nails into his hips. Your whines about him taking over only served to arouse him further, feeling the vibrations travel along his length.

He feels himself come close as you swallow around him, tongue rubbing sinuously against all the right spots. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he peaked. While he did have a fast recovery time, he didn’t want to waste a moment of not being buried inside of you. Already the smell your arousal perfumed the air, causing his dick to jump in your mouth at the sudden influx of blood rushing southward. The need to be inside of you trumped the joy he felt from you sucking him off.

Tearing you off of his dick with a slick'pop', you were completely blindsided as he throws you against the ground. His hand grasped your thigh, drawing it up as his other shears the thin fabric of your dress off. Now sitting above mid-thigh, you silently despaired about the destruction of your favourite dress. Uncaring, Wolf impatiently batted the rest of the flowy fabric out of his way, not sparing you a second look at you as he shreds your panties and runs a knuckle down your wet folds.

“I’ve barely touched you and yet you’re this wet,” he muses.

Careful of his nails, he gathers up your liquid arousal on his finger and brings it up to his mouth, tasting you. You clench down on nothing as he closes his eyes to savour your taste with a moan. If he drew this out any longer, you were going to have a spontaneous heart attack.

Squirming under him, you made impatient sound. It didn’t go ignored, grinning down at you, he brings bringing his finger back down to teasingly caress your folds, touches much too light for your taste.

“Aren’t you an impatient little thing,” Semi-Wolf drawled as brushes a knuckle against your hole, pausing over it and slightly dipping in.

A frustrate groan left your lips, tilting your hips up to chase his teasing strokes.

“Please.” You begged as he started again with the feather-light strokes.

Normally you would rather retch than beg for cock, However there was always an exception. That exception being Semi-Wolf's cock. It appeared to be the correct thing to do as his eyes flashed with something sinful, a wild look on his face.

“Since you asked so nicely…” He moves down your body, coming to a stop at the apex of your thighs.

Face so close to your core, his mouth started salivating from how good you smelt. Blowing onto your pussy, he elicits a cute squeal and ended up having to pin your legs down to keep you from kneeing him in the head.

He delivers a long lick between your wet folds and swallows your taste as he prods at your entrance. Judging he had enough fun, he delved straight in. Clawing at the soft ground under you, your chest heaved as his tongue thrus in, swirled around, rubbed against your walls and pulled out. It wasn't long before he had you incoherently begging for something, anything, yet he continued in this fashion until he had your hands tugging at his hair, careful of his furry ears, and writhing on his tongue.

Eating you out like a man starved, he didn’t stop until he felt your thighs tense around his head, signalling how close he brought you with just his tongue. He’d like to think that he wasn’t a cruel man but the nasty look you gave when he pulled away had him second guessing himself.

You were more than ready at this point. Ready to start cursing at him if he didn’t fuck you right now, you opened you mouth for him beat you to the chase. Heaving himself upwards, he presses his chest against yours, inadvertently bringing his hips close enough for his dick to slap against your drenched folds.

Gripping himself, he wordlessly slicks up his length by rubbing it through your juices. Lining up with you entrance, he barely presses in and your hands fly up to dig into his arms. Not minding the bite of pain, Wolf didn’t stop you from digging in your nails as he slowly slid in.

Reminding yourself to breath, you took shallow breaths and forcibly relaxed your muscles to help take him in, ignoring the sharp sting of pain that paired with his girth.

Shoving his engorged cock into your wet hole, he didn’t hesitate to slide down to the root regardless of how tight you were. Tears rise to your eyes unbidden as he pushes his way into you, feeling like his cock alone could split you in half. Muttering a half-assed incantation under your breath, you banished the edge of pain away, unmasking the pleasure at being so completely filled.

His thick cock that filled every space inside of you so well, that you started to believe he was made for you. The same thought went through his mind as he begins to mindlessly pound away into you, loving the way your wet hole takes him so well and tightens perfectly around him every time.

The angle he pummelled into at had you seeing stars. You raise your hips to meet his a few times before he grabs the back of your right knee with one hand, pinning your leg up against your chest. A wrecked moan rattles you as the pose opens you up more, changing the angle and allowing him to hit even deeper inside of you, now experiencing fireworks.

“You like that, huh?” He growls roughly.

You couldn’t spare the breath to answer him back with him fucking the life out of you, instead you nodded helplessly.

A pleased noise rumbled through his chest. You were such a supple little thing, taking every inch of him like you needed it, no matter the pain it initially caused you. Such things stroked his ego, paired with the wrecked expression on your face and the fluttering of your walls around his cock, he was intrigued by you. Being impressed and interested in someone with his possessive nature was never a good combination, and he couldn’t stop himself from becoming enamoured with you while fucking you into the ground.

He litters your neck and chest with kisses, bruises, and bites that you knew would take a while to heal and vanish. The bastard was infamously territorial, you should’ve known that it would also translate into sex as well. Having half the mind to slap him for marking up, you couldn’t deny the way your heart leaped and pussy clenched around him with every rough suck he delivered to your soft skin.

He couldn’t let you go now he’s had a taste of you. He knew you would be perfect in tempering him, weathering his moods and give yourself fully to him like were right now. You already proved yourself worthy by not backing down or running away. Pupils blown wide, possessive thoughts consume his mind, devising different ways he could make you his. From the way you thrashed under him, shaky moans joining the symphony of your bodies colliding together, he conjured a way he could make you his.

Feeling him pull out was nothing of concern to your bliss-filled mind. It was when he didn’t slide back in that raised alarm. Opening your eyes, you blinked away tears from your sight to make out his proud-looking expression. Whining, you raise your hips up to force his tip to slide in further. Semi-Wolf denies you this by pulling his hips back further, removing his cock all together.

“Do you want me to continue fucking your greedy hole?” He says, eyes piercing through your soul.

Showing your frustration, you glare up at him and dig your nails into his arm, making him wince at the strong grip.

“Yes.” You hissed through clenched teeth.

He considers your answer for a short moment before moving his dick again. This time though, he merely sits it between your slick folds and rolls his hips. The position was perfect for his cock to graze against your clit, a moan slipped out before you could suppress it.

“What would you do for it?” He questions, rolling his hips again, putting more force behind it this time.

Eyes rolling into the back of your head, the constant stream of stimuli from him rubbing against your sensitive bundle was overwhelming. Seeing that you weren’t listening to him, he stopped his motions and watched as frustrated tears gather in your eyes as he ripped away your building orgasm.

“I said, what will you do for it?” He leans down to your ear, teeth gently tugging at your earlobe.

Existence now solely staked on you reaching your peak, the words rushed out of you without a second thought.

“Anything.”

He smiles at that, a shudder going through your body at the beautiful sight. He flashes his canines at you, happy that you wouldn’t need any convincing.

“I was hoping you would say that.” He presses your mouths together in a relatively chaste kiss. Confused, you kissed him back with vigour and chased his lips when he drew back. “How about becoming mine?”

A flash of heat sears through your body at his question. Mind going in a hundred different directions, it gets thrown around into different scenarios. First you were making out, fucking and now he was asking you to be his? You literally just met the guy. While yes sex with him so far has been immaculate, you couldn’t just swear yourself to him at the drop of hat.

All these thoughts should’ve been enough to deter you, to encourage you to finish yourself off and walk away. Instead, the horny part of you overrode all common sense. A strong, attractive partner by your side with a drool-worthy dick? You didn't need anything more.

Hands cupping his cheeks, you graze your thumb over his bottom lip and pull him closer.

“Yes. Now fuck me before I finish myself off.” His eyes flash at your threat, promising you hell for that.

Sealing your fate, you fasten your mouth over his and slip your tongue into his mouth as he grabs himself and lines up with your entrance and thrusts back in like he never stopped.

Pace faster than before, you arched you back as his cock presses into you, feeling impossibly deep. Unforgiving now in his thrusts, he didn’t hesitate to make himself a place inside of you, needing you to feel him even when he was finished.

It felt like your veins were filled with molten magma as he repeatedly hit all your sweet spots without even trying. All of your arousal and pleasure amassed into a tightly coiled ball that sat low in your gut and grew with every growl and thrust he gave. This time you protected it with all your might, you’d most definitely curse him if he pulled the same stunt twice.

Wolf buried his head into the crook of your neck, panting into your skin as he pistons himself in and out of you, chasing his own orgasm to no end in sight. Scraping his canines along the column of your throat, you shudder around his cock and tantalisingly squeeze him. Rewarding how sensitive you were, he attaches his mouth to you and buries his fangs into your flesh.

It felt like a supernova went off of inside of you the very moment his teeth pierced your flesh, flinging your head back fast enough that you almost knock yourself out as Wolf fucks you through the most intense orgasm of your life.

His hips don’t falter their pistoning as you tighten up immensely, feeling like a second skin from the way you gripped at him. Blood filling his mouth, he greedily swallowed every drop of the sweet substance, not at all surprised that it tasted just as sweet as the strawberries you smelt like.

With one last thrust, he pulls out and gives himself three rough tugs before he finally spilled all over your thighs. He very nearly purrs at how he solidified his claim over you, his scent seeping into your skin strong enough for any non-human person with a decent nose would know exactly who you belonged to.

“Will you grant us passage through your woods now?” You asked, sarcastic words shattering the silent atmosphere that enveloped your bodies as you both recovered.

“Maybe. Depends what you’re scheming.” He glances over at you from the corner of his eye, not bothering to turn over.

“We’re going to take down the Demon King.” Semi-Wolf chokes on mid-air and whirls around to face you, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Are you serious? If you had started with that, I would’ve walked you guys through and joined the fight.” You bite your tongue to stop yourself from laughing. This whole time Semi-Wolf wasn’t the dangerous servant of evil you had him pegged for, instead he was begrudgingly guarding these woods. He must being doing it for something, albeit you didn't know what for.

“What did he do to warrant your anger at him.” You were blatantly curious. It wasn’t often that you were wrong in how you perceived someone, plus it was interesting to catch a glimpse into the life of someone who was close to the maleficent Demon King.

“He said my wardrobe was hideous.” Wolf grumbles under his breath.

“I’m sorry, what? I couldn’t hear you.” You grin at him while cupping your ear and leaning in close. You had heard him perfectly fine, it was just fun to see this side of him.

Teasing him was much too fun, you were already getting comfortable around him. Who could’ve guessed he would be all soft on the inside? Elf was going to get a kick out hearing that. Whether he’ll believe you or not is entirely another story.

Annoyed, Wolf bats you away as you laughed at the pick blush betraying his stern look.

“Doesn’t matter. There’s no way you could lose with me helping.” A different, more gentle sort of warmth fills you at his claim, no matter how self-assured it may come across to some.

No longer wishing to antagonise him further, you simply hum in response. Not giving it a second thought, you slip your hand into his.

“Ignoring the fact that you destroyed my favourite dress,” Wolf had the common decency to look ashamed, withering under your harsh glare. “Were you serious when you asked –”

“Yes, I was serious.” He cuts you off. A nervous look replaces his serious one, scratching at the back of his head as he contemplated his next words. “Look, it wasn’t a smart move to do that to you in the middle of… yeah. I don’t know what came over me, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of you being someone else's. It's weird how connected I felt with you in that moment."

Looking away from the tree he was studying to avoid your gaze he was met with your stunned face painted a soft pink.

“You’re an idiot.” You say bluntly. Okay, he was definitely not the big monster you were led to believe. You almost felt like a fool for being so scared of him at the start.

“Hey!” He indignantly shouts, squeezing your hand as punishment for your insult.

“I’m joking, I swear it. It was a dick move but I forgive you.” Suddenly feeling shy, you look away from his intense eyes, not liking the way it felt like he could read your very soul. If Elf were here he’d probably scoff at you being demure after -

“Crap, my party! They probably think I’m dead.” You hurriedly get up and brush off the debris from your now short dress. A slight breeze picked up, causing you to shiver at the weird sensation of it caressing your bare legs and reminding you of the cum drying uncomfortably on your skin.

Ripping a piece of your sleeve off, you make quick work of cleaning yourself off as Wolf tugs on his pants. Seeing the way he eyes your legs, you narrow your eyes at him, shaking your head when he feigns an innocent look.

Giving the small glade one last look over, you both set off into the now clear woods. It took what seemed like a short eternity before you broke the tree line of the other side. On the other side, you find a pacing Goshiki, a bored-looking Elf and a peacefully dozing Ushijima.

Looking over at your sudden appearance, it took one sweep of Elf’s perceptive eyes to know what exactly had went down during your disappearance. You blush as he raises an unimpressed brow at you, ignoring Semi-Wolf’s presence by your side out of pure spite.

It took a bit to convince them that he was here to help and help he did. Armed with the scarily one-minded Hero and one pissed of Semi-Wolf, the crimson-haired Demon King didn’t stand a chance against them.

#semi x reader #semi eita x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #semi eita #shiratorizawa #haikyuu-bu!!#alternate universe - fantasy #alternate universe #he has ears and a tail and I was considering I may be furry for writing this rip #haikyuu!! fic #haikyuu!!#reader-insert #I'm probably going to fanfic author hell for writing this

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geniusgub · 3 years

Text

north//chapter fourteen

genre: angst

pairing: season twelve spencer reid x female oc

warnings: description of physical assault, prison, just all of the bad prison arc stuff

word count: 4.7k

summary: spencer and amelia feel the effects of being forcibly separated and it impacts them in similar ways.

honestly, spencer’s pov in this chapter is one of my favorite things i’ve ever written so i hope everyone enjoys it <3

AMELIA

"Come on! You don't even have to do anything! Just go and clean up. We'll go with you and help!" Yaz pokes my shoulder incessantly, trying to get a reaction out of me. But I just keep my eyes on the tv in front of me, bundled up under a blanket.

"Lia," Michael sighs and slings his arm over my shoulder. I want nothing more than to shove it off. “It's been like, three months since-"

I'm quick to speak up to correct him. "Two and a half."

Michael and Quinn exchange a tense look. "Okay," Quinn nods, "two and a half months. It's been two and a half months since you've drawn, or painted, or sketched, or done anything even related to art. We know you're upset about Spencer but you can't let yourself be so upset. You need to find something that's gonna bring you happiness, and art has always done that."

"I don't wanna," I answer like a stubborn child, an answer that any of my siblings would have given me about things like going to bed early or eating vegetables. I pull the blanket up to my chin and stroke my thumb across my newest tattoo, tucked away and out of the sights of my nosy, annoying friends.

Frankie turns and shushes Quinn. "Like I said, Lia, why don't we go and just clean up your studio? We can drive over and just clean up? That's it. You don't have to do a photoshoot or create anything new. Just clean. Sound good? An hour tops."

I look around the faces of my expecting friends and tighten my jaw. I try to steal Spencer's skills and profile what their ulterior motives could be. They all hated Spencer before meeting him, and even after they met him, they weren't completely fond of him. So why are they trying so hard to get me to feel better? Why does it feel like they’re trying to get me to forget about my boyfriend in prison? I should be worrying about him every second of my day instead of prancing around town, cleaning up my studio, and going about my life as if Spencer isn’t suffering. But I’m sure they mean well. And I’m absolutely positive that my legs are sore from sleeping on the couch and from being in that same position all day.

"Fine," I concede, and they all silently cheer. "But I'm driving myself."

The drive to my studio is nearly insufferable. It’s silent and overwhelmed with a tension that I created but can’t seem to let go. The sights around me are familiar but blurry, like I can’t even tell which stores are which without someone in my passenger seat spitting out fact after fact after fact as I drive. I can’t drive down the street and try to recall all the good times and all the dates and all the drunken stumbles back home with the love of my life on my arm. It’s far too painful to constantly remember that I can’t go home and see Spencer and I can’t spend hours on the phone with him like I do when he is away on a case. I can’t see him.

When I arrive at my studio, I realize why they were so insistent that I come out to clean up. I can't remember the last time I was actually in here to work but it's an absolute mess. There are canvases everywhere, bottles and tubes of paint on the floor, splashes and splatters of paint on the walls, brushes everywhere, crumbled up sketches in the trash, and way more. The studio needs much love and I guess now is the time to give it.

Michael immediately turns on music and everyone gets to work, but I don't. I pick up an empty tube of yellow paint and squeeze it in my palm. My head is starting to pound and I can't even stop it as tears start to fall down my cheeks. Who knew that one person could produce so many tears?

Spencer loved when I wore yellow. I have this one short, backless dress that he loved. He especially loved that he had easy access to my skin, always tracing shapes on my back and murmuring about how soft my skin is. He always said that he loved the way the yellow complimented my blonde hair and how it contrasted against my colorful tattoos. He even went as far as to buy me another yellow dress for my birthday last year.

And he loved when I used yellow in my paintings too. One time, I sent him a picture of a piece I was working on and he emailed back a book about how the use of yellow paint expressed the happiness of the piece or something like that. He raved about a painting I did of the sun and how my use of yellow wasn’t scientifically accurate, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

"Amelia?" Quinn speaks but I don't look at her. My cheeks are wet with tears that I barely noticed and my hands are clutching the tube of paint so tightly that it would burst if it were full. "I'm sorry. We didn't mean to upset you. If we-"

"I'm gonna go," I say hastily, clutching the empty tube in my hand as I breeze out of the studio, leaving my bewildered friends to either clean or leave. They know the way out and they know where the keys are. They don’t need me.

I'm wandering into the bullpen like it's second nature because, at this point, it basically is. Nobody on the team bothers to say anything to me. They never do. They're too worried I'll blow up at them or start crying. I don't blame them.

I rap my knuckles against Dave's door and wait for him to shout for me to come in, and when he does, I enter slowly. He gives me a small, pitiful smile as I move in front of his desk. I set the empty yellow paint tube in front of him and then sit down, bringing my knees to my chest.

Dave looks down at the tube, his eyebrows furrowing. "Paint? What's this?"

I blink and it forces tears out of my eyes. "I don't know how to live without Spencer."

Dave leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over my chest. He studies me, profiles me. I hate when Spencer did that. He always got this look on his face when he profiled me, but Dave has a better poker face. "And paint has something to do with that?"

"I just went to my studio with my friends and I finished off all this paint and there were brushes all over the floor and-" tears start pouring down my cheeks again, wetting my neck and the neckline of my sweater. "I came home the other day and I'd left the balcony door open. How stupid. I'm forgetting to lock my doors just because my boyfriend is in p-" I gulp, having to force out the disgusting word, "prison. How fucking stupid. How stupid am I that I can't function without him?"

"You're not stupid," Dave shakes his head. Nothing about his tone or his body language is helpful in the slightest. Nothing and nobody will help. "You two are reliant on each other and that's not a bad thing. I'm sure Boy Genius is always on you about locking your doors and I'm sure he's always giving you statistics on break ins and-"

"He doesn't," I cut him off sharply. "If Spencer's telling me statistics then it's about stars in the sky and how to properly care for my plants so they stay alive longer or just- it's never about things you guys talk about here. It always about things that I'd like. He does it to protect me. He doesn't tell me about serial killers unless I ask, and I only ask when I can see that he had a really hard day at work. It's just me, Dave," I put my forehead to my knees, shoulder shaking as sobs take over my whole body. "I just don't know how to live without him. I don't know how to function without him holding my hand and him calling me to promise he's okay and-- I just can't. I can't do it."

"You did it before you met him," Dave stands from his desk and moves in front of me. He puts his cold hand on my shoulder and it sends a chill down my spine. "You lived a long life before you met him, and you're living now while he's temporarily gone. It's hard, I know, but it's only for a short time."

"I just want him to be okay. That's all I really care about."

///

SPENCER

///

My whole job is about helping people and I've spent my whole life caring for others, mostly my mother. In my professional life, I'm always keeping an eye on my teammates to make sure they aren't in danger. I consider it to be part of my responsibility to look after every single one of my teammates. They're my family and I rely on them to help me too.

I never thought my helpful nature would come back to hurt me. I never thought that trying to help out a friend would come back to hurt me so badly. All I wanted to do was help Delgado. That's it. Calvin is protecting me and the other men in here wouldn't dare to cross him. They know how miserable he could make their experience here and they'd rather beat up someone else than get on Calvin's bad side.

All I did was speak to a correctional officer at chow. That's literally all I did. Yes, I did rat out the gang to the officer for beating up Delgado, but they don't know that. They aren't going to be disciplined for it. I ask the guard for water first as a cover, but clearly, it wasn't enough.

And I've been through a lot in the field. I've been tackled, and punched, and shot, but getting beaten up in a prison is completely different. The guards couldn't care less about the inmates. No matter how much I screamed and pleaded for help, no one came. And even still, there was another inmate outside my cell keeping watch so my attackers could run and not get caught.

I’ve gotten beaten up a lot in my line of work and I can confidently say that this one, in a dirty prison cell, is the worst I’ve received. They held me down against my bed and used a rag to muffle me, but it covered my mouth and nose and it almost suffocated me. They beat me to a pulp, drawing blood on my forehead and almost cracking a rib or two.

It was an unrelenting beating and I eventually succumbed to the pain because I convinced myself that they were going to kill me. I snitched and death would be the consequence. I stopped fighting and just let them take their turns at swiping my face and my chest and my stomach because what could I do? Nothing. As Calvin loves to remind me, the rules are different in here. I don't have a badge and a gun to make the torture stop. I have to endure it or find my own ways to make it stop, and this is a moment to endure it. I'm rendered useless.

The beating only ended when the inmate outside whistled, probably a preplanned signal, because the two others immediately jumped off of me and ran out of my cell. As soon as the towel was pulled away from my face, I gasped in a breath and clutched my aching chest, wincing in pain.

Wilkins came strolling over, peering into my cell. I knew he knew exactly what had just happened by the smirk on his face, but he chose to do nothing. He chose to stroll over instead of running and he didn't yell at the other inmates. He just stared at me and smirked, shaking his head.

"That'll teach you to keep your mouth shut, Snitch."

And those are the words that echoed in my nightmare that night.

I'd rolled over and coughed up a generous amount of blood, grimacing at the taste in my mouth. My body trembled and shook when Wilkins left, even more than when he was silently mocking and watching me. Wilkins doesn’t care to do his job but at least with him standing at my cell door, I had the tiniest bit of protection. But with him gone, the other inmates could come back and finish the job. I shook and stayed rolled over on my side for twenty minutes, staring at the floor and waiting for my cell to close.

When it finally did close, I didn't even let myself sigh of relief. I just fell onto my back again with a groan. I could barely move. It hurt too bad. Everything always hurts nowadays. Things didn't hurt on the outside. Living didn't hurt before I got arrested.

Getting visitors the next morning is not what the ideal situation is. Rising from bed is more of a challenge than it normally is. My body is sore and aching and all I want to do is curl up in my obnoxiously uncomfortable bed, if this slab of metal and a blanket could be considered a bed, and go back to sleep. But I know I'll get in trouble if I don't get up for role call, so I ignore the pain.

I don't dare to look around at anyone on my block as the officer shouts our names, checking to see that we're all here. I just keep my head held high and my hands at my sides and try to show that I couldn't care less about the beating that is causing me so much unrelenting pain.

But then they call our names for a visitor’s session and, of course, my name gets called. I'm usually grateful to get to see anyone from my team, but now? Today? After last night? I'd prefer if they didn't come back until after these bruises were gone. But there's nothing I can do so I allow the guards to put cuffs on me and lead me to the visitor’s room.

As soon as Penelope sees me, she gasps and drops her jaw. She starts to rise to her feet, but I sharpen my glare at her and when she sees my expression, she stays in her seat. When I sit down at the little table and put my cuffed hands in view, like I'm required to, I watch her eyes fill with tears.

"You-" she whispers, "you're hurt. What happened?"

"It's not a big deal," I answer nonchalantly. "It could've been worse." She's not convinced, her jaw dropped as a few tears drip down her cheeks. I keep my jaw tight and as much as I want to comfort her and hug her and promise that as badly as this hurts and as horrible as I'm sure I look, I'll be fine. But there are a million eyes on me right now, including my assailants, and if I show any kind of weakness, a beating like last nights will surely be in store for me again.

Penelope not-so-subtly glances around at the other prisoners around us. "Reid," she leans towards me and tries to lower her voice, "I am going to march right down to the warden’s office and I'm going to-"

"No, you're not," I snap, and my sharp tone of voice makes her jump back, her eyes widening. But for some reason, the look on her face doesn't even make me regret the way I've spoken to her. The look on her face just bothers me more. Why doesn't she get it? Clearly, I have to spell it out for her. "It'll just make worse things. I've got it handled, Garcia."

"Are you sure?" She practically whimpers. "I could-"

"How's everyone else? How's the team? How's my mom?" I deflect from the obvious issue at hand and instead turn the focus to my loved ones. All but the one I wanna hear about.

Penelope starts to nod slowly and she moves her glasses to wipe her cheeks free of tears. "We really miss you. And in our free time, we're working really hard on your-"

"Shh," I try to hold my hands out but the handcuffs rattle, and my eyes dart over to a guard who is alerted by my movement. He gives me a pointed look as if telling me not to do anything stupid. I put my hands back down and look over at a stunned Penelope, leaning in closer. "Don't talk about my case, Garcia. People don’t do that in here. It’s not right and it’s not safe. Just don't talk about it."

She gulps harshly, another single tear dripping down her cheek. "Okay," she nods again, and it's obvious that she's confused. But I don't have the time or the energy to explain why I'm acting like this and I don't even have it in me to care. I didn't even want to be at this visitor’s meeting. I'm only here because I have to be. "Um," she taps her fingers against the table, "we just really miss you, Spencer. Your mom is doing really well with Cassie."

"Good, I'm glad everyone is okay," I nod and I sit back, glancing around for a clock. When is this thing over? I'd rather be in my cell than here. I never thought I'd think that.

Penelope raises her eyebrows and her eyes soften. "A-Amelia? Do you wanna hear about her?"

As soon as I hear her name, my heart starts beating faster. My mind flashes with all the most beautiful images of Amelia that I can recall. I can practically see her in front of me. I can almost feel her under my fingertips. I swear I can taste her chapstick on my lips as she kisses me. I rub my fingers together as if I can feel the fabric of her denim skirt. As if I could unbuckle her belt and take her right on my bed right now. I shake the thought from my head. Don't go there, Spencer. Nothing good ever comes of when your mind goes there.

But I can't get her out of my head. I can stop seeing her lying on my lap, peering up at me as she mulls over which record to put on. Etta James or Taylor Swift? That's always the question of the day, isn't it? It always seems to take her hours to decide on an answer, and she usually doesn't. She'll usually work up an appetite with her thoughts, and when she's gone to get a snack or a glass of wine, I decide for her. Always the same. Always Taylor Swift.

But her smile is always so beautiful when she comes back into the room. When the music finally flows through her ears, the smile that comes to her face is one that could end wars, cure cancer, solve world hunger. I didn't think I could ever understand how bubblegum pop music could make a person so happy. I didn’t think I could ever understand how bubblegum pop music could make Amelia want to drag me off the couch or out of bed and force me to dance with her, whether it be in the middle of the night or just as the sun is peeking through the always-open blinds of her apartment.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to bring myself back to reality. I try to forget about the girl that's waiting for me in the free world. I try to ignore that she's probably shed tear after tear and I haven't been there to wipe them away. My brain produces images of her gasping for air with her head between her knees and I ball my hands into fists.

I'm angry. I'm fucking furious. I want to be there to hold her and whisper in her ear and tell her that her panic attacks are short-lived, that I'm right there. I need to be there to hold her and kiss her and love her. I need her because I can't do this without her. I don't know what to do if I'm not spending my time protecting her. Everything I do is to protect her. I don't know how to function if I'm not holding her hand, or if I'm not pushing myself through every day just so I can call her at midnight to promise that I'm okay. I've become so reliant on Amelia, and maybe that's wrong, but I don't care. I don't care about anything anymore. I just want my life back. I want my life, I want my job, and I want my girlfriend.

I want my girlfriend. I want to move in with her like we planned to and I want to propose to her and I want to marry her. I want to have a whole house full of kids who are loud and messy and loving and adorable and a crusty dog who slobbers all over the couch and chews my shoes. It's not fair. None of this is fair. Amelia doesn't deserve this. She deserves someone better than me.

But I can still see her. I can still see her fucking smile, and I can still hear her goddamn laugh, and I can still feel the fabric of her dumb hair scarves. She's engulfing me in her. She's not even here and yet I feel like I could reach out and she would be in my arms, kissing my neck and telling me that I'm safe and that we can just sit on the balcony and talk. We don't have to go to bed if you don't want to, we can just talk.

What I would give to hear her voice again. I'd give everything I have, and right now, it's not much. I'd give everything plus the clothes on my back to just hear her tell me I'm safe, or to tell me about a new painting she's thinking about starting, or to ask me to tell her a random fact about a food item she is about to buy at the store.

The last thing I want right now is to hear about Amelia. I want it all, or I want nothing. I don't want to hear that Amelia misses me, or that she's crying and having panic attacks in the middle of the BAU, or that she's sleeping in my clothes (or worse, not sleeping at all), or that she's lashing out at everyone. No, if I'm not having her in front of me, kissing me, hugging me, I don't want to hear about her.

"No."

For what seems like the millionth time, Penelope's eyes widen. "No? You don't wanna hear about-"

"No, I don't," there's a pit in my stomach that I try to hold down. I try to not let it take control of me. "I don't wanna hear about how horrible she's doing, okay? So just tell her that I lo-"

I can feel a million eyes burning into every bone in my body and so I stop myself. My lips freeze mid-sentence and I release the steel grip my hands hold around my cuffs. Penelope's are just another pair of eyes that bore into my frame, and I usually love her concerned and mothering nature, but now, it irks me to no end.

"Whatever," it pains me to cut off the sentence I crave so intensely to say, but I can't let my guard down. I can't be vulnerable and I can't show weakness.

"Whatever," Penelope repeats, almost mockingly, her voice cracking. "So you-"

"Could you not say anything to, um," I gulp, "her about this?" I gesture to my face where I can feel the pulsing and throbbing bruises tormenting me. I drop my shoulders and start to fiddle with the way-too-tight handcuffs around my wrists, but then I decide that that's a horrible idea, and probably a good way to get harassed by the correctional officers. "I just don't want her to worry about this. I'm sure she's worried enough. I don't want to give her another reason to, you know, panic."

"Times up! Inmates, get back to your cells."

Without so much as another glance at Penelope, I stand and turn my back to her. I lift my chin as I'm pushed and shoved into the lineup and then pushed and shoved back to my lonely, isolated cell. I'd rather have it this way, behind bars where the other inmates can't get me.

I drop down to the floor, pressing my forehead against the rusty bars, staring out at the drab, bland, boring beige walls. The paint is peeling and the bars, honestly, look like they could be broken with a hard enough kick. And, of course, the colors of the walls do nothing to brighten up the dead environment. The colors aren't anything like those that adorn Amelia's body on the regular.

A frustrated groan escapes my lips as I bang my hand against the bars. Why did I have to think about her again? Why did I have to let her infiltrate my thoughts?

But the colors of her. The colors swirl around in my head but as hard as I try, I can't get her colors to fill this horrible cell I'm confined to. I try to imagine her denim skirts, knit sweaters, and pea coats strewn out on the bed as she chooses what to wear in the morning. I try to remember the feeling of accidentally stepping on one of Amelia's millions of piercings when they fall on the floor after she takes them out before bed. I try to see her laying down on my bed, her sketchbook in her lap, and her colored pencils beside her as she rambles on and on and on, talking more than me, about what she's drawing and how she's planning on achieving her vision.

But no matter how hard I try, I can't get her into the cell with me. She doesn't belong here. Her art doesn't belong on these chipped walls, and her clothes don't belong on this poor excuse for a bed, and her absurdly positive attitude doesn't deserve to be squashed in here.

I rub my eyes and try to forget. I try to forget all about her and I try to erase her from my mind completely. I push myself away from the bars and stand, but standing does the opposite of what I want to do. Standing gives me a perfect view of the tiny window across from my cell, but more specifically, the sky.

I stare up at the clouds, my hands gripping the bars as tight as I possibly can. My eyes well up with tears and my knees start to buckle under my weight, and as my tears start to drip, they sting the cuts that I didn't even realize I had on my face. It’s not like I have a mirror to examine my injuries.

They are just blobs. There are no dragons, or hands, or tables, or staircases, or cars, or Christmas trees. They're just clouds. There's nothing fancy about them. I'll never be able to see it. I couldn't see shapes when I was with Amelia. What makes me think I would be able to see shapes without her?

I push myself away from the bars and throw myself onto the bed, covering my face with my hands. This is useless. I'm useless. There are echoes of chatter from men on my cell block and it makes my head hurt. If Amelia were here, she would cradle my head in her lap and brush her fingers through my hair, and she would trail her fingertips over my forehead and over the bridge of my nose, all while whispering sweet nothings to me. I groan with frustration, rolling onto my stomach and burying my face under my flat pillow.

"Hey, Reid," Calvin's voice joins the echoes from the cells around mine. "How's it going over there?"

TAGLIST

@babybloodstonebones @bxnnywriting @blameitonthenight21 @feralreid @anepiphany @reidscardigan @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @stxrrywildflower @penemily @whollytaciturn @thegingerfairchild @yasminwashere @shrimpyblog @anamelessfacelessnerd @wonderlandhatter @whxt-to-write @inkandexchange @just-call-me-non

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bahannah01writes · 7 years

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Bring Me a Dream (Pt. 11)

Summary: A nightly regiment goes slightly astray...

Hey guys! I know I've been silent but I honestly needed a bit of time- I was stuck and other things in life had gotten busy which made things a bit difficult to write at times- but hey, I'm thankful if you're still holding on to this story and still believe in me lol so hopefully this fluff makes up for going awol! :) Also, highly recommend listening to this melody towards the end, you'll see why! <3

Send in requests!

Check out the masterlist here :)

Tags: @kourt-kay @bananakid42 @themarkiplierexperience @let-it-go-and-live-again @skarletton if you want to be on the tagged list, just message me and it shall be done!

Enjoy!

The night washes over the sky, making it anew as the stars speckle the dark and deep blue painting the atmosphere; it’s hypnotic and if one stares up at the starry abyss for far too long, they will surely lose themselves in the sight. Seems like a thousand pairs of eyes that look down upon the Dreamers with kind eyes as they gaze at their souls wandering the Earth without any idea of what is really out there- of how much bigger and magical their world actually is. It was never a simple black and white blueprint for this realm, instead, there are a wide variety of grays between the two extremes; to your beliefs, a Dream Maker lines up with one of those grays- of which one, you aren’t sure exactly. But, nonetheless, you relish the gray by releasing far more colors and pathways into the minds of Dream Makers- primarily Mark’s. Your spirit acts as a paintbrush that allows these creatures to express themselves and paint their perspective with new imagination and new colors that they add into their lives.

Despite becoming intoxicated by the moon, your attention eventually returns to the intended point- that being the clean up of your ceremony to help protect your Dreamer from that Indomicii. While you would love if you could leave all of these miscellaneous and peculiar items to be scattered about the room and decorate the floor in an odd and random pattern- you cannot. The last time someone had gone near your room before your materials had been cleaned up, you ended up knocking Mark down onto the floor landing him in a startled and confused daze. You don’t feel like giving the poor lad another spook- at least until this all blows over and the guilt no longer weighs on your heart.

Your fingers slide across the smooth glass surface of a small transparent violet jar as you pick it up along with similar items beside it, smiling to yourself as a song buzzes on your lips. Gentle hums break the silence of the night and you can feel your heart lighten as words soon start up as well- a calm melody falling from your lips and hanging in the air like leaves gliding alongside the wind in autumn. Enjoying this quiet and blissful moment, you allow yourself to let your worries slide off your shoulders into nothingness and instead simply think towards your future rather than keeping your interest in that demon haunting your Dreamer; after calculating the possible methods to permanently eliminate his problem, you feel much better about the whole situation. If things are all as they seem, then you can rest easy knowing that you have not only a Plan A, but a Plan B and C too.

By now, you just pray that your books are correct.

Once content with your now cleanly abode, you stretch and sigh before collapsing on the welcoming comforter of your bed. To say the least, you are happy to be in bed at this point. You move and make your way to shift under the sheets and snuggle up to the pillows that lay about the bed- with one more deep breath, the corners of your lips turn up into a delicate, sleepy smile and your eyes shut, the black shades sending you to a new place of relaxation as you allow yourself to slip under. Your body falls limp and melds into bed, absolutely adoring this mellow mood taking over your mind as you sink into your charging condition again. Breathing slows, you notice how the numbers of the rise and fall of your chest decrease, and it feels as though your heart has taken a sedative with how it seems to calm and barely beat at the rate it was going before. With one final deep breath, you sink into this empowering slumber that you hope will grant you all the energy you need to start taking down Mr. Sandman.

After all, he is just as powerful as yourself- if not more.

Eyes shoot open; wide and bewildered as you instantly sit up in a start. Your chest feels tight and heavy, a constricting uneasiness attempts to squeeze the breath from your lungs while you look the room over in both confusion and concern- you may have no idea what caused the sudden awakening, but, you can only assume that it’s nothing good. You toss the comforter off your body and the frigid air sends chills running down your spine from the quick loss of warmth, albeit, your nerves seem to blur your senses and you hardly notice the temperature change- adrenaline kicks in as the tension in the air grows heavy and by now you’re anticipating that some sort of hellish creature will jump out and scare you without any regards.

Although, that honestly isn’t all that bad considering what could happen.

The souls of your feet meet the plush carpet beneath them and hesitantly continue onwards to the room of your lovely Dreamer, praying for his safety in the middle of the night. You don’t bother closing your door behind you and nor do you bother knocking on Mark’s door as you slowly open it, both in fear of waking him up and possibly seeing an unfortunate turn of events. Your petrified heart feels like it’s beating a million beats per second all while feeling like a heavy stone that’s weighing your chest down, feet like lead as you make a cautious entrance into the room.

An ominous aura hangs about in the air like a heavy fog in the early morning; instantly, you sense the maleficent shadow’s presence looming over your Dreamer, clinging onto his spirit like the parasite it is. A low growl vibrates on your lips and your eyes see red as you catch sight of the fear etched into Mark’s sleeping face as the Indomicii torments his subconscious; filling his mind with poisonous images that bleeds his heart and breaks his mind as each of its sadistic scenes play out in the poor ravenette’s head. Your fists clench without a second thought and your words cut through the silence, tongue sharp as a knife that you would love to plunge into that beast’s chest. The harsh incantation progressively grows louder as you get closer to ole Mr. Sandman, his ‘eyes’ may glow with such a gorgeous gold but yours burn with a dark red; hatred and hostility swirling dangerously in your orbs. You are ready to fight- you don’t know if you would win, but there is no way in Hell that you’d allow him to get away with this.

Yet, before you could make any damning move, your eyes bore into one another’s and soon enough he disappeared into plume of black smoke- but not before those nefarious words of his had the chance to echo out into the room and harass your ears, “Better luck next time, dearie.”

Fervent fists swing to try and get in some sort of hit before he dissipated into the void only to come short, your chest rises and falls at an uneven, angry pace and you feel like a predator who has been cheated of a catch. Eyes shut tight and your jaw clenches as his words ring in your ears, haunting your mind; the words dripped like poison from his being, sending your heart and soul onto uncertain ground that could crumble at any moment- he came up to the plate to play, and this time, he got a home run.

You weren’t sure what went wrong… The spell had been working all this time, why was he able to break it now? Or was he always able to break it and instead of showing his full power, he lulled you into a sense of false security to only make his victory even more sweet and your lose even more bitter… Whatever it may be, that bastard was successful in messing with your head; not only do you have to worry about ridding him from Mark’s mind permanently, but the nightly problem is now also something to worry about.

Tension leaves your muscles and a heavy breath escapes your lungs, fingers run through your messy locks in an attempt to relieve the remaining stress. It’s only partially effective. A frown pulls on the corners of your lips and you plop down on the corner of Mark’s bed, both physically and mentally exhausted from the previous situation. After a few more deep breaths, you look over to the ravenette and can’t help but feel guilty for your failure. He stirs under the sheets and you hear a soft, frightened whimper leave him and making your heart break. You shift to move closer to his sleeping form and gently place a hand on his arm, gingerly trying to awake him, “Mark..? Wake up, sweetie… Are you alright?”

While you had to combat the devilish Indomicii for hardly even a second, you couldn’t imagine what mental torture that beast forced onto Mark and for how long; if you weren’t trying to put on a comforting front for his sweet soul, anger would still be possessing your mind.

It takes a moment, though he soon wakes up: sluggish and suspicious, his eyes scan just waiting to catch a glimpse of the demons that haunted his dreams. But instead, you make sure that he finds your warm eyes amidst the darkness and like you hoped, he seems to relax. A light smile spreads across your lips and even though he doesn’t return it, Mark sits up and hugs you lightly, his head resting in the crook of your neck as you stroke his hair hoping to soothe his mind. Sweet, soft words leave your lips in a hushed tone that works to reassure him, “You’re safe, Mark. You’re safe, I’m right here…”

He silently resides in your embrace, but you feel his body relax which gives you hope and once deciding it would be okay, you pull away ever so slightly- your eyes finding his once again, “You alright..?”

You search his eyes for an answer and as a sigh passes his lips, Mark nods, “Yeah… I’m just…”

“Spooked?”

“Yeah…”

Pondering over the ideas in your head, you offer a small smile and your eyes reflect the love in your actions, “You can stay in my room for the rest of the night- if that makes you feel better, of course.” You laugh sheepishly, praying that he would accept your offer; it would be the best way for you to protect him and watch over him. And any Indomicii would think twice about latching onto a Dreamer while they’re quite literally in their Dream Maker’s arms, it would just be stupid to do so.

Mark reflects your smile, sending a love struck arrow through your heart, it may not be the right moment for such thoughts- but, it isn’t your fault that he looks so cute when sleepy. Oh goodness… He really does have a grip on you by now, doesn’t he? With a slow nod of the head, he gives you the answer you were hoping for, “I like that idea… So that was-?”

“Yes, that was the Sandman messing with your dear mind… I’m sorry. Ever since I got here, I was able to keep him at bay- I… I don’t know what happened, all I know is that something didn’t feel right. When I came into check on you, he was already there.”

He chews his bottom lip, chocolate hues casting down and his arm raises up to scratch the back of his neck, “Chickadee, you know how I’ve been curious about, well, all of this?”

Your brows furrow but you nod nonetheless, simply giving an affirmative hum in response.

With a heavy breath, his eyes connect with yours again with a look that’s almost desperate, “Can we just be… normal, tonight? I don’t want to talk about it anymore… Tonight, at least. It was a lot... and I don’t want to think about it for now.”

Those words twist your heart and a painful, guilty pang resonates in it, you know you didn’t drag him into this mes yet you can’t help but feel responsible. You’re his guardian, you were supposed to protect and instead you let him get tormented by that bastard. Mark deserves a break, he deserves to be oblivious to such matters. Although, you are happy you could be honest with him- and if he wishes for a break, then he shall receive one. A bittersweet smile slides across your lips and you nod, “I think that’s a good idea.”

The two of you move to get up and you keep him grounded by holding his hand as you go to your room, the little journey is silent and the second he passes through the door, you turn and gently close it behind him. You turn on the bedside lamp that provides the calm, orange glow you adore so much and as you settle up on your bed and under the covers, Mark soon follows and rests his head on your chest and arms around your waist- a position that you would typically take but this time, you are more than happy to be his teddy bear.

Your fingers soon find themselves lost in his charcoal locks as he listens to your steady heart, the comforter atop you two relaying the warmth in the imaginary bubble around you guys. You close your eyes and you believe he does the same, there is a sweet silence following this that puts both of your hearts at rest. You’re almost positive the light helps; its comforting presence challenges the monster that he sees in the dark. It keeps that ghost of a smile on his lips and a beckoning request blossoms in his mind and in his groggy, tired voice, he asks the most adorable question, “Can you sing me a lullaby?”

A joyous giggle fills the air and you lean down to press a kiss to the top of his head, “I would love nothing less, Mark. I’m not exactly sure if I’m the best-”

“You could sound like a dying walrus and I would still find it angelic, babe.” He chuckles, glancing up at your from the corner of his eyes, a playful smirk now tugging on the corner of his previous smile.

“Sure, whatever you say, honey,” You roll your eyes playful, but decide to fulfill his request all the same, “Any special requests?”

“Honestly,” He pauses, the air leaving his lungs, “anything that gets my mind off that thing would be perfect.”

Humming, you tilt your head from side to side, mentally shifting through your files on lullabies and whichever would be best for your sleepy Markimoo. Albeit, one sticks out despite a little dilemma with your pick, “Do you mind if it talks about the sea?”

He groans teasingly and huffs, “Fine, I guess so…” And whether the guilt of pretending to be angry consumes his heart or Mark’s far too tired to realize you understand that he was playing, like the dork he is, sweetly adds on, “I’m just kidding, by the way, I don’t mind at all…”

“You’re adorable, you know that?” You inquire with a chuckle of your own, “Either way, I hope you like it.”

Mark patiently awaits as he curiously thinks over what your singing voice would be- and he wasn’t lying about how he would hear it. It could quite possibly be the worse thing ever and it would sound like a miraculous symphony to his ears because all he would be able to hear is the darling sincerity and love that lingers in your melody. Or, it could be amazing and he would hear it like the angels were singing it themselves. Mark’s just happy you’re going to sing to him; in the position you two are in now, he couldn’t think of a better time to do it. The mere thought calms his nerves so easily, the effect he has on you, unbeknownst to him, is the same effect you have on him.

So, it’s when that first note passes by your lips that his heart melts and he feels himself sink into your touch even more than before, listening to you with a dopey smile spread from ear to ear.

Hush now my Storeen close your eyes and sleep Waltzing the waves Diving the deep Stars are shining bright The wind is on the rise Whispering words of long lost lullabies

Your own smile grows as you reach the chorus, the harmony playing in your mind.

Oh won't you come with me Where the moon is made of gold And in the morning sun We'll be sailing

Oh won't you come with me Where the ocean meets the sky And as the clouds roll by We'll sing the song of the sea

Mark’s breathing steadies and he curls up closer to you, if that’s even possible- simply enjoying your singing and the relaxing feeling of your fingers in his hair.

And heard the sweetest sound I saw a great white light and dancers in the round Castles in the sand Cradles in the trees Don't cry, I'll see you by and by

By this time, you’re almost certain that you’ve successfully lulled your Dreamer back into his peaceful slumber, and can’t help but to finish off the serene song.

Oh won't you come with me Where the moon is made of gold And in the morning sun We'll be sailing Oh won't you come with me Where the ocean meets the sky And as the clouds roll by We'll sing the song of the sea Rolling... Rolling... Rolling... Rolling

You hum ever so quietly as you feel your own mind begin to be tempted at the idea of continuing your charging period and instead of fighting, you give in. Mark is snuggled up to you and after all that’s happened in such a short amount of time, you’re glad you can let go again- if only for a few more hours.

If you enjoyed this overdue chapter- please leave a kudos and comment! Seriously, they help me a lot lol I always appreciate the feedback I get from you guys <3

#markiplier x reader #mark fischbach x reader #markiplier fanfiction #markiplier #fanfiction #bmd #bahannah01

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lazybarbarians · 7 years

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Precursor, by C. J. Cherryh

Kalinara: So, since I tricked Ragnell into taking two turns in a row to finish up Aftermath, this was my second turn. I decided to go back to one of the first series we started reviewing, and chose C. J. Cherryh’s Precursor. This is the fourth book of her Foreigner series.

So needless to say, none of this review will make much sense to anyone who hasn’t read the three books that came before.

Ragnell: Or at least the three reviews that came before.

K: Precursor starts three years after the end of Inheritor, and basically starts what I think of as the “Atevi In Spaaaace” trilogy. I’ll try to keep this synopsis short, as anyone who’s read Cherryh knows, her books tend to be pretty dense with content.

So by this time in the story, the Atevi have finished constructing their shuttles. And this means travel to and from the space station/ship is now a reality. The ship has recalled Jase and Yolanda, and as a response, Tabini sends Bren and his usual cohorts (Banichi, Jago, Tano, Algini) as well as a full atevi household (Bren’s status has risen in the world), up too, to set up the next stage of diplomatic negotiations.

Bren meets, however, a diplomatic quagmire. For all its urgency, the ship was NOT ready for the atevi, and a lot of strings need to be pulled to get things even remotely satisfactory. And then things go from inconvenient to downright dangerous when there is a coup in the highest ranks of ship government. Fortunately, Bren is not without recourse. And his guard are as effective as ever, even in these alien surroundings.

R: Honestly, how the hell didn’t see this coming sooner or later once the test flights went underway I don’t know. Tabini got his people to create spaceflight in three years. They should have at least expected he’d be asking soon, and that they should get some quarters ready for big aliens.

K: I think a lot of it may have been internal prejudice about primitive aliens. They see the Atevi, and they see a people who are still considerably more behind than they are technologically speaking. They don’t have any real appreciation of the way that Atevi have been able to use and innovate the Mospheiran technological advances (advances that eventually the Atevi would have been able to create themselves without help, just on a slower time scale), or how quickly they’ve come already. They also don’t seem to appreciate just how Tabini works as a leader. When he makes a decision, it happens.

As I mentioned, Bren’s status is considerably elevated. He’s finally figured out that he isn’t the ordinary translator/spy that he signed up to be. The story actually, finally, divorces his role completely from “translator” as a number of other characters with at least a workable command of the Ragi language are introduced. Both Tabini and Ilisidi show that they have resources outside of Bren, when it comes to simple communication with the humans on Mospheira. That said, Bren’s role is still vitally important.

Bren is Tabini’s diplomatic hammer, basically. And he is breathtakingly good at it. The four captains are the autocratic governing body of the whole ship, and Bren dictates terms to them. Bren also negotiates a completely separate business deal with the kinda-sorta-competing Mospheiran faction. (Bren has officially at this point made his break from the island. Apparently they do still try to pay him though.)

I remember the first time I read this book, I immediately went back and reread Foreigner. It’s a very similar feeling, I think, to watching A New Hope right after Return of the Jedi. Seeing Luke Skywalker back as that naive farmboy once you see him as the Jedi Master he becomes is such an amazing experience. He’s so adorable! This is, I think, Bren’s Return of the Jedi. There is no question that he’s a formidable force of nature, and possibly, in his own way, the third most powerful person on the planet (after Tabini and Ilisidi.)

R: Bren Cameron is one of only two people in any of the three factions who has experience mediating between humans and an alien species. (The other being the retired old paidhi Wilson, because Jase was still following Bren’s lead when he worked with the atevi.) In the situation this series has set up, that is a perfect comparison because he is basically a diplomatic Jedi. That is how rare that skill is and how necessary it is.

K: He’s not completely free of his anxieties though. There’s a truly lovely freakout scene early in the book, where he starts lambasting himself for enjoying having the fate of the world in his hands. The poor thing probably would still benefit from a therapist. Especially now that we’ve gotten a good look at his mother. The woman makes a physical appearance at the beginning of the book, and we see more of her personality through phone calls and letters. And she is terrible and incredibly manipulative. When I look at her, I start to suspect that a lot of Bren’s own diplomatic skills likely came about long before he met the Atevi, in sheer self defense.

R: He is being too hard on himself. Look, power is fun. That’s why it’s so corruptive. It’s fun to be the person someone needs to agree with and while that’s pretty much what led to the situation on the Captain’s Council first place that Bren enjoyed that scene so much proves he’s still human. Which he was worrying about last trilogy.

And really, it’s so much fun to watch. Usually we get these scenes on stuff like Star Trek with the uncooperative diplomat or politician and we see from the crew point of view. Here we see from the diplomat’s point of view, that he knows he’s being difficult and that this is part of establishing boundaries during negotiations. He feels bad about it with the rank and file personnel, and you feel a little bad for them too, but it is so enjoyable each time he puts the Captains in their place.

And then Ilisidi shows up, and it’s like he gets a power-up and gets to be ten times as loud and demanding and it is just so much fun to read. He goes from badass to Badass when she shows up.

K: At least he still has his relationship with Jago, which is so lovely and drama free. We also finally get an answer to the nature of Jago’s relationship with Banichi. Which likely adds a really interesting dynamic to Bren’s relationship with Banichi as well. Banichi is now Joe West, matchmaking his adopted son and his daughter.

R: That was just such a funny thing. And it’s not dropped for just nothing, it adds to the stressors during the parts of the book when Banichi disappears to well, be Banichi.

K: One of the things I think is really funny about this series is how each book ends up expanding on the factions and adding more division versus what came before. Like in Foreigner, we’re introduced to the humans and the atevi. Invader expands on that by introducing Deana Hanks and her Heritage Party as an antagonistic faction of humans. Inheritor is what introduces the Ship folk as their own faction, and Tatiseigi as a representative of very conservative Atevi.

Following in that trend, Precursor introduces a couple of new factions as well, and they’re all represented by new characters.

The first two I want to talk about are Tom Lund and Ginny Kroger. These two are Mospheirans, and introduced as members of the Heritage Party, who go up to the station with Bren. (Tabini’s idea, he likes symmetry and wanted Mospheira to send their own delegation when he sent Bren.) Bren particularly started off badly with Kroger, who seemed to exemplify her party’s closed minded attitude. However, once Bren and the Mospheirans unite against the increasingly bewildering behavior of the ship folk, he gets to learn more about them and the Heritage Party itself. Basically, the antagonists like Hanks and her father were only one part of the Party, while others joined because of other reasons: like the desire for independent scientific recovery and the push for space. Kroger, in particular, has personal ambitions regarding the rediscovery of robotics, which she believes will enable humans and atevi to engage in mining resources and other space-tasks with greater safety.

We have new adversaries though, in the form of Tamun, the fourth Captain of the crew, and his hardliners, who affect a coup against Ramirez, the leader of the Captains and the one we’ve encountered before (at least by radio), who is the one supporting the diplomatic relationship with the Atevi.

R: So far, Tamun is the most dickish antagonist we’ve seen. Which is why no one will miss him.

K: And then there’s Kaplan, who is introduced as Bren’s reluctant guide. Kaplan represents the everyman ship view (as opposed to Jase, who has a fairly elevated status, and also is off screen for most of the story as a victim of the coup). He is wary but ultimately curious about the Atevi, and it’s through him and crewmen like him that Bren is able to gain some social leverage, spread the truth about the coup, and make contacts throughout the ship.

Amusingly, we get a hint of Atevi politics as well. Bren’s elevated status has brought with it an official household (led by an esteemed old man named Narani, whose propriety and taste impresses even Ilisidi) and a prestigious apartment in the Bujavid, something that even some lesser Lords don’t have. Among his staff is a chef named Bindanda, who is both remarkably talented, and a spy from Lord Tatiseigi, a conservative Atevi lord who had been introduced in the last series. Everyone is well aware of Bindanda’s status as a spy, and try to accommodate that whenever possible.

R: Well, it’s not like he’s shooting up valuable artwork.

I love how bizarre the atevi seem to the crew in this way. Bren goes up there a lot more relaxed than an atevi lord would be, but clearly Tabini is presenting him as one. And that requires all this redecoration and accommodation that will definitely have to occur when the atevi take over the station and put whatever lucky lord gets to live in outer space up there. But the idea that there’s cosmetic adjustments to be made is just completely foreign to the ship humans, and they have no idea how lucky they are that Bren was sent up first with a polite staff before Ilisidi got up there.

K: In the midst of all of these events, we get some lovely worldbuilding moments. For example, Tabini has built an embassy for humans in Shejidan, designed (with input from Bren and Jase) to suit human tastes as much as possible. Meanwhile, we get to appreciate what goes into making the station quarters livable to Atevi (it reminds me a little of feng shui, though I am far too ignorant of the practice to make any real comparison.)

R: I don’t think the practice is too different from what we do for humans, just the details. They paint dentist offices in pastels so people don’t get upset. There are certain images you don’t put on the walls in public places. There’s a cliched type of motel and hotel setup so that everyone’s comfortable as they travel through. You don’t blast cacophonous music or have loud unpleasant noises in a waiting area. Certain smells are not good. Just for atevi, they need all of the numbers to be right in addition to the colors, sounds, and smells.

K: We also learn more about Ship culture: the emphasis on family (“cousins”, the fact that Ramirez’s children are in the command track, Tamun chooses his uncle to be a new Captain after the coup), a somewhat paternalistic attitude toward women, and a veneration for old women, which comes in very handy when Ilisidi comes in as the cavalry.

R: Yeah, Tabini had to have picked that reverence for old ladies up during incidental conversation and filed that away as a way of taking definitive and quick control before the Ship-Humans could know what happened.

K: I’ve said before that this is essentially the start of a new trilogy. Where the first trilogy focused on the interrelationship between Mospheira and Atevi, with the Ship as a catalyst, this trilogy is focused on space, with a special look at the ship humans and their interrelations, with Bren and the Atevi as catalysts. It’s only going to get more complex from here on out. :-)

#foreigner #C. J. Cherryh #giants who do math #Bren might be a Jedi #and other silly Star Wars comparisons #Banichi is Joe West

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