#is stabbing them slowly in the back while feeling immense guilt at all times)

[avengersreassemble]

i’ve just realised i’ve accidentally recreated jo davidson in dnd and i’m not happy about it

#dnd5e #dnd campaign #jo davidson #line of duty #flemson #i have not thought about flemson in two years and the hold it still has on me jesus christ #(sad little gay changeling who is being forced to be a mole in the party but loves them (one in particular) but can’t get out of his deal so #is stabbing them slowly in the back while feeling immense guilt at all times) #(will he get a cottage core happy but tragic ending with a dog? god i hope so)

[quindolyn]

heyyyyy, can you do harry imagine where when they fight with the death eaters fem reader rescues sirius from bellatrix because she know he is the only relative harry has and gets hurt, so in the hospital harry visits her and thanks her and she tells him that she loves her? like lots of fluff😻

To Be Lovable || Harry Potter

Word Count: 4069

A/N: Hey love, I hope you enjoy this! It was a lot of fun to write.

Warnings: mentions of a broken bone, let’s just pretend that Sirius’ name has already been cleared, obviously not canon, I believe that that is it.

Masterlist

Life had fucked Harry Potter over, that was for sure. It basically said “fuck you” and gave him the responsibility of saving muggle and wizardkind alike. Robbed him of a family, of a childhood, of any semblance of the confidence he so desperately needed. 

But life always outs. Life will always find a way to straighten itself out, even the scales. Life had given Harry Sirius Black, so it was doing a pretty good job so far. Just as life had fucked Harry Potter, it’d fucked Sirius Black too.

When life gave them each other it slowly started mending its wrong doings with Sirius’ false imprisonment, Harry’s lack of a father figure, their shared lack of affection of any sort. In Harry Sirius had found a friend, a son and in Sirius, Harry had found a father, someone to care.

You had spent the last five years watching Harry suffer trial after trial all while you suffered a trial of your own, the trial of loving him from afar. As much as you adored Harry, and you really did, how could you not? From the blush that painted his cheeks at the slightest compliment, to the way his glasses sat crooked on his nose, to the messy black mop of hair that sat upon his head the boy was completely and utterly loveable. But it was because of the love you harbored for the boy that you refused to confess your feelings to him, he had more than enough on his plate. The Boy Who Lived most definitely had better things to do with his time than deal with the feelings of a hormonal teenager. Perhaps that was life’s way of fucking with you, making you love a boy who didn’t have it within him to love you back.

Life didn’t get to fuck with Harry Potter anymore, he’d done more than his fair share of suffering, of grieving, he’d more than served a punishment he’d never earned. That’s all you could think about as you saw Bellatrix point her wand at Sirius’ form, laughing maniacally as a jet of green light shot from the tip of her wand, aimed directly at Sirius. 

Head thrown back in laughter, eyes closed, it was clear that he wasn’t going to be able to dodge the curse leaving you with no other option but to full on tackle him. You threw your body at him, aiming to take him down at the knees but failing rather miserably instead wrapping your arms around his chest and instead of knocking him to the ground, making him stumble backward.

Regardless, on the floor, or a few inches to the right, you still managed to knock him out of the curse’s path. Sirius hadn’t realized who was on top of him or that their intentions were good rather than evil, in the heat of the moment, with curses flying to and fro you were flung from his body as he knocked you onto the floor.

As you landed on your side, your arm trapped beneath you, you heard the distinct, sickening snap of what couldn't have been anything other than bone. The sound rang through the din in the room, impossible to miss but yet no one seemed to offer you so much as a glance, anyone except Sirius that was. 

“Shit” He swore, bending down to access the damage, gently turning you on to your back so that he could get a better look at your arm, “I’m so sorry (Y/N).”

“It’s fine Sirius,” You slurred, not daring to look at your arm, the pain you were feeling was enough, you were more than fine without visuals to match. Having never broken a bone before you were not ready for the immense pain that festered in your arm, sharp and stabbing it felt like every single nerve in your arm was being bludgeoned over and over again, mercy be damned.

“You’re slurring your words (Y/N),” Sirius scolded, not angry at you but rather at himself, “You’re not okay and it’s not fine. Now did you hit your head too?”

You thought for a moment, had you hit your head?

Yes, you remembered the thump of your skull against the hard stone of the room hidden deep within the Department of Mysteries, and the more you thought about it, the more clearly you could feel that the dull thrum of pain was still present where the initial impact had occurred.

 “Y-yeah,” You stuttered out, your vision blurring as the man kneeling above you started to fade, “I think so, it hurts.” Black spots began to dance through your vision, the cacophony of noise in the room became a low buzz as the sound of your blood rushing through your veins overwhelmed you. It became the only thing you could hear.

You heard the faint noise of Sirius letting out a slew of curses, not all of which seemed to be in English as his hands moved to your scalp, gently pressing down until a sharp pain coursed through you. 

“Fuck,” Someone, swore, him or you, you weren’t sure. It was very possible it had been either of you as Sirius pulled his hand away from your head and back into your visage. His middle three fingers were soaked in blood, your blood. Crimson and dripping from his digits the metallic scent flooded your nostrils making you work not to gag as you found the stench to be truly nauseating. 

He spoke again, or at least you thought he did as you could faintly make out the whisper of his voice and the moving of his lips.

Faintly you wondered if you heard the familiar voice of a certain bespectacled boy, frantic as he approached you, and the glimpse of dark, messy hair you caught almost convinced you of such. But as more and more blackness took over your vision it became harder and harder to tell until you were completely swallowed, and your eyes blinked closed into a dark, dreamless sleep.

“She’s not exactly asleep,” Someone was talking.

“Well she sure as hell isn’t awake,” There was someone in the room.

“If you’d let me finish Mr. Weasley-”

“Oh shut up,” This voice was new, deeper than either of the previous ones, its posh accent distinctly different than the other two, “No need to condescend the boy just tell us if (Y/N)’s going to be alright. Harry’s going to want to know when he finishes his business with Dumbledore.”

Harry? Was Harry alright? Stupid question, if precedent was anything to go on, he probably wasn’t.

At the mention of his name you felt a wave of energy surge through you, it was only with that energy you were able to blink your eyes open. They desperately wanted to close as the harsh white light of the room flooded your irises but you refused to let them, instead squinting so that the light entering your vision was limited. 

“As I was saying,” The first voice continued, “She’s in a medically induced coma, this isn’t a restful sleep this is because she can’t afford to be conscious right now and when she wakes up she’s going to be in a whole world of pain and having the six of you here isn’t going to help her.”

No one seemed to notice your new state of consciousness as they continued their conversation, voices tense with worry as they batted back and forth in a game of verbal racketball, a question met by an answer which was countered by another question.

You were too out of it to take offense to their neglect as you felt that surge of energy start to slip away from you, like sand through your fingertips. Grasping onto the last whispers of it before it drifted away from you entirely you cleared your throat, the sound minuscule but apparently just loud enough to catch the attention of a certain red headed girl.

“(Y/N),” This voice was unmistakable Ginny. You turned your head to face the source of her voice, met by the blurry outline of unmistakable Weasley red, they really should just patent it at this point, hair surrounding a pale face. “(Y/N) you’re awake!” She lunged towards you gripping your arm in her hand, albeit a little painfully, but all pain, and sound, and sight seemed fuzzy, like remembering a dream from the night prior.

At Ginny’s words, all heads in the room snapped to your form where you laid in the hospital bed, looking as though you’d seen better days. Which granted, you had. 

It took a second for them all to register the meaning behind what Ginny had announced, but as soon as they did they went into a flurry, a healer rushing to take your vitals, moving her wand up and down your body, muttering incantations under her breath. Molly was at your side, gazing at you with brown eyes swimming with worry as she ran a hand down the side of your face which was still lolled to the side. Two identical boys stood at the foot of your bed while two girls, the previously spoken of redhead and her curly haired friend stood back, giving the Healers space to move about. 

Sirius stood over Molly’s shoulder, his eyes drowning in guilt as he failed to return your gaze. 

“Where am I?” Godric you sounded awful, and it felt like there was gravel in your throat, irritating you even as you merely swallowed.

“St. Mungo’s darling,” Molly answered promptly, trying and failing to suppress a sniffle, “You were hurt at the Department of Mysteries.”

You remembered, oh you undoubtedly remembered. The ache in your arm and head was more than enough to remind you of what had occurred, it was reinforced by the dark haired man looming in the corner refusing to meet your eyes.

After a good deal of fussing both by the Healers and Molly people finally started to stream out of your room, first Ginny and Hermione, followed by the twins and finally the Healers and Molly. 

That left just you and Sirius, who still refused to meet your eyes, in the small room which smelt of dittany and blood. 

It was silent for a minute, then two, before you simply couldn’t take it anymore, if he wasn’t going to say something you would, “S’not your fault Sirius,” Your voice was still rather hoarse but it had improved significantly after downing the three cups of water than had been placed in front of you. 

“You were just trying to save me, you did save me and now you’re hurt.” His head which had previously been hung raised to finally meet your eyes, the shame he carried in his eyes was palpable, remorse etched into his face. A face which reflected every year he’d lived on this planet and then some. 

“M’gonna be fine Sirius, you didn’t know it was me I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” You shook your head lightly to refocus your eyes but that just amplified the pain already pounding in your skull.

Reluctantly Sirius trudged towards you before pulling a chair up to your bed and eventually resting himself in it, not looking at your face but rather at the foot of the bed. “Why’d you do it (Y/N)? Why’d you go to all that trouble to save an old man like me?” There was none of his usual humor in his voice, only a sorrowful curiosity.

“You’re all he has left Sirius,” This drew his attention, craning his neck to look at you, his eyes, accompanied by his continued silence urged you on, “You can’t die on him because then he’ll have no one.”

For the first time since you’d tackled him in the Department on Mysteries however long ago, Sirius Black smiled. Unlike his usual smirks or grins, the one that graced his face was gentle, and perhaps a bit hopeful as well.

“Not so sure about that love,” He let out a laugh so light it was barely a laugh, more like a puff of air, “He’d still have you, wouldn’t he?”

You willed yourself not to give away your true feelings for Harry to his godfather of all people, but the nervous grin that adorned your face was a dead give away to his already good guess.

“He cares about you (Y/N),” Sirius was merciful, sparing you from verbalizing the feelings that the both of you now acknowledged existed, “We had to drag him away from you at the Department of Mysteries.”

“That was Harry?” You perked up, “I didn’t just imagine him?”

“Nope,” He replied, popping his p, “He almost punched Moony when tried to drag him away from you.”

Not knowing how to respond to that you simply didn’t.

“He had to meet with Dumbledore to discuss something, that’s why he wasn’t here when you woke up,” Sirius explained.

“Oh, its okay, I’m sure he has much better things to do than come visit-”

You were cut off mid sentence by the sound of feet thumping down the hallway outside your room. Both you and Sirius turned your heads to watch someone fly by the cracked door of the room, his voice booming as he called out for you, then Ron, then Hermione. 

“Sir, I’m going to need you to be a little quieter,” The stern but kind voice drifted into the room from the hallway.

“Where is she?” Yup, that has Harry. The sound of his voice was ingrained in your head and had been for countless years now. 

You and Sirius stayed silent, still watching the door, listening to the tense conversation taking place between Harry and the St. Mungo’s staff member before you heard Hermione’s voice cut in, trying to calm the two men down.

“Well it sounds like he’s going to be in here soon,” Sirius said, standing up from his chair, gazing down at you.

“It does,” You agreed.

“I will never be able to thank you enough (Y/N), not only for saving my life today but for being such a good friend to Harry, giving him the love that he deserves.” Tears brimmed at the raven haired man’s eyes as he laid his palm atop your hand.

“Of course Sirius,” Your voice cracked mid sentence as you too were gulping down tears.

Leaning down Sirius pressed a fatherly kiss to the crown of your head just as Harry burst through the door.

“Speak of the devil,” The older chuckled, pulling back to his full height as Harry bounded towards you, completely ignoring the presence of his godfather. 

“(Y/N)!” His long legs got him to you in no time at all, when he reached you his eyes snagged on your broken arm before meeting your own. 

Sirius sent you a silent wink as he slipped from the room, you hadn’t noticed him even make his way towards the door. He made sure to shut the door tightly behind him so that you and Harry would be granted some privacy.

“Hi Harry,” You let out a watery chuckle as you took in his appearance, he looked like he’d gotten caught in a wind tunnel with his hair all messy, and the fabric of his tight fitting t-shirt clinging to his chest. 

“Don’t laugh,” He frowned down at you as he settled himself next to you on the bed, “You might hurt your lung or something.”

You smiled at his clueless, over protective behavior, “S’not my lungs that are hurt H, just my arm and my head.”

“There’s nothing just about it,” He countered, “You’d be fine without your arm but you need your head (Y/N/N), can’t go walking around without it.” 

You opened your mouth to say something but you didn’t get the chance before he started talking again, pushing himself off up the flimsy mattress to pace next to your bed, “What the hell were you thinking jumping on Sirius like that?”

You rolled your eyes at his outburst, “Bellatrix had cast the Killing Curse at him, Harry, he was going to die if I didn’t do something!” Your voice raised against your will as you got defensive, you may have loved Harry but that didn’t stop you from getting aggravated with him when he was being an idiot. Take now for example.

“You could’ve died (Y/N)! Don’t you understand that? You could’ve died and I-”

“But I didn’t Harry! I didn’t die and I’m fine now.”

“The hell you are! You’re lying in a hospital bed at St. Mungo’s with a broken arm and a concussion, if that's your definition of fine then I’d hate to see what not fine is!”

“I’m a big girl Potter, I can take care of myself,” You argued, pushing yourself up on the bed so that you were sitting upright, independent of your pillows. How was he being so daft? You’d saved the closest person he had to real family and now here he was, completely railing on you.

He was so caught up in his own head, continuing to pace up and down the length of the room that he didn’t seem to notice when you started swaying, no doubt because you had lifted yourself up too quickly and your head should’ve been resting on your pillow. 

“You may be a big girl (Y/N), but clearly you shouldn’t be left to your own devices because what would possess someone to do something so idiotic?”

You tried to swallow the anger you felt bubbling up in your stomach, threatening to explode in an eruption of words you weren’t quite ready to say out loud. But as he went on and on you found it harder and harder to swallow your feelings until they inevitably bubbled over.

“You idiot,” You cut him off, too fed up with him to listen to what he had to say, “I wasn’t going to let Sirius die because he’s the only family you have Harry! You love him and it would kill me to see him ripped from you, just like so many other good things have been ripped from you, because…”

You went silent, all of a sudden your voice seemed very loud in the sterile room and you realized it’s because he finally shut up. 

“Because why?” He asked turning so that he was facing you, “Because why?”

“Because I-” You felt a rush of heat flooded your face and quickly averted your gaze from the boy, focusing instead on the clock hung on the wall opposite your bed. 

You were quiet for a moment, hoping he would show you mercy and continue on with his ranting but he didn’t. Harry never did stand down from a fight, especially not one that he could win. 

Coming to terms with the fact that the only way this was ending was with a confession from you, you gulped. And with your saliva you swallowed your pride, turning back to face the boy who still hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. 

“Because I love you, okay?” You admitted to him, letting your vision glaze over so you wouldn’t have to see the eventual look of guilt wash over his features before he gently turned you down, apologizing, calling you beautiful, telling you how you deserved someone better. Even though there was no one better than him.

You thought he looked like a deer caught in the headlights as he stared at you, unblinking. 

Eventually, after what could’ve been a couple of seconds or could’ve been a couple of hours, he spoke, “Y-you love me?” He sounded incredulous like he didn’t really believe you.

And that’s when it hit you, he didn’t really believe you. 

As a wave of indescribable sorrow washed over you, at the notion that the beautiful boy in front of you really had no clue just how beautiful he was, you maneuvered yourself so that you could stand up, throwing one leg over the edge of the bed, and then the other.

Pushing yourself up into an upright position you were immediately swaying, ready to collapse onto the floor, and Harry must’ve observed that as he came back to his senses as he looped his arms under yours, pulling you into his toned chest, hard from countless hours of Quidditch practice.

“What do you think you’re doing (Y/N/N)?” His voice was softer now, meant for only you to hear.

“Was gonna show you how much I love you,” Your voice was muffled by the fabric of his t-shirt as you abandoned all of your inhibitions, you needed to tell him how you felt, “You clearly don’t believe me when I tell you and that’s ridiculous Haz because you’re lovely and wonderful and you light up my day every time I see you. I can’t imagine my life without you,” You paused your ramble, not noticing the brilliant shade of vermillion his face had turned.

“No, I can imagine it without you Harry and it’s horrible, it’s not a life worth living.”

“Don’t say that (Y/N),” He cut you off, a frown gracing his enviably red lips.

“Would you let me finish Potter?” You sniped playfully, “I love you, Harry, I’ve loved you since we were first years and it kills me that you don’t see how lovable you are. Because you are lovable Harry,” You pulled back a bit to rest your chin on his chest, gazing up at him, “You are completely lovable, and that’s why I put myself in harm’s way today, because if it meant saving someone you love, then it is worth it. It will always be worth it.”

You watched as tears spilled down his cheeks, but you could tell by the smile pulling at his wobbling lips that they were happy tears, “Y-you love me?” 

How your heart could break at three simple words baffled you but it did, “I love you, Harry, I have loved you and I will always love you.”

A smile overtaking his entire face split it in half, a toothy grin you’d like to see on him more often, “I-”

“You don’t have to say it back H, the fact you’re not turning me down right now is more than enough. You don’t have to say it back, we can take it slow,” You cut him off, not wanting to rush him.

“I want to though, I want to say it back.” He insisted, sounding like an eager puppy.

“Really?” You couldn’t suppress the optimistic lilt to your voice.

He nodded surely, still grinning down at you. “I love you (Y/N).”

You had to stop yourself from crying, or screaming, or jumping in the air, or some combination of all three, but that’s all you wanted to do. You wanted to scream and jump and cry but you preferred being in Harry’s arms much more. 

“May I kiss you?” Harry’s voice dropped to a whisper you could barely hear.

“Yes please,” You giggled, standing up on your tippy toes as he leaned down to capture your lips in his.

You poured all the passion of the past five years into that kiss, all of the stolen glances at him, all of the nights spent sobbing, thinking that he could never love you back. All of the sacrifices, all of the hugs, and the smiles you shared. They were all poured into the kiss and they all meant so much more now because being part of something so beautiful could only make those memories better.

Harry wrapped his arms around your back, pressing your body to his while being careful to mind your hurt arm. You dug the fingers on the hand of your healthy arm in his thick hair, using it as an anchor to pull yourself closer to him.

You pulled away first, taking big gulps of air in an attempt to refill your empty lungs. 

“You love me,” Harry stated simply, staring down at you adoringly.

“I love you,” You agreed with a small nod of your head.

“I can’t believe you actually love me.” He smiled again, this grin even goofier than the last, making his emerald eyes shine.

You smiled at the look of childlike happiness that adorned his face, “And I can’t believe it took me this long to tell you.”

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @kittykylax @amourtentiaa @superbturtlemakerathlete

#harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #harry potter fluff #harry potter angst

[masterwords]

Like Falling Sand

Chapter Eight: We Die One After the Other

Notes: All hurt, very little comfort. The first pieces fall into place after Foyet's attack. Things are not good for any of them. (Canon-adjacent...not compliant.)

Warnings: hospital, wound descriptions, swearing

Words: ~5000

Previously On: Chapter List

Tag List: @disgruntledchowchow @84hotpockets @olivinesea @wanderlustbynature (Comment or message if you’d like to be added!)

“Where...am I?”

He didn't recognize the sound of his voice, it was raspy, hoarse like death's bony digits clawing at his throat and he felt it more than heard it. When Emily didn't answer him right away, he considered asking again but didn't have the energy. His head pounded, ears screaming high pitched agony, certain that even if she had answered he couldn't have heard it. Itchy gauze tickled at his neck, stuck in yellow iodine smears, fingers twitched desperate to scratch at it and unable to move for the weight in his muscles, lead in his bones. A prisoner in his own body. Feeling immense pain and having no control over its management, no memory of why, no way to communicate. He didn't try to ask again, and Emily sat back down, still staring intently at him. She had her phone to her ear, her lips were moving, no sound reached him, nothing but the screeching banshees in his head. His eyes flickered, registered no real understanding of what was going on, where he was, just dull pain and closed again. Better that way, she figured.

“He's trying to talk,” she said softly, turning her head away from him. “I can't understand what he's saying. The anesthesia is still wearing off, they said it'll be a while before he's really awake.” He was just floating somewhere in and out of consciousness, wandering lost, confused.

“We're on our way,” JJ said, sliding into the back of the SUV. Derek was behind the wheel, Dave beside him together looking like the hounds of Hell. She buckled her seat belt and double checked that it was in tight, more than a little worried they might not make it in one piece. “Spence is being taken to a different hospital, closer to where we are. He didn't want anyone to go with him, wants us to focus on Hotch.”

“He isn't going to like that,” Emily muttered, more to herself than to JJ but they both knew it was true. It didn't matter. Spencer was shot by an unsub who had already been apprehended and was receiving life saving care while Aaron had been stabbed nine times by a maniac who was still out there. One was simply more pressing than the other. He would understand, still he would hate it.

Waking up, really waking up, and seeing the majority of his team surrounding him was nothing short of mortifying. Desperately he searched out Derek, eyes darting from face to face, finding him in the back hiding in the shadows – he was there. It was a brief flood of calm, as quick as it came it left upon realizing...remembering why he was there. Why he was in a hospital bed, aware but detached by the waves of medication coursing through him. The moments flew by agonizingly slowly as they began to understand what happened, what was going on, he communicated what he could and they put the pieces together from there. They were good like that. The best, he thought. The moment they realized the danger, the team dispersed, JJ taking Dave and Derek with her to find Haley while Emily remained behind, spoke on the phone to Penelope who was keeping tabs on Spencer's whereabouts while searching cameras in the area for any glimpse into where Foyet may have gone. They all knew they weren't going to find anyone. He'd been off the grid for months, watching, waiting while they went about their daily lives.

The disbelief in Haley's eyes, the anger, the fear was too much. JJ had to look away for fear of being crushed by guilt. Laundry fell to the floor, rumpled at her feet and she saw it for what it was now – a futile attempt at a normal life, once more being ripped out from underneath her. Breathing deep, she knew this was the last laundry she'd fold in her home. This job had taken her family, now her home, the life she knew and she felt the blood pounding in her ears as JJ and Dave explained the worst of it to her. What her life was about to look like, and the very real fact that this would probably not be a short term solution. Aaron too? She asked, already knowing the answer – he would never prioritize his own safety, he would stay behind, he would hunt Foyet rather than go into WITSEC with his family. She would, like every other time, be walking this path on her own. Unsure when she realized that loving Aaron meant walking alone, holding hands with a ghost, she'd chosen to love him anyway, always hopeful. Until now. That spring of hope had run dry.

“I'll go get Jack, text me the address,” Derek announced, ducking his head and rushing out of the room before anyone could say a word, offer to go with him. He didn't need the address and Haley never texted him, he knew exactly where to go, exactly who Jack's friends in the neighborhood were. He'd picked him up plenty of times over the last few weeks, he just needed to get out, to make sure Jack was safe. Walk down the street, feel the breeze on his skin, ground himself to something solid. Whether Dave or JJ ever noticed that Haley didn't send him an address but he showed up some time later with Jack in his arms wasn't at the top of his list of concerns. That he was able to unbuckle Jack's car seat and put it into their waiting SUV like he'd done it a million times wasn't lost on JJ. As someone who had some considerable experience in the field, she'd offered to help and been turned down.

“I got it,” he mumbled while Jack hung from his neck like a monkey, wiggling and laughing, little wrists digging into his adam's apple. He flipped Jack over his shoulders, put him upside down in his car seat and buckled his legs into the harness eliciting loud joyous giggles from the little boy.

“That's not riiiiiight,” Jack hollered, wiggling and kicking until he managed to free himself and flip over. JJ stood back, impressed, wondering when Derek had gotten to be so good with children, notably this one. It was clear that Jack had a level of comfort and familiarity with Derek that none of the rest of them had and she found herself ashamed to wonder if Derek and Haley might have been spending time together. It never occurred to her that it might be Derek and Aaron, and while there was a lot to unpack there, she pushed it aside. None of her business.

He played outside with Jack while Dave and JJ escorted Haley inside the hospital prepared for the worst, tossing the boy into the air over and over until JJ called to let him know Aaron was willing to talk to Jack. A little surprised that Aaron would allow it, he tossed Jack one more time and told him it was time to go see his dad. The walk up to his room was long, enough time for Derek to coach Jack on how to handle what he was going to see. What a boy his age should never have to see.

“Be gentle,” Derek said, arms wrapped around the boy as if he were his own. “Daddy's got a lot of owies.” Nine. Nine gaping holes, stitched crudely, pending further exploration. Stable, not out of the woods. He saw the chart, he knew what they were up against.

“Why is Daddy have owies?”

“Well,” he paused, shaking his head. How did you explain something like this to a preschooler? Jack was barely able to decipher between cartoon and reality, most of the time he was still floating somewhere in between and this kind of evil just has no viable explanation. How could he believe someone would want to hurt his daddy? “Something bad happened, but he's going to be okay. Just be gentle. Remember soft hands?” Sports talk, that he could do. Jack beamed. He cupped his hands like Derek might toss him an egg or a baseball and Derek nodded soberly. “Exactly like that.”

It wasn't easy, letting Jack down to walk into the room without him. Wasn't easy turning around, back to Aaron's room, locking eyes with Dave in the hallway. He couldn't stand inside that room without the immediate crush of guilt, the smell of antiseptics, the incessant hissing of the blood pressure cuff throwing him off balance. It should have been him there, lying in that bed.

“What?” he asked softly, eyebrows knitting together. Dave and JJ were giving him a look, some kind of accusation laced with concern. The last thing he needed to deal with was an inquisition. “What'd I do?”

“Nothing,” Emily chimed in with a face that had all the smug satisfaction of a cat eating a canary. He wasn't sure what they thought they saw or knew but there was no way he was exploring it right there. “Is he going to be okay?”

Dave sighed. “Does he have a choice?”

“Of course he does. And his choice is what I'm afraid of...” Derek muttered, glancing back at the room, at Aaron doing his best to sit up in bed, putting on a brave face for his son. Pretending it didn't hurt, maneuvering slowly, methodically around injuries too gruesome for any of them to even think about but they all knew what it would look like under that gown, under the layers of bloody gauze – they'd all seen Foyet's hospital photos, his file, knew the damage done. Dave narrowed his eyes at Derek and nodded, he agreed but he wasn't going to say it aloud. Not about his Aaron. Before he could come up with anything to say, the US Marshalls were there and talking with Aaron and Haley, Jack flying back out into the hallway and right into Derek's arms. The minute he was out of the room Aaron lay back in the bed, unable to sit upright another second, eased back by a nurse's warm hand until he was nestled in a halo of pillows that kept him in position and warm.

“I'm gonna miss you buddy,” Derek whispered, pressing his face into Jack's neck, sucking in that sweaty little boy smell. “You take care of your mommy for us okay?”

“ And you take care of daddy?” Jack asked, huge tears running down his cheeks. He didn't really understand what was going on but he knew it wasn't good, that much was clear by the way all of the adults were behaving. Derek just nodded, tears burning his eyes. The rest of the team were doing their best not to watch, not to wonder, not to ask questions they had no right to ask.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I got it, buddy. We'll see you soon.” How could he ever explain to Jack that this was his fault? That he could have stopped this? That he was responsible for his father being hurt and them being in danger? Of course, he understood that logically all of this was George Foyet's fault but when your world is crashing down around you, and you can pinpoint one moment in time that could have changed it all, one choice you made that had the most devastating domino effect...

“Derek?” Dave asked, snapping him out of the trance he'd fallen into. “They're ready to take Jack.”

Penelope called it a security detail, pulled some strings so that Derek could post up in Aaron's room after visiting hours ended. Once Emily and Dave had stopped hovering over his mostly lifeless form – they had him sedated, he was agitated and had pulled at his IVs more than once in an act of pure defiance. Still, the nurses found him to be endearing in the in-between times, when he wasn't feeling aggravated and bursting sutures, even when he was they couldn't blame him, not really. The trauma of what he'd been through, what he'd lost, it was for his own good that they kept him pulled under.

Derek hadn't bothered to come back during the day, he walked out with Haley and Jack, hugged them both goodbye while everyone watched him suspiciously and made his way across town to where Spencer was just coming out of surgery. It was only a matter of time before the questions on their minds were being asked aloud, only a matter of time before a secret became a problem.

“Thanks babygirl,” he whispered, settling into a chair beside the bed with a cup of jello in hand. The nurses were keeping him well stocked, jello and coffee and he was all charm. Overnight was slim pickins but he didn't mind it, he wasn't there for the all you can eat buffet. “I don't know what I'd do without you.” She chirped in his ear, buzzing around her apartment while they spoke – the only one who hadn't been by to see him yet, it was too sad. The whole ordeal with Haley and Jack she just couldn't bear, she was going to come first thing in the morning with creature comforts instead, after the dust had settled. Or so she hoped. Furiously knitting him a cap because hospitals were so cold, and it didn't matter that Derek told her he wouldn't wear it, she was knitting it anyway because it kept her hands busy. Felt like she was really doing something helpful. He hated being cold, it made him so grouchy. She was baking, chopping vegetables for meals to be thrown in the freezer because he would have to go home alone soon and how would he do it by himself? Derek didn't say much, he had nothing left in the tank, just stared at the slow, labored rise and fall of Aaron's chest as he lay pulled heavily beneath the comfort of the drugs. What he wouldn't give to see Aaron's eyes, to look upon his face with some sort of forgiveness dancing on his lips.

“Could we call Sean?” she asked, and he fancied that he could see the excitement cross her tired face, like she'd just come up with some brilliant solution. He sighed. Not the overjoyed response she'd been hoping for.

“We're not calling Sean,” was his reply. “Not yet anyway.” He might think about it later, would have to feel Sean out. The last thing Aaron needed was to be babysitting someone who should have been taking care of him. Or worse yet, fighting with them.

He held his found credentials, Aaron's blood sticky against the leather, watched as nurses came through and checked his vitals every hour and wondered whether he'd be able to do any sleeping at all. Flipping through his phone, he stared at the last text he'd sent, knew somehow that it came at the same time as Foyet's knife and he shuddered – there was no way past this, no path to forgiveness.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, leaning close, breath hot against Aaron's cold skin. He rested his chin there in the crevice where skin met hair, breathed in the antiseptic scent, the blood crusted at the edges of bandages needing to be changed. Hand resting atop Aaron's he let his eyes drift closed, nose still pressed into the warmth behind his ear and stayed there as long as the nurses would let him. There weren't any strings attached to whatever it was they were doing, but there was no telling that to his stupid breaking heart as he watched the clock tick ever closer to morning, the time he would have to disappear.

Waking up in a daze, Aaron stared into the last face he'd expected to see – Jessica. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, eyes puffy and red, the face of an angry woman who hadn't slept. He couldn't speak, angled his head to the side and pressed his cheek into the cool pillow, pleaded with her silently to forgive him. As if he deserved it again and again. How many times had he asked this of her? Tried their friendship to the very core expecting her never to abandon him?

“Did you fight back? Did you even try?” she asked through gritted teeth, angry tears burning hot down her cheeks. She kept her voice down but the wounds were too raw, too painful and she couldn't stop herself. She'd lost her sister and her nephew, no idea where they were, no proper goodbye just a frantic phone call, a plea to watch their home, to go see Aaron because he could explain everything. As if he would. Haley was her best friend, Jack was as good as her baby and now she had no access to them, no way to know if they were protected or in danger, and here was Aaron....Aaron who was always broken, who did his best and still came up short. It was unfair, what she was saying, what she was accusing him of and she knew it but she was raw and she was bleeding out, maybe her wounds weren't as visible as Aaron's but they were no less real. Hers bore the agony of sudden loss, emptiness where sunshine would never reach. He watched her with sad eyes, dull, clinging barely to consciousness, hovering just above the pain and he listened, took it all. “Do you have anything to say at all?”

“I'm sorry, Jess,” he whispered, unable to look her in the eye. Lips barely parting, barely forming words. He was certain his voice worked that time, felt like swallowing shards of glass. It had been unreliable at best but this was real. “I'm so sorry.” There were too many other things he would have said, if he'd been able – yes, he had fought back it just wasn't enough, he hated all of this, too, God Jess it hurts so bad. She fell heavily into the chair beside him, sank low and pressed her face into her hands, letting out a long guttural sob. It destroyed her to see him like this over and over again, he deserved better but life just didn't agree with her. After listening to Derek talk about Foyet, the way he worked, got off on fear, she was certain that Aaron's inherent ability to take a beating without making a sound was what ultimately saved his life. What a fucking cruel world, she thought bitterly.

“Aaron,” she growled, swiping at her eyes furiously, shaking her head. Not wanting his damn apology, his unbelievably genuine apology. She wanted him to rage right back at her, to defend himself, to put her in her place but he was just lying there in that hospital bed, in pain and barely alive and she was letting him have both barrels. As mad as she'd ever been at him in her entire life. Hating herself for what she'd said, she was no better than his father, no better than anyone who had ever used him as a punching bag in order to blow off steam. He made it so easy. So fucking easy. No longer a scrawny kid, people used words instead of fists but there were always exceptions.

“I'm sorry. This isn't your fault. I know it's not...I just...my sister is gone and I don't....” She didn't what? Understand why? Yes, she did. She understood clearly as she watched the way Aaron shifted in the bed, muscles too heavy, too weak to do much no matter how he thought he could best the medications, come out on top. He tried to mask the pain even breathing caused, the way it pulled at each wound and made him try to do it less, taking smaller breaths, pulling in the bare minimum until he felt lightheaded and was forced to heave open his chest. Stitches tightened, ripped at raw skin, and he tried to distract her from it by licking his lips, trying to form words, a small motion he could almost control, but she could read it loud and clear. “What do we do now?”

“We?” he croaked, trying to lift his hand to take care of the itch that had been driving him nuts for a full day. Too weak to make it, his hand dropped and he groaned as it fell heavy, dead weight against his stomach. Crashing against angry wounds. She slid forward, slipped her fingers over his and pulled his hand back to his side, tucked it neatly into the crevice between he and the pillow, nestling the cords against the sheet. Without a second thought she reached up toward his jaw, could see the way it tensed where the gauze tickled and scraped. With soft fingers she scratched at the patch of stubble slowly spreading across his skin, watched his eyes drift closed with momentary satisfaction.

“You're the only connection to Haley and Jack I have,” she said, leaning forward, scratching the rest of the irritated skin beneath his chin. Just like a puppy, she thought. “The faster you heal, the faster you can catch this man and they can come home. I get my family back, so yes, we. We, Aaron.”

Another surgery, an extra few days trapped in bed. The first surgery had been damage control, quick crude stitches, stop the bleeding, stabilize the patient so that he could survive the first 24 to 48 hours. Derek was furious, listening and not understanding why they couldn't have just done it all at once, why they had to open him back up. He would have died on the table, the surgeon said sternly. The second surgery was exploratory, how deep did the knife penetrate? Were any organs significantly injured? They had questions needing to be answered and waiting it out wasn't an option so he was going back under the knife. One step forward, two steps back. With any luck, the surgeon said as Jessica stood beside Derek in the hallway and signed off on the paperwork, it'll be as simple as getting in, taking a look and closing him back up.

Neither of them believed it was possible, that he would catch that kind of a break, but he did. Foyet nicked things here and there that might be problematic in the long run but missed all major organs and arteries, the cuts were deep and jagged, would take some considerable time to heal and would without a doubt cause some pretty major scarring but they anticipated a full recovery.

While Aaron was under the knife and Jessica sat in his chilly ICU room awaiting news, Derek was at his apartment. The management had a backlog of maintenance requests, they couldn't prioritize a hole patch and a carpet cleaning when they had plumbing and structural issues to deal with, it would be weeks before they could spare the manpower. Instead, Derek decided to take matters into his own hands...gritting his teeth he slammed his fist into the bullet hole, felt the skin of his knuckles split with the drywall, gypsum crumbling back into the wall, falling over the toes of his boots. Had to make the hole bigger to patch it anyway, his fist worked just as well as a sledgehammer and he felt marginally better afterward. Again he slammed his fist into the wall, and again until it was a large almost square, until there was drywall carnage at his feet, a fine dusting covering his face, in his eyelashes.

“They make tools for that,” Dave said, standing in the doorway. “I thought I'd come talk to his landlord and it turns out I wasn't the only one. Care for a drink?” He held up a bottle of scotch and stepped over the threshold, entered the apartment. There was a box cutter tossed on the carpet beside the blood stain, he stared at it for a moment registering that this wasn't just his friend's apartment, it had been a crime scene. He hadn't seen it yet, didn't realize the effect it would have on him. Dragging his eyes away from the blood, watching warily as Derek wiped his hands on one of Aaron's hand towels, smearing blood all over the pale gray, Dave approached the kitchen and reached for the cabinet with glasses. He poured for Derek before the man ever answered, watching now as Derek dropped to his knees and began hacking at the carpet in a large rectangle around the blood, every now and then splaying his hand directly in the dried mess. He didn't care, he pulled at the carpet, tore at the threads until it came up, frenzied trying to get it folded up so he could save Dave from having to look at it another second. Beneath the carpet there was a still a sticky stain on the floor, sweet and rotten smelling. He would have to scrub it. A glass of scotch first.

“You want to talk about it?” Dave asked, pulling out a kitchen chair. He was going to offer to help, to even out the drywall or slice a new chunk, prepare the soap and water, but Derek looked too on edge, too protective of everything that was happening. Anticipated that every move he made would be met with opposition, so he sat himself down and waited for an opening.

“No,” he grunted. It was a lie, he did, he wanted to spill it all. He was dying to talk to someone who would understand. Of anyone at all, Dave would understand, and all he had to do was say one thing, really give Derek an opening and he'd let it out. Give him every last ounce of him that was pressurized.

“I don't know what's going on between the two of you, or you and Haley, you and Jack...and it isn't any of my business, but there is nothing you could have done to prevent this. I know you feel responsible because your credentials were left behind, but this was not your fault Derek Morgan.”

That was it. All it took. Derek sipped his scotch and narrowed his eyes at Dave, at the man just trying to make sense of what had happened as much as he was. The man just trying to help blindly.

“I was supposed to be here that night...you gonna sit here and tell me that this woulda happened if I'd come over like I was supposed to? That Foyet could have taken both of us?” He rocked back on his heels, felt his knees dig into the carpet beside the empty patch, watched Dave sort through what he'd just heard. A cool breeze fluttered in through the open window, billowing filmy curtains, carrying with it a crisp clean scent to mask the odor of decay that had settled over the apartment.

“Well, as compelling an argument as that is...yes. I can see a thousand scenarios all ending the same, some worse. Foyet would have waited until you left, maybe gone and come back on a night he had Jack here even. Maybe he would have shot you point blank. He didn't want you, Derek, this isn't about you. It never was. There isn't anything you could have done to stop this..”

“Yeah,” Derek muttered, shaking his head and downing the entire glass. “Maybe.” He didn't believe it, couldn't accept it but he didn't want to have that conversation, not while he was where he was. Instead he filled a bucket with hot soapy water and set to work on something that mattered, something that made a difference, something not at all tied to his feelings. He scrubbed at the wood floor, watched as the deep crimson pool of blood turned pink and foamy in the soap and scrubbed harder. Threads of carpet twisted around his fingers, knuckles bleeding into the foam, biceps twitching with tension, anger, he scrubbed until there was nothing left. Until he nearly collapsed.

“He's lucky to have you,” Dave said quietly, a little too astutely. Derek couldn't look up at him, just wiped the soapy water out, dried the spot and wondered at how he'd managed to erase something so awful so quickly. “In whatever capacity that means. They all are.”

“He can't come back here alone,” he broke the conversation, changed topics. Derek put words to what they'd both been thinking – he couldn't even walk, let alone cook and clean and care for himself in this apartment that was barely unpacked, barely a home. It was a miracle Haley had let him keep Jack here at all, and that was when he had something to live for – now there was no hope left that this place was anything more than a prison cell. “I can patch that hole and put in new carpet, I can air it out and get rid of the smell...but what good does any of that really do him?” Thinking about his conversation with Penelope, calling Sean no longer seemed like it was that insane an option and that made him certain he was slipping.

“Let's just wait and talk to him, okay? This is still his life, his home, we aren't at liberty to take it over because we're worried. For now...we do what we can here to make it safe and clean without violating his privacy more than necessary. I'll do some organization, you focus on the repairs.”

Next Chapter ->

#criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jj jareau #haley hotchner #jack hotchner #david rossi #spencer reid #penelope garcia #jessica brooks #mortch #hotchgan

[glassesandswords]

Of Wings And Wheelchairs

Pairing: Levi Ackerman & Onyankopon, Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoe (mentioned)

Summary:  Levi and Onyankopon sit in a coffee shop, waiting for Gabi and Falco to return from their small detour during their vacation together. Levi reminisces about the old Survey Corps veterans and their times together as Onyankopon listens. Soon, the conversation makes its way to a person the two knew very well- Hange.

Ao3 Link

“Let’s wait here.”

Levi and Onyankopon stopped at a coffee shop. With so many people bustling about, it was hard to find a place to relax for a while, especially with all the walking they had done. Well, at least all the walking that Onyankopon, Gabi and Falco had done- as Levi had been pushed around on a wheelchair by Falco the whole time. But the kids had spotted an ice cream vendor and left together to buy something to eat, and the older men decided to get a quick drink before continuing on with their journey.

The coffee shop had outdoor seating shaded by giant blue umbrellas that flared briskly over the round tables. A florist sold bouquets nearby. The scent of roses and lavenders wafted through the air, mingling with that of roast coffee.

“Are you sure letting Gabi and Falco go off on their own in a foreign land a good idea?” Levi asked as Onyankopon looked around for an empty table.

“They are fifteen now. They will be alright. Us, old men, shouldn’t be interfering with a pair of love-birds, so let them enjoy this vacation on their own.”

“You might be right about that.”

Onyankopon decided on an empty table on the opposite end of the florist and parked Levi next to him as he pulled a chair for himself. “Fifteen, huh?” Levi muttered, adjusting his wheelchair close to the table. “If they were in Paradis, they would have graduated from the cadet corps. But these two- they have had their fill of the battlefield way before that, being Marley’s warrior candidates and all.”

“Yes. That’s why they deserve to live like the carefree and free-spirited children they are right now.”

“Not that any child needs a reason to live like that. They all are equally deserving of happiness.”

“Of course,” Onyankopon called the waiter over to them. “A black tea and a black coffee, please.���

Levi noted how Onyankopon kept his favorite drink in mind and ordered it for him by default. Over the past three years, the two men had bonded over their shared losses and he had been a constant companion for Levi after the war. Onyankopon had helped him start a new life and set up his own tea shop after he retired in Marley, taking care of all the paperwork and technical details required.

“I heard you spent your childhood in the underground district within Wall Sina,” Onyankopon said as he watched the waiter leave with their order. “I wasn’t allowed there due to the restrictions on the volunteers, but I heard it was a rough place to live in.”

Levi raised an eyebrow. That piece of information was hardly common knowledge. 

“I think I might have an idea of who babbled to you about that,” the face of a certain four-eyed abnormal popped up on Levi’s mind. “Yes. I was raised as a thug in order to survive that hellhole.”

“Did you have anyone close to you at that time? Your parents? Any siblings?”

Usually, Levi would have found it annoying if people dug into his past. But with Onyankopon, he did not really mind. “I was an only child,” he replied, leaning back on his wheelchair, “My mother died when I was young and the closest thing I had to a father was an uncle who abandoned me as soon as he realized that I could take care of myself.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s an old story,” he waved his pity off, “I did have two close friends there. Farlan and Isabel. They were as good as a brother and sister to me.” A fond remembrance flitted over his face, as if he could see them in his mind’s eye as he spoke. “The three of us thought life above the ground, in a land touched by the sun would be better. Turns out it is all the same.”

It wasn’t hard for Onyankopon to make out that Farlan and Isabel were probably no more from how Levi’s voice dipped. He changed the topic to something lighter.

“But you finally retired from all your duties and responsibilities. How does it feel to go on vacations to foreign countries?”

“I’m surprised you are dragging me along. Not like I could be of any service anyway, after being permanently bound to this wheelchair,” Levi tapped on the metal armrest. 

“You are too humble, Levi,” Onyankopon shook his head, “I’ve seen you offering guidance to Armin and the others whenever they need it.”

“I help them as much as I can, but in the end, it is nothing more than an old man’s advice.” Levi sighed, remembering a certain someone’s soliloquy in a forest. “Times have changed and perspectives are different. After the rumbling ended, Armin offered me retirement and I took it. But even if I were in top shape, I honestly don’t think I would want to do anything with the Alliance anymore.”

Onyankopon watched Levi as he gazed at the busy road. The man looked broken, like he had lost way too much in life. He reminded him of some of the volunteers who had seen their families killed and hometowns destroyed in front of their own eyes. For previously being known as ‘Humanity’s strongest soldier’, Onyankopon had not seen Levi in action a lot. But the way he held himself together during that day- exactly three years ago, after Odiha- was a testament to his immense internal strength. The man in front of him was a fighter, but the fight had taken its toll on him.

The waiter arrived with steaming drinks and served it on the table.

“How do you drink that bitter bean-juice?” Levi asked as Onyankopon took a careful sip, trying not to burn his tongue in the scalding liquid.

“Six years and you still haven’t warmed up to coffee, have you?”

“I prefer tea, usually that of my own shop.” He sipped his tea, holding it by the rim with his left hand. “But I have to admit, the aroma of coffee is quite enticing.” His voice went back to its hazy tone. “Mike would have liked it. That guy had a sharp nose for things like these.”

Though Onyankopon did not know the details, he knew Mike was probably one of Levi’s previous comrades.

Levi had a habit of talking about his fallen comrades now and then. He did not seem to care if the other person knew them personally or not. Onyankopon assumed that it was to remember and acknowledge their existence and stories, being the last living veteran from his original group.

He heard about the battle of Shiganshina that resulted in the complete decimation of the earlier Survey Corps and wondered if Mike was one of the people who died there. Or maybe he had been one of the many unfortunate victims who were killed by the hands of the pure titans long before. Onyankopon felt a small stab of guilt for following Zeke, who had caused nothing but pain for Levi and the rest of the Survey Corps, but he had his own circumstances. Choosing sides had blinded them from appealing to their common humanity, until Yelena had revealed to him the plan to offer assistance to Paradis before their first scouting expedition six years ago. He had almost convinced himself that the Paradis military would crush them with their titan power before they could put forth that proposal, but then, a certain Survey Corps Commander gave them the warmest welcome they could have received in the island of ‘devils’.

“Brings back memories,” he hummed over his coffee, “Remember, the first time we chatted was over a cup of tea in that tent?”

“Ah yes,” Levi nodded grimly, “Another one of that person’s stupidly optimistic ideas. It was a surprise that you volunteers actually agreed to it.”

There was a silence as Onyankopon knew exactly who he was referring to.

Levi sipped his tea. “Honestly, they’d come up with the most reckless ideas, that Four-eyes.”

Onyankopon gave a small, sad smile. It seemed safe to talk about them. “I have to admit,” he said slowly, “I was shocked when they pointed the barrel of that gun over their one good eye, even if it was unloaded.”

“You don’t know half the trouble Hange caused back in the Survey Corps,” Levi shook his head disapprovingly. “Always blabbing about their latest hypotheses. Putting my entire squad in danger for another titan capture mission. They’d have had their head bitten off by a titan long ago if it wasn’t for their trusty assistant, Moblit. Hell, they went days without taking a damned bath just because something more interesting caught their attention. Sometimes, when I couldn’t bear the stink, I had to knock them out and clean them myself.”

Onyankopon chuckled at his ramble. He had observed Levi and Hange’s inseparable relationship from his time at Paradis. Maybe it was because they were the last ones to survive from their generation, or maybe it extended a little deeper than that. Onyankopon was not completely sure. He gazed at the long scar across Levi’s face, crossing through his one blind eye. If Hange were there, the two of them would have made quite the one-eyed pair.

But Hange wasn’t there as they had sacrificed themself so that he and Levi could sit in peace under a blue umbrella, drinking hot beverages on a sunny day without worrying about anything else.

Levi was still rambling on, “...all those stupid naming ceremonies for the captured titans. At least three Garrison guards used to throw up after each of their experiments. The tantrums they’d throw in Erwin’s office whenever he denied their requests. That Four-eyes once talked to me about titans and their planned experiments for two days straight after we first found out about Eren’s abilities. Can you believe it? Two days!”

There was a bitter aftertaste in Levi’s mouth and he knew it had nothing to do with the tea. A memory of Hange floated in his mind, of them carefully dabbing medicated cotton over Eren’s face after he had kicked the hell out of him in the courtroom all those years ago. He remembered Hange chiding him for having gone too far and declaring that they’d never kill Eren.

His stomach twisted at the irony of how everything played out in the end.

Onyankopon’s voice stirred him out of his thoughts. “It must have been hard for them to pursue their scientific research after they became the commander.”

“It did take a huge toll on them,” Levi agreed, “Erwin’s shoes would have been hard for anyone to fill. But he himself chose them as his successor and they did their job well, even if all odds were against them.” He gave a short sigh through his nose. “But over the years, they changed too much.”

Levi had noticed all the times when Hange had faked a smile to cover up their exhaustion. They tried to maintain their cheerful façade through all the uncertainty to keep their subordinates from becoming concerned about their mental well-being, but from his time with the past two commanders, Levi knew the bone-crushing pressure they were under.

He had spotted the missing tea from his shelf during all those late nights when Hange had fallen asleep on their desk after pulling multiple all-nighters. Although they weren’t new to burning the midnight oil, the commander’s work was grueling. Adding to that, the knowledge and responsibility of dealing with an entire world full of potential enemies weighed them down incredibly. Only he knew how tired and defeated Erwin had looked during his last moments with him. In a way, the role demanded much more from Hange than it did from Erwin himself.

“You mean they were more excitable before?” Onyankopon asked, “I really did not think they could look more starry-eyed than while they were being introduced to all the new technology from Marley.” He chuckled, “The way they whooped after the success of the new improved 3DMG test session was unforgettable.”

Levi set down his empty cup. “Hange was always a vocal advocate for technological advancement. Their inventions helped to get rid of all the pure titans in the island without much loss of human life. When they were given the hope that the rest of the world was not as cruel as we thought it was- but a place where they could learn and discover- that was when I saw them truly happy for the last time. They hoped to make peace when we left off for our first Marley visit. But we both know how that ended.”

Ah, yes that Marley trip, Onyankopon thought as a tense silence settled between them, The time when everything spiraled out of control. To ease the heavy pauses, he decided to bring up some good memories from back then.

“Remember the time when Hange bought that lollipop from that clown just so that he’d stop stalking you? And the time when they tried to feed carrots to a car?”

Thankfully, it seemed to work as Levi snorted. “Shitty-Glasses was supposed to be the smartest of us all,” he said, “Yet, that was still better than the way they squealed after the camera flash the first time we took a picture in Azumabito's place. Now that was just plain embarrassing.”

Onyankopon smiled. When Levi's squad was out drinking, he had insisted Levi and Hange to take a photograph with himself and the Azumabitos as a keepsake memory of their first official trip outside Paradis. Hopes were ripe that night, with the peace conference scheduled for the next day. To keep their optimism up, they had a small dance session in which Hange had dragged Levi with them and had successfully managed two rounds around the ballroom before Levi remarked that it was ridiculous and sulked in a corner for the rest of the night with a wine glass on hand. After which Hange teased him and invited Onyankopon to give them company instead.

When the camera was ready, they were all suited up- with hats placed on their heads despite the fact that it was evening- just for the sake of the photograph session. Onyankopon knew that the Paradisians had never taken a picture before, so his eyes were on Levi and Hange instead of the camera.

Their reactions did not disappoint.

Hange squealed as the flash lit up the room and Levi flinched, grimacing at its sudden brightness. The photograph was quite comical when it was developed: Hange with their mouth slightly open, Levi with his eyes half closed and Onyankopon’s lips in an amused half-smile as he gazed at them.

“To be honest, you looked quite shaken at the flash yourself,” he pointed out to Levi.

“Yes, but I did not wake up everyone in a fifty mile radius within the building.”

“It didn’t seem to wake the kids up, though.”

“What do you expect? Not even Hange can wake up a bunch of hungover brats who had drank all night and ended up passed out on each other.”

“The three of us had to carry them back, didn’t we?”

“Only for Sasha to puke all over the new suit I wore for the photoshoot.”

Onyankopon laughed at that memory. The waiter came over with the bill and he paid it before Levi could reach for his own wallet.

“I told you before,” he said to Levi as he handed over the money, “This vacation is entirely on me.”

“Thanks,” Levi kept his wallet back inside his pocket, knowing that arguing about it would not change Onyankopon’s mind.

They sat in silence for a while, gazing at the people walking around, exploring the shops. Levi got a few quick stares now and then because of his heavily scarred face, but he did not care. He was used to people staring at him; the annoying looks of envy and awe when he was considered as humanity’s strongest soldier, glares of anger from the military higher-ups after he had brought back Armin instead of Erwin during the battle of Shiganshina, and gazes of pity after he had been severely injured due to the thunder spear, thanks to that shitty monkey.

“I wonder what happened to that photograph,” he murmured, his mind wandering back to that day in Marley.

“It was left in Paradis,” Onyankopon replied, “The militants probably disposed of it along with the rest of our belongings after we were declared traitors. It’s been three years after all.”

Levi’s heart sank. That was the last piece of Hange he had left, apart from the scars they had stitched across his face. If everything was disposed of, that would mean that the badges he had collected from the uniforms of his former comrades, his letters, Hange’s research notes, Moblit’s sketches from the night they visited a bar after work, all of their personal belongings- everything had been burnt or destroyed. Apart from Erwin’s grave, there was nothing left for him back in Paradis- the place the Survey Corps dedicated their lives and hearts for all those years.

He masked his bitterness, “It was just a piece of paper anyway.”

Onyankopon did not say anything. The cost of freedom had been incredibly heavy for both of them.

“It’s been three years, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Levi remembered that moment when the spirits of his comrades appeared in front of him as he sat battered and broken. The old Survey Corps, with whom he had spent so many years fighting, resting, experimenting and pushing through every loss, every death and every failure together. He had finally finished their job. He had taken all of their dedicated hearts with him and won for them.

His final salute both crushed his soul and set him free.

A part of him wanted to depart with them. His duty was done, Zeke was killed, the rumbling was stopped and the world was finally free of titans. What use would he be to anyone anymore?

But he knew that the others would want him to live the life that they couldn’t. To explore the world and all it had to offer. To make the dream of world-peace come true.

So, he decided that he would go on, and when his time finally comes, he would stand tall among his noble comrades and tell them stories of the world they never got to see.

Levi hesitated for a moment before turning to Onyankopon.

“Do you think they’re still watching over us?”

Onyankopon didn’t miss a beat.

“I’m sure they are.”

Gabi and Falco reappeared from the crowd, with half-eaten ice cream cones in their hands. The brats had grown so much since the first time he had seen them, all beaten up and bruised on that zeppelin three years ago. Now they looked happy and content, their eyes shining with hope, optimism and love.

Hange’s words from all those years ago played in his mind.

I want everyone to feel safe again soon. I want this to be a world where people can live without fighting each other.

There was still a long way to go for that, but with the threat of the titans gone, they only had humans to negotiate with. Though that probably did not make it any easier, peace was still an option. He’d leave that to Armin and Historia.

Erwin and Hange would have loved it here. All the new places and technology, exotic food, new discoveries; it would have blown their minds. Sometimes, he wondered what would have happened if that bastard Floch did not show up to shoot holes in that fuel tank. Hange would have been alive, they would have boarded the plane together, they could have seen the flying titan and the previous titan shifters. It might have probably returned them to their normal, curious self again.

They could have survived together.

What would Hange have done now that the titans, their life’s work, were gone forever? The two of them had never really discussed such situations, for they never imagined such a day would actually come to be. For them, a world without the threat of titans was a distant fantasy. But if Hange were alive, they’d have probably headed the peace talks. They were never the one to stay out of the action anyway.

“Sorry, we were a little late,” Falco said as he approached them, “Shall we go?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Falco popped the rest of the ice cream in his mouth before silently pulling the wheelchair by its handle without being prompted to. He was a sweet kid. Erwin, Hange and the rest of his old squad- Petra, Oulo, Eld, Gunther- would have liked him.

Levi picked up a newspaper from a vendor, to see if there were any mentions of the peace committee who had set sail for Paradis earlier that day. As they made their way through the street, he winced as the wheel stumbled over a small pothole.

“I’m so sorry,” Falco exclaimed.

“No, that’s fine,” he rubbed his back. “Times like these are when I really miss Four-eyes.”

Onyankopon laughed, “They’d have come up with a crazy convenient wheelchair, custom-made for you.”

“Knowing them, they would have probably attached an engine and the 3DMG trigger-anchor system complete with a safety belt into the wheelchair,” he shook his head. “Then again, I think they might have also pushed me down a slope as a test run, so maybe I’m safer this way.”

A distant hum of an engine made all of them look above.

A plane, similar to the one they had taken off from in Odiha, flew past the sky, its shadow falling on them as it streaked by.

For the kids, it was just another ordinary plane they stared fascinated at. But for him, something about it felt reassuring.

It was almost as if…

Levi glanced at Onyankopon, who gave him a knowing look.

So, they were watching us after all.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoë #onyankopon #snk 139 #snk 132 #onyankopon and levi drink coffee and tea together in a vacation #featuring plane-san #retired levi #the sc vets were the best characters tbh #i miss them #fluff #snk fanfiction

[libradusk]

Touch Starved | Captain Rex

Word Count: 2,129

Pairing: Captain Rex/CT-7567 x Reader

Summary: Grief is a frightening thing to deal with alone

warnings: mention of injury and death + heavy themes of wartime ptsd

a/n: Set just after the Battle of Umbara, someone give this boy a hug

Part of the Touch Starved miniseries

He’s not sure how long he’s been staring at the wall for now.

Amidst the heaviness clinging to his bones, he’s half aware that at least half an hour has passed by at this point, between him all but stumbling into his private quarters and finishing up slumped forward and crumpled on the untouched bed.

There's something calming about staring into the vastness of plain durasteel. It's almost featureless aside from the grey sheen that coats over it. There are no harsh lines to writhe against the room’s shadows, no bright flashes of colour for him to squint against without the safety of his helmet.

The whole space is solid, clean - coldly familiar despite the room remaining almost untouched. The irony of it serving as compensation for his Captain’s rank wasn't lost on him, considering said position’s duties meant he was scarcely granted the leave to actually use it. Home comforts hardly existed for Clones, but compared to the trenches of Umbara the quarters might as well be paradise.

Captain Rex is grateful that the panelling isn't reflective, because he's positive he would fail to recognise the man staring back at him if it were so.

He looks like shit. General Skywalker had practically told him so word for word when the surviving strain of the 501st had returned back to base mere hours before. Any other General may have taken offence to the dishevelled appearance unmasked behind the grime-splattered surface of his Captain’s helmet. Dark roots have sprouted amongst his overgrown buzz cut, and there's grime and stubble smeared across his face and neck that refuses to wash completely away. Rex is confident that the blood rusted amidst it wont leave until he hacks the whole thing off. It reaches crumbling fingers to scratch and irritate down his chest and back even now in the sterile air of the room. It feels foreign and invasive - he's not even sure if all of it is his own.

A shudder rattles across his bones before he can strangle it back, and his head drops to his hands, breath expelling between tanned fingers and winding down his wrists to bind them in place.

The floor greets his eyes with the same, featureless metallic surface, disturbed only by his shadow as it steps across it. It’s smoky and hunched in the faint light offered by his bedside lamp. The longer he stares at it, the deeper it seems to pool. His gaze climbs slowly up the wall once more, hoisting itself up by his neck before the shadow threatens to drag the rest of him down into it.

Anakin had relented the moment he had looked into Rex’s eyes and seen the same hollowness that scraped across the cheeks of his surviving men. The Captain’s heart had sunk further towards his stomach the moment realisation had twisted across Skywalker’s features. The Jedi had silently noted the missing faces across their ranks and the sight of an almost catatonic Dogma restrained in his binders. Rex had hardly even been able to conjure the energy to raise his arm in salute, and now he was finally alone his limbs felt heavier than ever, weighted down with bitter remorse and a pain that sunk deeper than just his bones.

Even with the guilt and fatigue clamouring over him, Rex knew that the contrasting fire of fury and remorse that blazed across Skywalker's eyes would stay with him forever.

The rage he had emanated felt like a precursor to death. A prologue, perhaps.

Rex knew within him that right now he should be feeling the same way, but he had no energy left to sacrifice, even breathing felt the most difficult it had ever been. It was as though every one of his ribs were splintered and mangled around his lungs, smothering his heart until he could feel each pound of it screaming in his ears.

Why was it so loud? Why did his skin feel like there was something crawling beneath it?

His programming must be faulty, because this battle had truly knocked the wind from his sails, and that is something that should never happen to a Trooper. His use-by-date must be fast approaching, it's the only justification he can clamber to reach, though the thought provides little peace for him to cling to.

No. There was no exact moment to pinpoint where it had all changed for Rex. This descent into agony had come slowly, like sinking into quicksand. This was just the breaking point for a build up that had been clawing away at little parts of him for a while now. He feels pathetic, shame cutting through the numbness and threatening to cleave his fingernails through his palms.

Fives had even been kind enough to fill out Rex’s reports for him - the Captain wasn’t even sure that decision was part of the correct protocol, but he couldn’t bring himself to complain, even if he wanted to. Even so, it served as another stab to his conscience.The ARC Trooper had no doubt suffered as much as Rex himself after experiencing what they had all gone through, and yet Fives had felt compelled to stand in for his own Captain’s incompetence... Perhaps Rex truly was too battle-damaged to function properly for the remainder of the war, he hadn’t even been able to put down Krell himself.

...No. He had to keep going, he owed his men as much - both to those who perished in the darkness of Umbara and those who had found the strength to keep on living.

His death needed to mean something - to push them further towards victory for the Republic. He had to fight off the urge to curl into the durasteel and disappear for at least another night.

Good soldiers follow orders, after all - that much was still ingrained within him.

His hands curl into fists then and he forces himself to look at them. They’re clammy and gloveless, coated with smatterings of grime and smear from where he's rubbed at his face and neck. Rex notes then that he hasn't seen them bare in some time, having resolved to sleep in his full blacks and as much armour as possible for the entire Umbara campaign. The tanned expanse of his skin looks alien, the cold plastoid plating of his uniform felt more familiar at this point, and the thought frightened him more than it probably should for a Clone Trooper - Captain or otherwise. He notes then, that he hadn’t even managed to completely strip himself of armour before slumping onto the bed. How ironic that his own flesh felt more out of place on his body than hard, synthetic material.

What pieces he had managed to tear away were stacked halfheartedly in the corner. His helmet stares back at him across the room, its visor appearing endlessly dark even with the light offered to it. It sits atop the rest of the display, throned ritualistically as it always had been. Once Rex had stared at it with pride each night as he attempted to drift off to sleep, yet now it sat crooked and war-tattered with filth. Looking at it felt like staring into a shattered mirror. Rex knew he ought to repaint it, along with the rest of his gear, yet that thought was quashed as quickly as it appeared. To paint over the blood of his brothers’ felt like a cheap way of blanketing their deaths, their own sacrifice to the war.

They deserved to be mourned, to be remembered. If Rex didn’t, then there were few others that would.

Nothing would be the same again, and it shouldn't. That thought would keep him going, he would ensure it would.

But in that moment, as he stared at the sickly red that stained across the blue and white plating, the echo of blaster fire tore open his memories and dragged the screams of his dead brothers behind it.

The durasteel walls begin to spin.

….

..

.

.

“...Rex?”

The voice that edges through the doorway is purposefully soft, barely above a whisper in fact - yet it still triggers him to flinch in response. His throat feels like it's on fire now and he has to fight back the urge to claw at where his pulse drowns in bile. The bodysuit clinging to his skin now feels much too tight, and he resorts to tear open the buttoned collar as he twists in the direction of the open doorway, shame already sinking its clutch into his veins.

It’s you, if you had knocked before opening the door it had never registered to him.

Had he even remembered to lock it in the first place? At that moment he couldn't remember anything aside from the tragedy he had barely just scraped through. The blastdoor seals itself shut as quickly as it opened and the hiss it exhumes drags him back to the present. You're cloaked in the same dim lighting as he is now, it spreads your shadow and melts it across the floor towards where he sits, half facing you and frozen in contemplation. Even with the low light, he doesn’t miss the way your face falls once his sunken eyes drag over to you. Your expression frightens him more than Anakin’s ever could, because he can't help but feel directly responsible for the immense sadness glassing over your eyes in that moment.

Rex fights the instinct to duck his gaze in disgrace. You've never seen him in this state, hell he doesn't recall ever being as big a mess as this before. The Captain had always kept his weaknesses guarded - from his men and his enemies alike - from you - even when you had allowed him to stumble into your own.

This feels humiliating, but he also doesn't feel that he deserves to object.

The twisting has traversed to his stomach now and his toes twitch with the urge to run despite the heaviness weighing down each and every part of him.

But he also knows you well enough to be confident you wouldn't let him hide anyway.

You're striding over to him now, your shadow oozing closer and wider with the movement. Within three quick strides you're in front of him and then beside him on the stiff, military grade mattress. It doesn't take long, after all the room is tiny despite being built for a Captain, but now there is truly nowhere left for the Trooper to hide. He wonders then, if the dull bedside lamplight paints him as sickly as he feels. It wraps around you too, brighter and more clearly than when you had leaned against the doorway. Up this close he can see the pity pulling at your frown, as he had expected it to, but nestled alongside it is something softer. It's frighteningly warm and only spreads wider as you sigh and wrap your arms around him with no other hesitation. He can't help but crumble into the safety you extend to him, leaning in and allowing the glow to envelop him completely. In those precious seconds you had quickly become the only solace he had left in the world, one that was safe and warm and cared about him.

By design, Rex was not a selfish man, but just for a moment he allowed himself to fall to pieces for the first time and sink into the fantasy that there was no war, no death, no regulations - just two people that cared for each other above all else in the world.

Yeah, just a moment wouldn't hurt.

He's sure you're uncomfortable, pressed up against a half-armoured body that's stiff with anxiety, but you’re relentless as you drape him in delicate empathy and affection. He's not sure if it's your tears or his own wetting the plains of his cheeks, but it doesn't matter - he feels like he's drowning all the same as you begin to slowly rock the two of you back and forth.

The touch you give him is so different to all he's known for the past weeks. Your arms and hands are not dictated with adrenaline soaked desperation, and there are no exposed bones, no bloody, mangled hands or rattling last words to be heard, there is just you.

In that moment, you are the softest thing he's ever known and he clings to you like a lifeline. You continue to hold him like he could break and shatter in your arms, and he does, shoving away instinct and indoctrination to bury his scruffy face in your shoulder and sob.

He would survive, he had always vowed to come back and continue fighting no matter what else was thrown his way.

But for now he would lay down his armoured soul and let it grieve alongside you.

#touch starved #captain rex x reader #star wars reader insert #star wars imagine #captain rex imagine #CT-7567 x reader #thats a lot of x's holy #mine #star wars #clone wars #reader insert #rex is my favourite #captain rex #captain rex x you

[lia-writes]

bloodflood

pairing: geralt of rivia x reader

summary: the one where the reader gets injured, doesn’t tell geralt and he eventually takes care of her anyway!  a/n: lots of requests came in for something along these lines so hope you enjoy it! something for jaskier next, i promise. 

;

The pain has you gripping at the reins to stop your hands from shaking and you can’t quite remember the closest town being this far away.

Geralt falls silent, the only sound between you being the occasional snorts from each of your horses and the brief “hellos” from travelers heading in the opposite direction.  

You’ve become acutely aware of the stinging, wet pain at the back of your head, hidden from Geralt by the hood of your cloak.  

All you can do is keep moving forward and ignore the way your eyesight swims with the effort of staying awake.  

Each step of your horse sends another deep ripple of pain through your head. The small cottages on the outskirts of the town are still yet to appear on the horizon line. You think about saying something but can't seem to make it past your pride.  

Of course, Geralt had noticed the seconds after the fight, where you’d faltered as you were sheathing your sword. How you’d stumbled when you’d picked your way around the scattered Nekker bodies.  

What he hadn’t seen was the way you’d tripped as you were dodging out of the way of a Nekker, landing on your ass and the momentum throwing your head back into a rock.  

He was yet to say anything.  

The air is cool, the sun drifting toward the edge of the world. Still, even with the fresh breeze, you feel nothing close to refreshed. The hot rush of blood that throbs through your veins with each stab of pain, lines your skin with goosebumps.  

It’s only when your horse startles at a pair of birds that suddenly fly across your path, that you let your tight-lipped expression morph into one of anguish. The accompanied sharp yelp has Geralt nudging Roach forward from where she’d settled into place behind your horse. Normally, the acts of your high-strung mount would elicit laughter, Geralt wasn’t sure he’d ever witnessed you in true pain before and he wasn’t used to such silence – in all honesty, he’d been enjoying the change.

He glances down at the whites of your knuckles where you’ve knotted your fingers into the long mane in front of you and feels the gut-punch of guilt.  

For a moment he simply casts an eye over you, attentively and trying to find any source of injury.

“You’re hurt,” he says eventually, letting his hand reach out to rest against your thigh. You make no move to swat it away.  

“’m fine,” you mumble and he shifts Roach closer, until your knee bumps against his. An action had it happened at any other time, would have you feeling giddy. Now, you sway in the saddle and Geralt simply raises an eye at your pale, clammy skin when you glare at him.

Geralt doesn’t reply and instead, pulls Roach to a halt and swings his leg up and over her neck to land facing your horse.  

Your gelding stops after a couple more steps and you whine in pain.

He says your name sharply before sighing. “Why didn’t you say anything?”  

“s’not that bad,” you get out, hands still clinging to the mane.

“Let me help you down,” he speaks slowly, and when you attempt to protest, he sighs again, louder this time, his patience wearing thin.

Roach shakes her head, chain on the bit jangling as Geralt reaches up to try and help you.

As soon as his arm wraps around your frame, you quite literally give up your valiance, in one simple swoon. when your feet hit the ground, your hand instinctively snaps up to palm the back your head.  

“Okay... Let’s see it then.”  

Eventually, you pull back your cloak, and he sidesteps to stand behind you.  

“It’s not that bad, huh?” His fingers move to brush some of the hair away and you shrink away from him.

“Geralt, don’t touch it.”

One hand catches your shoulder, before wrapping around you to guide the two of you off the dirt path you’d stopped on.  

At the sudden movement, the pain thrums. Geralt says something you don’t hear and it’s then, that your knees buckle.  

Moments pass. You’re not sure how long you’re out, but you come to still in immense pain.

“Ugh, gods.” you mutter, eyes squinting in the soft rays of the setting sun. 

A gentle snort of a nearby horse tells you that you’re still near the side of the road. It takes a while for you to notice Geralt sitting nearby, his own gaze moving from the plants laying in front of him and you... Also lying rather ungracefully in front of him.

“’m pathetic,” you whine and he rolls his eyes, “how bad is it?”

“Well, what I can tell you, is that you’re now a redhead....” he shifts closer, helps you sit up and passes you some kind of herbal mix in an old bowl. You stare at it until he guides your hand toward your face.

“What’s in it?” you look to him and he keeps a neutral expression – meaning... Nothing good.  

“Better if you don’t ask, I think. It’ll help...”  

After a moment, you force it down, instantly pulling a face at the taste, “oh fuck that. I’d rather have the pain than this.”  

He ignores your comment, pulling out a clean piece of cloth and a bottle of herbal antiseptic that you’d made and told him you swore by.  

“Ah-ah,” you try and shuffle backward in your sitting position, “ow- but no, that’ll hurt more.” you lean away.

“Stop... being difficult.” Geralt’s beginning to find it hard to remain patient in your presence.  

After a moment, you exhale and let your hands clasp and unclasp in your lap, in anticipation of more pain.

He’s careful, his touch oddly gentle. From his place knelt behind you, he winces when you let out a pained whimper. 

You glance down at the red-stained cloth that Geralt discards to the side

“Are we going to... Camp here?” you ask.

“Yes.”  

“Well, I hope you’re prepared to keep me warm.”

“I haven’t thought about anything else.” He says sarcastically and you pout.  

“Right, just fuck off and leave me here then.”  

He stands and starts to move back toward Roach and his saddlebags.  

“Wait, Geralt.” he pauses with his back to you, “I didn’t mean it,”  

“I know, but I also don’t want to starve.”  

“oh,” fair enough, you think, beginning to feel the effects of whatever Geralt gave you only five minutes ago.  

“Are you going to yell at me?”  

“For what? Not telling me you were hurt? That only made you hurt more – I've still had to help you as I would have if you’d told me before we’d gotten back on our horses.”

You begin to cry, rather pathetically and Geralt falls silent. He was expecting you to fall asleep fairly quickly. The tears were new, but despite his unease, an innate need to comfort you lights up his body.  

The feeling that melts between the two of you is one of tenderness mixed with undertones of worry.

You’re small, nestled against his frame. Geralt started a fire before helping you over to sit between his legs, back resting against his chest.  

The warmth from the fire and Geralt’s body heat lulls you into an almost sleep. Your head tilts back against his shoulder and in a loopy-quickly-becoming-painless way, reach up to let your fingertips brush across his jaw.  

“Thank you, Geralt,”  

“Anytime, love.”  

“...For taking care of me... thanksss. Don’t let me get cold.” Your last comment is deadly serious and he chuckles softly.

“Yeah, yeah,”  

You smile, dumbly.  

“So... Do you love me then?” you ask suddenly too groggy to discern between the feeling and the affectionate term  

Geralt pauses to take in the sweet expression on your face because fuck the way he’d convinced himself that he was immune to human emotion. He couldn’t imagine a life in which he wouldn’t love you.  

You were the one thing every other person on the Continent continued to tell him that he would never have.  

Someone to love him back, for reasons more than what he could simply give them in return. You gave him all that he never wanted, but began to believe he truly needed.

“Go to sleep,” he says eventually, mostly because the way you’re looking at him – eyes dopey with some kind of love-soaked feeling for him – makes him feel bad for not noticing your pain earlier, and letting you get hurt in the first place.  

The thought that he should have protected you plagues his thoughts until he notices that you’ve gone quiet, chest rising and falling with sleep.

He lets his arms grow comfortably numb around your frame.

Geralt doesn’t sleep at all that night. He could have lost you.  

With the fire beginning to die, Geralt struggles to get himself into a comfortable position on his back without jostling you from sleep. Your expression remains peaceful as he rests one arm behind his head and keeps you tucked, just so, against his side. 

When you wake with the early morning sun, that warms you from your toes and paints Geralt in shades of soft gold, you begin to realize that all the pain in the world couldn’t take this feeling away from you.

#geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt x you #the witcher #the witcher netflix #the witcher 3 #the witcher imagine #the witcher reader insert #geralt of rivia hurt comfort #whump #whump reader insert #lia-writes #geralt reader requests #injured!reader #geralt reader imagine #geralt imagine #reader requests #the witcher whump #writers on tumblr

[luxexhomines]

How would the V3 girls react to killing someone (accident, self defense or intentionally), but they didn’t know that they didn’t completely kill the person and their s/o killed them so the girls won’t be executed?

This was the oldest ask in my inbox, and I had actually started working on this request months ago, but I never actually finished it. I don’t feel able to really complete it, but I did do a short bit for Kaede and Maki. I’m just going to leave the request like this because I don’t think I’ll be able to finish the rest of the girls (and because my rules have changed since then to only have 3 characters and under). So here we are. 

I think I struggled a bit with this request, so it’s not really at the quality I wanted it to be, but I can only leave it like this, not having the energy to work on it more.

NDRV3 Girls x S/O who takes the fall for their kill

Kaede Akamatsu

When Kaede stumbled upon the scene of the crime with Shuichi and the others, she felt immense disgust and guilt. Not because she resented the killer–or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that she did, that she hated the killer with every mite of her being. She had failed to protect everyone again, and as the perpetrator of this murder, she could feel bile rising in her throat as she stared at the result of her crime. 

Putting a hand to her mouth, she took a step away from the crime scene. Then another. She knew she had to stay calm, stay strong–and she should hardly be surprised at this point after all the killings and even more so because this one was directly related to her. But maybe it was because this one was exactly her fault that she felt such intense contempt for the crime and grief when her eyes were met with the sight of the body.

“Are you okay?” Shuichi asked, looking at her anxiously. “I know it’s always a lot to take in…” 

Oh, yes, it was a lot to take in. But in a much different way than usual. Instead of casting her suspicion elsewhere, she could only blame herself. Giving in to the urge, she asked for a reprieve.

“Is it okay if I go out for a bit? I’m not feeling too well.” 

Shuichi nods and turns back to the body, but not before telling her to take care of herself. How ironic, asking the killer to take care. Kaede staggered out of the room, nausea swirling at her core. She didn’t think she could investigate this one. It was simply too painful. There seemed to be more blood than before–but she must have been imagining it; after all, she could barely stand to look at the scene.Kaede ends up sitting out the investigation, while just about everyone looked around, including yourself. The couple hours allotted for investigation flew by, and soon enough it was time for the trial. 

Only about ten minutes into the trial, Kaede’s already feeling sick. She can’t hide this from everyone. She has to let them know the truth. Even if it causes them to hate her, or ends in her own death–after all, it’s only what a criminal deserves for their crimes. Even though she had failed to protect the victim, she could at least do her part and protecting everyone else from an undeserving fate.

“Everyone,” she says softly. 

Surprised, each student turns to her in kind. She hadn’t been around in investigation and hadn’t spoken up till now either, both of which was extremely unusual. 

“What is it, Kaede?” Shuichi questioned. He was getting a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. 

“I have to tell you all the truth,” Kaede says, trying to bring up her courage. “The true perpetrator of this murder is-”

You interrupted. 

“Me.” You take a breath in and then let it go slowly. “It’s me.” 

Kaede turns toward you, clearly shocked and confused. 

“No, that’s not what I was going to say! It was me. Why would you say it was you?” 

You shake your head, offering her a bittersweet smile. 

“All I can say is that the nature of this crime isn’t what it seems.” 

She can only stutter, utterly bewildered. “B-But… I did it! I killed them. Why are you doing this?” she asks. “Please don’t make this any more difficult for me than it already is,” she pleads. 

Shuichi’s gaze flickers between the two of you. 

“Why don’t you both run an account of what you believe to have happened?” he suggests cautiously. 

Kaede volunteers to go first, and she recounts it exactly as she remembers it. She went to the game room, and there she got into a fight with the victim. In a rage, the victim flew at her with a billiards stick, and she parried, hitting the victim over the head and accidentally killing them. They collapsed and did not get up. 

You tell your story next, which is almost the same–only you stabbed them at the end, too. 

Kaede’s bewildered once again. 

“I didn’t see a stab wound…” she mumbles to herself. 

Shuichi confirms your version. 

“There was a stab wound. I’d have to say that Kaede’s version is missing that.” 

But then Kaede finally understands. 

“Wait! S/O, you’re not really the killer. You just stabbed the body to make it seem like you did it,” she remarks in an epiphany. It hurts to say because it suggests that you almost got punished instead, but she realizes it must be true.

Except that it’s not the truth. The truth, as always, is much, much crueler. 

You shake your head stoically. 

“I didn’t want to say it,” you state. “But I saw it all happen when I was hiding in the game room, and the victim was still breathing when I stabbed them, which means that I killed them.” 

Kaede’s breath stops short. 

“W-What do you mean they were still breathing? You mean they were still alive?” 

You nod. 

“Yes, they were still alive. Barely.” 

She couldn’t believe her ears for once. And, by the looks of the others, neither could they. 

“What, why? Why did you do it?” 

You laugh derisively. 

“Kaede… How could I just watch you accidentally kill someone and get sent off to your death? I couldn’t let you die here. I couldn’t let someone’s death be purposeless! I need you to live,” you reply. “We all need you to live.” 

She can’t think of a response to your words. Her mind is short-circuiting, going crazy. When she only offers silence in response, all everyone can do is vote quietly and conclude the trial. 

“Congratulations! You’re right, once again!” Monokuma says cheerfully. 

Everyone is watching you. Kaede manages to meet your gaze. 

“You shouldn’t have done it,” she whispers. “You should have let me take the fall for my crimes. It’s just wrong!” 

You give her a hug, her usually strong voice wobbling and her eyes watering. She feels unbearably small in your arms right now.

“I did what I needed to do,” you answer. “I couldn’t let you go like that. You didn’t even do it on purpose.” 

She sniffs. 

“I know, but I still did it. It’s my responsibility!” She lifts her head and escapes your embrace, turning to the bear sitting above, surveying the current situation with amusement. “Monokuma, can I take s/o’s place in the execution? You saw what happened. I’m the person who killed the victim.” 

He laughs. 

“Upupupupu! Usually, I’d allow it, but it’s way more interesting to have you stay around, and they’re still the one who finished off the victim. Rules are rules, so let’s just start the execution now!” 

Kaede grabs your hands. 

“No, you can’t! It’s too early, and I’m the one who committed that crime. Don’t!” 

But you were ripped from her grasp mercilessly, and she was forced to endure watching your execution, just as painful as the previous trials. You mercifully killed for her, but you wouldn’t be killed mercifully. 

Following your death, Kaede continues to lead the remaining group to escape. There was no way she’d let a death like yours happen ever again. There was just no way. 

Maki Harukawa

Maki had never planned on revealing her identity as the killer. 

At least, not until you stepped up to divert the attention from her and claimed to be the killer yourself. And, with a start, she realized that not revealing her crime would lead to your death either way. There’s no option but for her to tell everyone the truth, even if it meant that the entire purpose of her having killed someone would be forsaken, that the whole reason for their death would be null and void. 

“Stop right there,” she interjects as you’re in the middle of a sentence explaining how it was you who killed the victim.

Everyone looks at her questioningly, as do you. 

“What is it, Maki?” you ask. What could she possibly have to say at this stage of the trial, at the closing argument?

“Don’t cover for me,” she says bluntly. “I’m the true killer. There’s no way s/o could possibly have killed someone.” 

The trial room explodes into chaos with everyone trying to talk at the same time. Somehow, Shuichi manages to calm everyone down. How he did it with as quiet of a voice he has, no one knows, but he does it, and Maki is grateful for that. 

“Why are you only coming out with this information now, Maki? Why admit it now?”

You nod, crossing your arms across your chest. 

“Yeah. It looks more like you’re trying to cover for me,” you smile infuriatingly, and Maki grits her teeth. 

“You know the truth, s/o. Why are you doing this?” 

You shake your head, meeting her gaze across the trial room, unfaltering. 

“It’s exactly because I know the truth that I’m doing this, Maki.” 

“You know that I’m the killer and want to get yourself and everyone else killed by covering for me?” she bites out. The one time she wanted to put her loved one before herself, and she was met with rejection. This was the last time she let herself show weakness in front of anyone.

“No, that’s wrong. I want to protect you and everyone else by showing them the truth of the culprit’s identity–myself.” 

She realizes that you’re not going to relent. Fine, then. Two could play at this game. The only way she’d get the truth revealed was to beat you with logic. 

“Fine. Then how did you kill them? What weapon did you use? Explain what happened from start to finish with as much detail as possible,” Maki challenges. “We both know I’ll know if you’re lying or making it up.” 

A side of your mouth quirks upward, and you nod. 

“Of course. That was what I was going to do before you interrupted me.” 

And you complete her request, flawlessly. 

Maki doesn’t know what to say. How could you have possibly known exactly how the victim was killed and where Maki even stored her weapons after the deed was done? Maki prided herself on being discreet. But somehow, you had figured her out. 

“I don’t see a problem with their logic,” Shuichi states. “What do you think, Maki?”

In frustration, she grips the trial stand before her. 

“That’s…! I know you must be lying,” she says, glaring at you. You weren’t often subject to her more deadly looks, but when you were, it was surprisingly more hurtful than it was terrifying. 

You shrug carelessly. 

“Where’s your proof, Maki?”  

Rendered speechless, she stares you down as you casually vote for yourself, and as everyone follows. There’s nothing else left to do at this point.

“And right again! You lucky bastards are just on a lucky winning streak, aren’t you,” Monokuma sweats. 

“How could this be?!” 

Maki was completely destroyed. She didn’t know how to feel about this situation. She knew- or, at least, she thought she knew the truth. She had briefly considered the possibility of Monokuma lying or not knowing the truth but quickly understood that he would always choose the truth because it would bring the most despair. 

The trial over, you walk up to her. “Hey… Could I have a hug before I go?” you say. 

She bites her lip. Maki didn’t know what you were playing at this entire time, but nonetheless, she loved you, even if it didn’t show all the time. She relented and hid her grief behind a curtain of apathy and anger. 

“Fine.” 

The two of you embrace, and although Maki is slightly stiff, you’re more than happy with this. 

“I love you,” you breathe in her ear, and she twitches. 

“...I love you too,” she says gruffly. “But I don’t understand why you would do this.” 

You separate from her, and you smile.

“Like I said, I love you.” 

Maki puts two-and-two together, and suddenly it all makes sense. You’d seen it all happen, so it was easy for you to insert yourself in the situation and for you to add on to the crime. Once the victim was finished off by you, technically you had been the perpetrator. And you’d done it so Maki wouldn’t have to be executed. 

“Wait! It’s not fair, it wasn’t you-” 

You put a finger to your lips and offer her another smile. 

“Shh,” you say as you get pulled away toward the execution site. “Don’t tell them.” 

With those last words of yours, Maki watches you disappear, and it’s the first time she’s felt so weak, standing there alone. She’d never needed anyone before. But right now, she needed you terribly. 

She was going to be careful the rest of this game, not to hurt or be hurt. She couldn’t take your sacrifice in vain. It would be too devastating, even if living on was almost as painful as dying.

#kaede akamatsu #maki harukawa #ndrv3 imagines #danganronpa imagines #drv3 #danganronpa #dr #ndrv3 #drv3 imagines #danganronpa v3 #new danganronpa v3 #imagines #writing #one-shot #drabbles #lux writes #requested #anon #sorry... #this is actually a whole two years late ahaha ;;; #but anyway #here it is.... #just going to publish it anyway bc i wrote it aha... #luxexhomines #Anonymous

[fire-the-headcanons]

Follow the Beacon Qrow—A Place in This World

[Link to Masterpost] [Two chapters this week! Make sure you read the other one first!]

Finally, it was over.

All the pain faded after Raven stabbed him. And now he… he wasn’t sure, exactly. It just felt like floating. Far away, the doctor and Ozpin were doing something to his body, but he couldn’t tell what. Not like it mattered. He was dead.

Should he try to find Bones? …No. Bones wouldn’t want an apology. Probably better to avoid him, if possible.

The doctor left with a needle in hand. As he watched, Ozpin moved from the chair to sit on the bed next to his body. Carefully, gently, he pulled it into a sitting position and leaned its head on his shoulder. Rubbed its back and murmured quietly, a constant stream of words Qrow couldn’t quite hear. He kind of wished someone had held him like that while he was still alive, but this was nice too. They wouldn’t be fussing over his body if they weren’t going to bury it, right?

…Maybe he had a mom here that would want him. Could he find her if he did, without knowing a name or face? And he'd betrayed the tribe. …No, she’d hate him too, if she even ever wanted him at all.

The only other dead people he knew were the ones he’d killed. He was definitely too much of a coward to look for any of them.

Ozpin rocked, and the universe almost seemed to sway with him. The murmured words grew louder, almost understandable.

…He did know of someone else. If he found Summer’s dad, Qrow could at least tell him how great she was.

"Qrow"

He paused to listen. Every few seconds, his name managed to stand out from Ozpin’s mumbling. More words started to resolve themselves, heavy and cold. "Safe… Qrow… back… safe now…" Weighing him down. He was so tired…

"…all right, Qrow… safe now… move… all right, Qrow. You’re safe now. Nobody’s going to hurt you. You’ll be able to move soon, just rest. You’re safe, Qrow, it’s all right. Everything’s going to be all right."

He could feel Ozpin’s hands on his back, hear the words clearly. His body breathed and he felt part of it again.

"You’re safe, and you’ll be able to move soon. It’s all right."

Ozpin was right, he couldn’t move. What was happening? What was Ozpin doing to him? He was supposed to be dead—

"You’re safe, you’re safe…"

After an eternity, Qrow’s fingers twitched.

"There you are, there you are… Just a few more minutes, everything will be fine."

He could blink, and then he could breathe, and finally he could turn his head, shakily move his limbs. Where was the wound? He couldn't see any blood, feel bandages, but from the pain Raven’s knife must have cut even deeper than Sanguin’s. At least she had gotten away—her body wasn't on any of the other beds.

"It’s all right, it’s all right," Ozpin soothed, taking Qrow’s good hand. "You’re safe. Can you speak?"

All he managed was a small noise in the back of his throat. He was so tired…

"Can you tell me how you’re feeling?"

It took every ounce of energy he had to answer, "Cold."

"Let’s get you under the blankets, then." He leaned forward, gently lowering him away—

A whimper escaped his throat before he could stop it. Ozpin paused, and pulled him back into his arms. Awkwardly, still holding Qrow secure, he wrenched the covers free and pulled the blanket over his back. "Is that better?"

He managed a nod, relieved the professor wasn’t angered by his weakness.

"I’m very glad." Ozpin rubbed his back again, through the blanket. "Qrow, can you tell me why you hurt yourself?"

He hadn’t really… meant to die. At first. He wanted the brand gone, wanted any small part of his guilt gone—but then it was so easy to just… not call for help. Curl up in the tub where he wouldn't leave a mess. Go back to sleep, and… "I don’t want to hurt anyone else."

"Isn’t that why you came to Beacon? You don’t have to anymore."

"It’s—it’s—" It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. He was weak. He was a murderer. He didn’t want to be a bandit and he didn’t deserve to be a Huntsman. "Y-you don’t understand. My, my Semblance, I—I can’t stop it."

Ozpin’s hand stilled on his back. "Your Semblance?"

The effort of keeping the tears back made him shake. "I—I make bad things happen. I-I attacked Azraq, I hurt Tai’s ankle. I broke Raven’s arm. I ki—I k-kill— k-killed o-our dad—" His throat closed over, he couldn’t speak or even breathe. Ozpin’s arms tightened, and he managed a few strangled gasps. "I can’t—stop—I, I can’t…"

He could leave the tribe, stop raiding and stealing—but no matter what he did, he would never be able to stop hurting people.

"...I can’t be a good person."

"Qrow—"

"Please." His eyes squeezed shut. "This is b-better for everyone. P-please, just… just leave the room a-and, and let me go."

Ozpin started to rub his back again. "No. No, we don't do that here."

"Please—"

"We are going to help you."

"I'm not—I can't—"

"Semblances respond to our emotions, Qrow, and I think you've been very hurt for a very long time. There have been others before you who did immense good for all of Remnant, despite… similar setbacks. It's unlikely you'll ever master it completely but as you start to heal it will improve. "

He whined, tears leaking out despite himself. Ozpin believed him.

"It's all right," he soothed, the motion of his palm on Qrow's back uninterrupted. "Just let it out, you'll feel better."

Qrow turned his face into the professor's shoulder and sobbed, shuddering with each gasp for air. Ozpin didn't scream or hit him, even when seconds turned into minutes or he wailed out loud.

"I need you, Qrow," the professor murmured as he tried to catch his breath. "Your teammates' parents and I are part of an organization dedicated to protecting Remnant. If doing good is your goal, you have unique gifts that could help our fight. I believe your Semblance is one of them. …The world needs you, Qrow, please don't leave it yet."

Ozpin wanted him.

Slowly, he dared to wrap his arms around the professor's back. After endless minutes his breathing finally settled and the tears stopped. Ozpin continued to hold him, regardless.

"What...what do you need me to do?" Qrow rasped.

Ozpin wiped the last of the water from his face with a half-curled hand. "For now, stay in school. Learn and heal. I've set an appointment with Beacon's health services for you tomorrow afternoon. We're going to help you."

He nodded, closing his eyes.

"Do you promise not to hurt yourself?"

He nodded again.

"...I need to hear you say it."

"I promise."

Next Chapter: Raven—Killed us Both

[Ozpin—no—stop—

Anyway. This is what I think happened that led to Volume 6 I don't think Ozpin was trying to manipulate him, he just didn't realize this kid would sell his soul for a hug and a kind word.

Ozpin is immortal, ancient. Impossibly wise and kind. Qrow didn't see Ozpin as a leader, general, or strategist—Ozpin was his god.

You can see it in the Battle of Haven, the way he protected Oscar. They way he spoke to them when the battle was over. He had kept faith, and his god delivered them. And, at the time, I thought "…uh-oh."

Then the kids asked what the Relic of Knowledge could do, and Qrow looked at Ozpin as expectantly as any of them, and I got even more nervous.

And then Jinn showed up and all hell broke loose

Up until The Incident Qrow was always shown as trying to Do Good and Be Good—punching Oscar was wrong (obviously) but I always thought the scene worked well because it illustrated how badly Qrow was shaken by Ozpin not trusting him the way he thought.

It also sets upreally really good parallels between Salem&Ozpin and Tyrian&Qrow. Currently Salem and Ozpin have both set themselves up as gods—and they are both terrible gods—but Ozpin is a good man, so when he stops playing god things will improve. Then you look at the two followers, Tyrian is not following Salem blindly the way Qrow's been worshipping Oz, and every time they fight Tyrian wins. —they're all really good foils ok? I love these four

Basically, the whole fic was inspired by Vol6, don't @ me. Anyway. Ozpin and Qrow are fantastic characters and I hope they find happiness at the end of all this]

#rwby #rwby fanfiction #qrow branwen #ozpin #strq #team strq #bones branwen #follow the beacon

[t-lostinworlds]

Leaked (Shawn Mendes)

A/N: Remember the post I made about an angst idea? And how I wanted it to hurt bad? Welp, here it is. I am so sorry in advance and nope, there won’t be any part 2 to this one. Hope you guys still like it aha x

Summary: Shawn's nude got leaked. What's the catch? He wasn't alone in it. The other catch? It wasn't with you.

Warnings: Angst, cheating, A bit dark, and typos, issa lot.

Word Count: 1.8k+

Masterlist in Bio

-:-:-:-:-

Your grip on the device was tight, but you don't know if it was from the anger and pain, or if it was because it's the only thing you could hold on to for you not to lose yourself from the actual reality.

It was dark, horrible, and evil inside your head. But it was nothing compared to the constant stabbing you felt in your heart.

You were crying but you also wanted to laugh. Laugh at how foolish you've been to believe that you were the only one in his life. Because you definitely weren't, judging by the photos that were staring right at you, displayed on the cracked screen of your phone.

Shawn Mendes has broke the internet once again, but not for a good reason this time.

It was only two photos but it was enough to kill you from the inside out. It was just enough to murder your soul and feed the demons that have been living inside your brain.

The first one was of him, kneeling on the edge of the bed, looking straight at the camera with lust filled eyes, bottom lip caught between his teeth and a smirk that shows he was having a great time. His hair a mess with body trickled with sweat, buff, broad and completely naked in all his hard glory. It was a tasteful sight, if only it didn't have another woman's leg hooked around his waist.

The second one was of her, bend over the bed, ass cheeks in full view. You can see his pelvis along with his abs, pressed up against her skin but the one thing that makes it hurt even more was the hand, grip hard on her hips, swallow tattoo glaring at you, taunting you.

You've told yourself over and over that it was Photoshopped. A very good edit by someone who has immense talent, and to the public world, it would've been so easy to say just that. To just debunk the whole thing and say it wasn't him.

But you knew better.

You know it was real because his tattoo, yes, it was one thing but it is also very easy to fake. The girl's tattoo however, the one just on the small of her back? You knew who that belonged to. You knew who the girl was and that just makes things more inhumanly excruciating.

Another thing you tried to tell yourself was that, it was old. Taken way before you two were together, but you can easily say that, that is a lie too. It was a Polaroid photo, the time and date just on the bottom right was screaming at you. Telling you just how much of a fool you've been because it was taken just a week ago. 7 fucking days ago.

When you were in his condo, hugging his pillow and engulfed in his hoodie to help you sleep at night. While he went straight to LA, right after tour to do who knows what. Well clearly, now you know exactly what–or rather who–he was doing there.

The sound of the front door unlocking almost felt like a gun shot. It made you jump in your skin, body trembling as you braced yourself of what's to come.

"Honey I'm home!" Shawn called out, the endearment that once made your heart flutter only now made disgust crawl inside you. The words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth that you just want to hurl.

"Living room!" You managed to choke out, hands on your lap as you sit completely still, eyes on the phone making the droplets of tears gather on the screen.

Footsteps were all you're listening to, not being able to look up at the demon who now stood right in front, the sound of his keys rattling and then being placed on the counter ringing in your ears. "What's wrong?"

You let out a sarcastic laugh, head shaking in pure disbelief at him trying to pretend he has no clue what's going on. Slowly, you willed yourself to look up, tear-filled eyes staring right at him—the boy who you once trusted with your life and loved with all your heart—as you hissed.

"Cut the bullshit Shawn."

You wanted to punch that frown on his face. The sheer look of sorrow crossing his features only made you angrier because the fucking guts of him. He knew what he did. He knew so fucking well what the consequences of his actions were going to be. But he's still fucking done it now did he?

When he stayed quiet you stood up and took a step forward, turning the phone in your hand to face him, to make him see what you've been staring at for the past hour. The way he looked away was already an answer to you, eyes casted on the ground as he refuses to glance at the distasteful photos that were now out there for the world to pry on.

"Do you know whose nudes these are Shawn?" You questioned in the calmest voice you could muster, a scary contrast to the fire that's been waiting to explode inside of you.

"Of course you do. You're the one who's in them and you took them." You let out a fake laugh, your heart pounding against your chest as Shawn only said the only words he could think of.

"Honey I can explain—"

"Explain fucking what!? How you cheated on me? With none other than the girl who you said you didn't have feeling for anymore? The girl who you told me not to fucking worry about?! Then please do explain the things that I already know Shawn! Please help my stupidity!" You screamed. Your hold on the phone was getting tighter that it was starting to tear at your skin, but you felt too angry to care. The rage inside of you was working like morphine for the physical pain, but never helping to ease the emotional hurt that he was causing.

Nothing can make you feel any less hurt than one thing, one last resort, but you're stronger than that. You won't give up to the darkness in your brain. You owe that to yourself.

"I ended things with her after that night. I promise I haven't spoken to her since." Shawn was almost to his knees to beg, tears welling up his eyes but you could no longer look at him with nothing but pure disgust and betrayal. You weren't going to fall for that look anymore, you weren't going to give in to your weaknesses that composes nothing but him. You were slowly closing yourself off for the greater good, for yourself.

"That still doesn't change the fact that you fucked her while we were still together you asshole!" The words tasted vile against your tongue, speaking the words that's been in your head out loud is always too painful to the point that you just want your heart to be gone.

After all, you can't suffer from a broken heart if you don't have one.

"I know and that's the most disgusting things that I've ever done but I ended it with her. I don't want her, I only want you." It took everything in your will-power not to chuck the phone straight at him. His words were only making things worse because they were coated with lies. The words of a man who has nothing more to say because he knew he already had no fight in this. He already knows it was over the moment he shoved his dick inside another, it's just a matter of when he'll get caught.

And now he has been caught and he has no excuse left. Everything was crumbling into dust and he can do nothing more than just watch it all go down.

"Since how long?" You whispered, voice in the verge of breaking just at the thought of all the nights he's been in someone else's bed instead of yours.

"Honey please—"

"Tell me since when Shawn!" You sobbed, hands tugging at your hair as you waited for him to spit it out, to just say how long he's been betraying you after all this time.

"A couple months ago." Shawn muttered in pure defeat. The guilt inside him was spreading like a disease as he stared at the girl who gave him nothing but pure love, all broken.

You nodded solemnly, phone slipping out of your hands and landing with a thud on the floor, the sound echoing around the cold and dark place, almost serving as a symbol of the way your heart broke and was now lying lifeless on the ground, not a single beat heard from it anymore.

Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth as you tried to hold back your sobs but your eyes, your eyes were enough to tell the whole world how hurt you were. The insufferable pain was clear in your orbs that no amount of pretending could hide it even in the slightest.

"I let you kiss me, fuck I let you touch me you disgusting asshole! All while your hands have touched another woman's body. How fucking dare you tell me you loved me and you go around doing this! You are evil Shawn!" You clenched your fists tight, the thought just bloodcurdling that you just want to tear out your skin, every inch that he's touched, you want nothing of it. Every trace of his lips, you just want to scrub it off of you even if it hurts, you'd bear the pain as you want nothing more than every ounce of the feeling of him gone.

"I'm so sorry Y/N. I am so so sorry." Shawn whole weight collapsed on the floor as he landed on his knees. Endless tears ran down his face as he tried to reach for you, but you avoided his touch like its poison. The fear and pain that flashed across your features at the mere sight of him wanting to be near you was a big swing at his heart.

"I'm sorry too Shawn. I'm so sorry for trusting you with my heart in the first place." The sound of utter regret in your voice was a stab to his heart. The look on your face, the raw agony and misery coating your once joyful and glowing features, was a twist of the knife.

But when he heard the front door shut followed by nothing but the eerie silence of his whole condo, that was when Shawn knew he just lost everything he could've needed and ever wanted in his life.

Because with just one leak, everything in his life was completely destroyed and there was no other person to blame but him.

-:-:-:-:-

Like & Reblog if you enjoyed and lemme know what you think! x

S.M. Permanent Taglist: @dylshoney @keithseabrook27​ @outlandishnerd @particularsof @chrizzy95 @sunshinesofty @aspiring-fangirls-world @lettingtherosegrow @shawnshoooodies @nedthegay @luvluvxx @adonishawn @justanotherfangurl272 @h-oneyholland @baefrombombay @whotfiskate @loveydoveyshawn @hehemendes @greedydevil @minkvrp @peacedolantwins2 @shawnsvlogsquad @666mendes @valedictorian65

just hit me up of you want to be added/removed to the sm permanent taglist loves!

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes stories #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes short stories #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn #mendes #shawn x reader #shawn x you #my writing

[mementomori-demimonde]

Hidden Scars

I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX - X

Chapter 11.1 

YOU CHOOSE TO STAY IN

You keep staring at your foot trapped in the crack of the door. Suddenly, the promise you’ve made a while ago rings in your head: you swore you wouldn’t leave, that you would stay, and the scars on your left shoulder are a token for your obedience, your willingness to follow her instructions.

After all, you really don’t want to find out what the punishment would be - you’ve never really broken a promise before, but you imagine the consequences won’t be pleasant - also this might be another test. You wonder if you’ve considered, even for a moment, that she’s just seized the opportunity to put on a show and see your reaction? Perhaps she wanted you to catch the door with your foot, perhaps she’s studying your movements from a secret camera on her phone, it wouldn’t be the first time.

You imagine her coming back in a few hours top, a box of cupcakes in her hand as she grins, praising you and acting like nothing really important has happened, carrying on with your ‘normal’ lives like any other day, making you forget about the event as well, putting onto it the hazy veil of a dream until you start to question if it was really one or not.

You draw a shaky breath and, praying with all your might that you’re making the right decision, you withdraw your foot and let the door slide close, locking itself with a soft click .

Miranda doesn’t come back in a few hours.

Miranda doesn’t come back in the night.

Miranda doesn’t come back in the morning, nor the following day.

Miranda doesn’t come back for a week, nor after then days, or twenty.

Miranda simply doesn’t come back and you’re fearing the worst.

You’ve started tormenting yourself after a few days, the guilt eating you alive from the inside, because if only you’d gone after her, perhaps things would be different, now.

What if that danger caught her? What if you could’ve helped her? What if it’s too late? How can you move on, now, that your life before Miranda has been completely erased, up to the point that you’re wondering if you’re even able to function without her?

After the third week locked inside an apartment with very little distraction, you can barely discern day and night. You sometimes find yourself doing push-ups that are meant for the morning in the evening, you’re spinning your knife while munching on some energy bars that are supposed to be your dinner, and graze almost affectionately at in while you shower, mesmerized by the little droplets of blood that get suckled into the drain when you press the blade into your hand or prick your thigh.

Miranda is the only thought that stays in your mind. You wonder when you’ve eaten last time when your stomach grumbles, but you refuse to get up from your cocoon of blankets until the urge to relieve yourself is unbearable and you drag yourself to the bathroom.

More than once, you’ve contemplated the idea of simply going out and restarting a life on your own. But that would mean forgetting about Miranda… and you don’t want that.

You miss her.

The mere thought of her being in danger because of you, or her being dead, dumped into a canal because you made her flee, has your stomach twist.

You would make time go back and go after her if only you could. You would go out and look for her if you only knew where to start. However, Miranda has always been a great question mark: you don’t even know for certain what is her job, if she’s really an assassin or a spy for that matter, let alone the enemies she has so stubbornly kept secret all this time. What are you going to do? Wander dark alleys at night hoping some creepy guy has some information about a possible killer named Miranda? It’s absurd.

You have no other option than to wait, and hope - and pray - she’s not dead. After all, Miranda is strong, she’s clever, she’s mean when she has to, she knows very little limits- she can do it, she can make it, she can come back. Home, to you.

The door remains closed for another couple of days.

You’re laying on the carpet, the half bottle of liquor next to you it’s opened just to smell the intoxicating scent of alcohol and trigger memories of her. You’re spinning the knife around without looking, hissing when the sharp blade cuts through the skin of your palm, but you don’t care for the pain.

Instead, the noise of the keys rattling on the other side of the closed-door has you shot your eyes open in alertness, and you lift your head from the floor.

The lock clicks, and you’re suddenly aware of yourself, as if brought back to life, when the door cracks open. You spot a familiar lather coat poking in before her.

Miranda, all in black like always, slips inside with a shuddering sigh. She spins quickly on her heels, giving her back, and pushes the door closed with her hand, letting it rest on the wooden surface.

“Miranda?” You call, your voice hoarse for the prolonged inactivity - or when was the last time you drank something?

Slowly, you push yourself up, wondering, for a moment, if you’re not dreaming. After all, you did imagine her the other day, after forgetting about eating for far too long, but she revealed herself to be just an illusion.

This time, however, it isn’t. You can feel it in your bones that she’s real.

“You didn’t come after me.” She murmurs.

She’s still giving you her back, she’s distant, and yet her words hurt like stabs. You can’t see her face, but her eyes are carved in your brain - every move, every light, every twitch, every hidden emotion.

It’s been weeks, but you still remember them after thinking about her for hours, all day, every day, and you know the brightness in them is opaque now, her iris glassy for some tears she would try to hide, in any other circumstance.

Not now, though.

She doesn’t hide the quiver in her voice either, merely clears her throat.

“Good girl, not breaking your promises.” She chuffs out a chuckle, but you can hear the disappointment there. “So obedient, even when-”

She trails off and you swallow, her voice, your promises, swirling around your head and blending into a tormenting tune.

“You wanted me to come after you?” You wonder, brow pinched as you stand up, rubbing your hands together to get rid of some inexistent dust. The irony of it all as you puzzled: she’s spent months trying to get you to listen to her, reminding you to keep your promises, and now she’s telling you that you were allowed, after all, to break the most important one: not leaving.

You hear a dull thud when Miranda rests her forehead against the door.

“It doesn’t matter now.” She mumbles, and she sounds so tired, so broken that your first thought is to rush to her and pull her down to the couch, or help her to bed, strip her of her clothes to let her rest while you boil the water for the tea and your life returns to have a purpose.

You’ve taken barely a couple of steps when she turns over, and you gasp, stopping dead in your tracks.

Miranda’s face is all bruised. Her lip is split in the middle, there’s a faint dark halo under her left eyes and scratch marks on the cheekbone, her neck is marked by a crossed reddish lines, and she’s keeping her left arm clutched to her chest in a such awkward angle, you’d bet her shoulder is dislocated.

You see your own fear and confusion, and guilt reflected into her eyes and there’s nothing you can do to make either of those go away.

“Miranda- what happened to you?” You breathe out with a terrified wheeze, wondering if you really could’ve prevented all this if you’d just disobeyed, broken a promise, and chased after her after you told her you loved her.

Her silence makes your heart thrum in your chest, you try to take a step closer to her, but once again, you stop.

“We’ve got no time.” She murmurs, pressing her lips together, seemingly unbothered by the wound on her mouth, smeared with clotted blood. “They’re coming to get you,” she says, her tone is urgent when she sighs, “to punish me.”

You would ask for more information about who is going to assault the two of you in her apartment any time now, but you already know you’d get no answer, not to mention that you’re probably in immediate danger already.

You swallow, shaking your head, your dominant hand already reaching for the dagger that you keep strapped to your leg - you kept it there all those days because the idea of having it on you, as she showed you, as she told you to do, gave you comfort.

“We can take them.” You blurt out, your brow pinching. “Together, we can do it- please, you trained me for this-”

Miranda shakes her head. She’s smiling, but you can taste all the bitterness and the sadness that lay beneath it.

“No, this was a mistake from the beginning.” She murmurs, her voice thicker than usual, soft and sharp at the same time. “I knew you were different and I kept you anyway… or maybe because of it, I don’t know.” She’s leaning heavily against the door now, her sane hand rummaging into her pocket without a real purpose. “I was arrogant and selfish and you’ll pay for it. I’ll pay for it, we’ll both-”

In a few strides, she’s in front of you, the immense distance between you, suddenly gone. You gaze into those blue eyes you missed so much and find the halo of unshed tears there. The closeness of her wounds makes you wince in sympathy. You can feel her hot breath crashing onto your mouth.

You would like to touch her face, but you fear being rejected. There are still so many unresolved issues between you that everything is difficult and the incoming peril makes it even more complicated.

To your surprise, however, it’s Miranda that touches your face, instead. Her hand comes warm against your cheek, the thumb stroking lightly over the seam of your lips. You would talk, but you can’t, too caught in that moment.

“Know that I’m doing this because you make us weak-” She whispers, but the accusation in her voice is unmatched by the velvet in her voice. “And also because I-” Her breath hitches, your heart skips a beat when she closes her eyes and exhales. “I won’t let them have you, m’eudail, no matter what it costs.”

She’s kissing you now, and it’s desperate: it doesn’t taste of hope, it doesn’t taste of homecoming; it has the coppery taste of blood from her split lip with the bitter undertones of goodbyes. It scares you.

“I’m sorry.” Miranda whispers, parting from you.

Without tearing her eyes off of you, she walks backward toward the kitchen.  She pulls out from the pocket the hand you thought was rummaging purposelessly and reaches under the table.

You know what she keeps there, after all, you helped her with the tape that keeps the gun strapped below the marble.

You jerk when you hear the harsh ripping sound.

You swallow nothing when she walks back to you.

The metal is cold on your forehead when Miranda places it there.

You close your eyes when she rests her index finger on the trigger and pulls.

#miranda croft #miranda croft x reader #tfa #the flight attendant #ao3 #fanfiction #four lines #hidden scars #choice 1

[justanotherlifeff]

Levi Ackerman × reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Fluff, matured themes, slowburn

Warning: There's mentions and descriptions of underage rape and suicidal themes and self harm. DETAILED SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER

Levi POV

She just got naked infront of me. "What the hell (Y/N)?!" I exclaimed trying to look away from her but my eyes failed me. She was small and had curves exactly at the right places. She had a firm breast and ass. The view she gave me made me more turned on that any other woman ever got me. I still had to control myself as I didn't want to hurt her.

"What? Don't you want this? Don't you like the way I look? I need to know that you won't go running back to another hoe. I need to know if you're satisfied with me" she whispered in a strained voice. "Trust me, it's taking all my effort to not take you right now but I can't do this. You're not ready. You're trembling. I don't want to hurt you (Y/N)." I tried to reason with her. In response, she came close to me and kissed me. I froze in her embrace unable to think of what to do about it. She removed her lips from mine and whispered demandingly, "Aren't you the one who said Eren that he had to make the choice that he believed that he won't regret? I just took your advice and made a choice. Do it".

I looked at her with wide eyes and asked, "Are you really sure?". My body was losing control as I stared at her smooth skin, her (B/S) shaped body, her (E/C) eyes and soft lips. "Yes but I need to use the washroom. Could you wait for a minute? " she answered with a hint of blush on her face. "Okay. Wash yourself down there" I murmured as she went off to the washroom as I sat on the bed to process everything. Before I could change my mind about everything, she returned and stood in front of me with a bashful expression.

Her expression told me that she had no idea about what to do. I stood up and trailed a finger to her vagina. It was dry. I knew she was scared and I knew that I had to ease her up a bit so that she won't regret it the next morning. She hugged me as I rubbed her clitoris and I could hear her ragged breathing. "Lie down on the bed" I told her as she listened to my instructions.

(Y/N) POV

I expected pain from the begining but Levi heichou's touches weren't painful. They made me feel somewhat weird and weak at my knees. When he asked me to lie down, I knew that it’s time for the painful part. I did as he asked me to but after that, he did some very unexpected things. Firstly, he pinned me down and kissed me. As he kissed me, he used one hand to continue the rubbing on my clitoris and used another hand to start massaging my one of my breasts sometimes pinching and rubbing the nipple.

My mouth made embarrassing sounds inside his involuntarily. After continuing that for a while, his mouth moved to my neck and kissed there. I never had my neck kissed before and I realised that I found it very pleasant. I could feel a wetness form on my vagina. I usually had this problem while reading erotica novels. They sugar-coated sex a lot. I knew how painful it was.

I heard heichou whisper in my ears, "I'll leave some hickeys on your neck. You don't mind do you?". "No I don't" I gasped as his finger actions on my clitoris and breast was messing with my breathing patterns. I felt him suck on my neck bruising it. It painfully delicious and I surprisingly enjoyed everything so far. I was questioning my experience already when heichou went down further and started sucking one of my breasts while massaging the other. I felt sensations that I never knew, I blushed furiously because I assumed these were shameful acts preserved only for erotica novels. Having heichou do these to me further contributed to that annoying wetness along with a dull pain inside my vagina. It was pleasant nonetheless.

This went on for a while and just when I thought things couldn't get better, heichou went right down to my vagina and gave me a big lick there. The light moans that were escaping my mouth for so long turned into louder ones as heichou continued licking. I felt my heartbeat increase and my body twitch when heichou suddenly stopped. "You're wet enough. I'll start with fingers" he murmured looking at my exasperated face. I was liking what he was doing before. I knew inserting finger hurts. However, when heichou did it, it didn’t hurt. I realised that the wetness helped him slip in.

I felt an awkward sensation. I felt... Full? He inserted another finger and I gasped as the sensation increased and my the sense of being full increased. Then to make my body go crazy, he started moving the two fingers sending of volts of pleasure all over my body. I felt my insides clenching again after a while when he stopped again. I saw him unbuckle his pants and pull his rock hard member out. It was big and I was sure it would hurt more than anything I ever experienced. "It might hurt at first cause you didn't have sex for a long time. Just tell me to move when it stops hurting" he instructed and I nodded because I was too nervous to form words.

He moved his hands from my body and used them as support as he continued to pin me down and position himself. He then used one hand to guide his member inside me. I felt a sharp pain as he inserted it slowly. I grabbed his hand to ease myself as he leaned down and kissed my neck to distract me from the pain. I felt him hit the end of my vagina, which gave me a weird sensation along with the pain. He didn't move as he continued to kiss my neck. The pain surprisingly stopped in a matter of moments. I remembered his instructions and whispered him to move. As he started moving, I felt a slight discomfort which was replaced by immense pleasure in seconds. The erotica novels were right.

The sensations that were flowing from my vagina to every other part of my body was hindering my ability to think and I felt myself loosing my mind. I had no words to describe this. He moved slowly and steadily, in and out as louder moans escaped my mouth. I wasn't controlling any of my actions now. It was him making my body do all sorts of embarrassing things.

Back in the underground, I remembered being forced to call out to those men as they enjoyed it for some reason but right now, I felt the need to call the captain out. "M-master please..." I gave out a strained moan. However, the captain abruptly stopped to that and looked at me with wide shocked eyes. "What did you call me?" he asked. All my senses returned to me as he stopped and I felt beyond embarrassed which made a few drops of tears leave my eyes. "I-I'm sorry. That's what I was taught when I was young. I don't know what I'm doing" I stammered. I saw heichou's eyes soften as he said, "I'm not your master. You don't have a master, (Y/N). Don't call me that." he said as he kissed my tears away and continued his pace.

"L-levi Heichou?" I tried to continue as I was loosing my mind again. I saw him smirk as he said, "As much as that turns me on, I want you to call me Levi. Just Levi. Whenever we are alone, I'm just Levi to you except for special circumstances". I didn't waste any time now as I moaned, " Levi, faster. Please.". He listened to me and picked up his pace as I grabbed onto his hand moaning his name out to keep a grasp onto my sanity.

Levi POV

Watching her orgasm was quiet amusing. She had no idea what was happening and she was trying to hold it back because she thought she will pass out. I had to instruct her to let go and it took a while for her to trust me. I came a while after she did. This time, I came faster than usual because her expressions were so raw that it turned me on more than anyone ever did, her vagina was tight and her small body was really easy and comfortable to handle.

We laid down for a while till I decided that we were filthy as we both sweated a lot and she had semen all over her. She was tired and passed out moments after we were done, so I had to pick her up and bath her and myself at the same time. I changed the bed sheets too and when I felt like things were clean enough, I placed her on the bed and got in beside her myself. She snuggled next to me and for once in my entire life, I felt happy.

The next morning:

I woke up to find (Y/N) sitting on the bed staring at the bathroom door and thinking hard about something. She covered her bare body with the bedsheet. Suddenly, I felt a stab of fear in my mind. Was she regretting last night? "(Y/N)? You okay?" I asked as I moved to sit beside her. "Yeah I'm fine. I was just thinking" she replied. I didn't beat around the bush and asked her, "Do you regret last night?". She looked at me and smiled and answered, "Of course I don't regret it. I was just confused. Last night was so much different from every other time I had sex. I felt like I am a protagonist in an erotica novel last night.".

"You were raped (Y/N). Last night was actual sex. Before that, your body wasn't developed enough for this. The people who did that to you deserves to be castrated." I answered with a sigh. She actually thought it was going to be something like her previous experience? I felt a pang of guilt for not letting her know that it wouldn't be like that. She probably was scared the whole time until the actual penetration began. I, however, admired her bravery. It was one of her many qualities that made me notice her.

"Did you enjoy it?" she asked me without looking at my face. "Yes. It was a lot better than any of my previous sexual encounters. I suppose I'm more into small women than tall now." I answered her. She still wasn't looking at me. I was looking at her, waiting for a response when I heard a soft sniffle coming from her face. I immediately turned her face towards me to find her crying softly.

"What's the matter? Are you okay? Did I hurt you last night? " I asked her panicking. "No you didn't." she consoled me. "It's just, I wish I never experienced anything before you. I want to forget everything that happened before." she said as her crying intensified. Just as she completed that sentence, she was crying like a baby. I didn't know how to comfort her so I instinctively hugged her. I remembered my mother doing this when I was sad. That was a long time ago and I never used this on anyone so I hoped this would work on her. I heard her muffled cries as I felt her tears wet my chest but I didn't let go of her. She cried for a long time before calming down slowly. I still didn't let go of her even when she was calm. She didn't try to get away from me either.

We laid down on the bed holding each other till someone knocked the door. I had to let go of (Y/N) as she ran into the closet to wear some clothes. I walked into the closet to pick a pant of mine with her and when I was done, I opened the door. The hotel manager was standing outside.

"Captain Levi, I had to speak with you" he said formally. I moved from the door as he came in and sat on the sofa of the living room. "It has come to my attention that Ms (L/N), who is staying with you has hit one of our sex workers. I'm aware that you know about it too as you were in the scene and we both know that it was Emilia. Now, I don't want to know if there is anything between you and Ms (L/N) but starting a bar fight isn't an appropriate thing to do..." he said before I stopped him and said, "Before you continue, you should hear our side of the story. Emilia tried to force herself on me even if I tried to politely push her away. I had to be rough with her only because she wasn't getting the message. Ms (L/N) tried to reason with her and said her that I’m not interested but she insulted Ms (L/N) and body shamed her. You should take these into account, Mr Davis".

"I see. Well, you do have a point but letting you stay in this hotel for now would only raise rumours about you and Ms (L/N). I'm sorry but I don't want my hotel to have a bad reputation for bar fights." the manager concluded formally. Before I could reply, I heard another knock at the door. I excused myself and opened the door to see a panting military police cadet. "Levi heichou, Commander Erwin has regained consciousness!" he informed.

"He's awake?" I heard a surprised and relieved voice behind me. (Y/N) stood there with a smile on her face. "Yes. Go pack. We won't have to stay here anymore now anyway" I commanded her as she slipped back into the room and started packing. "Well, I'll give you time to pack and I'll arrange horses. Good day" the manager said to me and walked out of the room. I went to help (Y/N) pack our bags.

To be continued...

Taglist: @reality-is-often-disappointing, @kingtamakimurder

#levi smut #levi aot #shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi attack on titan #levi x reader #levi x fem!reader #levi×reader #levi ackerman

[hazel-writes]

Summary: A nightmare, a new friend, and an old enemy — your first official day of work gets off to an interesting start.

Notes: This is a dialogue-heavy chapter, sorry!

Word Count: 2,200

Warnings: minor canon-typical violence

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

For when your troubles start multiplyin',

And they just might,

It's easy to forget them without tryin'

With just a pocketful of starlight

• Catch a Falling Star - Perry Como •

Panic. Complete and utter panic. You are searching for something, but you can’t seem to find it. You need this thing to survive. Where the kriff is it?!!

A bang. Heavy footsteps. A scream; your scream. You are being dragged away, helpless, no one around to save you.

Eventually you feel your bare feet hit freezing cold ground, but it’s a sinister voice that sounds from above you that chills you to the bone.

You sit up with a start, panting heavily. You hadn’t had a dream like that in a while. This one was scary, but what really terrified you was how strangely familiar it felt. It’s probably just the stress, you thought.

You looked at the clock across the room: 5:13. You were too anxious to go back to sleep and you had to get up in an hour anyways, so you decided to get ready for the day.

You showered, brushed your teeth, and inspected your closet for something to wear. You chose a dark grey tunic with a matching grey skirt that went just below your knees. In typical First Order fashion, you pulled your hair into a tight bun. Looking in the mirror, you barely recognized yourself.

No, this wouldn’t do.

Still feeling a bit rebellious from yesterday's encounter with the injured stormtrooper and General Hux, you decided to leave your hair down like you did on Lothal, two loose braids winding around the sides of your head, the rest of it gently cascading over your shoulders.

Better.

Content with your appearance, you headed straight for the cafeteria. You didn’t recognize most of the food — It all looked like gray mush compared to the vibrant, fresh foods your parents cooked back home.

Lothal was known for its large farm-based economy and culture, something you took immense pride in. Lothalians had fought hard to preserve their land, as it was often victim to exploitation by those with galactic authority. Many times the planet was under imperialist occupation, namely the former Galactic Empire. During those times, the planet was essentially destroyed, its sacred habitats burnt to a crisp. Natural resources were depleted, pollution enveloped the air, and Lothalians were either forced into a life of servitude or were killed. A small group of rebels, called the Spectres, led a resistance effort against the Imperial occupiers, eventually succeeding in driving them out. Since then, relations between Lothal and the First Order were tense, which explained some of General Hux’s disdain towards you. Lothal, however, managed to restore its previous prosperity and you had been lucky enough to grow up in relative peace.

Right now, all you longed for was your favorite fruit, jogan, but it didn’t look like you were going to find it here anytime soon. With a sigh, you settled for the indistinct mush and sat down at a table in the corner.

Since you woke up so early, you were the only one in the cafeteria, but you didn’t mind. You were actually thankful — this meant no more run-ins with stormtroopers, generals, or ridiculously tall men in capes.

After forcing down the last of the mush, you strolled the hallways, attempting to somewhat gain your bearings before your first official day of work. You pulled out the map you had been provided and followed its twists and turns to the yellow dot labeled: Office of Imperial Promotion, Galactic Truth, and Fact Correction.

As you rounded the last corner, you saw a door a dozen feet away which appeared to be guarded by a stormtrooper. This must be it, you thought.

You apprehensively approached the door, willing your feet to move forward with more confidence than they were. As you reached for the handle, you did your best to avoid the trooper’s gaze. Suddenly, he reached his arm out towards you.

Terrified, you stumbled backwards, hitting your head on the wall behind you. The trooper advanced, both arms now outstretched.

You protectively put up your arms as well, attempting to shield your head from any incoming injury — but it never came.

“Hey, hey, whoa.” You heard the trooper say, his hands now raised in surrender. “I’m not gonna hurt you, it’s me!”

Your hands were shaking as you lowered your arms slightly. You tried to think of any stormtroopers you knew. Not any on the Finalizer, you thought.

“I- I’m sorry. Who are you?” You stuttered.

“Oh, right!” He gestured lazily to his mask. “This ol’ thing.” He sighed and shook his head.

He spoke unlike you’d ever heard a trooper speak before. He sounded kind, normal even! Normal… Something clicked and you started to put the pieces together.

“You - you were the one I found in the hallway!”

You were shocked; you thought for sure you had left him to die. A stab of guilt pierced your heart.

“Yeah, that’s me, good ol' Mr. Concussion!”

“I thought you were... Well, I thought you were going to be-” you started.

“Trust me, I’ve been through much worse.” He shrugged nonchalantly. You paused, looking him over in astonishment and thoughts running wild. What piece of space junk sent him back to work the day after receiving a head injury?

“You should be lying down, or resting, or getting treatment in the med bay, or-”

“Wow," he said. "You sure worry a lot about other people for someone who doesn’t worry enough about themselves.”

“Why do you say that?” you questioned sceptically.

“Well, going through with that stunt yesterday, you not only risked your career for me, a stranger, but you risked your life as well.”

When you didn’t respond, he paused for a second, reaching behind him to reveal the large First Order coat you had used to stop his bleeding the day before. Hux’s coat.

“I take it this isn’t yours?” He asked, knowingly. You imagined a small smirk forming under his helmet.

You responded with a breathy laugh. “No, it most definitely is not. That used to belong to General Hux, but now it’s yours, I suppose.”

His eyes widened in a mix of shock, fear, and a hint of admiration.

“Son of a blaster, how’d you manage that?” He replied.

“Well, I uhh- I just kinda took it from him?”

“You just kinda took it from him?” he repeated, stunned.

“Without his permission…” you continued, quieter this time.

The trooper just stared at you in shock, and you started to feel uncomfortable. Maybe he thought you were crazy. Maybe he would turn you in. Maybe he would bring you to Kylo R-

A laugh bellowed from behind his mask, slightly distorted.

“You!” A laugh. “And Hux, how-” More laughter. “Without his permission-” He could barely get his words out between laughs.

This was the first time you’d heard laughter since arriving on the Finalizer, and you couldn’t help but smile in return. As his laughter mellowed, he sighed and stuck out his hand for you to shake.

“I’m FN-2187.”

FN-2187, you thought. “That’s hardly a name…”

He shrugged. “It’s the one I was given.”

You thought for a second. “Mind if I give you a new one, to be used privately of course,” you clarified.

He looked taken aback, even through the helmet. “Yeah, that would be… okay.”

You paused, thinking. “How about I call you Finn?”

“Finn… Yeah, I like that,�� he said. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. My friends back home call me Wren, but it’s probably better you call me by my real name here,” you said, referencing the Finalizer.

He nods, and after telling him your name, you drop his hand. He looks around the hallway before moving a step closer to you.

“In all seriousness, thank you. No one has ever asked for more than my trooper code, and no one ever stops when… you know...,” He trailed off, lowering his gaze, that sadness you sensed from him yesterday having returned.

“Hey,” you reached out and placed a gentle hand on his armored shoulder. “We got each other’s backs now, right? We’ll make it outta here in one piece. Maybe we can steal Hux’s toupee next time.” You winked at him, making him chuckle.

“Ha, yeah, that’d be great,” he replied.

At that moment, the Ginger General himself rounded the corner of the hallway, followed by two obedient stormtroopers.

You started to feel the panic building again. Had he heard what I said? Is he coming to fulfil his promise of my death by trash compactor?

“It’s alright,” Finn reassured. “Follow my lead.”

Kicking Hux’s bloodied jacket behind the door, Finn moved to stand in front of you a few feet. You started to follow him, but he held his arm back, keeping you in place. Finn stood at attention as Hux neared, and you attempted to make yourself as small as possible. You noticed that his coat seemed a few sizes too big, and you chuckled internally, knowing that you were the reason for that.

“Ah, I see you have yet again managed to involve yourself in the business of pathetic stormtroopers,” he spat.

You glanced down to Finn’s fists, which were clenched in anger.

“No, General. I was just asking for directions” you replied.

Hux’s eyes slowly trailed over your body, like a predator stalking his prey. Finn subtly shifted his balance back and forth, continuing to clench and unclench his fists. The General’s eyes came to land on your hair, which he scowled at disapprovingly. He began to approach you, and as he did, you noticed Finn start to move towards you. You made a small gesture with your hand, pleading with him to stay back. He listened, reluctantly.

Hux grabbed a chunk of your hair. “This is not within protocol,” he seethed.

“Neither is that coat, General,” you replied, gesturing to his oversized garb.

You had no idea where the sudden burst of confidence had come from, but you immediately regretted your comment as Hux pulled harder, causing you to wince in pain. He pulled his face to your ear.

“Strike two,” he whispered threateningly, before shoving you back into the wall and turning around, almost knocking into Finn.

Expecting Finn to move out of the way, Hux waited, but neither of them stirred. The two were locked in a stalemate for what seemed like eons. Finn eventually sidestepped, letting him pass, and with a final glare, Hux and the troopers continued walking down the hallway.

You leaned against the wall, rubbing your now-sore head. As soon as Hux and the troopers were out of sight, Finn rushed over to you.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, concerned. His armored hand helped you smooth down your disheveled hair.

“Yeah,” you replied shakily.

“I could’ve helped,” he stated dejectedly, a hint of frustration laced in his tone.

“I know… I just didn’t want to see you get hurt — again,” you responded stubbornly, giving him a small tap on the side of his helmet.

“Hey, this whole saving each other’s lives thing only works if it goes both ways,” he argued.

“Save your saving for another time. I’m sure I’ll need it soon enough.”

He sighed. “I really hope that isn’t true.”

Silence filled the hallway before you had a sudden realization.

“Hey, how did you know who I was when I first walked up? You were unconscious when I found you yesterday…,” you asked, perplexed.

“When I woke up in the med bay, I asked the nurses how I got there. They told me I arrived with the help of a girl from this sector of the ship. So I came here and waited. I don’t know how, but I just knew when I saw you — you were the one who had saved me.”

“Oh,” you replied, still puzzled.

“Yeah, pretty weird, huh?” He paused. “Anyways, I should let you get to work — wouldn’t want you to be late.”

“Right,” you replied. “I guess I’ll see you around then Finn.”

“I hope so, coat thief,” he said with a smirk, placing a large hand on your shoulder. “Stay safe out there.”

“I’ll try my best, Mr. Concussion,” you replied, making your way to the door of your new workplace before directing a final wave back at Finn. You watched as he walked down the hallway, stopping at the very end to turn and salute you. You chuckled. At least I made one friend today, you thought.

You pondered over your father’s words of wisdom: nothing bad can ever come from helping those in need. So yeah, maybe that wasn’t completely true. But you could amend the advice a bit, taking today’s events into account: something good will always come from helping those in need. So far, despite everything you had gone through, that seemed to remain true.

With a new spring in your step, you smoothed your uniform, fixed your hair, and held your head high as you walked into your first official workspace, feeling prepared for whatever else you would have to face throughout the day.

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

Previous || Masterlist || Next

[whiskeyrated]

Now introducing... LEX CRAWFORD

Page / About / Timeline / Inspo 

Full Name:  Alexander Keene Crawford

Nickname(s): Lex

Birthday: June 13th, 1975 (45) 

Hometown: Scarsdale, New York

Education: Harvard Law School

Occupation: Lawyer, Sr. Partner

Faceclaim: Ben Affleck 

Content Warning(s):

Emotional Manipulation, Divorce, Cheating, Affair(s), Drug Use, Alcoholism 

Last Update: November 22nd, 2020

FAMILY & CHILDHOOD

Born at Lenox Hill Hospital to Madden Keene Crawford and Vivienne Renée Crawford (née Townsend), Lex Crawford is the second eldest of the Crawford family. Crawford has three additional siblings. One older brother (Christopher Keene Crawford, legal advisor), and two younger sisters (Annalise Brigitte Crawford & Lillian Louise Crawford-Kingston, both socialites) 

Madden Crawford was absent and distant as a father, mostly appearing to criticize his sons. Had a tendency to favor Christopher for his efforts even though he was less successful than his younger brother in academia. Christopher’s personality was well received as he was not nearly as cold nor as aggressive as Lex. 

Vivienne Crawford, quite frankly, did not want anything to do with the children. For all of their childhoods they were propped up as pawns in her bid to outshine those in her social circle. The children were primarily raised by a variety of nannies, one of which would have a longstanding affair with Madden Crawford. 

Madden and Vivienne were very clear on their lack of devotion to one another. The two photographed well and their interests aligned well enough to put up with being married to one another. Most of the married adults were also having affairs which were, sometimes, 

Overall, the family is mainly composed of politicians, lawyers, advisors, and judges. A majority of them still have investments located elsewhere. 

With a family like that it can be difficult to keep up or stand out. This has proven to breed a highly competitive nature amongst siblings and cousins in order to prove their value and worth within the family. While the patriarchs may be the ones judging sons for their selections of education and professions, it is the matriarchs that rule the roost with an iron fist. 

Lex would attend The Dalton School in New York and then go on to attend Harvard. His choice and acceptance to Harvard was deeply criticized by family members and his father who claimed he was not good enough to attend Yale instead. 

Lex has three children with ex-wife Liana Drayton-Crawford. Theodore Crawford (1999), Ava Crawford (2002), and Benjamin Crawford (2015)

MARRIAGE & SUBSEQUENT DIVORCE 

While attending Harvard Law, Lex met an undergrad (Liana Drayton) from the nearby Northeastern University and the two began dating within roughly 6 months of meeting

Right before each of their graduations, she found out that she was pregnant 

The two both graduated and had a rushed wedding later that summer. They would go on to have a total of three children. 

Lex and Liana remained married for over 15 years before splitting in 2018 as a result of irreconcilable differences. Liana was the one who filed for divorce after issues that arose in 2015 after the birth of their youngest son. 

For a majority of the marriage the two got along and enjoyed their time spent together. Lex was not necessarily an outstanding father by any means, but in comparison to what he had been raised with he did well for himself. Most of his life ended up being consumed by work which would not leave him with adequate time to see his children. 

The Crawford family ensured that Lex was aware of their great disappointment in him for marrying Drayton who was not of their same social standing. They had attempted to convince him to get Liana to get rid of the baby or pay her off early on after finding out the news.Slowly over time he ended up being convinced that it was an issue which led to other issues within their marriage. 

Around their 10th year of marriage he had some sort of meltdown after waking up one day and believing himself to be old and to have sacrificed his freedom of his 20′s on having a family that he never saw. This issue lasted roughly a year which would eventually include increased alcohol usage and drug use. These issues were found out (quickly) by his wife at the time and they worked together on these problems to keep ahold of their marriage for another 5 years before issues arose again. 

Lex began to resent Liana for being one of the few people who had seen him at weaker and emotional points in his life. His family was keen on the concept that emotions made a person weak - while this issue had always been with him since childhood he had enjoyed being himself around his wife. Of course, with his slowly and ever increasing responsibility at the firm he became more distant and difficult to deal with. 

Around their 16th year of marriage Lex was actively caught sleeping with one the law associates at work who was 10 years his junior 

After this, as a guilt gift, Lex purchased his wife a Range Rover Sport Supercharged and had it delivered to the house with a large red bow. She was not impressed. 

This led to immense bouts of fighting that made living together difficult. Eventually, Lex moved out of their family home and lived in an apartment by himself as the divorce was handled.

In a power grab, Lex ended up with full custody of the children and accused his then-wife of keeping his children from him (as he was sure the children would not want to stay with him even in split custody) 

They fought about this custody in court for quite some time before the money ran out on his ex-wife’s side and she could no longer fight with him for it 

At their departure, they had certain items split between the two as per the prenup. 

OCCUPATION

Lex is a senior partner at a lucrative law firm that spends a great deal of time working on high profile cases

His competitive nature has helped him move up in the ranks at the firm and as a result he is often rewarded with some of the better cases that come in

Lex has a secretary and overall the firm usually has a few interns that come in throughout the year. At any given time there is usually at least one if not two interns at the firm 

His ambitious with the firm ended up being the reason that he and his ex-wife drifted apart so significantly. It was also a part of why they got divorced. 

PERSONALITY 

Lex can have a tendency to behave rather erratically when he becomes upset. This has caused a great deal of issues with him and his personal relationships. He has also been described as aggressive and demanding to those generally outside of his social circle. Though even people within his circle have had no qualms with these adjectives. 

However, he has great ambitious and is confident in what he wants and his abilities to get these things. He is also extremely well organized for the most part and uses his skills to his advantage often.

If he had not been so stubborn and set in the idea (that had been burned into him since childhood) that feelings = weakness, he could have probably fixed his marriage. Instead, he has a tendency to be resistant to these concepts which makes him cold. 

Additionally, therapy could probably be of use to Lex to deal with his deeply rooted issues that really were planted by his family long ago. 

OTHER

Avid smoker. Has attempted to quit multiple times and has been unsuccessful each time. He has managed to cut-back in some ways. Though it is often replaced with vaping instead.

The only pets that were ever had in the house were Great Danes. Before their divorce, Lex and Liana had two Great Danes. One was a fawn female named Bijou and the other a brindle male named Bruno. Somewhat near the end of their marriage they had adopted two more Great Danes. A black male named Salem (who now lives with his ex-wife) and blue female named Summer who remains in New York with Lex and the children (primarily cared for by Theo Crawford) 

Though a lot of his traits can be perceived as negatives, they have always worked to his advantage in the workplace and for clients. 

Although he does not express this, one of his greatest regrets in life is what happened with his marriage. 

Lex is a case of Nature vs. Nurture where both do not lend themselves to a bright future. His family was cold, manipulative, and back-stabbing. His parents did not love one another and bad behavior was often encouraged between his father, uncle, cousins, and older brother. The criticism of his actions were often bothersome and did well at laying the groundwork for his meltdown over his marriage. Though it was still possible for him to avoid most of what went wrong, his family holds unchecked power over the younger members of the family even if the younger members are in their 40′s. 

#.tag1 #.tag2 #.tag3 #.tag4 #.tag5 #.intro #sorry i only have the attention span for this one tonight #intro.lex

[idealistsinc]

09 // lush

wc: 1,555 content warning: nsfwish, interrupted coitus by way of the unfortunate reappearance of Limsan ale, Vhox being Vhox

Hauling a plastered, squirming Rin up the creaking stairs of an inn was not what Vhox had had in mind for this evening.

It was just meant to be a drink between the two of them. Call it an experiment. Rin always begged off alcoholic beverages when Vhox took him out to the Bismarck on some poor Ul’dahn merchant’s coin, but Vhox was determined that Rin at least taste the rich, malty sweetness of a good Limsan old ale — and if getting Rin tipsy loosened him up a little (enough so that he might be amenable to sloppy, drunken sex in the alley behind the tavern, even), well, that was all the better for Vhox.

So he had started Rin on his first pint with the intent that he’d only keep the ale coming if Rin could handle his drink. But he had been…distracted. It wasn’t his fault that the low collar of Rin’s tunic emphasized the column of his throat, or that halfway through his drink Rin had begun to speak vigorously on the point of the Limsan thalassocracy’s inherent fragility, so that Vhox was obliged to argue with him in good faith and, of course, call for another round to whet their tongues.

It was only when Rin stood up and immediately kissed the floor that Vhox realized they were both into their third pints of ale — and Vhox, who was also not completely sober himself, outweighed Rin by at least some fifty ponz.

That wasn’t to say there was nothing at all pleasant about Rin’s drunken company. In fact, despite being so utterly trashed as to require that Rin lean his full weight into Vhox’s side, Rin seemed to be putting forth a concentrated effort to make the experience as pleasant for Vhox as possible, which he was currently doing by way of thumbing slow, maddening circles just at the base of Vhox’s tail.

Oh, yes, drunk Rin had his virtues. Really, Vhox deserved a medal for reaching the room without stopping to fuck him against the wall.

“You’re goin’ to be in trouble if y’keep doin’ that,” said Vhox. He had barely kicked the door closed behind them before Rin was draping his arms about his neck, melting against him like a liquid and looking salaciously up at him through bleary, half-lidded eyes.

“Trouble?” said Rin. His fingernails scraped his hairline, sending electric tingles of lust shivering down Vhox’s spine. “You mean you didn’t bring me to an inn to fuck me, Vhox?”

Hell yes, said his body. Hell fucking yes.

Except there was a small, inconsequential, half-whispered voice in the back of his head that kept saying Rin was very drunk, that Rin was never this forward, that maybe Rin wasn’t being…quite himself. Vhox had already kicked that voice in the family jewels, but nevertheless, he found himself saying, with practically no conviction whatsoever, “I’m not goin’ to ‘ave you be sick on me. Y’can’t even walk.”

“How noble of you.” Rin dragged Vhox’s head down so he could work his lips along his jawline, his breath hot under his chin and his voice nearly a purr, “But I should hope that I can’t walk after you’re done with me, hm?”

Vhox’s brain immediately and irrevocably left the premises. He bucked his hips, feeling the press of Rin’s arousal, and was rewarded with a filthy moan the likes of which he’d never heard from Rin before. Gods, why the fuck hadn’t he tried this earlier? The part of him that was still capable of semi-coherent thought wanted to test this new and oversensitive Rin, draw him out, see just how responsive he could make him…but Vhox was, at the end of the day, impatient and incapable of grasping the benefits of delayed gratification. His hand was already at the waistband of Rin’s trousers, busy with the button, while he busied his mouth scraping his teeth down the velvety skin of Rin’s throat.

“Fuck. Ah—”

Rin’s hands fisted in his hair. He jerked Vhox’s head away hard enough to hurt, and before Vhox could think past the haze of lust, or even process Rin’s expression enough to realize that was not a gesture of ardor, Rin had already vomited colorfully down the front of Vhox’s shirt.

Well, thought Vhox, when he was again capable of such a thing. I s’pose that’s what I get, innit?

There was a moment of immense silence as Rin stared at him in slowly dawning mortification. His face had gone rather gray, spit trailing from the corner of his mouth. “Oh,” he said, in a tiny, trembling voice that deftly murdered what little was left of Vhox’s libido. “Oh no. Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry. Let me—”

Rin made a clumsy sort of motion as though to wipe it off with his sleeve, but, still in close quarters, he ended up nearly smacking himself in the face for the trouble. Vhox released him and took a measured step back so he could inspect the damages. He looked rather more like he’d been stabbed than gone awry of drunken emissions — old ale was astonishingly red coming up — and he was also still far more uncomfortably aroused than a man covered in vomit had any right to be, but one thing was certain: they would not be going any farther tonight unless Vhox wanted to risk a facial…and not even the fun kind. Small blessings that Rin hadn’t eaten—

At which point Vhox put a hand to his forehead in sheer self-reproach. I’m such a fucking idiot. Of course Rin hadn’t eaten anything. He’d all but dragged him to the tavern, and here he was, letting him drink three damn pints on an empty stomach. “It’s fine, Rin,” he sighed, shrugging self-deprecatingly to take the edge off that first little nibble of guilt. “I don’t know what I was expecting—”

He trailed off. Rin’s ears had lowered against his skull, giving the overall effect of a stray dog Vhox had just booted in the ribs. Vhox felt immediately like a prick, which meant, of course, that he would just have to keep talking until he finally landed on something that took that horrible look off his face. “Listen, this ain’t even the first time I’ve had somebody puke during foreplay. Hells,” he added, inspired, “the first time I tried to give someone head, his cock hit the back of my throat and I—”

Rin put his hands over his face. “Vhox—”

But there was a warm and familiar note of scorn in it. Vhox grinned. “The point is, I’ve been there—enough to know that you’re gonna wanna sit down to ride this one out.” So saying, he steered Rin toward the bed, not at all confident in Rin’s innate sense of balance. “Stay there an’ try not to throw up on anythin’ expensive. I’ll be back, all right?”

Downstairs, Vhox pilfered a bucket and a tin cup from the kitchens when the concierge wasn’t looking. He came back into the room to find that Rin had slid bonelessly to the floor, as green as a tenderfooted sailor rocking in his first storm. Vhox barely got the bucket in front of him in time.

“You good?” he said, when Rin had finished spitting up bile. “Can you keep some water down, you think?”

Rin made a helpless little hand motion that Vhox chose to take for a yes. He handed Rin the cup, then got down onto the floor with him and leaned back against the bedframe, working to undo the snaps and buttons of his ruined tunic. For a while, Rin dry-heaved into the bucket without speaking. Vhox noticed that he held his own bangs back from his face.

Finally, Rin said, “You don’t have to stay on my account, you know.” His forehead shone with sweat. There was no force to his voice at all…but there was something about his eyes that made it seem like an accusation.

“Who said I’m stayin’ on your account? Cleanin’ up after drunk guys is my kink.”

Rin made a face, but continued, with a drunken sort of persistence, “I can’t—satisfy you tonight.”

Oh.

Is that what he thinks I…

Out loud, Vhox said, smiling over the savage twist in his gut he had already decided to forget about come the morning, “I know. And I fully intend that you’ll make it up to me.” He idly traced his finger along Rin’s collarbone and was gratified when he shivered a little. “But you can’t do that if you choke to death in the middle of the night.”

“A vested interest,” said Rin, in a tone Vhox couldn’t read. He finally put the bucket between his knees and tilted his head back against the mattress, violet eyes squinting shut. “So you’re staying?”

Vhox was still quite drunk. He knew he was, because the words nearly meant something more to him than he thought Rin had meant them to mean. So you’re staying?

For a little while. For just one sun at a time until the next long voyage, the next siren song, the next desperate flight. Until he got hurt, or Rin did; until that day when Rin did mean something more by stay.

But until then, who was Vhox to deny himself his pleasures?

“Yeah, I am.”

vhox belongs to @mimiorzea

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxiv #ffxiv rin weise #my writing #if rin and vhox had a ship name it would be 'disaster catboys' #they are both absolute hot garbage and i love them #the document name for this prompt is 'oh god why' and really that's all you need to know #ffxiv vhox tia

[myoui-xxi]

Jisoo (BLACKPINK)

thank you anonie 💕

You let out a loud groan as you heard your phone ringtone shaking you out of your slumber. Forcing yourself to open your eyes, you noticed it was still bright outside meaning your nap lasted not longer than 20 minutes. You managed to grab your phone from the coffee table and let out an incoherent sound as an answer.

"Hey, did I wake you up?" you heard your girlfriend's voice from the other side.

"Yeah, but it's okay", you dragged our, voice way lower than the usual, awake one.

"Can I take your cute ass out to dinner once you're fully awake?" her voice had a hint of hope in it.

You sighed softly and tried to hide the anxiety in your voice, "Depends on if you'll hate me if I say no."

"Hey, I could never hate you. Are you okay?" you opened your mouth, but couldn't find a way to answer her. You unintentionally started stuttering, knowing damn well you were never capable of successfully lying to her.

"Baby", Jisoo called out to you softly, "What's wrong?"

"I think I'm just tired", you cringed at the lamest possible excuse and tried to change the subject as quick as possible, "Do you want to come over? I'm pretty sure my members are still out."

"Of course, I'll be there soon. I love you", she dragged out the last syllable in the cutest way possible, forcing a small smile onto your face. You shot the "I love you" back at her and hung up before sitting up on the couch.

Even though Jisoo didn't seem to mind it, a feeling of guilt still crept into you for refusing to go out. Ever since promotions of the new comeback with your group ended, your anxiety has been messing with you harder than ever. Constant hate comments on every social platform worsened your state of mind and even though positive comments dominated the negative ones, you never seemed to be able to focus on them, the ones about your looks and weight repeatedly stabbing your mind.

Jisoo took a bit longer than expected to arrive but you used that time to wash up and change into more comfortable clothes. When you opened the door for her, her free hand flew to your waist instantly as the other one carried a plastic bag. She wrapped her arm around you, pulling you closer to her before pressing your lips together.

You were out of breath when you pulled away and even felt a bit lightheaded. You gave her a dazed smile which she returned after she closed the door of your dorm, "I just missed you a lot."

You led her into the living room and she set the bag onto the table before joining you on the couch, "I brought you food since we didn't get to go out."

You smiled but shook your head at her words. The earlier anxiety came back in a second and it was getting harder and harder to keep it away from Jisoo.

"I'm not hungry but you can eat it", your words caused a frown to appear on her forehead.

Jisoo's hand reached to touch your face softly as she moved a strand of hair that covered you eye, "You have to eat, love."

"Maybe it's better if I lay off it for a while", you trailed off, focusing your gaze on the floor.

You felt Jisoo's soft touch again, this time by her fingers lifting your chin up and subtly forcing you to look at her. You couldn't fight it and the moment you locked eyes with her, you felt so small, pain tingling in your chest when you saw traces of sadness reflecting in her eyes "You read stupid comments again, didn't you?"

"Jisoo..."

"Didn't I tell you they're meaningless? They're written by people with no conf--"

"Yes, you did", your voice came out slightly harsher than you wanted it to, but you still kept going, "It's not as easy for me as it is for you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It's easy to ignore hate comments when you're one of the most beautiful women in the entire Korea, Jisoo. But when you're dating one, people seem to come for every little thing you do, including the way you look."

"Hey", her voice was laced with worry but went a few tones up at the same time, "Don't even dare to think you're anything less than gorgeous", you couldn't help but roll your eyes at her comment, which didn't go unnoticed by her.

"Can we please change the subject? I don't want to spend the evening fighting with you", you sighed after finishing the sentence.

"Hey", her voice got louder at that moment and you could sense a hint of anger in it. Her stern tone took you back a bit, "Why do you believe other people's words and not your girlfriend's?"

"Jisoo, please", you reached to grab her hand that was resting in her lap, "I missed you, can we not fight?"

You hesitantly closed the distance between you two and kissed her gently, relaxing slightly when she kissed you back.

"The food is gonna get cold", you warned her. You barely had time to sit up straight again when she pulled you back into her. Her teeth dug into your bottom lip as she kissed you again.

"I don't think I'm hungry for that", Jisoo whispered against your lips and you could see the way her eyes darkened while she slowly pulled back.

Your eyes kept watching her as she stood up before extending a hand for you to take. When you did, she started leading you in the direction of your room. You felt shivers running through your entire body when she she slowly closed the door and sat on your bed with you in front of her. Jisoo's eyebrows went up as she looked at you before pulling you by the back of your thighs. A gasp flew out of your mouth as you landed on her lap, straddling both of her legs.

"Jisoo", you breathed out while she pushed on the small of you back to press your bodies tighter against each other.

"I thought you had learned that you need to listen to me", she said, ignoring you and emphasizing it by pressing her index and middle finger against your lips.

You knew better than to disobey her so you parted your lips and wrapped them around her fingers. Jisoo's heart-shaped lips curved into a smirk as she watched you suck on her fingers, "Now that's better."

After a few moments while she still had her eyes on you, her fingers slid down your body before stopping at the hem of your shirt. You raised both of your arms above your head and Jisoo pulled the shirt  off of you. Before it even touched the floor, her lips already latched onto your skin, exploring every part she had access too. Your head was spinning at the feeling and you soon sensed her hand reaching behind you and expertly unclipping your bra within seconds. You sneaked a hand into her hair, threading your fingers through it and subtly pushing her head against you.

"You're so beautiful", she kept repeating it in whispers in between kisses as all of the attention went to your breasts.

You shyly whimpered at the warmth of her mouth, the sound of them increasing as she hummed against your skin, sending waves of heat all the way down to your center.

"I think you need to see how beautiful you are, don't you agree?" she said as she trailed kisses up your neck before lightly pushing you off her lap.

Jisoo pulled you to stand in front of a full-length mirror that was positioned on the other side of your room. She stood behind you, her chin resting on your shoulder as her hands reached around you and swiftly unbuttoned your shorts. Her warm hands grabbed the waistband of both them and your panties before dragging them down your body and throwing them across the room when you stepped out of them.

"Come on, pretty baby", she purred in your ear when she stood back up, your naked skin pressed against her fully clothed body, "On your knees."

You heard Jisoo chuckling as you dropped down almost instantly and she soon followed you. For a brief moment, you caught her gaze in the mirror before she put her hand in between your shoulder blades and pushed you to rest your weight on all fours.

You felt the softness of her hands caressing the back of your thighs, ocassionally squeezing gently. There was a low "fuck" coming out of her mouth as she slowly dragged her index finger along your slit, gathering the wetness that she knew was her fault.

You let out a loud gasp and lowered your head in overwhelming pleasure when she pushed one of her fingers inside of you until it was knuckle deep.

"Please", you struggled to let out and heard another chuckle escaping her throat, "More."

"You're already using 'please', isn't it nice when you listen to me?"

Just as you were about to reply, Jisoo buried another finger inside of you and you interrupted yourself with a loud moan.

She grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled it back, forcing you to keep eye contact with her through the mirror. You could see the hunger in her eyes as she pumped her fingers back and forth.

Every time your head would start to fall down due to your girlfriend turning your body into jelly, she'd pull on your hair every tighter, "Look at how pretty you are while taking my fingers", she whimpered at the sight of you and pumped her fingers faster.

"So fucking beautiful", Jisoo let out before her head dipped down and disappeared from your view in the mirror. The hand that was in your hair pulled on it again when her tongue replaced her fingers inside of you, making your eyes roll back in pleasure and whimpers to fill the entire room. She hummed against you right when her finger came in contact with your clit and began circling it. Your body started shaking rapidly at the immense pleasure as she pushed you closer to the edge by each movement.

"Jisoo, I'm--", you managed to stutter out, unable to form a single sentence. She pulled on your hair once again in encouragment and you found yourself starting to fall apart on your girlfriend's tongue. She released your head from her grip as she helped you ride out your orgasm, almost falling over in pleasure.

Your body was still shaking with after shocks even after she cleaned you up with her tongue, kissing all the way up your back. There was an open mouthed kiss left on the back of your neck before Jisoo's hand reached and took a hold of your chin and lifted your head slightly. Her cheek was almost pressed against yours when she gazed into your reflection in the mirror and you kept watching her as she placed a couple of kisses on your face. The gaze was broken when she tilted your face softly with her fingers and took your bottom lip between her own. Her tongue gently parted your lips before colliding with yours and letting you taste yourself on it.

You gasped into her mouth when you heard a sudden noise muffled by your bedroom door. You soon recognized it as one of your member's voice checking if you're home. You yelled back in a surprisingly normal tone, reassuring her you'll join them soon.

"Come on", Jisoo smiled and gave you a quick peck before helping you stand up. You internally melted when she insisted on helping you with your clothes. That, of course, didn't go without more mumbles of how beautiful you are.

#blackpink #jisoo #blackpink imagines #blackpink scenarios #blackpink x reader #jisoo imagines #jisoo scenarios #jisoo x reader #blackpink smut #jisoo smut

[bloodboundismylife]

The Darkest Hour

Summary: Gaius has finally been defeated, but at a horrible cost. Blaire is dying and there's only one way to save her. Adrian makes a life or death decision that may or may not succeed in saving the woman he loves.

Pairing: Adrian Raines x MC (Blaire)

A/N: Just a little something I thought of after the BB2 finale. I feel like this isn't some of my best work, but I decided to post it anyway. Hopefully it's not as bad as I think it is and you guys enjoy it ^_^

Tag List: @kinda-iconic @adrianadmirer @lilyofchoices @flyawayboo @desiree-0816 @marvelifeforever @tacohead13

Six hours. The longest six hours of Adrian’s life. The wait was excruciatingly painful, and he felt like he was on the verge of insanity. Guilt tore through him at what he’d done, the choice he’d made, but he had to save her. He couldn’t lose her, not after everything they’d been through. He refused to let her die.

Adrian stood guard over the sarcophagus in the Raines Corp basement. He stared at it unblinking; all his senses focused on detecting any signs that Blaire was alive. He was vaguely aware of the others in the room, each of them as grim and somber as him. Kamilah stood against one wall with her head tilted back, and her eyes clouded and distant. Lily sat on the floor nearby with a blank expression and an occasional tear rolling down her cheek. Jax was off in one corner with his head in his hands. He hadn’t spoken since they’d left the museum, and Adrian knew he was feeling immense guilt as it was his sword that Gaius had stabbed through Blaire’s chest. They would have to talk to him later and assure him that it wasn’t his fault.

Besides, Adrian thought bitterly, if there was anyone to blame it was him. He’d promised Blaire that he would protect her, that he would do whatever it took to keep her safe, and he’d failed. He’d been unable to do anything when it had mattered the most, and now Blaire might pay for it with her life.

He thought back to the horrifying moment when Gaius had plunged the sword into Blaire’s chest. The entire world seemed to stop, and Adrian remembered screaming her name as blood seeped through her clothes and spilled from her mouth. He’d fought desperately against Gaius’s hold on him but had been helpless to reach her. He could only watch as Blaire used the last of her strength to force the stake through Gaius’s heart and finally put an end to his tyranny. She’d sacrificed herself to save them. That was how much they meant to her, how much he meant to her. She was willing to die if it meant he was freed from Gaius and his bloody past.

And that’s what made it so painful. Adrian still hadn’t forgiven himself for all the awful things he’d done and the people he’d hurt. He didn’t think he was worth saving, but Blaire had thought otherwise and had made it her mission to break the chains that held him back. That’s how much she’d loved him.

Tears flowed freely down his face, but he didn’t bother to wipe them away. He couldn’t lose her. Adrian didn’t think he could survive without her at this point. The bond they had with each other was something he hadn’t felt since he was with Eleanor. And if that bond broke, it might very well plunge him back into the darkness he’d fought so hard to escape from. Blaire’s death might be his own as he had no idea how he could go on without her.

He didn’t know how much time had passed while he was lost in his inner turmoil, but eventually, a gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder. It was Kamilah. Her usual guarded demeanor was nowhere to be found, and her face was a mixture of worry, sympathy, and sorrow. Adrian still wasn’t sure what kind of relationship Blaire and Kamilah had, but he knew she cared as much about Blaire as he did, and losing her now would haunt both of them for years to come.

“It’s been six hours, Adrian,” she said softly. “We need to open the sarcophagus.”

Adrian looked back at the stone tomb, a knot of dread settling in his stomach. He was afraid of what they would find once they removed the lid. The transformation may not have taken effect, and Blaire might be dead. Or worse, she could have turned Feral and is just waiting for them to give her a way to escape.

“What if it didn’t work? What if she’s dead? Or turned Feral?”

Kamilah hesitated for a moment as if to gather herself before speaking. “If she’s dead, we’ll give her a proper burial. One she deserves. But if she’s Feral…” she trailed off.

“We’ll have to kill her ourselves, won’t we?” Lily asked as she and Jax approached the sarcophagus. Fresh tears glistened in her eyes, and Jax wore an expression of grief and weariness.

“Yes, we will. We can’t let her escape from here,” Kamilah said, her grip tightening on Adrian’s shoulder. “If it comes to that, one of us will have to stake her.”

Adrian felt his heart clench at Kamilah’s words. The thought of potentially having to kill Blaire made him sick, but it would have to be done. Existing as a Feral would be an awful and cruel fate, one that he would never wish on anyone.

They each took up a position around the sarcophagus with wooden stakes in hand. Adrian sent a silent prayer to whatever higher being might be listening before pushing the lid back. He cautiously peered inside to see Blaire lying in the same position as when he’d first placed her on the stone. Her eyes were closed, and her skin had lost some of its color, but it wasn’t the sickly gray of a Feral. He couldn’t tell if her wound had healed as there was too much dried blood on her clothes.

He carefully touched her face and was relieved that her skin was warm. All the tension in his body melted away. She was alive.

“Blaire,” he said quietly. “Wake up.”

For a moment she didn’t move, then he saw her hand twitch and brow creased slightly. Slowly, her eyes opened, and even though he was expecting it, Adrian was still shaken by the red eyes that looked up at him. The idea that she was a vampire now had yet to set in with him.

She stared at him in confusion for a few seconds before recognition dawned on her face.

“Adrian…” Her voice was hoarse, and a small smile played on her lips. The smile he loved so much.

He helped her sit up, and she looked around, taking in her surroundings. She looked at each of them in turn, noting the stakes they held and looked back at him with a growing look of shock and fear.

“Adrian, what…what’s going on…” She stammered, and Adrian felt guilt wash over him again. He stroked her face and stared into her eyes, willing her to understand.

“I’m sorry, Blaire. I had to. It was the only way to save you,” he said as he felt tears welling in his eyes again. She’d had no choice in being Turned, hell she hadn’t even been conscious, and the last thing Adrian wanted was for her to hate him for taking her humanity.

“Save me? From…wha…” She trailed off as she finally took notice of the sarcophagus she was sitting in, and her breath hitched. Adrian helped her out and steadied her when she swayed on her feet. Kamilah placed a calming hand on her shoulder, and Blaire looked at her with wide eyes.

“Blaire, what’s the last thing you remember?”

Blaire paused for a moment to think. “I remember the museum…and Gaius…he-” she stopped mid-sentence and put a hand over her chest where the sword had impaled her. The wound had closed, and realization slowly came to her face. “Gaius stabbed me with a sword. He killed me, didn’t he?”

“He almost did, but we brought you back here,” Jax said. “And now…”

“…I’m a vampire,” Blaire finished for him. Her words hung heavily in the air as the gravity of the situation sunk in.

“We should get out of here,” Kamilah said at length. “Blaire needs to rest, and we have work to do.” She looked at Adrian. “You’ll take care of her?”

Adrian nodded and gently led Blaire out of the basement. The suite on the upper floor was still connected to the building’s power, and it would be the best place for Blaire to recover. She was silent the entire time, and Adrian wondered what was going through her mind. She had to be overwhelmed, given everything that had happened in the last few hours, and Adrian would do whatever he could to help her adjust.

The next few days would be crucial, and he would have to keep a close eye on her at all times. He couldn’t brand her until she fully adjusted to being a vampire, which meant she could still turn Feral at any moment. Adrian would also have to find a blood source for her as she would need to feed soon. But for the moment, all he wanted was to be near her, but he wasn’t sure where he stood with her now. He’d Turned her without her consent, and he couldn’t help but worry that she was angry with him.

The suite was dim and quiet, just as they’d left it when they’d taken off to Europe a few months ago. Blaire sank on to the sofa while Adrian kept his distance and leaned against the kitchen island. There was a long stretch of silence between them before Adrian finally spoke.

“Blaire, I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I never intended to make this decision for you, but it was the only way to save you.” He took a shaky breath. “I understand if you’re angry about all this.”

“Adrian, I’m not angry,” she said softly. “Honestly, I’m feeling all kinds of emotions right now, but angry isn’t one of them.”

She gestured for him to sit next to her, and he obliged. She rested her head on his shoulder, and Adrian felt a wave of relief wash over him. He’d been so certain that his actions would push her away and he would lose one of the few bright lights in his life.

He looked at her and stroked her face. “I was certain you would hate me. If I’d been able to protect you like I promised, you wouldn’t be in this situation. You would still be human.”

She gazed back at him and took his hand in hers. “ There’s nothing you could ever do that would make me hate you, Adrian. Besides, I meant it when I said I didn’t want to leave you.” She held his hand tighter. “I’m happiest with you. I’m glad you saved my life.”

Adrian smiled and shook his head in wonder. How had he gotten so lucky with her? “You truly are amazing, Blaire. I don’t deserve you.”

She leaned in to kiss him, and Adrian pulled her into his arms. “Stop saying that. You deserve me and so much more. I’ll make you see that one day.”

She kissed him again, and for the first time in a long time, Adrian felt at ease. Gaius was finally gone, which meant he could move forward in life. The woman he loved most was alive and safe in his arms, and he no longer had to worry about losing her. It would take time for things to return to normal and rebuilding the city would be difficult, but the darkest hour had passed, and they could focus on healing.

And for the first time in nearly three hundred years, Adrian felt at peace.

#bloodbound #bloodbound 2 #choices #choices stories you play #playchoices #MC #adrian raines x mc #Adrian Raines x Blaire #My MC #fanfiction