#not exactly sure how to trigger tag for the first piece since it’s sort of trippy and maybe kinda horror | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

house-of-slayterr · 2 years

Text

One Sofia Falcone:

Tag: @howl-fantasies @flaysthings @keffirinne

Basil's POV:

Oliver was driving me insane. This Damian Dhark was far more crafty than I anticipated. It was clear no he couldn't have been working alone. It simply wasn't feasible. But who would help this idiot? He certainly wasn't smart enough for taking over Star City, let alone world domination. Thea was the only upside of this whole trip. She reminded me a lot of her older sister.

"B, come here." She called from across the room.

I made my way over to the computer she and Felicity were staked out at. I raised a brow as Thea childishly spun around in her chair.

"Did you find anything?"

"We have reason to believe Dhark has gone into hiding to try and throw us off. He's collection allies by any means necissary." Felicity spoke.

"Ok?"

"I also found evidence that someone very powerful may have been recently resurrected in Central City We believe he will try to contact this person." Thea added.

"Barry has defeated him twice now and each time he comes back he gets stronger."

"Who exactly am I meant to be looking for?"

"Not really a who, more of a what." Thea quipped.

"I am proficient in English, but you are making no sense."

"His name is Grodd. Gorilla Grodd." Felicity said. "He's a telekinetic super gorilla, he can mind control mass amount of the population at once. If Dhark gets his hands on him-"

Great, a mind-controlling gorilla. Just what I needed. I'd been gone for over a week now and Maggie was probably growing restless. Since we met, she grew anxious when we were apart. At first, I thought it odd how quickly she grew attached, foolish even, but it was sort of endearing. She did the same with Oliver.

"You want me to reach Grodd before he does?"

"We know he can mind control humans, we're not sure if this extends to Kryptonians or not."

"So I'm the safest bet, got it."

"You seem annoyed," Thea said it was cute how she was actually worried about me. "Anxious actually. Is there something you need to get back to?"

I sighed heavily.

"More like someone," I mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just had a different plan for how this week would go... I wasn't expecting to have to come here, let aloe fly to Central city to try and chat with a mutant gorilla."

"You had a date didn't you?" Felicity joined in on the teasing.

One thing I learned quickly about her, she was a lovesick fool. She saw the best in everyone and denied herself her own right to romance. The more I hung out with these people, the more Magnolia began to make sense. She borrowed bits and pieces of their personalities to form her own. She pushed people away like Oliver, was overprotective like Diggle, was eager and impulsive like Thea and was smart and a hopeless romantic like Felicity. I'm sure if I had time to analyse the Lance's, Id spot pieces of her within them too.

It was weird how Maggie could consume your thoughts. Unintentionally so. I mean, less than 24 hours into Gotham, she caught the attention of Y/N, something that was rather hard to do. She convinced not only her but Victor and Oswald to protect her. To take her into their world and feel things they never dared to feel before. She turned these heartless criminals into people who now hesitated before pulling the trigger. Not by much, but it was something no one else had ever been able to do.

I grew obsessed with her before we ever met in person. Before I even stepped foot in Gotham. That's how strong of a pull she had. Yet, she was just a girl. An innocent girl who is repeatedly in the wrong place at the wrong time. But I thought about what it would be like if she stayed? Would she be out there with Green Arrow and Speedy fighting crime? Would she have her own bow? Or would Oliver bench her, too scared of having another loved one out there in the field?

"Hello, earth to the Kyrptionian," Thea said, snapping me out of my thought process.

I blushed slightly, embarrassed for zoning out.

"Oh, you totally did have a date!" Felicity mistook my blushing for something that it wasn't.

"If by date, you mean watching movies with my best friend, then yeah. I had a riveting date."

"Is this best friend a girl?" Thea asked.

"We don't have time for this."

"That sounds like deflection. What do you think Felicity, is he deflecting?"

"Definitely."

"I'm not interested in human dating rituals, ok!" I said, a little too loud.

The other boys in the room stopped talking and turned to me. Roy looked confused, Oliver was mildly disturbed and John had a stupid smirk on his face.

"That's what they all say, kid." John joked, more of his miserable dad humour.

"We're just friends, that's all we'll ever be, that's all I want us to be, ok? Now if you excuse me, I have a telekinetic Gorilla to integrate."

I stalked off toward the elevator. The hideout was underground so I couldn't just fly away. I hated how slow this stupid thing was. How does one even find a giant mutant Gorilla? Where would his species be hiding?

I had lots of time to think as I searched the city. Thinking about Magnolia in that way felt weird. I never imagined having a relationship with her, but now I couldn’t shake the thought. Actually, I couldn’t shake the thought of her dating anyone. It was odd, imagining her doing those things. Especially with that stupid cop she was obsessed with.

He wasn’t worthy of here, truly no one was. But not him, I mean he was a cop for fucks sake, in Gotham none the less. He was constantly in danger of getting shot, or being the victim of some low level villain scheme. Surly Y/N and Victor didn’t approve or Maggie’s little crush right? Besides, that idiot moved on to Dr Leslie the second he couldn’t jump Maggie’s Bones. I had half a mind to bash his skull into the concrete for that.

There was a suspicious looking building on the edge of town. If I were going to hide a telekinetic Gorilla, this would be the spot. I flew down and entered through a window in the back. The place was relatively empty, but here were clear signs that people had been here recently. The smell of chemicals was strong in the air. Scientists.

I could feel his heat from the back room. Felicity wasn’t kidding when she said he would be gigantic. Animals had very particular heat signatures compared to humans who were typically quite small compared to most predator species. I used my strength to crack the handle off the door and open. I opened the door slowly, trying not to startle the creature. But it seemed he was defensive anyway, frankly I didn’t blame him.

“I’m not here to hurt you Grodd.” I said.

“Not friend of Grodd” it spoke.

His voice was quite booming in my head, I’m sure anyone would be startled if they didn’t know what to expect.

“I’m not trying to be your enemy either.”

I held my hands up in defence. He allowed me to enter.

“The scientists, what have they done to you?” I asked.

I needed to know what we were working with, perhaps they were trying to enhance him.

“They brought me back, their mistress has them torture me. I cannot leave, they keep me too weak.”

My empathy wasn’t strong, at least not for humans. But being around Maggie must have softened me a little. I felt bad for this creature.

“Are you hurt?”

“Grodd only feels half pain.”

What an odd statement.

“Half?”

“My human, they feel what I feel. But human is tiny, surly they can’t handle it. I try to absorb most pain from scientist, but when weak I cannot control it.”

I took a step closer, looking over the shackles covering him.

“Your human?”

“Yes, small girl. She is very kind, is Grodd’s friend. The plant mistress does not like her.”

Plant mistress, this must be Ivy’s doing. I’d heard of her from the others, but I’ve yet to interact with her yet. She seemed quite devious, definitely a higher level villain. Her powers intrigued me greatly.

“What does this plant mistress want with you Grodd?”

“Control Grodd. Make him help destroy Gotham. But Tiny human lives in Gotham.”

“She wants to destroy Gotham? How so?”

“The plants deserve space, she says they are choked out by humans. She wishes for me to get the humans to leave. Those who refuse my mind control will be picked off.”

“By you I presume?”

“If Grodd strong, Grodd can kill. But Grodd does not mind, the humans are not kind to Grodd and friends. But Grodd does not want to hurt his human.”

It wasn’t completely unusual, Gorillas were pack creatures, territorial, I’d heard stories of Gorillas in captivity bonding with their zoo keeper. But this wasn’t a zoo, and it was clear he wasn’t the biggest fan of Ivy. I doubt he would have bonded with any of the scientists experimenting on him.

“Does this human have a name?”

I was now sitting across from him, trying to clearly show I wasn’t a threat. But I could obviously take him if I needed too, he didn’t look like he was in the best place.

“She’s a pretty flower.” He said.

It didn’t take long for it to click, my heart sank. Of course she was involved somehow. Y/N did mention she’d suspiciously disappeared recently and didn’t want to talk about it. But she came back looking fine.

“Magnolia?”

The gorilla nodded. Fuck.

“You said you’re connected somehow? That she fella your pain.”

He nodded more solemnly this time.

“She brought me back. I’m alive because of her. But when they shocked me to get me in line, she had a burn mark on her side. Gorilla skin is tough, human skin is not.” He said.

I winced. Why didn’t she say anything. I thought back to all the times we hung out and she’d shutter randomly, or wince and pretend nothing was wrong. I just ignored it, she was an odd woman. I never imagined she was being semi tortured. How does their link function from this far away?

“Do you know my human?”

“Yes, she’s a friend.” I stated. “I’ll talk to her, we’ll figure out how to get you out of here Grodd.”

He didn’t deserve this. Besides, having a mind controlling Gorilla on our side could be useful. It would get Oliver and co off my back. But Maggie and I would have to have a serious chat, I couldn’t hide this from Y/N. If she found out on her own we’d both be fucked!

“Friend of flower, friend of mine.”

***************************************************

Maggie’s POV:

I stumbled out of bed when I heard my cell ringing. I grumbled and tried to find were i discarded it the night before. Being grounded was the worst. I wasn’t allowed outside of the mansion until Oz decided to stop throwing his tantrum.

“Hello?” I asked.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” The voice called.

I blinked awake shooting up in bed. It took me a second to recognise the voice.

“Basil?”

“A gorilla, really?” He asked.

Shit. I was completely fucked.

“I didn’t want to worry anyone, I’m handling it.”

“Really? How’s you getting poked and prodded like a science experiment, handling it?”

“How do you even know this?”

“HowI found him is not important!”

“You talked to him? How- how is he?”

“God, you really are too kind for your own good. He’s fine. Weak, but fine. He doesn’t want to go through with Ivy plan-“

“To destroy gotham and turn it into a giant terrarium, yeah I know.”

“And you weren’t going to say anything?”

“I was handling it Basil! I’m just trying to find Ivy’s weak spot ok. She’s going to go after the Wayne’s first. They have something to do with building Gotham and she’s angry about it. I’m gonna Basil, I can handle a little pain. Why were you even there?”

“Don’t turn this around on me?”

“Oh I’m turning, you don’t get to do this shit, I’m older than you, I’m supposed to be the protective one. Wait hold on, I’m getting another call.”

“Don’t you dare hang up on me Mag-“

Click.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, I didn’t have time for Basil to be up my arse about this right now. I looked at the collar ID. Gordon.

“What do you want Jim?” I asked, sounding more bitter than I originally planned.

He paused for a moment, as if he was thinking over his answer.

“There was a break in at your shop, the owner is-“

I took a deep breath, zoning out the rest of his sentence. Of course this was happening right now.

“I’ll be right there.” I said before hanging up.

Oswald was out and about today, it wouldn’t be that hard to sneak out. But I’d have to deal with the consequences later. I threw my hair up in a ponytail, the feeling of it touching my skin putting me on edge. There was far too much going on on this quaint weekday afternoon. Dealing with Oz would be hard enough, but I didn’t need Y/N in a mood as well. I shot her a text.

Maggie: Went into work, something happened, I’ll explain later. Keep Oz busy?

I waited a moment for a response.

Mumzy: Whatever it is, don’t get yourself killed 😉

I rolled my eyes at her response. At least she sounded like she was in a good mood today. She must be torturing some poor bloke. I wondered if she knew Vic was out looking for his kid. I’m sure they’re giving him the wild goose chase of his life. They don’t seem the type to want to be found outside of their own terms.

I sighed as I rounded the corner or the shop. The front window was completely busted out. I scurried past the other cops outside, pushing open the now useless, shattered front door.

“Jim.” I stated flatly.

He pulled me in for a hug, which caught me off guard. I wasn’t aware we were back on hugging terms. He pulled away.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“I just want to know what happened. The old man doesn’t have any family left. I’ll have to figure out what to do with his shit. And I’m not really making enough for a proper funeral, but I’m sure Oz can think of something.” I sighed heavily.

I Saw his face frown in the way it does when he’s disappointed. Which really wasn’t the judgment I need right now. Perhaps he expected me to be sobbing. Of course I grew close with my Boss, but tears just didn’t feel right, right now.

“Don’t give me that look Gordon, it’s been a long few weeks for me, and I’m going to get my arse beat for being here right now. So can we wrap this up?”

This only made his face scrunch more.

“We’re not exactly sure what went down. But he was poisoned by something. We have Luscious trying to figure it out. We’ll give up his body when we’re done with the investigation.”

I stiffened. I knew exactly who did it. But why? I hadn’t pissed her off recently. I’ve done everything she asked of me. The only thing that happened was Basil finding Grodd- shit. How did she find out about that so quickly? Jim seemed to notice this, and placed a hand on my back. This sent shivers up my spine. Damn my body for still reacting to him in this way.

“Thanks.” I cleared my throat.

“Did they take anything? Or was this just a murder?” I asked.

“That’s what we called you for. We didn’t notice anything obvious, but we don’t have an inventory list.”

“Right.”

I broke away from him, avoiding looking at the body off my boss on the floor. I couldn’t see anything out of order up front, but I knew if she broke in she came for something in particular. I made my way to the back room, and as expected, my prized flower was missing. The one she needed to execute her plan on Gotham. I didn’t think she was dumb enough to go through with it.

Fuck it, she already hated me, if I told Jim about her foolish plan, maybe he’s dumb enough to figure out how to stop it. He’s got the same hero complex of my brother, except he’s even more reckless. I came back to the front and Harvey was now there talking with Jim. I gave him a small wave, and he pointed at me causing Jim to turn.

“So?” Jim asked.

“How much time do you have?” I asked.

Both men frowned.

“I know who did it, and I know why. But even by Gotham standards it’s going to sound stupid-“

My watch buzzed, getting a text from Y/N telling me to get back.

“I’ll fill you in down at the station later yeah? I’ve got to get back.”

Jim placed a hand on my shoulder.

“You’re not in danger are you?”

I shrugged. Of course I was.

“Not if I get back to Y/N. Nobody would be dumb enough to attack me when I’m with her. I’ll be fine Jim, but I’ve really got to go. Call me when you have some time to chat.”

I brushed his hands off my shoulder and walked past him, giving Harvey a quick hug.

“Good to see you Harv.”

With that I walked back to the mansion, checking my surroundings every couple of seconds. Y/N met me half way, grabbing my arm and pulling me into an ally.

“Really?” I asked.

“I got a call from Basil.”

“Of fucking course you did! Look whatever he told you, he doesn’t know enough. Not like he thinks he does. And I just found out my boss was brutally murdered, and Gotham is in danger. So can we not do this right now? You can mother hen my ear off later, but right now I don’t need this.”

Much to my surprise, she pulled me into a hug. What the hell was with all the touchy feely bullshit today. Last time I got this many hugs was when I went back home and met my brother crush, Felicity. Normally I shared her optimistic mindset, but things weren’t feeling very happy go lucky as of late. The realism of Gotham was getting to me.

I pulled away.

“What was that?”

“Clearly there’s too much on your plate. And I failed as a person who cares about you if you felt you couldn’t come to me with any of it.”

I placed my hand on her forehead and, as expected she grabbed it.

“What was that?” She mocked.

“I don’t know, just making sure you didn’t like hot your head or get brainwashed or something.”

She rolled her eyes.

“You tell anyone about this, I’ll slit your throat in your sleep.”

“And there she is, welcome back Y/N.” I joked.

“I tried to distract Oz, but apparently he’s throwing another tantrum right now, so we should get back. As much as I’d love to just stay away.”

I nodded. Tantrum was right. I dodged a chair being thrown as I walked into the room. Y/N chuckled under her breath and I sent her a glare. All of the staff looked terrified, and there was two bodies on the floor, bleeding out. I tsked.

“Ozzy!” I tried.

No response.

“Oswald!”

Still nothing.

“OSWALD CHESTERFEILD COPPLEPOT!” I roared.

He finally halted in his tirade and turned to look at me. It was clear he wanted to yell until he realised it was just me.

“Maggie, thank god you’re here.”

I stepped back.

“I swear to god if one more person hugs me today, I’m going to eat my own hands.”

He paused his advance.

“What’s wrong?” I sighed.

“What’s wrong???? WHATS WRONG? If you were here you would know already!”

“I was called away by Gordon, I couldn’t make an excuse.”

It was clear he didn’t expect that answer.

“Oh, oh of course! So that’s how she played it, getting the boyfriend to call you away.”

I raised a brow and looked back at Y/N, who just shrugged. Seems she didn’t keep up on Oswald’s paranoia either.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I corrected.

“Oh I know, cause he’s hers.”

This made my ears redden slightly. I wasn’t aware he was dating again after Leslie left him for that Mario chap.

“And now she’s got Edward.”

This set me off.

“What? Who?” I asked.

“Falcone. Sofia Falcone!” He screamed.

I growled under my breath. The more I learned about this damned family, the more I hated them. Y/N spoke up.

“Why didn’t you send Victor to handle it?” She asked.

“Because he’s nowhere to be found. I’m sure she sucked him in with some loyalty bullshit.”

Y/N stiffened. It wouldn’t be the first time he left her for a Falcone. But I couldn’t have them fighting again, not right now when everything else was going wrong.

“Calm yourself Oz, he’s not with Sofia.”

“And how would you know?” He barked.

“Because-“

“Because what?” It was Y/N turn to speak up.

“Because he’s searching for his kid, alright?”

She froze. Oswald looked shocked, seemingly knowing nothing about the fact that his second favorite assassin was a father. Y/N didn’t speak further, but gave me a look that said we’d discuss it later. I started pacing.

“Where is she?” I asked.

Oswald gave me a weird look.

“Miss Falcone? I just want to have a little chat.” I said coldly.

“No need, I’m sending Y/N to talk care of it. Nobody gets to torture Edward besides me.” He declared.

I rolled my eyes at his possessiveness. I’m kinda glad Oz never had a crush on me, if this is how he acts toward people he likes that way.

“Y/N gon a want to find Victor.” I spoke on her behalf.

Oswald began pacing, trying to make a choice. He loved Y/N, he really did. She was incredibly loyal to him, and the only friend he had besides me.

“And Where thé boy?” He asked.

“Basil is out of town on business.” I spoke. “I’ll get Edward back.”

“Give the kid a chance Oswald. I’ve got to go find my husband.”

Oswald gave her a nod, dismissing her. It was nice to know that Y/N trusted me.

“If you even think for a second that she’s going to hurt you, you get out of there, ok? I can’t go, she’d shoot me in sight, I’ve already pissed her off enough.”

Seems like Sofia had been around for a while and nobody decided to mention her to me until now. But to be fair, I was doing the same to them about Ivy and Grodd.

“Of course Oswald.”

I gave him a hug this time. It was different if I initiated. And I knew he needed the comfort.

“Be back in a bit.” I smiled at him.

I made my way to my room first, stoping to grab the multitude of weapons Y/N and Victor had gifted to me over time. I hid them in my person. Sofia would never suspect someone like me. I made my way to the old Falcone Mansion and knocked on the door. A tall, beautiful woman answered. No wonder Jim liked her. She was gorgeous.

I must have been staring, because she cleared her throat. I shook my head.

“Hi, Sofia right? I was a friend of your fathers, I heard about his passing and I just wanted to give my condolences.”

I winced at my lazy excuse, but she seemed to buy it, opening the door further. She walked me to the kitchen where I set down the flowers I had picked up for her along the way. My back up plan. It was easy to fake nice with her, a skill Moira had taught me to interact with the other rich folk that attended her gala’s. But she was called away by a henchmen to handle something.

Of course I followed, knowing that something was Edward. But what I was shocked to find was Jim. Sofia pulled him in for a long and loving kiss and I had to stop myself from gagging. I was going to rip out her throat with my fucking teeth. Jim didn’t seem to mind the man in green bleeding in the chair before him. Which seemed off. Either she’s great at black mail, or she’s an actual witch.

This being Gotham, I wouldn’t put it past her. I snuck into the room before the door closed and hid in the shadows. Besides Jim, there were two guards and one guy who seemed to be doing the dirty work. I was surprised she’d yet to gag Edward, I mean I love him, but god was he talking a lot of shit for someone In his position.

“Sofia, you should let him go.” Jim spoke.

So at least my brain wash theory was out the window. He still had some sort of reason.

“And why my love? People like him don’t deserve to run Gotham. Nobody will miss him.”

My love, I was going to puke. God I hated this woman. When one of the guards walked off to get a new tool for the executioner, I took him down easily. My brothers training came in handy. I smashed his face into the door frame and quietly choked him out, laying his body gently on the floor as to not make too much noise. Hopefully they would just assume he tripped.

When the next guard got suspicious I heard Sofia speak up again.

“Go check on my guest, I’m sure she’s growing restless without my company.”

I rolled my eyes. People were blessed without this Sucubi’s company. As he left the room, I quickly locked the door behind him, temporarily eliminating the threat. Now it was just me, Sofia and the Executioner. I could count on Jim to set Edward Free. He may be a cop, but he had a soft spot for his ex scientist.

I cringed when I heard Edward scream as she continued to facilitate his torture. Jim turned around in disgust. I snuck up behind Sofia and held a blade to her neck.

“Pro tip Miss Falcone, don’t let strangers into your house.” I said.

She simply chuckled.

“Bringing a measly knife in a room that has a trained killer, wasn’t the best move.” She said confidently.

“Cute you think I only brought a knife.”

“Maggie, what are you doing?”

“You stay out of this!” Sofia and I said in sync.

“Let Ed go, and I promise I won’t hurt you too badly.”

She quickly threw her head back, breaking my nose. I stumbled slightly, dropping my hold on her. She ran to Jim as her “savoir” and started begging him to shoot me with his gun. I pushed my nose back in place, spitting out the blood that drained into my mouth.

“You fucking bitch!” I spat.

The executioner came at me with a power drill reving. How stupid, using such a short range weapon. I bet he thought because he was twice my size this would be easy. I ran and slid underneath his legs, regaining my footing and throwing my dagger. It plunged into his spinal cord, paralysing him on the spot, and he dropped to the floor.

“What the hell Magnolia!” Jim scolded.

“Oswald’s going to burn this town to the ground if I don’t get Ed back to him. Everyone else is a bit busy. Besides, you and I still need to chat after this.”

“Damn it Jim!” Sofia exclaimed.

Clearly jealous of the chemistry we had. I had more history with him, even like this he’d choose me over her. And she was beginning to understand that. She stole his gun from his side and aimed it at me.

“Sofia, don’t.”

“She’s in my way Gordon.” She said.

As she was about to pull the trigger, Jim jumped in front of me, taking the shot to the abdomen. My eyes widened. Oh, this bitch is so dead. She made a break for the door and ran away. Clearly she wasn’t one to get her hands dirty often. Hence the staff. I ran to Jim.

“You’re an idiot.” I judged.

“Not that I don’t want to witness this lovers quarrel that’s about to happen, but I’m still tied up over here.” Edward snipped.

Clearly Riddler was calling the shots right now. I sighed, walking over to him and cutting him free. I ripped off a part of his sleeve and jammed it in his chest.

“Keep him alive for me will you?” I asked.

But it was worded in a way that it wasn’t a question.

“I like this side of you.” He complimented.

“Be lucky you’re not on the end of my anger right now. But he dies, not even Oswald can stop me from ripping off your hands.”

“Don’t go after her Maggie, it’s not safe. She’s a Falcone.” Jim said, pain in his tone.

“Yeah, and you were dumb enough to get in bed with her. Never jump in front of a bullet for me again.”

I was done playing innocent little girl at this point. I didn’t really care if Jim knew how much Gotham had changed me. There was no time to be playing double, all my energy had to go into keeping my friends safe. I ran into the hall, trying to track her. Another trait my brother had taught me. It wasn’t hard to find her when the sound of heavy boots from the second guard came charging at me.

He tackled me to the floor, but I thought quickly and knees him in the balls, then smashed my face into his. He rolled off me in pain. I brought my boot down on his neck. Applying pressure slowly.

“Where is she?”

No answer. More pressure.

“I’ll let you walk out of her with all your limbs if you tell me. She can’t be paying you that much.”

Still no answer.

“Shame.”

I kicked him in the skull, knocking him out. He was fairly innocent in all this, no sense in killing him just because he was loyal. I looked up when there was suddenly a knife lodged in his forehead.

“Kid?” I asked.

She gave me a smile.

“Y/N sent is your way, said you might need help. My father is tracking down the rogue Falcone.”

I smiled at her. I took the knife out of the guards head and handed it back to her.

“Thanks”

“You wanna help Vic skin this bitch?” I asked.

She smiled back at me.

“I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“She shot my ex.”

“Most girl would be happy about that.”

“Yeah, well this girl is still in love with him for some reason.”

“I’ll cut her hair off first!” She exclaimed, running down the hall presumably where Victor was tracking Sofia down.

We found the cornered, guns pointed at each other. I knew Vic wasn’t dumb enough to make the same mistake twice. He wouldn’t betray Y/N, not again.

“There’s no where to run.” I said.

Victor turned to me with a goofy smile face. I haven’t seen him this happy in a while.

“My father would be disappointed in you Victor.”

I laughed.

“Oh don’t pull that shit! Your father would have been disappointed in you, running his empire into the ground you dumb cunt! He sent you away, at least he actually liked hanging around Victor.”

Victor handing me his gun, unclipping another from his belt. I shot her in the foot.

“That was for fucking my boyfriend!”

I shot her other foot.

“And that was for shooting him!”

Her screams felt like music to my ears. No wonder Victor and Y/N loved this shit, it was exhilarating. I took a step closer to her.

“I’d take the time to torture you, but Gotham’s got bigger problems for me to attempt to. And I’m not a monologging fucker.”

I shot her point blank between the eyes. I turned around handing Victor his gun back.

“Get out of here, I’m sure Jim’s called in back up. Your wife’s not gonna be happy if she has to break you out of jail again.”

Van gave me a fist pump as they walked away. I ran back to the room where Jim and Edward were. Ed saw the blood on my face and smirked.

“He’s fading but the ambulance is on the way. Guess I get to keep my hands.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Get out of here before the cops get here idiot. And go see Oz, he’s worried sick about you!”

Edward tipped his Bolo hat to me and escaped. I replaced the pressure on Jim’s bullet wound.

“Did you kill her?”

“She wasn’t gonna stop Jim… and she shot you.”

He glared up at me.

“Oh don’t give me that look, you’ve killed people before. Now hush, save your energy.”

I waited for the paramedics to get there. I embellished the story to Harvey and made sure to ramp up the tears. It would make the self defence angle work better. I sent Y/N a quick text to let Oz know I’d be at the hospital with Jim. He’d probably be too busy with Edward to notice I’m still gone anyways.

I then sent Basil a text to meet me there. I might as well kill two birds with one stone. I’d tell them both Ivy’s plan for Gotham. I was ready to stop being her pushover. I was ready to grow up, and stop hiding behind this innocent little facade. Gotham kept taking more and more of me, and maybe it’s time I started taking things back for myself.

An: ahhh, this chapter was hella fun to write. Sorry if writing isn’t as quick recently. I’ve been feeling a little more fatigued than usual. So the brain fog is real. It just takes a few more days to get things out is all. Now I have to figure out what to do for the next chapter 👀 let me know if y’all have any ideas!

#basil zor el #gotham #gotham oc #magnolia blossom #maggie #gotham imagine #sofia falcone #victor zsasz

9 notes · View notes

barclaysangel · 2 years

Text

Bells in Santa Fe: Chapter 4~ “You Won’t Even Notice Me Depart”

Here's the new chapter! Posting this right at the beginning of my first morning class at university because I have no chill and just want this out. Also since I'm in class, I might not respond to PMs and I apologize for that. If I have a lot of messages, I won't respond just yet because I won't be fully involved since my head is at school and this fic, but I'll do my best to respond by the weekend. I hope you'll enjoy reading this fic, please comment to let me know what you think because comments help fuel my motivation! Thank you and enjoy! :)

Tags: @arthurpendragonlove @teoandtommy @streets-in-paradise @lostgirluver @tiffany-lee-ray (if you want to be tagged in future chapters for this story, please let me know and I will do so!)

Word count: 4.2K

Summary: But James was an expert at distracting him from his conflicting feelings. Just like he was doing now, wanting Junior to tell him about himself. What the fuck was he supposed to say?

Junior had been awake for two weeks, exactly fourteen days, when his uncle asked him a question.

“Brandon, how would you feel if I asked you to live with us?”

A question that might as well have been a bomb.

Junior dropped his fork onto the plate, the sound clattering loudly. He quickly picking it back up as he tried to keep himself composed. “I…I…I don’t know. I never…I never thought about it…” he murmured truthfully, stabbing a small piece of chicken and pushing it into his mouth.

While the teenager tried to look calm, he could tell that his uncle wasn’t buying it and spoke his next words carefully. “I mean, your doctor said that you might be able to leave in about a week. So I thought we might want to have a conversation on where you want to go.”

Junior’s jaw moved automatically as he chewed until he swallowed the food, his appetite long gone but he didn’t want to draw anymore attention to himself. “I-I guess. I really haven’t thought about it at all.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Well, besides Jake, I’m your last living family member. You really haven’t thought about where you’ll go?”

“I honestly didn’t think I’d make it this far. I figured that a cardiac arrest triggered by a nightmare would take me out eventually. I’ve had some close calls, it’s really only a matter of time.”

The man closed his eyes for a brief moment and took a deep breath before opening his eyes again. “I’m gonna let that slide because I’ve realized that humor is a coping mechanism for you,” he started and his nephew wanted to deny it but knew that it was right, “but I think it’s something you need to think about. There’s…there’s really nowhere else for you to go. Foster homes aren’t normally ideal and…and I know that my wife and kids would love to have someone else join the family.”

There was a feeling inside of Junior that he couldn’t shake. Fear. Panic. Something of the sort. It terrified him.

But it wasn’t at the thought of not knowing where he could go.

It was at the thought of James’ family somehow wanting Junior to be in their home.

And the thought that he could have a new family. The realization hit him like a ton or bricks that that was something he surely wasn’t ready for at all.

Junior didn’t say anything, fidgeting with his fork and gave up on trying to eat anything else. His stomach was churning and he was certain that one more bite would make him physically sick. “I…I need to think about it.”

It was a ridiculous response, the teenager knew that. He had nowhere else to go.

He could end up in the foster care system under a fake name. But they could find information about it, they’ll find out that he really isn’t Brandon, that he is Junior Wheeler. The coward that ran away because he couldn’t process his trauma the normal way and wanted nothing to do with his past.

Or he could go with his uncle. Live with him, his wife, and three children all the way in Seattle, Washington. Over two thousand miles away from Hackensack, it would be the perfect place to start over and forget Junior Wheeler ever existed.

But he knew that could go awry very quickly. Junior could still be hostile. He still bottled up his emotions to the point where he could explode at any given moment. He had nightmares almost every night. He was also a liability because of his new heart condition.

They could easily change their minds and realize that they have burdened themselves with a traumatized coward who committed patricide and send him away. Then he’ll end up in foster care and he would be back to square one.

It seemed like a lose-lose situation in his eyes. But it also seemed like the most obvious answer was just to say yes to his uncle.

Unfortunately, the teenager didn’t have the balls for that and decided that he would just need to delay his response for as long as he could.

But James smiled as if his nephew did have a choice, nodding his head. “Of course, Brandon. I understand that this isn’t easy for you, so…take good time. We got plenty of it.”

If Junior had a dollar for every time his uncle told him to ‘take his time’, he’d be a fucking millionaire.

He appreciated it, truly, but he was most likely leaving the hospital in a week. It’s not like he had a lot of time left in his hands. Time was running out, and quickly. It wouldn’t be long before he would be forced to make a decision.

Junior was quiet, pushing his food around with his fork but still not eating. “Do you…do you think your family would even…you know…like me? If-if I did decide to live with you, that is…” he questioned hesitantly and kept his eyes on his plate instead of having to look at his uncle.

“Of course they would,” James replied quickly and Junior could practically hear his smile, “whenever they call, they ask about you more than they ask about me.” He told him with a chuckle.

James’ family do call everyday and each time before picking up, he would ask his nephew if he wanted to talk to them. Each time, Junior would say no. He couldn’t. He just…he fucking couldn’t. He wasn’t ready and he wasn’t sure if he ever would be.

Now that the teenager thought it about it, he wondered if it made him look rude. He was sure he did, actually. Turning down every opportunity to talk to the family of the man that hasn’t left his side since before he even woke up.

“They don’t even know me.” Junior murmured under his breath, finally putting down his fork.

How could they like me if they knew everything? If they knew that I’m a murderer, a bully, a coward? He thought to himself.

“No, they don’t know you, but I know that they’d like to meet you very much.” James told him in a gentle voice, making his nephew finally look at him. “Believe me, Brandon. If I like you, then they will too.”

You’re stupid if you actually like me and the pain in the ass I’ve been to you and everyone else in my life. Junior nearly said it out loud but he physically bit his tongue.

God, the teenager felt like such a fraud sometimes. His uncle didn’t even know who he truly was. He just saw the broken piece of what his nephew used to be.

But the man didn’t know that Junior murdered his own father and didn’t regret it.

He didn’t know that the teenager worked with two serial killers willingly.

And he certainly didn’t know that Junior considered killing his best friend and ex-girlfriend just to prove his worth to a fucking psychotic doll.

He didn’t know any of that. And if James did, he would toss his nephew aside and want nothing to do with him.

As he should.

Along with that, the teenager just had…guilt. So much guilt that was writhing inside of him, begging for a release. Most of it was from his past, his past that was still so recent because it had only been a couple weeks. But some of it was present too.

James was always with Junior. As soon as he would wake up, James would be there all the way until visiting hours were over. And even then, he would sometimes stay past then until a nurse would have to tell his uncle that it was time for him to leave.

The only person James has seen within the last two weeks was his nephew. It’s not like he knew anyone else in New Jersey. He almost never left the hospital and would probably have to be physically removed if he tried to stay any longer.

Junior just didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve all of the time his uncle has put into taking care of him when he knew that he wasn’t a very good patient. But James kept trying and trying, ever since patiently, and it made his heart ache.

Besides, his uncle should be spending time with his real family. He had a loving wife and three kids to go home to. And to make things worse, James wasn’t there to spend Thanksgiving a few days ago with his family. He was stuck with his shitty excuse of a nephew instead.

Of course, James reassured him that it was okay. “I’ve had plenty of Thanksgivings with them. I’ll have plenty more, kiddo. Besides, I’m glad to spend this Thanksgiving with you.” He had told the teenager that day, with a smile that was full of night and reminiscent of his mother’s.

His uncle shouldn’t have done that, shouldn’t have kept doing it, but he did it anyway. He stayed by Junior’s side even in moments where he tried to push him away. He was patient and understanding and his nephew just didn’t understand why.

“Brandon? You okay?” James’ voice pulled the teenager out of his dark mind.

The latter gave him a small false smile and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m just…thinking, I guess. It’s…it’s a lot too think about it.”

His uncle smiled lightly, reaching over to pat Junior’s hand that was resting on his bed. “I know. I mean, I know that this isn’t easy for you. I can’t even begin to fathom what you’ve been through and-and seen recently. I understand why you’re hesitant to want to live with us.”

Junior nodded stiffly, wanting so badly to argue or even fight, but he was trying to change. He was trying to be a better person. He needed to make different decisions. “I know, it’s just…I…I can’t explain it,” he started speaking, pausing a few times, “I don’t know if I’m…ready for something like that but…I don’t have much of a choice.”

“Brandon, you always have a choice.” His uncle told him with serious but kind eyes. “I’m not forcing you to move all the way to Seattle. We’d like it if you did, yes, but it’s still your choice and we’ll understand if that’s not what you want. I just want the best for you and…and I want you to be okay.”

I will never be okay. Yet again, words the teenager wanted to say but he held them in.

He didn’t need to keep concerning his newfound uncle and make him realize just how mentally unstable his nephew really was.

But Junior kept himself composed, merely smiling a tiny bit at James. “Yeah, I…I guess you’re right. It’s a nice offer, really, it is. I just…I have to think about it.” Because I don’t think I’m ready or deserving to have a new family.

James gave his nephew’s hand a light squeeze. “Of course, Brandon,” he said before deciding to change the subject, “want me to get you some more Fritos? Because I honestly don’t blame you if the hospital chicken is making you lose your appetite.” He joked and chuckled.

The teenager giggled under his breath and nodded, his uncle getting up and leaving the room. Finally, he was alone and dropped his calm demeanor, immediately holding onto his blankets in a death grip as his breathing grew heavier.

He didn’t like this feeling, the panic that was rising in his throat and his heart rate picking up. He tried to distract himself to avoid the cardiac arrest that could show up at any given moment, placing one hand on his chest and he could feel how fast his own fragile heart was beating.

He needed to calm down right now.

“S-see the people wal-walking down the street, fall in-in line just watching all their feet…” Junior began muttering his favorite song, “We Got the Beat”, under his breath, stammering through it at the beginning until he began getting further and further into the song.

Eventually, his heart began to slow down and he could feel the anxiety ebb away, leaving him alone with numbness now.

How the hell was the teenager supposed to get used to this? Being on the brink of a panic attack, there would be a cardiac arrest almost around the corner just waiting to catch him off guard and kill him.

What if his kid cousins wanted to play with him? Would he just drop dead from his heart exploding?

That’s one way to traumatize some children.

Then again, a serial killer possessing a three foot doll would probably be more terrifying and traumatizing…so maybe a teenager dying out of nowhere wasn’t so bad.

“I’m back!” James announced as soon as he entered the room, blissfully unaware that his nephew was minutes away from a cardiac arrest.

But Junior made himself smile and sit up a little, taking the bag of Fritos that his uncle offered him. “Thanks.” He said quietly and ignored how his hands trembled slightly when he ripped open the bag.

And with that, they are their snacks in silence as the teenager was left with the thought of what he should do with his new life.

__________

“Tell me about yourself.”

“What are you talking about? You know basically everything about me.”

“No, I only know what I remember from when you were a kid. It’s been nine years, I want to know get to know the fourteen year old you.”

It had been three days since James had asked Junior to come live with him. His uncle hadn’t pressed on the issue recently and the teenager was thankful for it. He was still thinking it over and over again even though his doctor told him that he would be released from the hospital in five days.

He just didn’t know what to do.

But James was an expert at distracting him from his conflicting feelings. Just like he was doing now, wanting Junior to tell him about himself.

What the fuck was he supposed to say?

“I think you know plenty,” the teenager insisted while being seated up and moving his legs off his bed, not wanting to walk but just wanting to stretch them out, “I’m riddled with trauma and a heart that’ll give out on me at any second. And I have daddy issues.”

James sighed but his nephew spotted a ghost of a smile on his lips anyway. “Yeah, okay, I know that. But that’s still not enough, Brandon. I want to get to know you. I’ve talked about myself and your mother for the past couple weeks. Now it’s your turn.”

Junior went quiet, not knowing what he even was supposed to talk about. “I…I don’t know what you want to know about me.” He said almost shyly while shrugging his shoulders up and down.

“Anything, really. Even the most trivial things! Like…” his uncle thought about it before snapping his fingers, “what’s your favorite color?”

“Green.” It was an automatic response that came out-one that his father had ingrained in his mind for years-before the teenager could think about it, making him freeze and then shake his head. “Wait, no it’s not…” oh son of a bitch, what was his favorite color?

He sat there, wracking his brain for at least a solid minute while trying not to break into a panic attack in the process-how could he not know his own favorite color?!-before it hit him. “Red. It’s…I think it’s red.”

Junior remembered liking the color red when he was younger. It could be bright or dark, he didn’t care. He liked it.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t mind having his father’s maroon colored blood splatters decorating his face and hoodie like some kind of fallen angel.

“Red’s a really good color.” James replied with a reassuring smile, pausing as he thought another name. “How about your favorite song?”

Junior hesitated bashfully, biting his bottom lip before sighing. “Don’t laugh. I’m serious, don’t.”

“I won’t! Promise!” His uncle said quickly, putting a hand to his chest like he was swearing a vow.

The teenager remained quiet until he spoke. “‘We Got the Beat’ by the The Go-Go’s.” He muttered, barely able to hear himself but James did because he immediately started smiling and a chuckle slipped past his lips. “I said don’t laugh!”

“I’m not laughing!” His uncle said and chuckled again, making his nephew narrow his eyes dangerously at him. “I’m just-your mom used to sing that song all the time! She was so obsessed with that song! It’s just bringing me back, that’s all!”

Junior relaxed a little before nodding, a fond smile growing on his face. “Yeah, she…she introduced me to that song years ago. And I guess I just…got attached. I always sing it when I need to calm myself down or hype myself up.”

His uncle raised his eyebrows and smiled more. “You still sing?”

His nephew paused, shrugging his shoulders. “Not really. Only when I’m alone. Like…completely alone. But even then, I hardly sing at all.”

“You used to love singing when you were a kid,” the man pointed out, “it didn’t matter where you were, you would always be singing and dancing to Disney songs.”

“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago.” Junior reminded him. “I don’t do that anymore.”

Hell, he couldn’t even remember when it was the last time he actually sang in front of someone. Now just the mere thought of singing with other people around made his stomach churn and his anxiety grow.

Wow, I really have changed since then, hasn’t I?

“I guess you’re right. But I bet that you’re still a good singer.” James said with a playful smile.

“And this conversation is over, next question.” Junior said with a straight face, crossing his arms carefully over his chest.

His uncle snorted and rolled his eyes, but silently agreed to change the subject. “Okay, fine…favorite type of food?”

The teenager didn’t say anything, thinking about it before giving up and shrugged his shoulders again. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve had anything I just…really loved for years, you know? I’ve always had to stick to my diet.” He admitted as casually as he could, like it was normal to be ‘dieting’ to the point where he was underweight.

His newfound uncle, certainly, did not look like he found the comment casual. “How…how long have you been…on that diet?” He asks, sounding like he was trying to not get angry.

Junior swallowed nervously and resumed his fidgeting on his own hospital gown. “I don’t know…five years…give or take.”

James nodded, his jaw clenched and even though his nephew knew that the anger wasn’t placed toward him, he still couldn’t shake off the uneasiness inside of him.

“You’re mad.” Junior stated cautiously, watching the man carefully.

“Not at you,” his uncle quickly reassured him and took a deep breath to relax his demeanor, “definitely not at you. It’s just…you’re a kid. You-you shouldn’t have been on a diet or be forced to do anything you don’t want to do. You can do whatever you want, eat whatever you want. I mean it.”

The teenager figured he was talking about if he decided to live with his uncle. Just a hint of a question that Junior hasn’t answered, but at least he knew that James didn’t forget. He was just giving him some space and was greatly appreciative of it.

“Thanks.” Junior said with a small smile and decided to let this subject drop. He didn’t want to talk anymore about food, he supposed it was still a touchy topic for him.

After being silent for a minute, wrestling with his own thoughts, he spoke again. “I’m not saying yes,” he started off without needing to explain what he was about to talk about, “but if I…hypothetically did…are you sure it wouldn’t be too…much on your family? I don’t want to just, like, barge in and fuck everything up with my presence.” The last part was meant to sound like a joke, even chuckling, but he genuinely meant it.

“You will not fuck anything up,” James told him seriously, obviously noticing that his nephew wasn’t joking, “I’ve talked about this with my wife and she’d love to have you with us. Markus and Sofia have talked about you a lot and want to meet you. Daniel too, I know he does, he just loves meeting new people even if he doesn’t understand the situation. You wouldn’t be in the way if you decided to live with us, I promise. But it’s all your choice, Brandon.”

Junior relaxed slightly and nodded, his shoulders losing the tension despite the small amount of apprehension he still felt. It was one thing to say that now but if he did make the decision to go through with this, James’ words could still change. They still could realize that it was a burden to take on such a troubled kid, he knew that it would happen.

He just needed to prepare himself for when the inevitable downfall occurs.

“Ask me something else.” The teenager told him and then James did. His nephew answered as honestly as he could until visiting hours were over. But, of course, his uncle stayed a little longer anyway, still checking up to make sure Junior was alright.

And in that moment, growing tired from his day of questions with his uncle standing beside him and once again mentioning that he looked so much like his mom, he made his choice.

“James…I’d like to live with you,” Junior spoke hesitantly but he meant what he said, staring up at his uncle, “if-if it’s still okay with you and your family.”

James blinked before he began smiling widely, reaching out and gently stroking his nephew’s hair back. “You have no fuckin’ idea how happy that makes me to hear.” He said with a soft chuckle, looking both ecstatic and relieved. “Try and sleep now, okay? We’ll talk more about this tomorrow.”

Junior’s heart skipped a beat, whether it was from the happiness he was experiencing or his condition, he wasn’t sure. But it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep after his uncle left and by the time morning came, they were both in a good mood.

“I got you some things.” James said while holding a bag, a big smile on his face.

“Isn’t it a little too early for gifts?” The teenager joked, covering his mouth with one hand as he yawned since he had just woken up and then put his hand down.

“Actually, no. I’m behind about nine years worth of birthday and Christmas presents, but we’ll unpack all of that later.” His uncle chuckled before reaching into the bag and pulled out a phone, handing it to his nephew. “Why don’t we start with this?”

Junior sat up a little more and took the phone in his hands with a bashful smile. “You got me a phone?”

“Of course, how else am I supposed to keep in touch with you when I go back to work?” James replied with a playful smile, nudging the teenager’s shoulder with the back of his hand before reaching back into the bag.

“You could’ve just gotten me a flip phone, you didn’t need to spend so much on an iPhone…” Junior started to say while chuckling before pausing and dropping the phone on his lap when he saw what the man was holding in front of him, “is…is that…?”

“It’s your new birth certificate.” His uncle told him as his nephew carefully took the important piece of paper. His birthday was still the same but his name was different. It was Brandon Reyes. “I know we never talked about if you want to have a different last name, but you said you didn’t want to be Junior Wheeler anymore. So I hope you don’t mind being a Reyes instead.”

There was something building up inside Junior. He wasn’t sure what it was but it made him want to cry. “How did you get this?” He asked after clearing his throat and trying to keep himself composed.

“I have some friends.” James replied with a smile, ruffling his nephew’s hair with one hand. “Are you okay? With-with being a Reyes? ‘Cause I can get it changed if you don’t want—!”

“I’m happy!” Junior quickly said, blinking several times to will the tears away as he looked up at the man. “I…I’m a Reyes. Like you…like my mom. So…thank you.”

His uncle smiled more at him. “Of course, Brandon. You’re family. This is what family does.”

The teenager didn’t know what would happen in four days once he would move to Seattle. But right now, he felt happy. Happy for the first time in such a long time. Maybe everything could get better once he was far away from New Jersey and his old life. He could finally start fresh and discover who he really is.

And right now, all Junior could hope for is that he made the right decision.

#Luna talks #admin #Chucky #Chucky tv series #Chucky 2021 #Junior Wheeler #Junior Wheeler is alive #Au #alternate universe #original characters #James Reyes #Junior Wheeler centric #Fanfiction #fanfic #fic #Bells in Santa Fe #Archive of our own #ao3

8 notes · View notes

heliads · 3 years

Text

Deserve You

Based on this request: “Bucky imagine where you're dating but you're not an avenger, so you sometimes feel not good at all for him even though he loves you more than anything. one time he comes from a mission to you waiting in his room, doubting again but he immediately tries getting this thought out of you and gives you his dog tags to prove he's yours forever and it's all cute then? :)”

masterlist

You open your eyes gradually, the last remnants of sleep being dragged away by the brightness of dawn. You allow yourself one final moment of lingering silence before sitting up with a yawn. A brief spurt of panic flashes across you when you realize that you’re alone in your bed, but then you hear a quiet noise from the kitchen and your pulse begins to settle once more. Bucky must have already gotten up, there’s no need to worry.

You keep having moments like this, where you turn to find yourself alone and keep thinking that this is it, that he’s finally left you. Then you mentally chide yourself for thinking that way- every single one of the Avengers that you’ve met on your trips to the old Stark Tower keeps talking about how Bucky’s head over heels for you, so why would he ghost you out of nowhere? You always smile for a second, thinking about your boyfriend, and then the doubt creeps back in and you glance around to find him. Every single time, without fail, those lurking remnants of doubt always worm back into your mind, and sometimes it feels like there’s nothing you can do to get rid of them.

The only available option is to find Bucky and put your mind at ease by knowing that he’s still here. So, you slide your legs out of the still-warm blankets, grimacing at the shock of the cold air, and pad over to the kitchen. Sure enough, Bucky is holding a mug of some hot beverage, maybe coffee or tea, and staring out the window at the city below him. He does this, sometimes, just watches the city like he could do it for hours. You have a feeling that he’s studying the city for any last lingering resemblance to the New York he’d grown up in, when the most pressing news was World War II and he didn’t see himself in Siberia for anything more than a ski trip, if he could put together enough pennies to afford it. However, life has a way of throwing you for a loop, and all of Bucky’s plans for the future evaporated as soon as he plummeted from the train all those years ago.

Bucky turns when he hears you approach. “Good morning.” You smile, joining him by the window. “Good morning yourself. Are you up early for an assignment or because of a nightmare?” Bucky frowns. “The latter. Did I wake you? I thought I was quiet.” You shake your head. “No, I was asleep the whole time. I just knew because you have that same look on your face after you have your nightmares.” Bucky laughs quietly. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the spy who knew everything. Sure you don’t want a job at S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m not sure that paying attention to my boyfriend really qualifies me for FBI: Avengers Edition, but I’ll keep it in mind.” You head over to the fridge, starting to pull out some items for breakfast. Bucky leaves within a few minutes, mumbling something about an early morning meeting, and you head to work yourself soon after. Your own workplace is no Avengers Tower, just a typical office building, and you slide into your seat just in time to start the day.

The morning itself is fairly uneventful, and you’re just starting to think that it’s going to be another boring day as usual when you head off to your lunch break. As you’re waiting in line to use the microwave, you hear a pair of women talking at a table near you. You had no intention of eavesdropping, but although their voices are fairly loud your attention was hooked from the beginning when you realize they’re talking about Bucky. More specifically, they’re talking about Bucky’s girlfriend, or lack thereof.

Ever since you started dating Bucky, he had been careful to keep you out of the public eye. When you work as an Avenger for long enough, you learn to keep everyone important to you out of focus, out of danger. If a HYDRA agent got word of the former Winter Soldier’s girlfriend, you’d be on a train to Siberia with handcuffs and a blindfold within the hour, a ransom request already placed on your head. That’s if they were patient- if not, they would just shoot you to send a message. By making sure nobody heard about you, Bucky could keep you safe.

The downside of this is times like now, when you have to listen to two of your coworkers discussing how strange it is that a man as attractive as James Barnes would still be single. Obviously, you can’t say anything, and you’re not sure that they’d believe you if you tried, but it’s still slightly uncomfortable to hear the conversation swirling around you even as you have to stay silent.

One of the women clicks her tongue in confusion. “I mean, isn’t it weird, though? He’s a friend of Tony Stark, there’s no doubt he’d have a shortage of girls who’d be willing to go out to a bar or something on a weekend.” The other woman laughs. “I bet that surplus of girls includes you, right?” The first woman grins cheekily. “I wouldn’t say no if he asked, but even I don’t have a chance. I mean, he’s an Avenger, and one of the hottest ones there. No one here could hold a candle to him. He saves lives on a daily basis and what do we do, sit around all the time? The only woman I could see him with is an agent or maybe Black Widow. At least then he’d be dating someone who’s his equal.”

The words feel like shards of ice threading through your heart, and you turn to go back to your desk, hunger suddenly forgotten. As you stare at your work, though, you find you can’t concentrate. You keep hearing what the women had said, that no one in this miserable office could be worthy of dating the famous Avenger Bucky Barnes. They’re right, aren’t they? Bucky was saving lives all the time while you complained and acted so needy. You sigh to yourself, feeling your spirits dampen by the second. Why did Bucky see in you anyway?

Bucky’s shoulders feel like they’ve been carved from stone. He’s been tense for so long that he’s certain he’ll never be able to move again. Today is the day that he has to begin reviewing case files from his time as a Winter Soldier. He’ll have to come face to face with photo and video evidence of all the wrongs he’s done, of all the killings and blood shed by his own damaged hands. He’s been trying to avoid it for a while, but S.H.I.E.L.D. needs his input on all of the past Winter Soldier missions in order to proceed with the ongoing investigations into the last HYDRA strongholds. Bucky has no choice but to confront his past, he knows that, but it doesn’t make his job any easier.

It’s not like he’s alone, though. Natasha is here, because her experience with the Red Room could prove useful with putting together some pieces of the HYDRA-Siberia-Soviet puzzle that’s been plaguing them for some time now. Steve is also here, one door down, looking at his old medical files that detail exactly how some brilliant scientists turned a scrawny kid with a death wish when it came to standing up to bullies into the strongest man of the century.

Bucky clenches his jaw, and turns back to the manila file folder in his hand. He flips it open, taking out the diagrams and security camera stills and laying them out onto the table before him as he reads. He’s flipping through the rest of the contents of the folder when he pauses, staring at the images awaiting his acknowledgement. Natasha sees him freeze slightly and glances over to see what’s troubling him. Her brow dips in understanding.

Lying before him are photo after photo of death and destruction. Bucky remembers this day now, after it was buried so long under HYDRA mind wipes and his own crippling want to forget. The bodies of the dead line a small street, buildings reduced to rubble. He can see the dead, so many of them. There aren’t just the few military commanders he was sent to exterminate- no, HYDRA wants no witnesses and so Bucky had killed everyone in sight. There are children in pools of blood, their mothers reaching over them as if to shield them from the inevitable bullets coming their way. He tells himself that their deaths were quick, efficient, maybe even painless, but it is not enough. There is no way to justify this amount of bloodshed.

Natasha puts her hand on his shoulder. The gesture, meant to bring comfort, startles him and it takes all of Bucky’s self-control to not flinch. Bucky swallows hard. “I did all of this. I killed every one of them.” Natasha’s voice is low and quiet. “It wasn’t you. You had no choice in any of this.” Bucky laughs, thought it is heavy with horror and breaks in upon itself. “It’s easier to say that, but it was still my hand pulling the trigger.” He leans back against the wall, trying to steady himself.

“How were you and Steve able to convince anyone to trust me? Why did you even want to save me in the first place?” Natasha stares at the photos, taking in the broken bodies of the dead. “Steve knew the real you, the one who’s standing here right now and would never attempt this sort of carnage. I knew what it was like to lose all control and feel like your hands would always be stained with blood. Second chances are more powerful than you might think.”

Bucky shakes his head slowly. “I don’t deserve that chance. I don’t deserve any of this.” He closes his eyes for just a second as if by blocking out the world he can block out the memory of the methodical shudder of the rifle in his hands, the recoil as he fired again and again. “I don’t deserve Y/N. She-” Natasha cuts him off smoothly. “Y/N knows what you’ve been through, and she knows that you are not that same man. I’ve spoken with her before, and she knows the full extent of what you did.”

Bucky’s eyes cut back to the photographs. “Then why does she stay?” Natasha’s gaze feels like a leaden weight, unflinching and unyielding. “She stays because she loves you. She stays because she knows that the real Bucky Barnes is a hero, someone who is willing and able to move on from their past. Y/N is one of the most important parts of your life, not because she’s a good kisser but because she’s one of the only people who can see straight through you and know that you’re a good man.”

Bucky nods. “I don’t need you to tell me twice.” Natasha’s right, though, and even the barest mention of Y/N brings back a wave of good memories to fight against the bad. She’s like an anchor, someone holding him in place even when all of the darkness he’s had to endure threatens to pull him under. It astonishes him sometimes that he still wakes up beside her every morning. She’s so perfect, so wonderful. What does Y/N see in him anyway that would make him so lucky to have her with him?

You’re in a despondent mood for the rest of the day. You slump home, not even bothering to turn on the lights but discarding your coat and bag in the dark of the room. The faint light still shining through the windows is all you’ll need. You stare unthinkingly at the apartment for a while, then head to your bedroom. As you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, you stop with a sigh, leaning your hands against the dresser underneath.

You stare at yourself, at the dark circles under your eyes. Who are you, anyway? Who are you to think that you would ever be good enough for an Avenger? At this point, it’s only a matter of days before he breaks up with you. No wonder he keeps waking up before you- he’s trying to leave without seeing you that often, as a way to lessen the blow of the eventual goodbye.

The problem about gloomy thoughts is that they tend to wrap around you, pulling you away from everything else. You’re so distracted that you don’t hear the front door open, and you don’t notice Bucky enter the apartment until he knocks softly on the wall of your bedroom as he stands in the open door. You turn around with a flash, plastering on a smile, but your reaction is too late and his brow furrows. “Are you alright?”

You try for a smile, reaching out to kiss him in greeting. “Of course I am. How was your day?” Bucky is not to be deterred. “I saw your face, Y/N. You looked really upset. Is everything okay?” Maybe it’s that velvet tone of his, or the concern laced in his eyes, but your few fragile defenses break down. You turn to him, fighting back tears. “Why are you still with me?” Bucky frowns. “What?” You hold your hands up uselessly. “You’re an Avenger and you’re out there saving lives all the time. Why would you ever be interested in some girl from the city? I’m not half the person you are.”

Bucky stares at you for a second, then wraps his arms around you, drawing you close. “Y/N, love, why would you ever think that?” You look away. “Because it’s true. You should be dating some other superhero of a woman who could be your equal.” Bucky’s frown tinges slightly with anger. “Did you hear about this on some news show? I told that one news outlet that if they said a single thing about me I’d shut them down, and I’ll do it-” You cut him off. “It’s not like that. It’s just- You’re an Avenger, Bucky, and you deserve someone equally as brave as you are.”

Bucky guides you gently over to the bed, and the two of you sit down on the edge. He pulls you into his arms. “I don’t want some superhero. I want you. Y/N, I love you because you’re the only one here who sees me for who I really am, not just some soulless Avenger but a faulty person. Honestly, if anything I’m surprised that you’d still stay with me.” Your tears dry up as you stare at him. “What?” A quiet smile spreads across Bucky’s lips. “Every single day, I come home and you make a difficult day a thousand times better. You know me better than I know myself, and even despite everything I’ve done and the monster I’ve been, you still make me feel like a good man again. You’re one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met, Y/N, and you deserve someone equally as good as you are.”

You shake your head slowly. “That’s not the same. Anyone can be nice.” Bucky cups your cheek in his hand. “Nobody else knows that I always get up in the mornings and pace around because of the nightmares. Nobody else knows that I always stare down the alleyways on the walk home because I keep thinking I’ll see Steve in there getting beat up, or help me pick out jackets based on how easy it will be to remove the left sleeve. You’re the only one for me, doll, and I wouldn’t trade you for a heartbeat.”

He reaches into a pocket. “Here, I’ll prove it.” He takes out something silvery, like stamped metal. With a jolt, you realize they’re his dog tags, the ones he had from fighting in World War II all those years ago. He gestures for you to turn around and you do, feeling the weight of the metal around your throat as he fastens them. When you look back at him, he’s smiling. “See? You can’t get rid of me, love. Not in a million years.”

You smile, running your fingers over the faded lettering. “Won’t you want them? You know, as a memory of your old life?” Bucky shakes his head, a content expression lingering in his eyes. “I don’t need them to remember. I’ve got you, and you’re the only home I’ll ever need.” When he kisses you again, you can feel the dog tags right over your heart, like a promise that he’ll always be with you, no matter what.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier imagines #winter soldier x reader #avengers #avengers imagines #avengers x reader #tfatws #tfatws imagines #tfatws x reader #catws #catws imagines

484 notes · View notes

eatyourchancletas · 3 years

Text

SUMMARY | y/n l/n; the trauma surgeon who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and is taken hostage by the terrifying mafia known as ateez. despite their situations, love arises between the doctor and san; but when an enemy comes in between the group, breaking trust and belief between the members, what will san choose to save; his newfound love or his brothers?

PAIRING | choi san x male reader

INFO/CATEGORY | mafia au, fluff, light angst

WARNINGS | violence, weapon usage/mention, foul language, lower case writing

[chapter index] [playlist] [previous chapter]

AUTHOR’S NOTE | we’re back! sorry for the long break, hopefully we can get into the flow of things! monnie’s already started chapter 5 off amazingly too :p written by both of us this time (mainly edited by monnie)! please leave feedback, like, reblog, whatever you can to let us know whether you enjoyed it or not! (re-edited because dongwoo and changsik were switched up)

WORD COUNT | 2.4k

TAG LIST :; @jonghoshoe if you’d like to be added to the list please say so in our inbox/ask box!

y/n was usually called outstanding, hard-working, smart. but in reality, he was an idiot when he was outside the workforce.

being a workaholic meant showing your skills, growing them, improving them, and practicing them constantly. sometimes it seemed to be all he knew— it’s what all the people around him saw.

yet again, outside of it he’s quite a gullible man; which brings him to his current situation…

“looking for something?”

he looked away from the bandages he was previously examining to come face to face with a man that looked around his age. “not really, just restocking my clinic. or—trying to find things to restock it with.” the man nods, glancing around suspiciously, although y/n didn’t didn’t seem to take notice of this particular action.

“this pharmacy is pretty small, but it has lots of good supplies… lots of hidden gems. want me to show you where i get my tools?”

“oh,” y/n blinked in surprise, “you’re in the medical field?”

the man made eye contact with him, managing a convincing smile. “yeah, there’s a clinic down the road from here, about fifteen minutes by foot, this is the nearest pharmacy, so we stock up from here most of the time. i work there as an assistant.”

y/n nodded, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “wow, then please! show me what you suggest.”

at the approval, the man nodded, “name’s changsik, by the way. what do you work as? i’m assuming you’re also in the medical field.”

they walked along the aisle of the cough syrups, ointments, and the few other medicines to turn and make their way to the exit door. y/n furrowed his brows, about to ask why they were exiting until changsik made another turn, walking towards the staff room.

“your assumption is correct, i’m a surgeon…” he replied belatedly, trailing off as he stepped foot inside the room. his eyes trailed on the shelves full of unopened boxes, more prescription pills, and—bingo! the supplies he’d written down on his list.

for a split second, the memory of san handing it to him flashes across his mind, blinking it away as he turned to changsik. “wait, how are you able to access this?”

“i’m a regular.” he glanced across at him, looking past the window. “and also the perks of having a pharmaceutical license,” a hefty laugh left his mouth, “took some convincing though.”

“huh,” y/n squatted down, inspecting a box that was on the floor, “i guess that makes sense.”

“just put what you need in a box and take it out. i’ll just say you’re helping me take it back.” changsik smiled, watching y/n nod and do so.

after a few minutes, y/n finished and announced he was ready to check out. changsik’s eyes met one of the cctv cameras before settling on y/n.

“alright, let’s go check out.”

as they walked toward the front, they reached the hallway that led to the exit. just as y/n was going to walk past, toward the checkout counter, a hand forcefully grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back. he looked behind him, in a startled manner, thinking changsik had just forgotten something. however, a deeper fear struck when changsik’s hand moved to clench at the back of his collar.

“don’t make a sound.”

the second the cold blade touched the skin of y/n’s neck, the surgeon knew to stay quiet. there was a burning in his throat as he struggled to swallow, scared to trigger any abrupt movement. his frantic mind jumbled about, words of scolding placed toward himself and the situation while trying to get a grip. he thought of using the in-ear to alert jongho, but it would risk exposure of the communication device: in any case… he’d be dead by then.

“what is taking him so long?” jongho grunted, tapping his foot in impatience. it’d already been about 10 minutes since y/n entered the store—it shouldn’t take that long for a surgieron to find equipment that’s of medicinal standard!

tapping his in-ear and calling out the doctor’s name, he got no response. placing his face mask on, he rushed into the store, beckoning the cashier. “have you seen a man, about 6’3” with h/c hair?”

the cashier stared at him with a shocked look, “yes, but he went back toward the restrooms. is he dangerous?”

jongho shook his head before running toward the back of the store. he shoved against the restroom door, shouting out the older’s name as he threw open each stall door. finally admitting the fact that the older had disappeared, he tapped his in-ear once more, calling out for anyone.

“jongho, what’s going on?” hongjoong had intercepted the connection, hearing jongho’s worried voice.

the bodyguard had no time to register the primal fear that would settle itself in his bones once faced with the leader, “it’s y/n, hyung. he ran away.”

jongho returned to the headquarters after scoping out the area once more and had just entered through the front door when he was met with the sight of the whole group.

hongjoong was staring at him with his jaw clenched and an almost empty whiskey glass settled in his lax hand. jongho had never seen a look so severe in hongjoong’s eyes—he’d never messed up this bad. and apparently, the leader wasn’t the only one emotionally affected by his mistake, because before hongjoong could even physically express his own anger, san had snatched the glass from his hand and launched it at jongho, missing his head by less than an inch.

everyone was shocked at his silent outburst, san even going as far to ignore the immense pain in his abdomen and on his shoulder, but hongjoong simply sent the younger a look, causing him to cower back in the slightest. jongho, however, was enraged at what had just happened. what gave san, who had no superiority over him, the right to do that?

“what the fuck was that?” he had stormed over to the boy, grabbing his shirt with both fists. san didn’t back down, sticking his jaw out toward the youngest.

“how could you lose y/n?”

“i was told no matter what to avoid cameras, so i stayed outside! i didn’t exactly think the fucker would have the balls to run away!”

everyone watched the two, eyeing when to step in and pull them apart. but hongjoong let them run their mouths. the longer someone talks, the more something is revealed. what he was looking to be revealed, he didn’t know; but something would come up.

san pushed back against jongho, “y/n hyung wouldn’t run away. he’d never do that!”

‘oh,’ hongjoong perked in interest.

the younger scoffed, “what makes you so sure?”

san’s next words came as a bit of a shock, leaving the others with silent questions, “he promised he’d come back.”

bingo!

an awkward silence filled the room as they all stared, speechless at how hopelessly fond their brother had become for their hostage. as much as some of them hated to admit it, y/n was only a hostage to them at the end of the day. and for san to fall into a reversal stockholm syndrome of sorts was nothing short of a disappointment. however, that couldn’t be the main focus, y/n was missing and they didn’t know how strong his resolve would be in the event of torturing.

“run us back on what happened, will you?” hongjoong told jongho, trying to get a clear picture on what went down because the first thing they needed to know was why y/n was taken, much less, who took him. was it by the same person who’d been running their mouths in the streets?

and right in the middle of his explanation, an alarm went off on yeosang’s phone; it was a message. the others kept talking, figuring yeosang could handle whatever message he’d received.

it was when he promptly stood up that all attention had been placed on him.

“it’s him! it’s dongwoo!”

a soft whimper sounded as y/n was thrown to the ground, hands bound and eyes blinded by some piece of cloth.

“boss,” y/n’s kidnapper spoke in a submissive wave, causing y/n to assume the guy had straightened his spine and was saluting him in some way.

a moment later, a gruff voice broke through the eerie silence in the room, “and who is this?” his voice wasn’t angered or bewildered at all, and that’s what scared y/n. he sounded intrigued; like even he wasn’t expecting to be a part of this situation.

“someone with connections to ateez— saw that bodyguard walking around with him.”

the other man hummed, “the bodyguard didn’t follow you, did he?”

“no, no. i found them by the pharmacy; i know the area pretty well because i do the runs for sowon— i knew the camera blindspots!” his abductor seemed to be a bit on the simpler side when it came to this “boss” of his, y/n concluded. this was a completely different personality than when he was being abducted at the scene…

“good job. and you know what, changsik-ah,” his voice seemed to be getting more intrigued, y/n’s heart beating even faster in response, “since you bought in such a valuable hostage, i’ll let you have the honors of obtaining information from him.”

y/n felt the air beside him shift, changsik bowing a full 90 degrees at his boss’s blessing, “thank you!”

a sickeningly hearty laugh resonated and the creaking of a chair sounded before the boss’s next words seemed to be the final straw for y/n’s pounding heart.

“i want him alive.”

“he better be alive,” san growled at jongho.

“we might get to him alive if you two would quit bickering. we’re wasting time because of you two, so shut it and sit down!” hongjoong had had enough of the two. he knew it was a sensitive time for san and jongho, different reasons for both, of course, but they would only get nowhere if they weren’t level-headed.

the two boys bowed their heads at their leader, san still sending a side-eyed glare at the younger before sitting down in his chair.

it’d been two days since y/n was kidnapped and they still hadn’t been able to come up with a plan to get y/n back.

wooyoung tried to trace where the text message came from within the first minute it was received, but surprise, surprise! it was a burner phone— so back to square one; checking all of the cctv footage in the area and trying to spot a suspect that wasn’t even visible from the first frame.

the cameras in the pharmacy showed only y/n, the pharmacist, clerk, and four other customers. of those four, only one person never entered through the front door. and within those 48 hours, he’d managed to single out a vehicle that had arrived in the frame of one of the street cams showing the alleyway behind the pharmacy, and left the same way not even 5 minutes later. it was a suspicious vehicle too; white van, no windows in the back, and paper license plates. the paper plates hinted that they were most likely changed recently or are changed frequently.

and so after hours of having to witness his best friend be so uncharacteristically frantic and down, wooyoung, unfortunately, decided to do what he thought was smartest—save y/n himself to make his best friend happy again.

his intentions may have been well, but in stories like these, doesn’t something always go wrong?

“help me set the table guys,” seonghwa cleared his throat, hand on his hip as he stirred the soup on the stove. the steam from the boiling liquid sent another cloud to his tired face, a sheen of sweat and condensation forming.

“i really don’t understand why we are acting like we have the time to set a table and eat home cooked meals when we don’t!” san exasperated, pacing around the dining room.

mingi gave a sympathetic smile, patting him on the back before going to help seonghwa.

while mingi was more on the understanding side of san’s worries, jongho disagreed, “how exactly do you expect us to find him if we don’t take care of ourselves?”

“all i’m saying is food and sleep shouldn’t be this consistently on your minds when we’re all in this situation!”

jongho scoffed, finding the utmost absurdities in san’s words, “why are you acting like he’s so important? he doesn’t know anything about us or our weaknesses— for fuck’s sake, it’s not like we can’t just get another doc—”

a fist had flown toward jongho’s cheek, cutting off his words, before san’s thrashing body was being pulled back by mingi and yeosang.

“go to hell choi jongho!” san screamed, trying to force his way through the barrier the two had made with their bodies. the boy could feel his stitches tearing as he fought, but he didn’t care. jongho had been a bitch since the very first moment y/n was around, and for what reason?

“cut it out, san!” yeosang hollered, voice brute as he pushed against the boy.

“no, let me at him. he wants to keep being a little shit, i’ll show him shitty!”

“stop it! you haven’t even noticed, have you?”

san didn’t stop trying to break the barrier, focusing on getting to jongho and the other’s words, “notice what?”

“wooyoung’s missing,” yeosang began, san whipping his head toward him and trying to disagree, but yeosang was having none of it, “and you haven’t done anything but antagonize everyone here for not doing their jobs at your pace!”

“oh, excuse me for trying to be as quick as possible in finding him!”

“yeah, and who ever said quick was the efficient route to go? we’re dealing with people we know nothing about, but they seem to know a little too much about us, no? so stop getting on everyone’s asses and—”

“shut the hell up! please!” seonghwa had slammed his hands down on the table, screaming at the top of his lungs. every person in the room had immediately gone silent, words left on the tips of their tongues in a desperate attempt to fly about.

“you’re all going to shut it, sit down, and eat this meal like the civilized people we are and come up with a plan to get y/n back as safely as possible,” he gave a quick glare at everyone, blowing a puff of air at the lock of hair that had settled over his eyelids.

“am i clear?”

"yes, sir."

#t.k chapter #tinted kisses #kpop x male reader #x male reader #choi san x male reader #san x male reader #choi san #san ateez #ateez fic #ateez series #series #top male reader #ateez #ateez x male reader #kpop imagines #kpop series #kpop fics #ateez fics

178 notes · View notes

iam93percentstardust · 3 years

Note

A very happy birthday month to you! I’m a fan of your Stony fics. If you’re still taking prompts, could you do one with a Las Vegas backdrop? Maybe Steve’s first time there with Tony for some reason? I was supposed to have my first trip there ever but Covid cancelled it. Maybe at least they can have a happy ending there. 🙂

Thank you! I’m glad you’re enjoying the Stony fics!

So sorry your Las Vegas trip was cancelled, that’s really awful. I sort of went to Vegas once (it was a layover in the airport). The only thing I remember about the whole thing was the 5 bajillion slot machines in the airport terminals

Since I know so little about Vegas, I ended up going with the getting married in Vegas trope instead of something about the casinos. I also hope you don’t mind that I used this for my bingo square, but I saw the happy ending part in your ask and got inspired for my happily ever after square (details below the cut)

Here’s to Las Vegas

The day after Steve gets married, he wakes up in a Las Vegas hotel with a ring on his finger and Tony Stark snuggled up beside him.

Most days, Steve wakes up the second his alarm goes off, alert and ready for his run. This day, however, he drifts into wakefulness slowly, comfortably lying on his back. He’s warm and there’s a heavy weight on his stomach and chest, pressing him down into sheets that feel so much nicer on his bare skin than the ones he has at home. That’s the second thing he notices: he’s not wearing any clothes, not even the boxer-briefs he normally wears in lieu of pajamas. And the third thing he notices is that there’s something soft tickling his chin.

He slowly blinks his eyes open. He’s somewhere with high vaulted ceilings and an expensive-looking chandelier, which means it’s not Tony’s place (he thinks chandeliers are tacky) and it’s definitely not Steve’s (he can’t afford a chandelier). Whatever it is on his chest shifts and Steve looks down. Tony is draped across him, the top of his head tucked under Steve’s chin, their arms and legs tangled together. He’s breathing deep and even, still asleep even though sunlight is pouring through the window.

Steve smiles at the sight and raises his head enough to kiss Tony’s curls. He doesn’t often get to wake up with Tony. Steve lives in Brooklyn and Tony lives in Manhattan and they’re both so busy—Tony with SI’s R&D and Steve with his teaching—that they decided early on in their relationship that spending every single night together was a bad idea because one of them would always end up late to work. So this makes for a nice change.

Tony stirs, inhaling deeply. Steve brings his hand up to stroke over Tony’s hair, the way he likes it when they both have a rare day when neither of them have to be anywhere so they can spend the night. That’s when he sees it.

The ring.

The one that’s sitting on the ring finger of his left hand, exactly where it should be—except he’s not supposed to be wearing it for another week.

In the sleepy haze of waking up, he’d forgotten what they’d done last night but the memories are filtering in. Flashes of Tony excitedly talking him into finding a chapel and wrangling a couple witnesses from off the street and filing the marriage license a whole week early because both of them were more than tired of the wedding planning, the swell of emotions he’d felt at hearing Tony declared his husband and sweeping Tony off his feet and back to their hotel, kissing the whole way and probably scandalizing their Uber driver.

He groans and tips his head back against the pillows. Tony makes a low sound and yawns widely before slowly opening his eyes. He looks a little like an adorable kitten and Steve can’t resist kissing the top of his head again.

“Wuzzgoinon?” Tony mumbles sleepily.

“What’s going on,” Steve says, “is that your mother is going to kill us. No, she’s going to kill me, because you’re her darling angel who can do no wrong and she’s never once thought I’m good enough for you.”

“No, you’re better,” Tony says around another yawn. “Why is my mama going to kill you?”

Steve picks up Tony’s left hand and waves it in front of his face. Tony goes cross-eyed trying to make out what’s different about his hand. “Oh,” he says eventually and lays his head back down on Steve’s chest.

“Oh?” Steve asks. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“If Mama didn’t want us to elope, she shouldn’t have sent us to Vegas by ourselves to pick up the rings,” Tony says, as though he’s pointing out something reasonable, even though this is the most absurd thing that’s ever happened in Steve’s entire life—and his best friends are Bucky and Sam. Those two are the very definition of absurd. “Everyone knows what happens in Vegas.”

“This is your fault,” Steve informs him. “If you hadn’t insisted on this particular jeweler—”

“Hmm maybe I was planning this,” Tony hums, closing his eyes again.

And that’s… that’s actually entirely possible. Ever since they got engaged, Tony has been complaining about the big white wedding Mrs. Stark wants them to have and threatening to steal Steve away to the courthouse to elope. Steve had thought he’d calmed down about the whole affair after Mrs. Stark’s tearful outburst about her just wanting her baby to have the perfect wedding (Tony is nothing if not his mama’s boy), but maybe he’d been planning on this instead. He had thought it odd when Tony had insisted on a small-name jeweler in Las Vegas who wouldn’t ship to New York, thereby forcing them to travel to pick up the rings, but if Tony had been planning this all along…

“Did you?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Tony stares up at him for a long moment, blinking. Then he dryly says, “Yes, Steve. I, who has never made a decision that wasn’t impulsive even once in my entire life, somehow managed to both plan out a trip to Vegas to get married and keep it a secret from the love of my life who knows everything I’m thinking before even I know it.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Steve says, grinning at him. What they’ve just done hits him and he laughs giddily. He sits up, pulling Tony up with him to give him a closed-mouthed good morning kiss. “We’re married.”

Tony smiles happily and kisses him again. “Yeah, we are. Good morning, Mr. Stark-Rogers.”

He likes the sound of that. He really likes the sound of that. Another kiss. “What are we going to tell everyone?” he asks.

“Hmm. How about we got so caught up in the thrill of picking up the rings that we abandoned all reason and got married here? It’s not like the big white wedding my mama wants even really matters in the grand scheme of things. It’s the marriage license that counts.”

“She’s still going to want it.”

“Undoubtedly. And we’ll give it to her. But this is nice, isn’t it?” Tony peers up at him anxiously. “No fuss, no caterers with ten different meal plans for all the restrictions, no Great-Auntie Mildred who shouts for the minister to speak louder. No stress at all.”

Steve leans back against the headboard, thinking about it. Tony’s right. They dealt with a lot less stress by getting married this way. But it isn’t just Great-Auntie Mildred that they left behind, it’s their friends too. It’s hard to know how he feels about that.

But then he starts thinking about the wedding picture the photographer had handed them before they left the chapel last night. Steve had tucked it into his wallet for safekeeping, and he reaches over to the bedside table to grab it, pulling the photo out so he can look at it. It’s a picture of their kiss. They’re holding onto each other so tight he’s not sure a piece of paper would fit between them, smiling so broadly that it’s barely a kiss at all. And he thinks about the engagement pictures Mrs. Stark had sent out in the announcement and wedding invitations: poised and perfect and not a smile to be seen anywhere.

“Yeah,” he says eventually, pulling Tony against his chest. Tony snuggles in, warm and beautiful and all Steve’s. “This was pretty damn perfect.”

Tony sighs contentedly and presses a kiss right over Steve’s heart. “Good.”

“But your mother’s still going to kill me.”

“We just won’t tell her,” Tony replies dismissively. “We’ll get married again and we won’t have to worry about the wedding because we’ll know we’re already married.”

“She’s going to notice the rings.”

“Not if we spend the whole week here.”

Steve stills. He hadn’t thought of that. It would solve a lot of problems, not least that Mrs. Stark would finally have free reign to do whatever she wanted with the wedding without any input from either of them. She was doing anyway, but at least now, they don’t have to hear about how their small family affair has turned into the society event of the year.

Tony continues in a wheedling voice, “Call out all our friends, treat it like an extended bachelor party—or our first honeymoon, take your pick.”

Steve stops him right there with another kiss, lingering this time. “And what are we going to do on our first honeymoon?”

“Blow all our money on slot machines. Count cards at the poker table. Go see some really truly ridiculous shows,” Tony says with a shrug. “What everyone does when they’re in Vegas.”

“Hmm somehow I don’t think counting cards is what everyone does.”

“I suppose everyone didn’t grow up with Ana Jarvis,” Tony muses. Steve laughs because it’s true. Howard might think that Tony is a troublemaker all on his own, but everyone knows that Tony learned it from the best.

He’s distracted out of his thoughts by Tony picking up his hand and gently kissing his wedding ring. “It’s the first day of the rest of our lives, darling,” Tony murmurs. “We can do whatever we want.”

Details for @tonystarkbingo

Title of Fill: Here's to Las Vegas Collaborator: iam93percentstardust Card Number: 4012 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29676711 Square Filled: A3 - Free Square Ship/Main Pairing: Stevetony Rating: T Major Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Established Relationship, Fluff, Marriage Summary: The day after Steve gets married, he wakes up in a Las Vegas hotel with a ring on his finger and Tony Stark snuggled up beside him. Word Count: 1558

#alle writes #alle answers #stevetony #if you like please consider reblogging #mistyendings #tsbmiv

174 notes · View notes

dokoni-mo · 4 years

Text

Far Away, Together || Darth Vader x Reader

(A/N: Hello all! This is my first post on tumblr and I am so excited to share my fic with all you lovely people!!! I used to write alot, but haven’t in some time. Since I am renewing my love for star wars, I thought that I would do a little something for my favorite man of all time: Vader!!! A big thanks to Kenna for helping to inspire me to write again (you know who you are :))) ). This is chapter one of a series of about 10 chapters I plan to write. Please enjoy and feel free to ask to be added to the tag list!! also, not my gif)

WARNINGS: mentions of a TIE crash, some cursing

Key: (F/N) = first name (L/N) = last name

Word Count: ~3600

Edit: Link to Chapter Two: [x]

Life on the Super Star Destroyer was exactly the same as the ship looked on the outside: cold, dull, and gray. Color? What’s that? Life? Never heard of it.

No one ever really stopped to mingle with one another, even for a brief, courteous “hello!” or “hey, how’s it going?”. These types of action were seen as unnecessary and not impactful to squashing out the rebellion, as well as to eliminating any sign of hope that one day the Empire will just cease to exist, leaving everyone alone. Everything and everyone had a purpose within the Empire. Everyone had their own job, and heaven forbid that you are somehow unable to do that job. Any failure was seen as weakness, and the Empire had no use for weakness amongst its ranks. These were the fundamental truths of working under the Empire.

Being a mechanic wasn’t so bad. You got to do what you loved to do, so what’s so bad about that? Sure, you had very little contact with the outside world (aside from the occasional news briefing or smuggled-in holovid), you had very few acquaintances, and you were always just referred to as last name only, but all of these could be overlooked. You wake up, put on your drab, gray-green uniform, go to work, then go back to your quarters, rinse and repeat every day of every week. A nice little routine for your nice little job on the nice little imperial vessel.

To say you blended in with the crowd was wrong. Everyone blended in with the crowd, so to say you blended in with the crowd was diagnosing yourself with special-snowflake syndrome. There was no individuality within the Empire. There was only the Empire, the usage of names only a formality or a way to get one’s attention. Despite this, due to human nature, those serving would often try to attempt some sort of individuality. Female officers would have a signature way of pulling back their hair, troopers would talk in different made-up accents, and some even gave themselves tattoos. You, however, found your individuality within your work.

When fixing something, you would often put your own spin on how you bring said thing back to its former glory. Fixing a speederbike? Lets rewire the wires so that they make a nice, pretty zig-zag pattern. This will help it steer a bit better, anyway. Fixing a blaster with a faulty trigger? Why not add a new cooling system just to be nice. Fixing a TIE? Oh boy, the possibilities are endless.

This may be what has allowed you to rise through the ranks so quickly as a mechanic. There was seemingly nothing that you couldn’t inflict your midas touch upon. Plop anything down on your workbench and it's a guarantee that it will be fixed.

On the other hand, it may just be dumb luck. This is ultimately what you thought. You were just merely doing your job, trying to not cause any trouble for yourself, just like everyone else you worked with. It just so happened to be you that the Empire had noticed.

It was this attention that landed you this new assignment.The news had come suddenly and almost unexpectedly. Pack your bags, (F/N), you're out of the Endor research station and now on a one-way ticket to the Super Star Destroyer. Of course, there was no one around to pat you on the back when you got the news, and certainly no one to say congratulations. You did that yourself that night by treating yourself to an extra ration.

If you were anyone else within the Empirical army, you would be over the moon about working on this ship. But, you felt no emotion towards the subject. It was just another job, what’s so special about it?

You quickly learned the answer to that.

Him.

He made the entire aura of the ship much tenser than any other research station or star destroyer that you had ever been on. People were not kidding when they said that his entire presence dripped with authority and power. To defy him, was to defy the Empire. To fail him, was to fail the Empire. It also always meant a loss of your life by the point of his saber.

You remember the first time that you saw him with your own eyes, not just an image from a news briefing or the picture you formed in your head when you heard the stories. You were lined up along with all of your new fellow troopers, officers, and mechanics, your hands firmly by your sides and your chin held up high, your eyes the only part allowed to move. He had been returning from some sort of escapade, and it was time for another customary formal greeting for him.

He was hard to miss when the door to the shuttle had touched the cold, hard ground. Everything about him was massive, intimidating. Dressed head to toe in black, his frame resembling a man but his features that of a droid. Despite the layers upon layers of armor and clothing, you could tell his muscles were nothing to bat an eye at. His shoulderspan looked like it could be twice your own, and his hands look like they could wrap around your waist and crush you in to a million tiny pieces at any second. Hot.

As he walked past you, you could feel the floor vibrate with menacing trembles as he took each step. His breathing was enrapturing, filling up your ears like it was there to live rent-free. When he finally spoke (a simple “Good, admiral”), you could feel the bass right in the middle of your chest. His voice was encapsulating, surrounding you with it's deep, authoritative, encompassing demeanor. Even hotter.

Yes, Darth Vader was quite the interesting character. But, he was not the one, you had decided, to try and become buddy-buddy with. Far too risky. Instead, you would carry on as normal: do your job, and don’t get in anyone’s way. You have done this for years, and a change of scenery with a far more intimidating boss wouldn't change that.

Except when it did.

The day (you believed that it was day, at least. It was hard to keep track of time in the middle of space on a giant floating mouse cursor) was as simple as ever. You woke up, ate your breakfast rations, then went straight to work. They had you fixing a few blasters and comms that day. How exciting.

You almost didn't hear the sound of the sirens when they went off, nor how the room suddenly was flashing red. When you had finally came-to, the sound of a highly distressed officer was over the hangar’s comm system.

“Everyone clear the bridge now! Lord Vader is coming in hot!”

Coming in hot? You wondered what that had meant. Of course, you knew what that meant, but this was Lord Vader we were talking about. He was the best pilot in the whole Empirical fleet. He never crashed, you had thought.

Despite your judgement, you put down your tools and started to run along with the other mechanics. They seemed just as confused as you were, awkwardly trying to shuffle out of their stations into somewhere safe. Quietly slipping past the small crowd, you found refuge on the other side of the doorway you were in, finding a place to watch within one of the windows.

Looking up to the stars that made up the tail-end wall of your workplace, you were almost shocked to see that the officer over the comm wasn’t hallucinating. Lord Vader’s TIE was, indeed, coming in hot. A noticeable plumage of smoke followed in his wake, as well as the occasional burst of sparks and the odd chunk of metal falling off. The noise that TIE made when it passed through the barrier was unholy, making you wince right before you had jumped in your polished boots. Lord Vader’s TIE crashed right on the floor of your workspace, skidding along and spinning not before crashing into several unfinished projects and stopping just before the doorway you had been standing in.

Oh, maker. He’s dead.

That was your only thought as the smoke and dust around the TIE settled in the air. The smoke was occasionally illuminated by the sparks coming out of the ship. This was definitely not a pretty scene. That TIE was busted.

A twinge of some sort of odd emotion rippled through you as you saw the tip of a red stream of light pierced through the metal of the broken TIE. It made a large circle motion before shrinking back inside. Moments later, the circle had been thrown off, flying past the group of mechanics that had begun to shuffle awkwardly back into the hangar to inspect the scene for themselves. You had joined them as the circle was discarded off of the TIE, the wind making a strand of your hair raise.

He stepped out of the burning pile of metal mess moments later. A small amount of smoke radiated off of his body as his boots collided with the ground. His shoulders were raised, his left fist in a ball as his right held on firmly to his weapon. He offered no one any explanation as he marched his way to the medical bay, an air of contempt and loathing following him.

They had let you off to lunch early that day. The smoke from the TIE could be toxic, and they needed some time to clear out the hangar before everyone could get back to work.

You ate your ration in silence as everyone around you murmured their theories and rumors about the incident that had occurred about an hour earlier. There was no need to speculate, in your eyes, and the only people you talked with were out on some other assignment. Silence kept you company, anyhow.

Your peaceful lunch, however, was eventually rudely interrupted by some rude, old geezer. His uniform adorned many different patches and pins, so you figured he had to be some sort of presiding, know-it-all, experienced officer. The lines in his face only made him look more stern and stuck up than he sounded, his lips pursed as he eyed the datapad he held whilst he stood in front of your lunch table.

“(L/N), I presume, yes? Our newest mechanic from Endor?” the old man questioned, his dark eyes flicking back and forth between you and your glowing blue picture.

“Yes, sir. That’s me.” you responded, sitting up to offer some sort of respect to the officer.

The old man turned off his datapad with that, folding his arms behind his back as he addressed you fully. “Well, Miss (L/N), I do hope that your current assignment holds no sentimental value to you. You are being reassigned with a very important alternative, effective immediately.”

“Immediately?” you questioned, “I apologize sir, I don’t quite-”

“Your new assignment, Miss (L/N), is to repair Lord Vader’s TIE. I assume you bore witness to his entrance earlier today.” said the old officer, cutting you off. “Lord Vader’s ship is of utmost importance to the Empire, and we only assign our best to repair it when needed. We have already removed your previous assignment from your station and place Lord Vader’s TIE in its place.”

Before you could get another word out, the officer turned on his heel to leave, only giving you a side glance over his shoulder as he continued, “You should be pleased, Miss (L/N). You just became one of our finest mechanics.”

~~~

You only saw a heaping pile of garbage that was vaguely shaped like a TIE Advanced x1 at your station when you returned. The ship was mangled beyond repair. Aside from the gaping hole in the center of the fighter, the wings were gnashed beyond recognition, many of the metal plates lining the surface either gone or melted, the wires that snaked along the inside of the craft were now on the outside, and it still hadn’t stopped smoking completely.

You couldn't hide your expression as you walked around the TIE. Why the hell would you even try and repair this hunk of shit? you thought to yourself, Just get a new TIE, I’m sure the Empire can afford it.

You contemplated on going back and finding that old man that gave you the assignment and asking him to repeat it back to you. Whoever wanted this thing repaired was a madman at best. Sighing, you reminded yourself of your virtues. Do your job, don’t get in the way. And, this was your new job.

You had no idea on where to start.

~~~

It was long past quitting hours when you heard the doors to the hangar open.

You were perched on top of the broken down TIE, your jacket long since discarded. You were left only in your boots, pants, tanktop, and goggles as you heard heavy footsteps draw closer to your station.

You paused briefly from your welding to listen to the footsteps for a brief moment. You pondered for a short time on whether or not to address the person walking towards you, but decided against it. You figured that they were just some trooper or other mechanic sneaking out for a midnight walk or snack. Although you were loyal to the Empire, you were no snitch to your fellow troop. You resumed your welding after your judgement had ended.

You continued to listen, however, and noticed how the footsteps had ended very close to your station. Listening past the sound of your welding, your heart almost jumped out your throat and hitched a ride to the outer-rim when you noticed an all-too-familiar sound.

That breathing.

To make sure that your ears were not playing tricks on you, you stopped your welding and peeked over the top of the TIE. Sure enough, there he was, staring up at you without a word, without even moving one muscle. Your blood ran cold.

“L-Lord Vader!” You called down as you scurried to put down your tools, pushing your goggles up to rest on your sweat-gleamed forehead. You landed on the ground with a thunk as you slid down the TIE, hurriedly walking over to address the Dark Lord properly.

Standing so close to him forced you to notice the height and size difference between the two of you. He was tall, so tall that you had to almost crane your neck to look him in the eyes of his mask. His frame dwarfed yours in every way, making you feel so, so small and weak compared to him. As the sith looked down at you, you couldn't help but feel his real eyes behind the mask bare into you, almost as if he were looking right into the fiber of your being. You swallowed thickly but silently, forgetting that you were out of uniform in front of the Emperor's right hand.

“I-I apologize, my Lord, I did not hear you come in over the sound-”

“Is it not past active hours for your department, mechanic?” He interjected, interrogating you. You felt your cheeks gain a touch of rouge out of embarrassment. You had barely even noticed that it was so late, that almost all of the lights in the hangar had gone dim.

“Yes, my Lord, it is. But, I had-”

“You need not explain yourself to me, mechanic. I have come here for a report on the damage to my ship. If you will so generously supply me with that, perhaps I will overlook your discrepancies tonight.” He said to you, his head tilting to the side. The eyes of his helmet never left your frame as he spoke to you. His authority made a shiver run down your spine, your breath hitch. He could kill you at any moment's notice, and you both knew that.

“Yes. Yes, of course, my Lord.” You responded quietly. It was then you finally dared to let your gaze fall off of the menacing, tall figure before you. Turning on your heel, you looked up at the broken down craft before you, pressing a hand against the cool metal. “Well, my Lord, I will not dare lie to you. This fighter is in real bad shape. Her left wing is almost completely non-existent, her guns are unrecognizable, and her central computer has been totally fried. Her engine received a great amount of damage as well, and it looks like all of her spark igniters and thrusters will need to be replaced. This is all, of course, not to mention the damage to her framework.”

You had circled around the TIE absentmindedly as you spoke, your hand gliding over the jagged surface of the craft. Vader’s gaze followed your diminutive frame as you paced about. You could feel the eyes of his mask follow you with every footstep. Were it not for the continuous babbling on about damages, you would be shitting a brick right about now.

“And how do you plan to proceed with these repairs, mechanic?” He asked you, a hint of his temper and curiosity poking through.

“Well,” you retorted, looking at him once more, right in the face, “In order to proceed with anything, I have to get the central computer back online and running. That way, I will be able to talk to her better, and maybe even run a diagnostic for any damages that I haven’t caught yet. After that will be the repairs to the wing, which I will likely have to build from scratch from other scrapped TIEs. Once that is complete, repairs to the frame will begin, then onto the guns and engine. This may change, however, if I am able to run that diagnostic, my lord.”

The way you held yourself in front of the sith lord was certainly a pleasant surprise. Lord Vader was used to his subordinates making a vain attempt to make the situation sound better to him so that he would be pleased. You, however, did not shy away from cutting to the chase and telling Vader how it was. He felt a twinge of appreciation bubble deep, deep down inside him. He always did value someone who truly knew their way around a ship or two.

Vader took a glance at the mess of his TIE Advanced then back to you before he spoke again. You had refused to take your eyes off him again.

“I understand,” he rumbled out, placing his large hands on their respective sides of his belt, “I presume that these repairs will take a small while.”

His words were spoken as a statement, but you knew he was asking.

“Yes, Lord Vader,” you said, nodding in affirmation, “They indeed will, but I will do all in my power to have her running again just like new.” You couldn't help but flash a small, quick smile at the end of your positivity.

Vader stared down at you for a brief moment before speaking again, the sound of his steady breath winding around you once again.

“Good,” he finally said, “I expect no less from you, mechanic. I will come here again periodically, and I expect a full report of progress for each of my visitations. Do I make myself clear? Do not fail me.”

“Of course, my Lord. I will do exactly as you wish” you replied, giving him a firm nod as you stood at attention. Quickly, you relaxed your pose, letting your gaze fall once more and your body to turn to resume your work.

Vader, however, stood completely still. He was not done with you quite yet.

“Your name.” Vader said flatly, with a hint of demand.

This sent a jolt through you. You shot your gaze back to the sith, your hand gently clutching one of your tools, applying just enough strength to keep it from falling.

“P-pardon, my Lord?”

“Your name, mechanic. I wish to know your name.”

You licked your bottom lip hurriedly. You prayed that he couldn't notice your cheeks tint pink.

“It's (L/N), my Lord-”

“I know that, Miss (L/N). I wish to know your full name. Do not make me ask again.”

You almost burst out laughing. He had to be joking. This was the first time in years that someone had asked you for your first name. You were surprised that you even still remembered it.

“It’s… It’s (F/N), my Lord. (F/N) (L/N).”

Another pause from him, along with another long staring contest between the two of you. Was his breathing always this loud?

After an eternity, he spoke once more, “I have full faith in you, Miss (F/N) (L/N). It is not everyday I have the privilege to converse with one of your skill level and courage.”

With that, he was done. He stepped to the right, turned, and walked to the door, leaving without another look or word. You stared at the door for a long moment before looking at the floor, replaying the past events in your head, letting his words plague your mind over and over like a broken record.

Was that a compliment?

No, of course not, you had convinced a majority of yourself.

With a sigh, you climbed back up to the top of the broken TIE, seated on your perch again. You adorned your goggles once more, telling yourself just a little more before you retired for the night.

Little did you know, this was only the first interesting night of many to come.

#star wars #x reader #star wars x reader #star wars x you #darth vader #darth vader x reader #fanfiction #anakin x you #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #star wars fanfiction

506 notes · View notes

angryschnauzer · 4 years

Text

Superior Specimen - Chapter 7

Summary: One night when you are following the Archaeology tag on instagram you stumbled across a fun looking dig… and an even more interesting Paleontologist who soon follows you back. Over the following weeks you start chatting and a friendship soon grows.

Relationship: AU Henry Cavill x Female Reader (No race or body shape mentioned)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Warnings: Slow Burn, NSFW, 18+, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Drunken Piggy Back Rides, Oral Sex (Female Recieving), Drama, Theft, Amateur Heroics, Hospital Visit, Shower Sex, Oral Sex (Male Receiving), Blow Job, Fingering, Lavish lifestyle, Henry is loaded, The Shard, Expensive Gifts, Sixty nine, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Angst, Argument, Jealousy,

I do not operate a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, as you will then be notified whenever i post something new.

I don’t have a masterlist, but all my works are on AO3, link here. Usually i post oneshots to Tumblr and AO3, and multichapters exclusively to AO3, but as this is my first henry story and its going to be a short series, i’ll post to both places.

Chapter 7

When you emerged from the bathroom Henry was just coming out of the kitchen area, two bottles of water in hand before he opened one and handed it to you;

“Drink”

“Thank you” you took it from him and lifted it to your mouth, not realising how dry your throat had grown from all the exertion. As you drank in silence you couldn’t help but to let your eyes stray over his exquisite body, from his broad chest to his narrow waist, to his thick cock hanging heavy between his enormous thighs. You hadn’t realised how long - and obviously - you’d been staring, but when he held his arms out and span slowly around with a smirk on his face you realised it hadn’t been in the tiniest bit subtle;

“Like what you see Princess?”

Stepping forwards you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest as you smiled at him;

“You know I do”

With a sly grin you pressed the cold-water bottle to his naked ass and he let out a high-pitched squeal and leapt forwards, knocking you to your ass onto the soft plush carpet. Propping yourself up on your elbows you grinned at him as he towered over you, a look of dark amusement on his face;

“Oh, you are in for it now Princess”

You let out a squeal as he suddenly swooped down and threw you over his shoulder before stalking back to the bed and tossing you onto the king-size mattress. You squealed and laughed as he was suddenly upon you, tickling your sides in a relentless fashion as you writhed and wriggled beneath him. With your legs entangled you were soon rolling around, skin sliding against skin and you could feel him getting hard against your belly. In a moment of weakness you were able to twist your body enough so that suddenly you were on top, straddling his waist. You caught his hands in yours and intertwined your fingers together, your chests heaving from exertion and laughter.

You leant forwards and pressed a kiss to his lips, and that’s when you felt it. You weren’t sure if henry knew what you were about to do, but as you knelt back upright and rolled your hips just right, you slowly sank down onto his hard length that had notched just right at your entrance when you’d kissed him. His eyes went wide in surprise, his jaw hung open before the feeling of your hot soaked walls completely enveloping him was too much to process and his eyes fluttered shut;

“Oh… oh-hoh… fuck…”

His lip trembled as you slowly rolled your hips, arching your spine before straightening. With your fingers still linked you moved, riding him slowly, spelling out letters and words with your hips to rub him just the right way to make him go crazy. Out of all the times he had known how to work your body and drive you to an intense orgasm, now it was your turn. With a roll and curve of your hips you felt his fingers tighten against yours, his mouth moving but unable to get out the words he wanted to say, before finally finding his voice;

“Hu-holy… fuck... Princess, I-if you keep going I’m gonna cum”

“That’s the plan…”

“But you…”

“Shhh… don’t you worry about me Hen, just enjoy it”

His body relaxed when he realised what you wanted to do, that you weren’t concerned about your own orgasm, and instead wanted to drive him completely crazy. With a swirl of your hips you started to spell out certain letters with your hips. You closed your eyes and concentrated on spelling and with each letter Henry’s moans and cries got more heated. On the second to last letter he let out a high pitched whine and his hands flew to your hips, the tell-tale tremble where your bodies were joined, and as you swayed your hips from right to left to right to left it was the trigger and his back arched, pumping you full of another load of his thick seed.

He wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and pulled you down to his lips, kissing you before you settled onto his chest, your head resting on his shoulder as you held him in the afterglow of his orgasm. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper;

“Thank you”

“Umm, you’re welcome?”

“No, really, thank you. It’s been a long time since a lover has solely given me pleasure without expecting it in return… which I absolutely will do, but…”

In that moment you felt for him, you knew that he knew he was a skilled lover, but when you have a skill sometimes people can take it for granted. You went to speak but in that moment your stomach rumbled, and you giggled as he ran a hand softly over your back;

“You are feeling hungry again Princess?”

“We did work up quite an appetite… do you think it’s too late for room service?” you propped yourself up and smiled at him.

“Go check out the fridge… I would move but you’ve rendered me useless for the next few minutes with that pussy from heaven…”

You delicately shifted off him, feeling his now soft member slip out of you, and you stood on wobbly legs, walking bow legged to the kitchen as you felt Henry’s cum slowly coating your inner thighs. Bending to look into the fridge you let out a squeal when you saw the large plate decorated with miniatures of all the restaurants famous desserts.

“Bring two spoons!” you heard Henry call from the bed and you smiled as you did as he asked, carrying the plate in one hand and the cutlery in another as you made your way through the room lit by a single lamp at the side of the bed that he’d switched on and settled the plate on the bed beside Henry as he sat propped up against the plush pillows. You handed him a spoon and grinned;

“Okay so we’re not going to just eat these off each other’s bodies?”

“Uh-huh… you see this one?” he swiped his spoon halfway through what looked like a chocolate cheesecake; “This one has cocoa nibs in… they get caught in my chest hair”

He lifted the spoon to your lips and you moaned as the rich Ecuadorian cocoa hit your taste buds, before grinning and talking with your mouth full;

“So, you’ve done the body cheesecake eating thing with someone else?” you cocked an eyebrow, before your eyes went a little wider when you saw him start to blush and you stopped chewing.

“Not exactly…” he took a deep breath and smiled sheepishly; “I was staying here last year - my Air B&B wasn’t ready - and I ordered room service. I had fucked up my shoulder on a dig so couldn’t be bothered to wear a shirt… and proceeded to drop an enormous spoonful of cheesecake on my chest”

You let out a burst of laughter, struggling to keep the chocolatey mess in your mouth as he continued;

“So not only was it super cold, it got caught in all the hairs… and my dominant arm was fucked up so when I went to pick it out I missed the plate with the crumby base and dropped it on the floor… then proceeded to step on it and leave a trail of brown stains across this carpet to the bathroom that looked like I’d trodden shit around the suite”

Your eyes watered from trying hard not to laugh and spray cheesecake over him, but the thought of him having to speak to the concierge about another ‘its-not-shit-its-cheesecake’ incident was too much… thankfully Henry could see your predicament, quickly reaching to the plate to grab a paper napkin that had been set on it and handing it to you so you could spit the cheesecake out.

The pair of you picked at the desserts, feeding each other, talking and laughing, before you stifled a yawn;

“I need some sleep… you’ve worn me out”

“Let me get rid of this” Henry grabbed the empty plate and started towards the kitchen area; “And then I’ll see about sorting you out Princess”

Standing you smiled as you headed towards the bathroom, your body and mind in that pleasant glow of pre-sleep, absentmindedly calling out to him;

“I love you to pieces Henry but you are not coming near this pussy again tonight, she needs time to recover… I’m gonna pee then fall asleep in your arms in that massive bed”

With your back turned you weren’t aware of Henry’s reaction to your words, how he’d picked up on your casual use of Love, and that he knew it came from the heart.

By the time you returned to the bedroom Henry had lowered the blinds and was laying in bed, the covers to his waist as you climbed in beside him, curling up to his wide chest as he wrapped an arm around you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You were asleep within minutes; however Henry was wide awake, his mind racing, processing something that had never been said to him before.

You woke to find Henry’s arm draped over your waist, his chest to your back as the cracks of daylight peeked in through the miniscule gaps in the blinds that covered the windows. You shifted a little and he rolled silently onto his back, the sheets draped over his lower body and you could tell he was sound asleep. Sitting on the side of the bed you reached for the water bottle only to find it empty, and with a longing glance at sleeping beauty you pushed yourself to your feet in the search for a drink.

Twenty minutes later you emerged from the shower, having found your lower body to be a sticky uncomfortable mess upon waking, you spied Henry’s shirt from the night before draped over a chair and pulled it on, smiling at the scent of his aftershave as your body heated the luxury cotton as it nestled against your naked body. Quietly making a cup of coffee you peered in at Henry, still snoring away in the massive bed. Letting him rest you took a seat in the dining area, resting your legs on the glass table as you checked your phone, snapping a shot from your hip that showed Henry’s shirt tails draped over your thigh, your steaming mug of coffee, and the London skyline in the background.

One Instagram upload later you were quietly enjoying your coffee as you checked your messages when one caught your eye, from your roommate. As you read it your heart sank. Two years ago when you’d been hunting for a flat share in London you’d been introduced to a friend of a friend, a photographer that had a flat in Fulham and was never home, as he was a Paparazzi and travelled for 9 months of the year. He kept a place in London that was in essence a storage flat, but for security he liked to have a roommate. The last person had moved out and he needed someone to take on the spare room. Rent would be low by London standards, and for most of the year you’d have the place to yourself. Well, now he had decided to make the move to LA permanent, and wanted to touch base with you regarding how you and he should go about sorting the flat… and he was giving you first refusal to see if you wanted to buy it.

You set the phone down on the table and stared out of the window, a million and one things racing through your mind… did you earn enough to get a mortgage? Would it just be easier to move out and find another place? You were chewing on a fingernail when a large pair of hands slid down your shoulders and slipped inside the open shirt to cup your breasts, whilst the owner of said hands bent over you and kissed you;

“Morning”

“You look delicious in my shirt Princess”

Henry's voice was rough from sleep, immediately ridding the previous problem from your mind and it sent a jolt of arousal straight to your core;

“You looked pretty damn good in it too last night”

Turning you stood and wrapped your arms around his wide shoulders, sighing into the tongue filled kiss as he lifted you and set your ass down on the cool glass of the table. Slowly he unfastened the few buttons that were holding the shirt together, before letting the garment fall open to expose your naked body. He ran his hand down your body, cupping your sex before sliding two fingers through your folds;

“You’ve showered”

“I have… I was sticky…”

“Mmmn… I’ll just have to make you sticky again”

He angled his hips and you felt his morning wood press against your entrance, his thumb rubbing against your clit as he slowly pushed into your soaked channel. You were expecting him to just fuck you on the table, but when he lifted you and wrapped your legs around his waist, you let out a cry of surprise before he walked the few steps to the massive windows and pressed you against them;

“I want all of London to see how beautiful you are when you cum, how well you take my dick…”

He started to fuck you hard against the glass, your head resting against the cool surface as you clung to his shoulders, and with each delicious flick of his hips he was driving you rapidly towards orgasm, his thickness filling you completely. You were almost there when he paused, and it brought your focus back to his face, surprise to see he wasn’t looking at you, instead his attention was outside. You following his gaze and let out a shriek: the window cleaning crew were hanging from their gantry, squeegees in hand and jaws agape as they watched Henry railing you against the window they were cleaning from the outside.

With a smirk Henry reached over and pressed the button for the internal window blinds to be lowered, the two of you still carnally connected as the outside world was cut off. In the now muted light Henry started with fresh vigour as he fucked you harder than ever before, filling you repeatedly before you came with a scream, squeezing his body so tight he followed soon after, pumping you full again.

He spent the longest time just holding you, pressing kisses to your face and neck before your legs started to cramp and you begged to be let down, the sclooping sound of his heavy length pulling free of your cum soaked channel met your ears and it sent a grin to your face;

“I’m going to need another shower”

“I think I’ll join you” he replied with a grin, before picking the room phone up; “I’ll order breakfast so it’ll be here for when we’re finished, say 45 minutes?”

You nodded silently, realising that the shower wasn’t going to be a ‘just get clean’ shower.

The shower had proven one thing; Henry was insatiable and had the stamina of a horse. He’d had you bent over from behind in the shower before you’d both cum, finally washing yourselves clean after that. As Henry shut the water off and stepped out he held out a hand to you, before wrapping a huge fluffy towel around your body and pressing a kiss to your nose. A knock at the suite door interrupted, Henry wrapping a towel around his waist as you started to dry yourself.

Emerging from the steamy bathroom a few minutes later, you’d tied the soft robe that was provided by the hotel around you and found Henry setting out the trays of breakfast on the table that only an hour before he’d been fucking you on;

“Breakfast is served! What would you like; waffles? Fruit?”

“Yes, it all sounds amazing”

You sat beside each other quietly eating, before Henry sat back and smiled at you;

“What would you like to do today?”

You shrugged;

“I hadn’t really thought about it to be honest… I wasn’t expecting an overnight stay at a hotel, so I didn’t exactly pack a change of clothes. I guess just head home after doing a walk a shame through reception in my evening dress”

Henry stood suddenly, holding a finger up in a ‘just a moment’ way, crossing the room and disappearing to the bedroom. You heard the quiet woosh of the sliding wardrobe doors opening, and moments later he reappeared carrying a number of bright yellow giftbags with ‘Selfridges’ emblazoned across them;

“I thought of that…”

He set the bags onto the table in front of you, and you raised an eyebrow;

“Hen… what’s in the bags…”

“An anti-walk-of-shame kit” You stood and looked into the bags, before starting to pull out their contents as he continued to explain; “I wasn’t sure what to get, or what the weather would be doing, so I got a few choices…”

Pulling a floaty summer dress from one bag you held it against you and twirled around, revelling in the way the fabric drifted on the breeze. Checking the label you saw that it was the right size, before setting it down and going through the other bags. You found a pair of comfortable velvet sliders that your feet would certainly welcome after wearing the high heels the night before, a cardigan, and a bikini that looked incredibly tiny along with some lace panties. Another bag contained travel sized toiletries and a hairbrush. Another held a pale tracksuit in the softest of jersey fabrics. You set everything back into their bags and looked at Henry;

“Thank you…. Is this normal for you?”

“No, not at all” he wrapped his arms around your waist; “With everything that happened this week, I wanted to treat you, surprise you with a night that couldn’t beat any other night you’d ever had with anyone in your past”

“What if I hadn’t said yes to staying the night?”

“Then I would have taken all this back to my place for you to use there” he shrugged and a smile on his lips.

“And why the bikini?”

“Oh, there’s a pool here, thought we could make use of it before lunch?”

The sight of Henry in swimming trunks was enough to make you want to drop to your knees, the fabric closely cropped around the tops of his massive thighs, and the way his dick bulged obscenely in them, well, you were glad you were the only ones making use of the pool. Your bikini that he’d chosen for you wasn’t much better, the top merely two triangles of fabric with an array of straps, the bottoms just about covering your pussy but not a lot else. You were thankful for the robes the hotel provided for your short trip to where the pool was.

Once you were in the water however the playful side came out of both of you, hands sneaking under the water for surreptitious squeezes and caresses. Just at the point where Henry was about to have you pressed against the wall of the pool you heard the door open to the pool room, and a family with three kids came in, the kids dive bombing into the water. You both laughed at their excitement of swimming in a high-rise, the views over London just as stunning as in every other room, and as the parents apologised for the kids you told them it wasn’t a problem at all;

“We were just about to get into the jacuzzi anyway”

“We were?” Henry muttered but didn’t argue as you led him up the steps and quickly sank down into the hot bubbling waters, the jacuzzi just around the corner from the pool. You were in the same room but thankfully out of sight, and the second the two of you were enveloped by the bubbles Henry pulled you to sit on his lap, facing away from him.

“There are camera’s here” he whispered in your ear; “But they can’t see what happens underwater…”

His fingers snuck into your bikini bottoms, seeking out your folds before rubbing against your clit. Resting your head back against his shoulder, to anyone watching it would seem you are just a couple in each other’s arms; what they couldn’t see was Henry already had two fingers knuckle deep within you. He was grinding his dick into your ass when you let the water float you above his lap enough for him to tug his shorts down just enough to free himself, before he pulled you down and you sank onto his hardness.

As you watched the city go about its day Henry whispered utter filth into your ear, his hips making the tiniest of thrusts beneath the water, his fingers rubbing hard against your clit as you did your absolute best not to moan, sigh, or give anything away above the water that you had Henry’s massive dick plundering you yet again, this time in public.

His breaths were getting shorter in your ear and you had almost bitten through your lip from trying not to moan at the pleasure that was building in the pit of your stomach, so when Henry’s other hand snuck inside your top and pinched at your nipple you let out a tiny grunt and started to cum, the tightness of your walls contracting around him setting his own orgasm off.

Soon after you climbed out having rearranged your swimwear, pulling your robes on before nodding to the family that were blissfully unaware of what you’d just done, their kids having been squealing and screaming far more than you two ever could.

Back at the room and showering again, you laughed as you playfully slapped away Henry’s hands as he kept trying to grab your ass in the shower, before finally turning and cupping his balls;

“Henry, give these two a rest, they’re almost empty… gotta save something for my afternoon snack…”

He grunted as you carefully washed him down of the soapy suds that covered his cock and balls, before kissing him once. As he soaped your back his voice was quiet;

“What would you like to do now? Head out somewhere? Borough Market is just across the road… Or it’s just a short walk down the embankment to tower bridge… we could be proper tourists for the day”

“That sounds good”

Sipping on the multiberry smoothie you’d bought as you and Henry had looked around Borough Market, the pair of you slowly strolled along the embankment alongside the River Thames. There was little to no breeze which you were truly thankful for as the dress he’d bought you was shorter than you were expecting, however he certainly wasn’t complaining and rather vocally had expressed how much he enjoyed seeing you in it. With your fingers interlinked with his you were deep in thought as you sipped on your drink, walking in silence towards the ornate towers of Tower Bridge.

“... Princess?”

Stopping you turned to Henry;

“Yes? Sorry, did you say…?”

Henry quietly laughed;

“I have in fact been wittering away for the entire length of the embankment… what’s on your mind?”

You saw a bench and nodded to it, Henry following you as you sat down;

“My roommate has told me he wants to sell the flat”

“Oh… I didn’t realise you had a roommate… and a ‘he’ at that…”

You sat back and looked at him, raising an eyebrow;

“Are you... Are you jealous?”

He leant forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. Taking a deep breath, he let out a single laugh before shaking his head;

“No… yes… kind of…”

“You don’t need to be. He’s gay. He’s out of the country for nine months of the year. When he is in the country, he’s barely at home with the hours he does”

“What does he do?”

“Paparazzi photographer. He’ll be here for a few months in the springtime… when it’s warm enough for celebs to be here for holidays and shopping. Usually starts with the Brit awards in February and is gone by May”

“Where does he sleep?”

“In his room of course”

“His… room?”

You stood, getting frustrated at the points Henry was focusing on;

“Yes, his room. The door off the right of the living room. That’s his room”

“Oh”

That was it. He didn’t say another word, instead just looked down at his hands. And it annoyed you. This man, this gorgeous, kind, caring man, the same man you had thought of and nothing else for the past few weeks, who had been your knight in shining armour, was suddenly focusing on such a small detail of your life and becoming jealous of it? The longer you looked at him the longer he kept his gaze averted, saying nothing.

You’d stayed long enough, silently you turned, the lump in your throat growing as you walked away, tossing the remains of your drink in the nearest bin. You didn’t look back. If he was going to be like that over something so tiny, perhaps you’d fallen too hard for him.

Chapter 8 >>>

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x you #henry cavill fanfic

167 notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

The Bruises We Give Each Other - dark!Bucky x Reader (chapter 1)

Summary: You weren’t the most ruthless of the Winter Soldier’s captors, and certainly not the most sadistic, but he still decided to exact a special form of revenge on you when he broke out of his containment. And now you’re left with three main questions: Why didn’t he kill me, why didn’t I kill him, and why do I miss him when he’s gone?

Rating: E (duh)

Warnings: graphic non-con, violence, minor character death (please be mindful of these, don’t read if it would upset you!)

Word Count: 1.8k

Taglist: I’ll go ahead and tag @onceiwasanun @hnryycvll and @badwolfbadwolf who all showed interest in this (thx y’all)

New Gods

“Ma’am, we have a situation in Bay 3,” the orderly told you with a frantic look on his face. Normally you would ask what the situation was, but you knew what was in Bay 3, so you didn’t hesitate to jog down the hall. It was sort of difficult in heels, but thankfully they were of that semi-practical size that made it at least possible.

As you burst through the door you discovered that the Asset had managed to break off a piece of his containment and was choking out a skinny little assistant who must have been the one closest when he broke free. He held her in front of him with his metal arm, and her hands uselessly pulled at the metal as she gasped for air, her legs flailing with an awful screeching noise as her stiletto heels scraped the floor. You weren’t sure if he was using her as a human shield, or a negotiation tool.

“Put her down or we will shoot you!” a security guard with a very large gun threatened, through a thick Russian accent.

“Threatening to kill him won’t do anything,” you frowned. “He wants to die.”

He looked at you and fury burned in his eyes. But you weren’t afraid. You knew how to control him.

“Kill the girl if you want,” you told him with a shrug.

Her eyes widened and he seemed to consider it. Just as you thought he was really going to do it. He let go of her and she fell to the floor, gasping for air and coughing. Some staff rushed down and carried her away, but you and the Asset kept staring at each other.

“Get back in the chair, Sergeant Barnes.”

You motioned for all the men who had swarmed into the room to put their guns down, and they hesitated but eventually complied. You took a step closer to the Asset, extending your arm like you were trying to tame a wild animal. Which you were. He looked back at you and his whole body heaved with the depth of his breathing.

“I’m not going to let them kill you,” you explained, “but I will let them hurt you. Neither of us wants that. Get back in the chair.”

He looked right at you as he sat down. And he didn’t break your gaze when the men rushed to hold him down and shove the plastic mouthguard in for another wipe.

Over the years, he had had a few outbursts, a few unexpected memory glitches, but he always backed down. You never let him keep his memories long enough for him to form a serious escape plan, and yet, you felt nervous for the first time in a long time. You’d learned to trust your intuition, and you knew something was not right with all this…

But you pushed that thought down. Because if you didn’t trust that everything was fine, that meant questioning your superiors, and that was against everything you were trained to believe. If they said it was fine, it was fine. And they did, every time you begged them to up the security, to stop repairing what he broke and actually replace it with something he couldn’t break, to prepare for the very real threat of a break-out.

“Oh, one more thing,” your boss told you as you left his office after one final useless plea of a meeting.

“Yes, sir?”

He stared at you sternly. “I don’t want to hear this complaint from you again. Everything will be fine.”

Somehow, it wasn’t that comforting. You nodded and left anyway.

You convinced yourself that you had let it go. That you believed your boss, and that it was indeed going to be fine. But when the sirens blared that day, when the entire lab went dark while you were doing some routine paperwork, while everyone else was looking around to figure out what was going on, you knew exactly what had happened.

“He’s out,” you murmured to yourself.

Gunfire in the distant hallway. He'd already gotten his hands on a gun?

Everyone else was running but you didn't see the point. You watched silently as they scattered into the hall, and it was just a few moments before the screaming was noticeably louder, the sounds of struggle growing closer. Even though you saw it coming, your heart stopped when you saw the Asset turn the corner and stare straight at you. He was wearing the mask which obscured most of his face, but the goggles were gone so you could see his eyes. They were dark and bloodshot, and more alive than maybe you’d ever seen them.

You already had your sidearm trained on him, and he wasn’t moving. You could get two to the chest, and that would at least slow him down. One between the eyes was risky, but it would definitely end it all.

And yet you didn’t pull the trigger. And as he began to storm towards you, stopping only to grab another scientist and twist his neck until it broke, you still didn’t pull the trigger. The second he was close enough, he grabbed the gun and pulled it from your hand; it clattered to the floor. Instantly he wrapped a hand-- his flesh one, notably-- around your throat and pressed down until you felt your face sting and prick from loss of blood. You didn’t even try to breathe. He gave up suddenly; he must have wanted you to squirm, to beg for your life. You had no interest in doing that. You knew you had no chance of survival, and words wouldn’t change anything. You would do the same thing, in his situation.

A swift punch sent you to the floor, and though your face stung, you were sure it wasn’t as hard as he could hit, since that would’ve killed you. You suppose you expected a punch, and when you felt him kneel over you, you expected quite a few more.

What you never expected was for him to grab your blouse and tear it open, buttons flying in every direction. You didn’t expect it to send heat straight to your core, either, but it did.

He roughly grasped at your breasts through your bra, and you choked before he tore your skirt, only as much as he needed to spread your legs.

“Wait,” you whimpered, and something flashed in his eyes. You had given him what he wanted by showing that you were afraid of him, but you couldn’t help it.

He pulled your underwear aside and roughly pressed two fingers into you-- the metal ones. It burned, even though the metal was cold. You yelped, and he groaned, twisting them within you.

“Don’t,” you begged. He ignored you so thoroughly that you were almost concerned he couldn’t hear you.

You tried not to fight him, because you knew it wouldn’t work. You were going to just close your eyes and accept it, not risk the chance of him hurting you more for making it difficult. But then he reached down and undid his belt and fly. He took out his cock and that was when logic died and instinct overruled. He was big. Really fucking big. I need to run away right now big, specifically, so you did.

You swung up your leg and kicked him swiftly in the gut, then spun yourself onto your hands and knees, trying to get up. You didn't crawl very far before he grabbed your ankles and pulled you back, before pushing them apart and pinning you down with his knees on the back of your legs. You clawed ahead of you but found nothing to latch onto, your arms and legs flailing uselessly.

“Please!” you begged, tears starting to burn your eyes.

He said nothing as he forced himself into you, all at once. You cried out and he groaned, quickly pulling back and thrusting into you again. You sobbed with every movement, feeling like he was going to split you open. You hated that you couldn’t suppress your reactions, since you were sure this was exactly what he wanted. He wanted to hear you scream. And after every time you’d watched him writhe in agony because of your commands… you couldn’t help but wonder if you deserved this.

The thought of him using you, degrading you, debasing you this way made you feel sick and light-headed, and yet you felt a surge of wetness seeping from your walls. You prayed he wouldn’t feel it, but then you heard a little growl from him and somehow you were sure that he was acknowledging the sign of your arousal.

The disconsonant whine of the sirens became so redundant that you didn’t even notice it anymore-- all you could hear was his breathing, filtered through his mask, and your own whimpers of pain as they humiliatingly morphed into moans of pleasure. As your body finally adjusted to his size (at least, as best it could), biology took over and you felt shivers running down your back in the good way and the bad way, simultaneously. You were not psychologically prepared to be enjoying this, but something deep within you responded to the feeling of his hands pinning you down and his body moving inside yours. That is, both something metaphorical deep inside you and something literally deep inside you was responding. Every thrust rubbed against your g-spot until your legs were quivering and you were almost compelled to ask for more, to beg him to go faster because you were so close to coming--

But that would just be outrageous.

Turns out you didn’t need to ask, because he picked up his pace with ragged breaths and you were so focused on making it not obvious that you were having the best orgasm of your life from something as fucked up as this.

You heard him gasp a little and as he buried himself in you and stilled, you felt his muscles flexing inside yours as he came. You whimpered and let your forehead rest on the ground as you felt him pull out and stand up. Your ears rang and your head felt fuzzy as if you’d stood up too fast, even though you were still just laying there, motionless.

You knew he was walking away because you heard broken glass crunching under his boots, and you didn’t let yourself watch him go. It must have been a few minutes after he left that the sirens stopped, and who knows how long it was after that until you got up and dusted yourself off.

You used a discarded lab coat to cover yourself, since your clothes weren’t going to be much help anymore. You were numb to the scattered bodies as you stepped over them and made your way out of the building.

If anyone else was still alive, they were long gone. As you stepped out into the snow and stumbled to your car, you got a very distinct feeling-- one that you felt when you first got this job, and the first time you saw the Asset: nothing was going to be the same again.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #winter soldier smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes non con #winter soldier non con #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n

386 notes · View notes

hotchley · 3 years

Text

“there are many ways for sons to defeat their fathers”

morehotchcontent day four: family drama (an argument with jack)

tagged: @ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety

“he said it was my fault mom died. and he’s right. i didn’t save her.”

“jack.” aaron had no words. no smart quotes or gentle pieces of advice. what was he supposed to do? what was he supposed to say when his own son blamed himself for the death of his mother, when he had only been a child, and it had been hotch’s fault the whole time?

“don’t tell me you understand. because you weren’t there. you weren’t in the house when george foyet made mom feel safe, and you weren’t there when he called me his junior g-man, and you- you weren’t there okay? the last time i hugged mom, i didn’t even realise it was the last time. i thought you were going to save her. but you didn’t. you failed and now-” jack stopped himself.

“say it,” hotch said. “you need to say it if you’re ever going to feel better.”

“now I wish it was you that had died. i wish he’d killed you and not her because then at least i wouldn’t even have anyone to miss.”

jack gets into a fight. hotch isn’t sure what he’s meant to do.

trigger warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced panic attacks

read on ao3!

It wasn’t often that Hotch received calls from Jack’s school. Most of the time, it was him phoning them to say that someone else would be collecting him. He’d forgotten once. That had led to the very awkward situation of an unsuspecting Will being let to a classroom and questioned by his own colleagues and questioned about his intentions with Jack. Whilst Will had been fine with it, and had been glad that the school were so rigorous with their checks, Hotch had never quite recovered from the embarrassment.

So no, the school hardly ever phoned Hotch.

Until they did.

Jack had punched someone and was suspended, and they needed him to come and pick him up.

Hotch had been there within the hour, unwilling to stop and tell the team what had happened. He knew they wouldn’t ask too many questions and trust him to do the right thing. He just wished he could trust himself to do the right thing.

“He won’t say anything about what happened,” the receptionist warned when he signed in. “But the principal still wants to speak to you.”

Hotch nodded, and entered the office. Jack was nowhere to be seen.

“He’s still with the nurse. The other boy punched him back before we managed to separate them,” she said.

When he looked surprised, she smiled. “I may not be a profiler, Mr Hotchner, but I’ve seen that look on your face more times than I can count. Jack isn’t usually like this, so there won’t be any sort of mark on his permanent record. We do have to suspend him though. And I would appreciate it if you could get him to open up about his outburst.”

“Of course. I’ll do my best. And thank you for being so understanding about it all,” Hotch said.

“Jack’s a good child. And you’re a good parent. Don’t forget that.”

Aaron gave her an awkward smile, before leaving.

Jack was slouched in one of the chairs, his feet crossed at the ankle as he tapped one shoe against the other.

“Hey Jack. Let’s go home, shall we?” Hotch said, determined to keep his voice neutral.

Jack shrugged, but stood, avoiding his dad’s gaze as he walked out the doors with his head down and hands stuffed in his pockets. Hotch didn’t need to be a profiler to tell his son was seething. He just needed to be a father.

They drove him in silent. Hotch wanted to give Jack a chance to calm down and collect himself before they had the conversation about his actions.

But Jack still hadn’t spoken a single word when he’d unlocked the door to the apartment.

“Buddy. You know I will love you, no matter what. So I’m not mad at you. I just want to understand. Why did you punch that other person?”

“I was angry,” Jack said. It wasn’t the whole truth. But it was something.

Hotch closed his eyes. He understood how Jack felt. Hell, he’d been exactly like that once. Young and angry at everything and everyone, with the only release being the rush that came with the pain of hurting something- someone- else. His own father had dealt with that by shipping him off to boarding school, away from everyone he cared about.

“Why were you angry?” Hotch asked.

“Can’t you just yell at me, then take my phone away so we can be done with this? You’re not my fucking therapist,” Jack snapped.

“I won’t yell at you. You know that. And I’m not trying to be your therapist, I’m trying to be your father. Why were you so angry? Just tell me and we can work out the solution.”

“No we can’t,” Jack said.

Hotch sighed. He had forgotten what it was like to be a teenager, when everything was so final, so black and white. But he had to try and understand. He had to. If he didn’t, then he was no better than his own father. The one person he’d sworn he wouldn’t be like. Ever.

“Why?”

“He said it was my fault Mom died. And he’s right. I didn’t save her.”

“Jack.” Aaron had no words. No smart quotes or gentle pieces of advice. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say when his own son blamed himself for the death of his mother, when he had only been a child, and it had been Hotch’s fault the whole time?

“Don’t tell me you understand. Because you weren’t there. You weren’t in the house when George Foyet made Mom feel safe, and you weren’t there when he called me his Junior G-Man, and you- you weren’t there okay? The last time I hugged Mom, I didn’t even realise it was the last time. I thought you were going to save her. But you didn’t. You failed and now-” Jack stopped himself.

“Say it,” Hotch said. “You need to say it if you’re ever going to feel better.”

“Now I wish it was you that had died. I wish he’d killed you and not her because then at least I wouldn’t even have anyone to miss.”

Hotch couldn’t say anything. His heart was beating quickly- far too quickly- and for one morbid moment he wondered if he was about to die, the same way his father had: heart attack at forty-seven. But the tremble of his hands, now clenched into fists, and why were they clenched into fists, made him realise it was something else.

Something Jack was never supposed to see.

He ran from the room, his tie an ever tightening noose around his neck as he struggled to breathe. As soon as he was in the bathroom, door firmly closed behind him, he let himself fall apart. The tears came quickly, easily, but still he muffled the sounds of his sobs from his son. He didn’t need to see him like this.

Even once his breathing had calmed, the redness of his eyes remained. He had stopped trying to stand, instead leaning against the cold surface of the bathtub, resting his head on the ledge. He didn’t know what to say to Jack. Most parents would shout at their children for speaking like that. But Hotch couldn’t. Even the thought of shouting at his son made his blood run cold. And he couldn’t shout at Jack for saying something that was true. For voicing what everyone- himself included- had been thinking ever since the funeral.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even hear Jack enter.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. That wasn’t- I didn’t mean that,” his son whispered, sitting beside his father. He tried to not be upset when Hotch placed his hands in his lap, not touching him.

“You’re entitled to think that Jack,” Hotch whispered. He was failing all over again. The first rule of parenting was to not burden your children. And here Jack was, telling him it would all be okay, like he was the child.

“But I don’t. I don’t know why I said that. I don’t wish it was you that died. It’s just- I feel so fucking angry, all the time and that scares me. I don’t know why I’m angry and I don’t want to be angry anymore, but I can’t help it and what if- what if one day, I do more than just punch someone?”

Hotch turned to his son. He looked into eyes that were the only piece of Haley he had left. With the smallest amount of hesitation, he embraced his son. And it was like the dam finally broke as Jack started crying against his shoulder, right there, on the bathroom tiles.

“You’re entitled to be angry. It’s a normal part of life. And the fact that you’re so worried about hurting someone shows that you won’t do it. You’re a good person Jack. You stick up for people. You smile at strangers. You love in the same way Haley did: proudly, without ever apologising. You’re her son. You could never be evil.”

“I’m your son too,” Jack whispered.

“Yeah. You are. Look, you’re still suspended, but I’ll phone the principal tomorrow and explain. And maybe I can get your session moved? You could talk this out with a professional?”

Jack shook his head. “Don’t move it. I’d rather speak to you first. You’re my dad. And nothing’s ever going to change that. I love you.”

“I love you too buddy.”

It was going to take time for Jack to come to terms with everything that happened. It was going to take time for Hotch to stop blaming himself, and for thinking that he was the one that should have died that day. But that wasn’t the problem for that moment.

In that moment, they were just a father and son, sat on the bathroom floor, content with the knowledge that the other wasn’t going to leave them. And that was enough.

#morehotchcontent2020 #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #day four: family drama #jack hotchner #criminal minds fic #tw child abuse #tw panic attack

26 notes · View notes

jawritter · 4 years

Text

You and Me...

Chapter 6

***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, non-con, male!rape, injury, violence, description of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self-harm, panic attacks, implied female non-con, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!Jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.

***Chapter Warnings*** VERY BIG TRIGGER WARNING!! This chapter contains descriptions of injuries and heavy implications of Male Rape! Please know I don’t take this sort of thing lightly, and I was gentle as possible in the descriptions and implications as I could be, but still getting the story across as well!! Hints of mental disturbance, language probably, kidnapping, Angst, overall this one is pretty heavy.

Word Count: 2790

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jared x Reader, OFC Justin X Reader, OFC Steve x Reader

A/N: Anyway, all mistakes are mine, please don’t copy my work, Feedback is golden. If you want to be added to the series tag list, or my tag list just let me know! I hope you enjoy this one. After this chapter things tend to start to pick up a little.

Summary: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter your course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getting through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***

It had been three days since Jensen had been to the studio.

Steve had tried calling him but got no answer. Steve was starting to get worried, therefore he was making sure everyone in the office was on edge because that was just Steve.

"Maybe he changed his mind," you mumble, looking through the recordings that had already been done, and checking to make sure all the copyrights for the songs he wanted to do were sent off, and ready just in case he did decide to show back up.

"He can't change his mind! He's under contract to finish this album here in this studio," Steve gritted out, going through Jensen's paperwork looking for another contact to try.

"Damn Steve, you put that shit on lock didn't you?" Justin said, spinning his chair in circles like an overgrown kid, not really concerned as to whether or not Jensen showed back up. He didn’t seem to like Jensen all that much anyway.

Steve turned to give him his best bitchface. "This album could put our studio on the map," he said coldly. “We need this guy to finish this album.”

Then something dawns on you, something you had totally forgotten about. You had Misha's number.

You were going to send him a donation to his charity, and while he was here he gave it to you so that he could text you the address to send the money in to.

"I have Misha's number, try him, maybe he knows a way to contact him," you glancing over your shoulder, and Steve looks at you like he wants to kill you for waiting until now to let that little piece of information out.

Pulling out your phone and text him the phone number, and as soon as his phone buzzed with the number he was calling it, walking into the office, and leaving you and Justin to sit in silence on the other side of the door, listening to see if you could hear something. All the two of you seemed to make out was a muffled conversation that honestly sounded like it was very one-sided, with Misha doing the majority of the talking.

After about 15 minutes Steve walked back into the main recording room pale, and a little nauseated, flopping down in the chair next to you.

"What I'm about to tell you guys doesn't leave this room," Steve said, looking between Justin and yourself. Your heart jumped speed. You didn't like the way he said that.

"Three days ago Jensen was forcibly taken from Jared's bar when he was helping a bartender close up. They just found him today. He's at St. David's South Austin Medical Center," Steve looked down at the ground, and then back up at you two like he was unsure whether or not to tell you both the rest of the story.

"Is he okay?" you asked.

You weren’t exactly sure why your heart fell to your feet. Your hand ideally ran across the hand he touched just a few days ago taking his coffee from you.

"Was it some crazy super fan?" Justin asked, looking at Steve like he was bullshitting the two of you.

Steve turned a little greener.

"No, it wasn't a fan apparently,” Steve took a deep breath in order to settle himself.

“Jensen and Jennifer hooked up a little over a week ago. Apparently, things didn’t go exactly the way she’d hoped, so when she got home she told her brother that Jensen had raped her. He and a few of his buddies took Jensen, and for three days kept him locked in a hotel... Returning the favor," Steve stopped talking, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes tight. Taking a deep breath to stave off the urge to throw up, or scream because he felt like doing both.

You fought to keep your breakfast down. The room seemed to be spinning. Your heart broke for him. Why you didn't know. What the hell? Why do you care so much? He was nothing but a complete and total ass to you! He hated you! Still, you couldn’t shake the gut-wrenching feeling deep down inside of you no matter how hard you tried to.

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

Later that night you paced around your apartment with Steve's words ringing in your head. You couldn't imagine what Jensen had gone through over the past three days. It made you sick to your stomach every time you thought about it.

Grabbing your purse you decide, probably against your better judgment, to head to the hospital. You had to see him. You didn't understand why, you had to see that he was okay.

So now you found yourself walking through the halls of the hospital looking for a nurse to ask which room they were keeping Jensen in. Holding your studio ID tight in your hand, hoping it was enough for them to let you into his room. This late at night you would think there would be more nurses roaming the halls, but things were still and quiet, not much movement at all.

You were just about to give up. You had just about walked the whole hospital, and no one seemed to know where he was. Making your way back to the second-floor elevators you pressed the button impatiently, wondering if maybe they moved him to a different hospital, or if he just asked people to not come to visit him right now, so they were keeping his location a secret or something.

It was stupid to come here in the first place. Jensen hated your guts. He wouldn't want to see you, so why the hell were you even here? That’s what your brain was screaming at you, and you had just about resided to the fact that it was right, and you were being an idiot by coming here.

Annoyed that the elevator was taking so long to open you were about to turn to take the stairs when you heard the familiar ding of the doors opening. Looking up you come face to... well... mid-chest... with Jared.

"Y/N!" Jared said, wrapping you in a bone-crushing hug. He looked exhausted. The amount of puffiness and redness around his eyes told you he had been crying. "What are you doing here?" he asked, surprised to see you standing there.

"Misha told us what happened. I came to see Jensen, but I can't find his room. No one seems to know where he is, or at least they don't want to tell me," you tell him, embarrassed that you even came you stared down at your feet.

Jared draped a long arm around your shoulders turning you around and headed toward the end of the hallway with you, stopping in front of room 241 he turned to face you.

"Y/N, I want to tell you what you're going to see in there. It's not pretty."

You took a deep breath. Why the hell were you all in your feels right now?

"What did they do to him, Jared?" you asked, almost afraid of the answer. Jared swallowed hard, looking like he was about to start crying again.

"They jumped him in my bar while he was waiting on the new guy I hired to close up. They tied him up, knocked him out, and dragged him out of the bar. The rest we are guessing. He hasn't said a word since the ambulance driver picked him up on the side of the road where they dumped him when they were done with him. According to the doctors, it looks like he was tied down to something, then was repeatedly violated. That’s all we know, and he’s not telling."

You held the vomit back that threatened in the back of your throat. Both you and Jared shivered involuntarily.

"When I first saw him he was covered in blood, and what looked like vomit. They had to sedate him to clean it all off of him and do the examination. Every time someone touches him he freaks out. They couldn't even get him as clean as they wanted because he was fighting so hard. From what I understand they cut the twist ties off of his wrist in the ambulance. They said he was just dumped completely naked, and still tied. Some dick truck driver saw him, and called the ambulance, but didn’t have the decency to stop and help him. Just kept on driving.”

Jared watched as you tried to compose yourself, the flood of emotions that were hitting you as he told you how he was found was more than you thought it would be for you.

"You sure you wanna go in there?" he asked you when you finally could breathe properly.”I get it if you don’t.”

"Yeah. I need to see him."

Jared never questioned, he just shook his head and opened the door.

At first, you didn't even see him lying in the bed. It just looked like a heap of covers in the middle of the bed. Moving around the bed you finally found the top of his head.

He was laying on his side with his back to the door, the covers pulled all the way up almost over his head.

"Jay... Y/N's here to see you," Jared said, walking around the bed first.

The heap of cover never moved. Jared looked at you apologetically.

You slowly made your way around the bed, afraid of what you were going to see. He looked so fragile lying there in that bed with monitor, wires and different IV's coming out from under the cover. There wasn't a lot of bruise on his face. Especially around his mouth. It was bruised all the way around his lips to almost his left ear. His lips were swollen and cracked. You shuddered at the thought of what might have caused that.

The rest of him was well covered, but for a scratched up hand sticking out from under the cover by his face.

It was his eyes that got to you the most.

He never made eye contact with you or Jared. He just stared at the wall between the two of you blankly. No light there at all. No movement. A very evident “the light's are on, but no one is home” look.

You couldn't stop the cascade tears that were falling down your face. They had broken something deep inside him, and you didn’t have to be a doctor to see it.

"Physically the injuries aren't permanent. It's the mental damage the doctors are worried about," Jared said, sitting on the small sofa next to his friend's bed, watching him closely.

Jensen just continued to look at the wall as if the two of you weren’t even in the room, and no one was talking about him less than three feet away from his bed.

There was a picture of him and his kids by the bed, no doubt brought there by Jared. He was smiling in the photo. He looked so happy. So contradictory to the broken man laying there in front of you. The longer you stood there you felt like your heart shattered into a million pieces.

Everything in you wanted to pick him up and just hold him until he was okay again, even though you knew that him being “okay” again wouldn’t ever be that easy.

"Did he really do what they say he did to Jennifer?" you turned and asked Jared, feeling like you were going to be sick again looking at the dirt and dried blood under his fingernails.

You tried to keep your mind from wondering whether the blood was his, or his attackers. You weren’t very successful.

"I don't know, and I'm not trying to justify anything he may have done, but do you think he would have deserved this? I was there when he asked her to dinner with him. She was definitely more than willing to show up at his house wearing next to nothing."

He was right of course. No one deserved what Jensen had been through.

You sat down in the chair next to his bed. Jensen was still staring at the wall like he didn't even know the two of you were in there. Reflexively you reached for his hand, wanting to comfort him in some way, but he jerked it under the cover before you even got close, never making a sound.

Even though he didn’t make a sound, he slowly looked up at you. Jared moved closer, not sure what he was going to do, but hoping that seeing you would pull him out of whatever mental cage he had enclosed himself in.

He did nothing. He stared at you for maybe a whole minute. A single tear slipping down his face then looked back at the wall. The blank look never once leaving his eyes.

Nurses came in checking the monitors while you and Jared sat next to Jensen talking, trying to avoid the subject of Jensen's injuries in front of him. Neither of you wanted to upset him. Jensen never moved, still just staring at the wall.

Finally, looking up at the clock you saw that it was close to 1 in the morning. Rubbing your face in frustration because even though you knew it was late you didn't want to leave him. He had dozed on and off while the two of you sat there talking, but he seemed to be awake right then. The amount of drugs they were giving him to manage his pain level probably didn't help his current state either. Still, you couldn't imagine the physical pain he was in. You didn't even want to think about what was going on in his head. Still, it was late, and you needed to let Jared get some rest.

"It's getting late, I need to let you rest. I'll come by tomorrow after work if that's okay," you tell Jared, reaching down to grabbing your purse. When you leaned down to grab your purse you had put your hand on the bed to brace yourself. It was something you did without thinking. Just a natural movement.

So lightly you almost didn't notice it you feel a calloused hand lay softly on top of yours. Looking up you see Jensen had reached over and grabbed your hand. Both yourself and Jared held your breath. For the first time, Jensen slowly made full eye contact with you, and not like he was looking through you with the same blank look on his face.

It was eerie and unnatural. Even though he was physically there, and probably knew vaguely where he was, he seemed to mentally be millions of miles away.

You went to take your hand away just to see what he would do, testing the waters kind of. When you did he tightened his grip on your hand, holding it in place.

"Jay," Jared said, trying to get his friend to look at him.

Jensen never spoke, but he did look at him with tears falling from his deep green eyes. It almost looked like he was on the edge of panic, but wasn’t quite mentally there enough to fall over that edge.

"Are you in pain?" Jared asked.

Jensen did nothing.

"Do you not want Y/N to leave?" he asked Jensen again.

Jensen did nothing, just stared back and forth between Jared and yourself.

Closing his eyes he slipped back into his drug-induced sleep with a death grip still on your hand.

For just a moment you considered staying, you did stay for another hour, Jensen never moved again, just slept. Honestly, it's what his body needed. To rest. So you gently slipped your hand out of his, gave Jared a hug, and your number, telling him to call you if he needed anything, and made your way to the door, letting both men get some rest.

When you finally got back to your car you sat there completely broken-hearted for the man lying in that hospital bed.

You hadn't realized it till right now. Seeing him so broken had brought it right in the front of your attention.

You didn't hate him like you thought.

You felt something else entirely.

This changes things.

For you anyway. Jensen had a long road ahead of him. Last you knew he hated you. Starting your car you wiped away the tears that were still falling from your own eyes. Praying to whoever was listening that you didn't get your heartbroken and that he could recover from this.

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

Tag List:

@deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @alanegaming @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester

Series Tag List:

@stoneyggirl

@idksupernatural

@fuzzycloudsz

@supernatural-bellawinchester

@vicmc624

@imaginationisgrowth

@smoothdogsgirl

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles series #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles dark fic #dark!fic #jensen x reader #jensen x you #male!rape #jensen faficiton #jensen fic #jensen series #you and me #jawritter #SPN fanfiction #SPN Fanfic #SPN

166 notes · View notes

heart-of-gold-outlaw · 4 years

Text

Welcome Home: Arthur Morgan x Modern!Reader (3/?)

Chapter Three: Dirty Rotten Bastards

Ao3

Wattpad

"So," Dutch says as he walks over to where you're sitting by the campfire. His expression is borderline unreadable. "Hosea told me about your hunting trip."

You wiggle a stick in the air, trying to make it look like a piece of string. "Yep."

"And Arthur told me about what happened in Valentine. With George Foreman."

Snapping the stick in half, you toss it into the fire, watching it ignite with a strange sort of fascination. "Uh-huh."

Dutch sighs and moves until he's standing in your line of sight. "Y/N," he says, voice low and entirely too serious, "you need to be more careful, darlin'. You ain't from here. What'll happen when Hosea and Arthur aren't there to keep you from getting into trouble?"

You shrug. "Guess I'll die."

Of course, of course, the meme goes right over Dutch's head. He stares at you, mouth slightly agape as concern immediately floods his eyes. You internally groan. You'll have to keep reminding yourself that morbid humor doesn't mean the same thing in the past as it does in your time. Still, you stick to your guns and don't elaborate. Let Dutch figure it out for himself.

"And Hosea," he eventually grinds out, "told me about that kind of talk from you."

At this point, you decide to check out of the conversation. If he's just going to lecture, you'll wait for him to climb on his soapbox again. Thankfully, Dutch seems to get the hint and leaves. You sigh. You know he's just looking out for you, as he looks out for everybody else in the gang. Still: it's annoying. You don't need a father. Not right now.

The sun rises over the mountains off in the distance, and you go about getting ready for the day. Abigail and John argue about who knows what, and you find yourself drifting toward their conversation. You know John doesn't do nearly enough to help with Jack. Abigail does most of the work. The thought alone makes your blood curdle. John's a goddamn father. The least he can do is take some responsibility and act like one.

Speak of the devil, John finishes arguing and goes off to sulk. You glare at him as he passes. He doesn't seem to notice, though, which is probably a good thing. Sighing, you decide to check on Abigail. She's furiously scrubbing something or another, but looks up at you when you approach. You watch her try her best to put on a facade.

"How you doin', Y/N?" She asks, straightening up and setting aside the wash. "I know this's gotta be confusin' and all."

"He's a fuck-off," you blurt, jabbing a thumb over in John's general direction, completely ignoring her attempt at small talk.

Abigail blinks, clearly taken aback. For a moment, you wonder if you've said too much, but then you decide it doesn't really matter. You're only speaking the truth.

"No seriously," you continue. "What the hell's his problem? First of all: he completely ignores his kid, then has the audacity to get mad at you—you—when you're the one doing all the goddamn work!"

Briefly, Abigail looks so shocked, you almost want to apologize. But then her shoulders slump and she sighs before leaning heavily against the wagon.

"I don't know," she says. "I guess that's just the way he is."

You feel your eyebrows skyrocket. "Oh now that's some bull. Motherfucker's gonna get a piece of my mind—and my foot—if he doesn't square up."

Abigail blinks again, then laughs. "Now that's somethin' I'd like to see."

Before you can continue, you spy Arthur riding into camp. You immediately shut your mouth. Abigail frowns, then follow your gaze... and you're mortified when her eyebrows shoot up in amusement. A knowing grin spreads across her face, much to your chagrin.

"Well now," she says, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say you fancy a certain rough-and-tough outlaw, Y/N."

You snap your eyes to hers. "Not even," you deny, though you can feel your face burning. "Not. Even."

Abigail shrugs and goes back to doing her wash. You look at Arthur as he feeds and waters his horse, then stare at your shoes when he glances your way. When you finally muster the courage to look up again, the corners of his lips are twitching. This, you've come to realize, is about as close to a smile as he gets.

"Y/N," he says in greeting when he walks over.

Your brain freezes momentarily, but you quickly recover. "Hey Arthur... nice weather, huh?"

If there was ever a time you wanted to die, actually die, that was it. Still, you don't bother trying to make a comeback. And lucky for you, Arthur chooses to let it go. Instead, he shrugs it off and starts walking toward the edge of camp.

You follow without really thinking. Surprisingly, you find yourself standing behind him a few feet away from the tied up O'Driscoll. Kieran, if you remember his name right. Arthur gives him a look—and you're suddenly grateful you're not on his bad side. Kieran leans away. You can see him shaking, and the stench radiating from him makes your nose scrunch up.

"Ready to talk yet, O'Driscoll?" Arthur asks as casually as if they're talking about the news.

Kieran groans. "How many times do I gotta tell you? I ain't an O'Driscoll."

"Really?" Arthur raises an eyebrow. "Ain't how it looks to me."

At that moment, Dutch walks over, followed by Bill Williamson. You're not too sure how you feel about Bill. He hasn't outright treated you poorly, but he's not the nicest guy in the gang. Then again, he is an outlaw. "Nice" isn't exactly a requirement.

"Oh who am I kidding?" Dutch says, getting close to Kieran's face. "This boy's not gonna talk. Not yet."

For the first time, Kieran seems to notice you're standing just a few feet away. His eyes find yours, wide and pleading, and your heart breaks just a little bit. You've never really paid him that much attention since Arthur found you in the Grizzlies. He was just some unlucky bastard who got mixed up in a bad scene.

"You want him to talk?" You say as you take a step closer. "Then let's make him talk. Gimme five minutes with him."

Dutch, Arthur, and Bill all stare at you like you've suddenly grown a second head. Kieran, though, just watches you warily. You can tell he can't quite figure out what game you're playing, so you give him your best smile. Honestly, you don't know what game you're playing yet, either. You're just making it up as you go.

Eventually, Dutch shrugs motions for Arthur and Bill to move away. "What've we got to lose?"

He and Bill stalk away, but Arthur lingers for a moment, glowering at Kieran with everything he has. Kieran shrinks back as far as the tree will allow.

"Try anything," Arthur warns, "and we'll have ourselves a dead O'Driscoll."

With that, he walks away. You catch him throw a glance over his shoulder, but he doesn't say anything else. Once you're sure he's out of earshot, you turn back to Kieran.

"Not an O'Driscoll, huh?" You plop down in the grass. "Me neither."

He watches you. "Then what are you?"

You shrug. "Just from the future. I know how this all ends."

It's one hell of a bluff, but you hope Kieran will take the bait. You've got a lot riding on this. Not only do you want to look good in front of the gang, you want to impress Arthur. And this seems like a good way to do it.

"H-how does it end?" Kieran, much to your delight, sounds like he believes you. The tremor in his voice is a telltale sign.

You shrug again, deciding to draw it out. "For them? Not too shabby. For you..." You give him a look. "Well... I don't think you wanna know."

// // // // //

Five minutes later, you casually approach Arthur, Bill, and Dutch. You twirl a few blades of grass between your fingers, then let them go and watch them fly away in the wind. Then, you turn to meet everyone's questioning stares.

"Y'all ever heard of Six Point Cabin?" You ask. "Kieran says that's where Colm O'Driscoll's hiding."

Bill nods. "Yeah, I know it. Ain't too far from here."

"How in the hell," Arthur says, "did you get him to talk?"

You shrug and absently draw a circle in the dirt with your foot. "I told him I'm from the future and that y'all kill him and cut up his body into fourteen pieces, then scatter them all around the Grizzlies so nobody can ever find him."

Three pairs of eyes widen as the outlaws gape at you. Eventually, though, Dutch lets out a bark of laughter and pats your shoulder.

"Nice work, Y/N," he praises. "Guess we can count on you to get things done around here."

You find yourself smiling. "Just takes a bit of skill and a whole lot of lying."

"Well then." Dutch glances around at Bill and Arthur, then back to you. "Why don't you tag along with Mr. Williamson and Mr. Morgan, see if you can't pay ol' Colm a visit?"

At this, Arthur shoots Dutch a look. "You sure?" He asks, giving you a once-over. "They still don't know how to shoot, Dutch."

You know he's right, but the last thing you want to do is stay cooped up in camp any longer. And besides: how hard could shooting a gun be? All you have to do is pull the trigger.

"Take the O'Driscoll with you," Dutch is saying, "and have Y/N watch him. Any luck, we can catch Colm unawares."

Arthur still seems uncertain, but eventually nods. "Fine." He turns to you. "Sound alright?"

"Oh absolutely." You give him a wide grin. "Let's go."

A/N: So, I know that it's been a while between updates, but life got a little hectic with the whole quarantine business. Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! Likes and comments are much appreciated!

Next Chapter: In Progress

Previous Chapter: Lionheart

Inspired Playlist Track: Green Day - “Dirty Rotten Bastards”

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #modern!reader #rdr2 fic #rdr2 fanfic #fic #fanfic #my writing #my fic #sorry for the wait y'all!

119 notes · View notes

wolf-with-a-pen · 3 years

Text

Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door Part 4

TW: Lots of Swearing, Unreality, Kidnap, It Gets Really Dirty At One Point

Previous, Masterpost, Next

Sorry it is a week late, I should be able to write more now that I don't have to go out for just under 7 hours a day by law. If you want me to mention you when I post, ask, if you want me to tag something or add another trigger, also ask.

Enjoy!

Word Count:3975

EDWARD HAD NO CLUE WHERE THEY WERE. All they knew was it was within an hour of the flat, and that they weren’t there by choice. What’s going on you might ask me? Why are they there? Well, in order to tell you that, I have to go back to just after they arrived back at home, around 8 hours before.

Edward had spent the last half an hour trying to adjust their room to be exactly how they wanted it, however, they were failing dismally. Despite the lack of actual stuff to put in the room, they physically could not find something that felt right enough and a way that the room felt like home. Probably just because of the aftermath of being forced out of their home literally less than 24 hours before, but still, they tried everything and just gradually made a bigger and bigger mess of the place, eventually just stopping to look at what they’d done and realising they couldn’t see half of the stuff. It was at this point they decided to stop. Grabbing the few things they’d need urgently, they managed to find a way to the single bed in the corner of the room looking out at it. To their right lay the white door, and in front of them was the single window. To the left of the window was a bookshelf with stuff strewn over it and on the opposite side was a desk and chair. Next to them was a small chest of draws that they stored the few things they grabbed in, before laying down and trying not to think. It was at this point the welcome distraction of Isi knocked on the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure, could use a distraction.”

“Why?” it asked, gently pushing open the door. “Oh…it looks like you’ve dropped a bomb in here.”

“Yeah. It does, doesn’t it?”

“You want some help after what I came here for?”

“Please.”

“Ok, now, what did you think of Vanny?”

“Why?”

“Just want to know.”

“Okay. Not how I was expecting, but in a good way.”

“Why, what were you expecting?”

“Heavily opinionated, extrovert. Can’t really explain it more than that.”

“It’s cause of Biff right?”

“Probably. Still thought she’d be an extrovert though, even without Biff.”

“Cool. And how is Vanny different to how you were expecting?”

“She’s pretty quiet, to the point, and honestly she seems cool to me.”

“Cool. That’s good. Now then, how about this room?”

It was another half an hour later when Vanny called them for their sleepover, and honestly, it looked worse than when it started. Somehow, despite it already being war zone, Isi turned it into a nuclear bomb site. You could not see any of the surfaces. But Edward did not care that much- all they knew was they had fun with a friend. And in the process made more work for themselves, but, oh well, they wouldn’t need their bedroom tonight, and they could probably sort it out tomorrow. Quickly they slipped on some comfortable clothes, before emerging to find Isi in the most laid-back clothes they had seen them in and Vanny somehow looking less laid-back than normal. “Come on in Edward and sit down. We’re planning on starting with movies and pizza, before moving onto games. Any requests?” Vanny inquired, beckoning them closer.

“No, thank you,” replied Edward, gently sitting down on the floor, taking a few of the cushions off of the pile to sit on.

“Ok, well we’re starting with Lilo and Stich, then Coraline and finally RED. You ok with all of those?”

“Sure.”

“Ok, good, shall we get started?”

It was half an hour later that the silence was broken. Edward had spent the time either sat on the arm of a chair, or on the cushion on the floor, while Vanny and Isi were cuddled up on one end of the sofa. Surprisingly, Edward was the one that broke the silence. It took them a quarter of an hour to get the confidence to ask. “Should we build a pillow fort?”

“Yes, I haven’t built one since I was a kid!” Vanny exclaimed in approval.

“Why did you think we brought all of the blankets out? If we order pizza, by the time we’ve built it, it’ll be here.” Isi inputted

“Thank, you, that sounds good.” Edward replied

“Of course, and don’t worry too much. This will be the best pillow fort ever.” Isi, replied realising that it was probably with Ansel that they last built one.

“Yeah, it will.” Vanny confidently added.

If you already guessed from the fact that with more than one person, all they did was create a bigger mess, you can imagine what the room looked like. I mean, what did you expect? I mean, they managed kind of a pillow fort. There were walls and a roof and pillows on the floor, but the rest of the room that they couldn’t see looked like someone dropped a bunch of pillows on the building, and if they even tried to leave, half of it would fall down, but they had fun and managed something. That was all that mattered. The pizzas had arrived before they blocked themselves in and they had grabbed as many drinks and sweets as possible to stock the fort with. By this point they were all laying on the floor. “So, what should we do next?”

“Truth or dare?” Vanny asked.

“Really?” Isi groaned.

“Come on, it would be a good idea to get to know each other. You down Edward?”

“Fine,” Isi sighed

“Sure,” they answered.

They had all just about managed to drag out three rounds of truth or dare, and it had landed on Edward. All of them were running out so they were expecting them to just pass their round to the others. “Both of you, truth or dare?”

They looked at each other, kinda worried. “Truth,” they replied, almost in unison.

“How did you meet?” They inquired, not realising what they had got into, while Vanny and Isi were both stuck remembering how they did meet.

It was 10 years ago that they first met, aged 16, though not in the best circumstances. For both of them everything seemed to be going wrong that day, literally everything. Big and small. But still, they regarded it as one of their better days- just because they found each other. [A/N: will be writing a short dedicated to this later]

However during this flashback, they left Edward alone in a sense- both were zoned out looking into the distance, and after a while, they began to worry about them. It’s not every day you see your friends just completely go unresponsive while still being awake. Kinda creeped them out. So, they decided to wait it out in their room, where they couldn’t see the creepy half-dead look the others were giving everything. But they had forgotten the fact it was a chaotic mess, despite everyone’s best efforts to clean up. Not even they knew how it wasn’t better. So, they grabbed a few things off their bedside table that they might urgently need and shoved them in their backpack, slinging it on their shoulder and entering the kitchen, grabbing the pen and piece of paper they saw when they entered. Once they had done this, they grabbed a second piece of paper, wrote a note for when the two woke up, picking up a set of keys and leaving, quietly and carefully through the front door.

You see, Edward did not know the city. That they’d already established, from the fact that Isi was practically leading them around by tugging on their sleeve. Yeah, they didn’t particularly like that, knowing that they would be useless if the Guardians arrived and they had to leave quickly. So, they had decided to create a map of the surrounding area, noting the landmarks along the way. Hopefully they wouldn’t get lost. If they did they’d have to talk to people, but oh well. It would make them feel better they decided, as they noted down the number flat and the name of the flat block as a dot in the centre of the paper. As they walked down to the ground floor of the block, they realised how late it was- you could barely see the sun, and light was quickly fading beyond the horizon. Unfortunately, this meant it wasn’t as safe as first predicted. Thankfully, angels don’t get hurt unless a guardian or demon does it.

“Hello?” an unfamiliar voice called out. “I couldn’t help but notice you came out of Vanny’s place, and I was wondering if she was ok, I haven’t seen her in a while.” Turning on their heels, they looked for the source of the voice, finding it to be an older looking woman, on the second floor of the building.

“Hello, yes I did come from Vanny’s, currently me and my friend are staying with her,” Edward replied as calm as they could manage, trying not to let slip that said friend was most likely known to be dead.

“So, she’s finally letting people in, that’s good. She’s been so lonely since Isi died, all of us were worried about her. Look after her for me will you?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you. What is your name?”

“I am Edward. And you?”

“Margret, Margret Grey. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

“I’d better go, see you around.”

“See you.” They replied, watching as she picked up a newspaper of the floor, before disappearing into a flat. Number 25. They made a mental note of it, in case they ever needed any help. The conversation went better than they were expecting. Almost too well. They turned on their heel, leaving through which ever path they believed would be the best, making a note of every junction and landmark along the way, keeping an eye on the rapidly fading light.

It was only an hour later that Edward realised how stupid an idea they had. First, it was now dark. Very dark. Almost pitch black. Second, they had chosen the wrong path. Somehow they ended up in an alleyway, somewhere. It looked vaguely threatening, with the graffiti and sense of someone watching you. Plus, the little canisters of who knows what were coating the floor. All they knew is it was probably a drug, and likely not a legal one at that. Never a brilliant sign. And finally, they had no clue where they were. Unsurprisingly, their map was practically useless, and just a jumble of lines. Literally, it looked like someone had grabbed a piece of paper and randomly squiggled on it. Almost certainly, they were regretting their choice. And the lack of forethought to check they had their phone on them. “Just wander around until you find a main road,” they thought, “What could possibly go wrong?” They didn’t bother answering that. They knew something would.

As you know, it was 8 hours after they got home. At least, as far as they knew. Who knew how reliable the weird people’s word was? They remembered that decision, and nothing else. It was as if they passed out then. I mean, they knew they had passed out at some point, but it wasn’t right there in that alley was it? They strained trying to remember what had happened, and was severely failing. Then they checked the rope tied around them. Solid- no way out. As far as they knew they would be trapped there forever. This increasingly depressing train of thought was disturbed by the sounds of the person returning, not that they could see who had taken them, not with the lights off. The only thing they could tell was that they were under another floor, and that the floor was concrete. That was it. The mysterious voice of the person holding them hostage startled them from this tangent.

“Hello Edward. You’re probably wondering what you are doing here. Well, you’ll never know. So, stay here for a while. Not that you can leave. Anyway, you just have to stay here until our friend comes back, then you might be able to go. OK?”

Edward nodded, confused as the kidnapper removed the gag they had placed on them. They got a small idea, one that would be unwise, but it worked in Dungeons and Dragons campaigns, why wouldn’t it work in real life as well?

Above them, Salami was sat. Yep, the three of them had kidnapped them. Despite telling Satan they wouldn’t interact. I mean, what did he expect? You can’t tell someone not to do something and expect them to not then do it. Especially the three who were unfazed with breaking his rules, and who he didn’t mind breaking the rules because they usually managed to complete the job. They had no clue how they found them so quickly- what was the chances that they would stumble into the road leading straight to their house, and that they would be so easy to just take. That was the only reason they realised how much help Isi and Edward would need. If they could barely defend themselves, how did they expect to take over heaven? So, they interfered. Eventually, Sal decided to go check on the two, finding them locked in combat. They were at opposite each other, and so, they pulled up a chair next to Sprite.

“Are you that interested in me that you want me to stay?”

“Fuck you.”

“Why don’t you darling?~”

“Why don’t you shut your pretty mouth?”

“Why don’t you do it for me?”

“You know, you’re pretty handsome for a bastard.”

“Aww, you think I’m handsome?”

“No, bitch. Go fuck yourself.”

“Why don’t you fuck me instead?”

“What’s up?” asked Sal, raising their eyebrows.

“I don’t know, wanna see?” Edward quickly replied, with no idea how they managed to keep it up for this long.

“No thank you, why would I want to see a matchstick?”

“It may be a matchstick, but I sure know how to show you a good time.” Edward lied. They really didn’t.

“Who says you’d be the one showing the other a good time? By the end of the night, you would be a blubbering mess.”

“Don’t be so sure, you look like you wouldn’t hold up that long.”

“Looks are deceptive dear, just like you looking like you would be unable to flirt. And like a virgin.”

“As you said, looks are deceptive.”

“h, but I can tell, the second part is true. Honestly, I’m surprised you aren’t a slut.”

“And I’m surprised you’re able to talk. I thought I would have broken you by now.”

“Try harder then.”

“Oh, I certainly can if you want me to.”

“Yeah right, you look 5 seconds away from being shattered.”

“You’re the only ones who will end up shattered. Don’t think I didn’t notice you watching us, person 1.”

“Well, I couldn’t miss that conversation, if it goes any further, I might have to gag you.”

“Kinky.”

“I’m done now, let’s go back upstairs.”

“Don’t be too loud now, the walls are thin.”

“Yeah right, as if you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“Oh, I would, but the neighbours wouldn’t, I’m sure.”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh, but we’re having so much fun.”

“You might, asshole.”

“So, you’re denying the truth now are you? Why would you stay if you weren’t enjoying yourself?”

“To break you. Let’s go.” Sprite answered turning on their heels.

“God that was exhausting. And impossible to end.” Sal stated, not thinking that Edward would hear him.

“It would be even more tiring if I did what I wanted to you, and it wouldn’t have to end if you didn’t want it to.”

“Dream on, whore.” He said closing the door on themselves.

“Wow, that went better than I expected,” Edward thought, “I kept up for who knows how long.” Then they sat and waited, falling back asleep pretty quickly.

Meanwhile, Isi and Vanny were panicking. I mean, who wouldn’t? It was about half an hour after Edward left that they snapped out of whatever trance they were in, and realised that they were gone. Both took a few minutes to realise what had happened, and after looking at a clock realised they had left Edward alone for way too long. Vanny was the one who saw the note, calming Isi who had ran around the flat looking for them worried that they had been kidnapped or worse, taken back to heaven. That didn’t fully tell them that they were Ok, and the fact they didn’t take their phone- it couldn’t help but worry. Not after everything. Eventually they had managed to get to sleep, reassuring themselves that they would turn up in the morning, but it was to no avail-while Edward was happily flirting with their captors, it had realised they were not coming home anytime soon. Something odd for the size of the city. But it knew it couldn’t do anything so it stayed where it was.

It was half an hour later that Edward woke back up, and even then, only because the door had slammed. Muffled above they heard 3 voices. The two from earlier, and a third, deeper voice. An unfamiliar one, yet it still felt as though they had heard it before. Straining, they listened in. “I couldn’t find them anywhere. This is going to be hopeless isn’t it?”

“We found them, they’re in the basement. I will warn you their flirting is on par with yours.”

“Thanks darlings. I’ll check them out later. Any other news?”

“Not beyond finding a map with only one legible location written down, that must be their place.”

“Perfect. We can check that out later, if we can’t get them to work with us.”

“OK.”

“I’ll go down then, since there is nothing else to do.”

“Good luck, you’ll need it.”

They heard the door gently click, and watched the person descend down the stair they could now just about make out from the time they had to let their eyes adjust to the gloom. The room was mostly empty, except for the shelves they could see out of the corner of their eye with what seemed to be some sort of weaponry on it. They hoped they wouldn’t use it on them.

“Hello, Edward. Might I say, you look so much more handsome in person than from your photo.”

“Thank you. How did you get my photo?” They asked, knowing they wouldn’t reveal it, but hoping to disarm them slightly.

“My sources shall stay unknown. The reason I’m here is to ask for you to join us darling. You’d be a fool not to.”

“Why should I join you? I haven’t seen any of you yet and how am I supposed to trust a kidnapper?”

“We are not going to keep you forever, the second we have your answer you are free to leave, but I recommend you don’t be rash. We have something you want. You have something we want.”

“So, you are suggesting an alliance? What is it that you want from me?”

“You and your little friend Isi on our side, helping us.”

“And what would I get in return?”

“Protection, information, and help with your so called “revolution” of 2 people against all of the angels. I know you are looking for help. But are you willing to accept it?”

They pondered the kidnapper’s offer. It did sound good. They needed help, and protection would be good as well. The information they could give would probably be priceless. However, were they really meant to trust a faceless person who could easily stab them in the back? They didn’t know.

“I will consider it, but only if I can know who you three are and why are interested in me and Isi.”

“Alright. My name is Riley, he/him. I will untie you. All of the windows and doors are locked and we know where you live. You will not be able to escape.”

“Ok.” Edward replied.

“Now then, no running or shifty business. I wouldn’t want to have to ruin that pretty face of yours,” he said warningly as he gradually untied the mass of knots holding them to the chair. Gradually he became more and more frustrated, as the knots simply wouldn’t come undone. At all. You couldn’t even cut it- it was all tied together. “Who the fuck tied these knots?” he shouted upstairs. Both of the people wandered downstairs to watch him fail at untying them. “We did,” one of them replied. “You going to help?”

“No, I think you’re doing fine on your own.”

For Edward and Riley it went painfully slowly, but you could tell the other two were enjoying themselves at their pain. It felt like hours later that he had managed to get them untied. Mainly because it was- it took him around an hour and a half just to get them loose.

“So, can I meet all of you properly now?”

“Why?”

“Go along with it, they said they’d consider joining us if we showed them who we are and why we wanted them.”

“Alright. I’m Salami, but call me Sal, I’m a he/they,” said the second person.

“Fine, I’m Sprite,” the first begrudgingly revealed.

“Thank you. Now why do you want me and Isi?”

“We are all demons, well except Sprite, they’re a half demon, half angel. And our Boss heard of your escape, and finds you interesting. He wants us to help you, and in return you give him information. You see, we all want rid of the Guardians- all except the worker sheep that you call angels. You used to be part of them my dear, but you managed to break out of that way of thinking and heaven. That’s rare.”

“Ok. So, because we have insider information, you want me to help you.”

“Yes.”

“And if I don’t agree?”

“You’d be a fool not to, but I would be unable to stop you. But remember we know where you live, and if our leader gives us the order we will kidnap both of you and force you to co-operate.”

“Ok, I’ll work with you, but only because there is currently no other option.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, can I go home, the others will be worried, since I’ve been gone a while.”

“And how do you expect to get home when you were already lost?”

“I’ll find a way.”

“No, you won’t. I’ll take you home, my damsel.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, thank you.”

Half an hour later they arrived home, waving Riley off. Most of the journey was a flirting battle between the two of them, and it only ended when Riley had their number. Somehow they had already managed to memorise it. Before long, they were back inside the flat, being confronted by a worried Vanny and Isi.

“Are you ok?”

“What happened?”

“Why were you gone so long?”

“Just, don’t ask, you don’t want to know. I made some allies though. 2 demons and a half demon half angel.”

“Ok. Wait, was one of them called Sprite?”

“Yes, why?”

“Not brilliant but ok.”

“Why?”

“They work for Satan, and not just in a sense that they are down the command chain form him, they are his personal group of investigators and only really work on secret important stuff. This means Satan not only knows we’re here, but is interested in us. That could be good or bad, but we will have to wait and see. What did they ask you?”

“If I would help them in return for them helping us.”

“Did you accept?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see their faces?”

“Yes.”

“Ok. Good. Now, shall we continue where we left off yesterday?”

“Yes please.”

#Knockin' On Heaven's Door #Original Content #TW swearing #tw unreality #tw kidnapping #I don't know if it's a trigger but when they start flirting it gets way too dirty #tw dirty stuff

1 note · View note

neighborhoodmoonchild · 4 years

Text

ᾰ̓γᾰ́πη - Pt. III

Pairing(s): Cursed!Seokjin x Reader

Genre(s): Fantasy Au, Fluff, Soulmate Au, Angst

Summary: “There’s a story whispered around here. One surrounding the beautifully carved statue of a man at the center of the town. Legend says that when the hand of his true love graces his palm, he shall wake from his cursed marbled slumber. It’s always been a silly old wives tale, until you give in to a friend’s dare.” (prompt idea from writing-prompt-s)

Warning(s): mild language

Word Count: 3.7k (oops)

Part I, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, …

taglist: @best-space-boy @maryelixabeth @mochimaw @yeontanismypresident @hannahantonette17 @ign-is @fanfuckingfic @koala-wonderland @suchgayaesthetic @dulcaet @anoynmoustumbler @annoyingpessimist

~ if you want to be added to the tag list for this fic, feel free to send me an ask! thank you💜

“It’s also a pleasure to finally see you again, Althaia,” Seokjin adds after a not at all awkward pause while Mira swiftly prepared an herbal tea meant to relax her noticeably uncomfortable guests. Looking over the rim of your cup as you took a long sip, your eyes darted from the man now sitting at the table across from you to the woman seated to your right.

He was watching her intently as she swirled her spoon around her cup, lightly agitating the liquid to blend the honey she always added. She once told you she’s not one for bitterness, and because she could never find the perfect blend sweet enough on its own, honey would have to suffice.

A long, dramatic sigh accompanied her look of disinterest.

“I’m quite surprised, though you don’t seem to be.” Again, your gaze flitted between the two, unsure of what to make of the situation. Mira didn’t seem bothered at all, almost as if this whole thing was something she expected, or at least, knew might be coming.

Why was she not correcting him? Insisting he must be mistaken; her name is Mira, not...not Althaia or whatever he said. And how could he insinuate he knows her in any way? He’s been a statue since before you were even born and Mira is only a few years older than you.

Mira had remained quiet, content as Seokjin waited for any kind of response. It would make more sense if she had outright denied his accusations, shut him down and insist a mistake had been made. Instead, she slowly moved her attention from her earlier ministrations, softly gazing upon you for a brief moment, then turning to him.

“I honestly didn’t think you’d remember me after all this time, let alone be able to recognize me, Mr. Kim.” Her voice was low and calm, calculated as she mulled over just how to address the situation to come. Something about the tone of her voice didn’t sit right with you. This was no longer the slightly agitating neighbor you’d grown fond of.

This person next to you was entirely different.

In the deepest part of her being, Mira knew it from the moment she met you that things were finally changing.

“What do you mean ‘remember?’” you piped up over the silent stare down the two had unconsciously engaged in. At an utter loss, your mind had taken the small bits of information provided to try and come to some sort of viable conclusion, but to no avail. Perhaps your mind was still processing your own dilemma, and you couldn’t afford to lend any brain power to this situation, or maybe it was just too far-fetched to even fathom.

Now, the two stared at you as if you were some poor, pathetic creature or a doll made of porcelain. Pitiful was one way to put it and it made your insides clench and churn, the situation all too reminiscent of a lamb about to be sacrificed to the slaughter. Eerie how suddenly you were the only one without a clue and it didn’t help that it now felt as if you were seated next to two strangers and not just one.

After the two continued in an annoyingly cryptic battle of stares, almost prodding the other to speak first, you decide the time for silence and secrets is officially over. Slapping two hands on the oak table as you shoot from your seat, the crack of skin on wood makes them fully focus on you. Not even bothering to look either one in the face, you let out a hefty sigh and close your eyes, mind suddenly battling an intensely growing migraine.

“Look, I don’t know whatever ‘this’,” hands waving between the two of them, “is, but I’m tired and done. With everything. Feel free to settle this on your own, I’m going home.”

Before you could even make it 5 steps from your seat, the slightly ajar front door slams shut...on its own. Like a lone wind had decided to fiercely bound though the opening, or more fittingly, a spirit decided to trap you inside.

“The hell was that?” You mumbled to yourself as you cautiously approached the door, afraid it may come suddenly to life, considering the day you’d had.

As your hand curled around the cool metal knob, you heard someone rise from their seat, “Wait, Y/N, just stay and let...let me explain.”

Swiveling your head around enough to see Mira standing firmly by her chair, a scared expression on her face, the atmosphere shifted. It set you off, igniting a sense of, you’re not sure, maybe fear, within you. Something wasn’t right. Nothing about this whole situation felt right.

“I can’t do this. I don’t know what’s going on, but it doesn’t feel right. I can’t be here...with you.” You weren’t sure what exactly was triggering this flight response within you. Not once in your time knowing her had Mira ever done anything for you to react this way towards her, but today, with her pushing you to touch the statue, to the odd sense of familiarity between Seokjin and her, to the strange aura suddenly radiating off her, it was all too much.

Your senses were overloading. Too much had transpired and you’d not been given enough time to properly digest anything. Going from a relatively boring life to one suddenly plagued by some kind of weird magic, sorcery, whatever it was, in the span of a few hours is too much.

The migraine you’d been fighting was on the cusp of becoming a full fledged breakdown.

Ignoring the protests of the two behind you, again your body moved towards the door, handle turning a fraction of an inch before everything stopped.

Seconds, maybe minutes you stared at the slab of wood. Not a muscle moved, like your entire body was paralyzed, only slow shallow breaths could escape the numb confines of your lips. As if you no longer controlled the only vessel with which you solely could. You were a marionette, controlled by invisible strings.

And then all at once, a warm tingly feeling seeped through your veins, bringing with it the sweet taste of freedom. Nerves alight, muscles contracting, you finally had your body back.

But with this came the intense fear of the whole situation. Every other thought within you was gone, mind shut down, body going into lockdown mode, syphoning your remaining energy into getting away.

Away from whatever this strange new danger was.

Slowly, cautiously, prey reacting to predator, you turned your body back to the table.

It hurt. Hurt to look at them. To look at her.

At first, a part of your mind jumped straight to blaming the newcomer, but deep in your soul, you knew.

She looked pained, as if she hadn’t just defiled you in some unbelievable and terrifying way. Like she had instead been the one to somehow become nothing but a husk reduced to a master’s bidding.

The questions of how and why were disregarded for a greater purpose, saving yourself from whatever was happening and preventing it from ever happening again.

How dare someone you trusted, cared for, looked up to, do whatever that hell that was to you, a friend, even for the fleeting moments she did.

The blood in your body was now cold, face pale and painted with such a deep look of betrayal you could feel the guilt radiate from her being.

“Y/N.. I-“

“Don’t.”

You didn’t even breathe when she flinched at the steel tone of your voice. This was all too much. This whole day was entirely too much. You needed to get away from this, from them, and you needed to do it now.

She knew what she’d done. Not only had she lied to you your entire friendship, but she’d hurt you in a way that shouldn’t be humanely possible. Panicked in her efforts to come clean to you, protect you, and protect herself, she’d acted too quickly, doing something she’d swore never to do again. It was one thing to keep secrets, but another to use them against someone.

Seokjin forgotten, you briskly made your exit, making sure they couldn’t see as the tears fell.

————

“If I see one more walk by, I’m going out there and beating the shit out of them,” you mutter to yourself halfheartedly underneath the comfort of the blanket fort you’d built in the living room.

After spending a few days trying to piece yourself back together, you’d decided the best course of action was: avoidance. Within the tiny walls of your home, you could stay cooped up in a safe space and forget everything that happened. Statue man could stay with her and you could go on with your life, without the both of them.

It seemed do-able at first, spending an unhealthy amount of time in bed, watching movies, the occasional brief call with your mother, but it of course couldn’t stay that way.

You’d been naive enough to think that the town would go back to normal, find something new to obsess over and forget all about you and the stupid statue.

Oh, how wrong you’d been.

Suddenly your house was like an attraction for everyone. As soon as the sun rose, you’d catch a few faces passing by your windows, just outside the front gate. There they’d sit for a few minutes, gawk and gossip, and eventually leave, and be replaced by a new set of oglers ready for a show.

You weren’t afraid of the attention, just miffed that your plan to lay low and be alone failed from the beginning.

Despite the annoyance from the nosy town folk, you were grateful that it had only been them, and not two other faces outside.

Watching the last of the group of young girls get bored and disperse from your window, you turn your attention back to the movie on your screen. As the characters moved and music played in the background, you forced yourself to try and focus on that. Instead, thoughts of Kim Seokjin and your friend weasel their way in over the noise.

What were they doing? Were they thinking of a way to fix things with you? Had they forgotten about you and moved on? How did she even do that in the first place? And what is the whole backstory between them?

The questions tore you up inside, fighting with the stubborn part of you that wanted to forget them completely. The other downside to isolating yourself was the immense amount of free time to think about everything that’s happened. It was a nightmare going over everything, every single bit that made no sense, bits and pieces not adding up in any way you could understand.

Just a few days ago you were a normal girl living life in a boring town fighting with your friend over the legitimacy of a town legend.

She was your only friend, the only person who listened, who understood. Could you forgive her for what she did? It was quite obvious she’d been keeping things from you, but for how long, and why? And Seokjin, your soulmate, how are you supposed to love someone you don’t know, who’s probably lived a whole life before yours even began?

If he is your soulmate, why didn’t he stop her? Did he feel the pain you did when you were robbed of your own self? How could he see you in such distress and not do anything? Why hadn’t it scared him as much as it had you? What parts of Mira’s hidden past was he privy to that you were not?

Perhaps you were putting too much onto the whole soulmates thing. After all, how could you expect a stranger to assert himself into such a personal thing, even considering the circumstances. When it all comes down to it, soulmate or not, Kim Seokjin is an outsider, an alien to you.

He is no more a part of your life than the nosy towns people, the visiting tourists, or the migrating birds. You don’t owe him anything, and he you.

The only thing you could wish for him right now, is to go about his own life and not force himself into yours.

Pillow clutched unknowingly tight to your chest, grounding yourself, you couldn’t help the dull ache in your heart. That was the only thing you would allow yourself to chalk up to the soulmate thing. Maybe one day, like them, you’d be able to ignore it too.

Movie long abandoned, you trudged your way back and forth, pacing across the wooden floorboards like a caged animal. You were desperate to get out, see the stars, breathe in the fresh air, but your body was still afraid of what leaving these four walls might incur. Whether you were ready to face them or not, you couldn’t sit there and drive yourself insane any longer.

The sun had set hours ago, the light from the moon casting a hazy white glow over the landscape, and you were desperate for even just a second to bask in it.

Grabbing a light jacket to fend off the chilly night air, you brace yourself, hand wrapped tightly around the door knob, and take a deep breathe.

Now that you were truly thinking about it, it must look overly pathetic from an outsider’s perspective. You’d been holed up in your home for four days now, only peeking suspiciously through your windows to glare at the onlookers and then returning to a pitiful mope-fest with only one attendee; you.

You owed it to yourself to snap out of it, move on, and go back to life as normally as possible. The only thing you could control was yourself. It doesn’t matter what others do or don’t do, you need to do what you can, for you.

And right now, that’s enjoying some fresh night air and being brave.

Taking that first step out onto the front porch is what you imagine the first astronaut on the moon must’ve felt. The most mundane of things became a huge feat, and you weren’t about to ruin it for yourself, no matter how silly it seemed.

Looking out across the street, the sidewalk empty and streetlights dim, it was like you were finally yourself again. The stars above and the moon shining bright made the first smile in days appear.

All of the worries, the questions, the bitterness lifted away by a light breeze, the clouds in your head dispersed and you had the sudden urge to forgive. All your life you’d been quick to judge and draw conclusions, but something within you told you there was more to this than meets the eye. You needed the truth.

Like fate had been keeping a close eye, your attention was drawn to the figure making its way along the outside of your fence line. The long dark hair caused a breathe to catch in your throat, and you were suddenly questioning if you were really were ready to face things.

She stopped just before the gate, head looking up and catching your eyes with her own.

Hesitating, she clears her throat, “I...I didn’t think you’d be up.”

Watching as her hands lifted up, you spot the neat paper bag tucked within her palms.

Still afraid to say anything, not trusting yourself to stay calm and collected, she continues.

“He’s been asking a lot about you. I wanted to do something...to apologize.”

She pauses, waiting to see if you’d run away or tell her to leave, but when you nod in the direction of the bag, she finishes, “I showed him how to make your favorite cookies. But I thought it be best if just I came to drop them off. I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

Arms protectively crossed over your chest, you take another deep breath and slowly descend the porch on step at a time. Instead of meeting her at the gate, you plant firmly in the grass.

“Why?”

It sounded choked coming out and you hated that. Not only did you not want to seem weak in front of her, you didn’t want her to think you hated her. The only thing you want is the truth. She owes you that much.

Mira fidgets a moment and returns her attention to you, not quite in the eyes, but it’s close enough.

“I didn’t mean to-I just-“ Tripping over her words, not exactly sure how to begin or where to go, you stop her quickly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Finally meeting your eyes, she sees the strength you’ve managed to muster up, sees that twinge of forgiveness at the helm and realizes it’s now or never.

“I’ve wanted to explain everything, I just wasn’t sure how to go about it.”

“So instead you instigate me to break some curse you already somehow knew I’d be able to, pretend to be someone your not this entire time, and somehow posses me and take away my free will?”

The look of shame that melted onto her face struck a chord of guilt deep in your soul, but this was something you had to do. For too long you let others have free reign, it was time to take control.

“I wasn’t sure if you could handle it, or even believe me in the first place...”

“And how am I supposed to ever believe you now? I don’t even know who you really are, what you are...”

Tension building quickly in the cool air, things were becoming muddled. You weren’t even sure what you were pushing for, a confession? A secret so dark and unbelievable it was grounds enough to hide from you for as long as you were friends.

“I’m a witch.” There’s a long pause. You both stand there, staring at each other, unsure of who’s to make the next move. Mira’s afraid she’s just divulged her dangerous secret to someone who can’t handle it, and you’re afraid you’ve officially lost your mind.

“I know I sound like an old record player by now, but maybe we should take this somewhere more,” she pauses to look around the darkness cautiously, sending a shiver down your spine, “private?”

————

Turns out cookies at 2 in the morning are a good way to smooth over the confessions of the magical past of your only friend. Not going to lie, you’d taken plenty of breaks to try and absorb and process the incredible amount of information Mira, or formerly known as Althaia in the late 1800s, if you can believe it, had to unload on you. In her defense, you’d pushed her quite hard to open up and be 100% honest with you.

“So, you just...change your appearance and house every few centuries and pretend to be someone else?” Rubbing your head to ease the growing headache as you mindlessly shoved another cookie in your mouth, you felt like a little kid asking an adult really strange questions that shouldn’t have a serious answer.

Mira nods, wrapping her hands around the mug of coffee you made her and taking a sip.

“And you knew Seokjin when he was alive, well, in his own time, before he turned into a statue?”

She cringes a bit and it catches your attention, “About that...”

“You mean, you’re the one that cursed him?!?” It was probably the hundredth time you’d asked her that in the past half hour, but you couldn’t help it, you suddenly felt like you were going crazy, trapped in some bad supernatural rom-com or something.

Sighing loudly enough to voice her growing impatience with you, she nodded, “Yes, for the millionth time. I put the curse on Kim Seokjin.”

“Well, why?” Resting your chin in your palms, eyes wide like a child, you prayed further. You just couldn’t understand why on Earth she’d curse him in the first place. Even if she is a witch, what could have warranted him to invoke a curse? And why this particular curse?

“Well, it’s not really my story to tell...”

Holding true to your childish theme growing in this conversation, you pouted, bottom lip sticking out and leaning forward on the table, “But you cursed him, how is not yours to tell?”

Mira only shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips at your antics. You’d only shown your stubborn side like this to her on few occasions, and it made her laugh at how you could be so apathetic one minute and youthfully enthusiastic the next.

“True, but there’s much more to it than it seems. Besides, I think it’s time you both get together, talk, and figure things out.”

Your silent for a moment, fighting another pout and mulling over her words. Then suddenly, it hits you.

“Well, if you’re the one who cursed him, you can break our soulmate bond too, right?”

Her grin morphs into a neutral line, lips curled in. Like she’s trying to think of the best way to let you down.

“The thing is, I only enacted the curse. The means to break it were decided by fate, not me.” The look of disappointment that washed over you couldn’t help but bring a prick of guilt from the witch.

She’d invoked the curse reluctantly to help another, and now she was hurting someone again. If she could go back, maybe she’d have done differently.

Silence again stretched out between the both of you. It was one thing when it was some folk lore from town, but now knowing the truth, and knowing it is all very real and unavoidable; unfix-able, it’s a harder pill to swallow.

“Do you,” you squeak softly, eyes trained on the floor, “do you think we can actually do this? That I can do this?”

Mira’s hand reaches across the table to softly grasp your own. Despite your protests, a small tear slips from the corner of your eye, and you rush to brush it away.

“I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” Even though she understands, she wants to hear you say it, for yourself to hear it.

“Of being tied to a stranger forever. Forced to be with someone I may not ever fall in love with...”

“To possibly fall for someone who’s forced to be bound to me forever, who may never truly love me back.”

__________________________________________________________

A.N.,

Not going to lie, writing this portion was like pulling teeth. I’m not 100% happy with how it turned out, but in order to progress the way I want, I needed some things cleared up first. Now that we know Mira’s little secret, how will Y/N and her’s dynamic change? How will Seokjin fit into Y/N’s life and this new world? I promise, Y/N x Jinnie shenanigans are coming in the next part!

-Moonie🌙

63 notes · View notes

spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch.15

if we cannot find the light, we will always make our own

Chapter Fourteen

This is the fifteenth chapter in my ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Last Chapter: Derek & Emily called Spencer for a consult, and with him off his antidepressants, things very quickly fell apart.

In This Chapter: Hotch & Penelope pick up the pieces.

tw: depression-related exhaustion, disordered thinking, reference to last chapter's breakdown, discussion of medication

Word Count: 4K

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

(Quick Note: A couple of chapters ago I referred to Spencer's psychiatrist by she/her pronouns, but I forgot that I assigned that character he/him pronouns wayyy back, so I've decided to go with that one. I just wanted to address that in case anyone else caught it like I did! I apologise for the mistake & any confusion it might have caused.)

AARON

"Find my hand in the darkness and if we cannot find the light, we will always make our own." — Tyler Knott Gregson

Aaron doesn’t fall asleep until well into the small hours of the morning, finally lulled into a cold dreamless sleep once he’s cried himself out. He keeps as quiet as he can, but he knows he won’t wake Spencer up anyway: he’s completely exhausted, and he’s out cold. It’s a small consolation, but he tries to take a small bit of comfort in knowing that his boyfriend is at least getting the rest he needs.

He wakes up only a couple of hours after he falls asleep, and despite feeling completely exhausted, he sets about the things he needs to do. The first thing he does is call Strauss to request a family day — thankfully, the bureau’s been a lot more understanding of his situation since Haley died — before texting Derek and telling him that he needs to take charge of the team if they get sent on a case. Then he calls Jess and asks if she can collect Jack from his sleepover at lunchtime and have him until the evening.

With the technicalities sorted out, he makes a phone call to Spencer's psychiatrist. At this point, if he has to drag him kicking and screaming, if Spencer never talks to him again, if it calls an irreparable rift in their relationship, it won’t get in the way of him getting Spencer the help he needs. After an emergency appointment for 11am is booked, he collapses onto the sofa and calls Penelope.

“Hotch? It’s not even 7am, is everything alright?”

Just hearing her voice, hearing someone ask if he’s okay, is enough to push him over the edge. “No,” he admits into the phone, not even trying to disguise the emotion in his voice.

“I’m on my way,” she says immediately, and he can hear a flurry of activity start up on the other end of the line. “What’s happened, Hotch?”

He breathes out shakily, running a hand down his face. The early morning sun, the bustling city below him, the bright apartment all seems so contrary to the current situation. “Spencer hit a breaking point last night,” he says shakily, unsure exactly how to word it. “Derek and Emily called him to consult on a case, and they were as brisk and focused as we all are when we’re working, but he’s out of practice; he’s not used to that way of doing things anymore. It triggered him and sent him into what I’m gonna guess was a panic attack? But honestly, Penelope… it looked like a breakdown.”

“Oh God,” she says quietly, and the sound of her exiting her apartment reassures Aaron a little.

“I had no idea how to handle it,” he says, dissolving into tears. “He locked himself in the bathroom and was literally tearing his hair out… there were clumps of hair all over the floor. He was screaming at me to leave, telling me he wasn’t good enough that he forgot his place? I had no idea what he was saying—”

Penelope interrupts him. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“Well, when I first found out about his depression, Spencer told me something about how he didn’t feel like he was good for anything except his brain and IQ, you know? He said that he wasn’t cut out for friendships or relationships and I’m pretty sure he called that his ‘place’. It’s stuck with me because of just how awful it sounded.”

“Fuck,” Aaron mutters, sniffing as a fresh wave of tears come to his eyes. “So Emily and Derek consulting him for their case triggered those thoughts again.”

“Sounds like it,” she agrees. “They’re gonna feel so guilty.”

Aaron knows she’s in a tricky situation: her girlfriend and close friend sending her best friend into a near-breakdown, and for a brief minute he feels guilty for roping her in before reminding himself that she wouldn’t be anywhere else if Spencer needed her.

“Yeah, I don’t even know what I’m gonna do about that,” he sighs. “I thought about not telling them, because Spencer doesn’t need everyone knowing about every step of his recovery; it’s personal, right? But more secrets between everyone… I don’t know, it doesn’t feel like a good idea. Especially not for something this serious.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” Penelope promises. “Look, I’m in my car now. I’ll be there in 10, okay?”

He sighs in relief. “Thanks, Penelope.”

They hang up and he drops his phone next to him before staring up at the ceiling for a minute, rubbing his temples. Forcing himself off the sofa, he considers putting the coffee machine on but he doesn’t want the sound of the bean grinder to wake Spencer up, so he settles for a cup of instant coffee instead, putting a slice of bread in the toaster as well.

By the time he’s finished his second slice, Penelope’s letting herself in.

“He’s still asleep?”

He nods, watching as she dumps her handbag on the armchair and walks further into the apartment. It’s always strange seeing her without her usual colourful outfits and makeup on, and although he’s gotten used to it in the past year as they’ve rallied around Spencer, sometimes it still reminds him of seeing her in her casual clothes for the first time when she got shot a couple of years ago.

“I’m just gonna grab some breakfast and a tea,” she says quietly, helping herself to everything in the kitchen as she always does. “You go and sit down, I’ll be over in a minute and we can discuss a game plan.”

He obeys, closing his eyes against the headache coming on, but it’s only a couple of minutes before Penelope’s sitting in the armchair opposite the sofa with a cup of chamomile tea and a slice of marmalade toast.

“Right, the first thing we need to tackle is convincing him to get back on his meds,” Penelope says seriously, keeping her voice low to avoid waking Spencer up.

He nods. “I know. I’ve made an emergency appointment with his psychiatrist for 11am, it’s just a case of a) getting him there and b) making him listen to him.”

“The problem is that he sees going back on medication as admitting defeat or failing at recovery. We need to have a really honest, frank conversation with him about it, but I just don’t know how we’re gonna get him to believe us.”

“Maybe we should use our own experiences? He doesn’t think any less of me or think I’m weak when I take pain medication when my injuries flare up. He wouldn’t think any less of you for accepting pain meds throughout your recovery after you were shot. He doesn’t think less of his mother because she relies on psychiatric medication.”

Penelope nods. “He has a twisted perception of himself. One rule for himself, another for everyone else.”

Something about her words makes Aaron feel suddenly, desperately sad. He’s always been sad for Spencer and what he’s gone through, and he’s been crying most of the night, but the realisation, the reassertion, of just how much Spencer hates himself, what his brain’s put him through over the last two years cuts deep, winding him.

“I just wish he could see himself the way we see him,” he says sadly, another tear spilling down his cheek, as though he has anything left to give.

Penelope’s expression tells him she feels the same.

Hotch goes in to check on Spencer as the clock approaches nine, and his heart breaks for the thousandth time when he finds him staring listlessly at the wall again.

“Morning, baby,” he says gently, making his way into the room.

Thankfully, it grabs Spencer’s attention, and he turns to look at him, misery and self-loathing written all over his face. He doesn’t say anything, but he holds eye contact with Aaron long enough for him to understand that it’s okay for him to be there, and he makes his way further into the room, climbing onto the bed. He’s not expecting Spencer to immediately latch onto him, burying his face in his t-shirt as he clings to him like he’s going somewhere, but that’s exactly what happens.

“Penelope’s in the living room,” he murmurs, carding his fingers through Spencer’s hair. There’s no expectation for him to reply, so he lets the words settle over them as they lay quietly together; the calm after the storm. Aaron hopes it won’t double as the before as well.

After a good couple of minutes, Spencer shifts, and Aaron follows his lead as they shuffle out of the bedroom towards Penelope’s contemplative perch on the sofa. Spencer heads straight towards her, curling into her side and drawing the warm comfort Penelope always has to offer.

“Oh, baby genius,” she whispers, kissing the top of his head. “You’re okay. We love you so much.”

It’s apparently the wrong thing to say, because Spencer immediately withdraws, curling in on himself as he starts to cry.

“Hey, hey, Spencer,” Aaron soothes calmly as he rushes over to his side, “what’s going on?”

Penelope starts to apologise but Aaron shakes his head and she settles for resting a gentle hand on his side instead.

“Can you tell us what’s wrong, Spencer?” Aaron asks, a knot forming in his stomach as he hopes against hope that this won’t turn into a repeat of last night. “We can’t help you unless you talk to us.”

Spencer takes a ragged breath in, turning his face slightly towards Aaron’s direction, and his chest clenches at the bags under his sore, red eyes; his pallid skin. “I’m sorry,” he says shakily, wiping at the tears on his face.

“You don’t have to apologise, Spencer. You just need to tell us how we can help you,” Penelope says gently, her hand rubbing small, consoling circles on his side.

Spencer meets his eyes, his face crumpling as he does and Aaron, in that moment, is reminded distinctly of a star collapsing in on itself. Spencer heaves a painful sob as two more tears spill down his cheeks. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

The admission seems obvious at surface level, but the magnitude of such a statement isn’t lost on either Aaron nor Penelope.

Aaron sighs sadly. “Come here, baby.” Spencer falls gladly into Aaron’s embrace, sobbing dejectedly into his shoulder, sounding so tired and defeated that it’s painful to listen to.

Once he’s finished crying himself out, Aaron and Penelope switch places, Aaron moving to sit on the sofa with Spencer propped up against him and Penelope settling into the armchair.

He approaches his next words carefully. “I’ve made an appointment for you to see Dr Parker at 11am. Penelope and I will take you, and we both think that you should talk to him about going back on the venlafaxine.”

To his surprise Spencer just nods tiredly, no longer crying and instead resuming his blank staring.

“And we also think you should consider talking to Derek and Emily about what happened yesterday,” Penelope suggests quietly, an encouraging expression on her face.

Spencer looks up at her, emotions flying across his face as he processes her words and how he feels about them. Briefly, he looks like he’s about to argue, about to shout or get mad, but he quickly deflates. “They’ll feel guilty,” he says miserably. “Not their fault.”

“Your relationships with everyone have come a long way, Spencer, and that’s great. But everyone is still fragile and affected by everything that’s happened in the past year, and keeping secrets like these is only going to hurt everyone more.”

Spencer’s still and silent for a moment before he nods reluctantly.

“I think that maybe,” Aaron ventures cautiously, “you should avoid doing any consulting work for a while. It’s clearly damaging for you and is always going to come with potential triggers, and when you’re already feeling sad and vulnerable, it’s really just a catalyst for an event like yesterday evening.”

Spencer nods at that, too, and Aaron wishes he could take his acquiescence as a win, but he knows it’s coming from a place of defeat and despair, and he’ll never take any consolation in that.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Aaron says. “We have about an hour until we need to leave, so why don’t we get you some food, get you into the shower, and then you can rest for any left over time? Does that sound okay?”

At Spencer’s agreement, Penelope heads to the kitchen to whip him up something a bit more nutritious than the toast they both settled for, while Aaron takes him to the bathroom to wash up.

“Are you alright on your own?” he asks as he sets the shower up for him, Spencer perching on the edge of the bath as he waits.

Instead of answering his question though, panic suddenly crosses Spencer’s face and he looks at Aaron urgently. “Jack!”

“Hey, it’s alright,” he says soothingly. “Jess is gonna pick him up from his sleepover at lunchtime and have him for the afternoon. I’ve taken a personal day and unless a case comes in, Penelope will be here for as long as we need her. Everything’s in hand.”

“But it’s Jack’s spring break! You should be spending time with him, not herding me into the shower—”

At the first sign of tears, Aaron is quick to step in, reassuring him as best he can. “Hey, I will spend time with him, alright? He was already going to be with Sam all morning, and he’ll be dropped off before dinner, so Jess is only going to have him for a couple of hours. And if you’re feeling well enough once we get back from the doctor’s, then he can come home early, but right now, your health is the most important thing we need to deal with, you hear me?”

Spencer nods reluctantly, but he can tell that the thought of cutting into Aaron’s time with Jack is only fuelling his self-loathing. Having to accept that there’s nothing he can do about that, he makes sure he’s okay in the shower before heading out into the kitchen to find Penelope.

“I can’t tell if that went well or not,” she says quietly, not looking up from the frying pan currently cooking eggs and bacon.

Aaron sighs, leaning against the counter top, his eyes fixed on the bathroom door. “I think it went about as well as it could.”

“I texted Emily and Derek, and they’re going to pop over this afternoon if we don’t get a case,” she says. “If Spencer’s not up for it, we can rearrange, but I thought it was better to be prepared.”

“No, you’re right, thank you for doing that, Penelope. What would I do without you?”

“Aw, stop it, bossman,” she says, grinning as she nudges him playfully.

He smiles. “I mean it.”

“I know. But I’m happy to help you guys out. I’d do anything for Spencer, and I know he’d do anything for me.”

“Without a doubt.”

Spencer emerges from the bathroom a few moments later, clad in a white t-shirt and some tracksuit bottoms Aaron is pretty sure are both actually his, damp curly hair a mess on his head. He can’t help but smile despite himself; his boyfriend looking so damn cute will always be a small pick-me-up on even the worst of days.

“Penelope’s cooked up a storm for you,” he says as brightly as the situation allows, guiding him to the sofa and tucking him in with a couple of blankets to get him as comfortable as possible.

He gets a small smile at that, and a murmured ‘thank you’ when Penelope brings him over a plate of bacon and eggs, arranged as perfectly as he’d expect with Penelope serving as cook.

He flicks the TV to the discovery channel, managing to catch the beginning of a documentary on big cats, and he counts it as a win when it catches Spencer’s attention, hoping it takes his mind off the pain he’s feeling just a little bit.

They spend the next forty minutes watching documentaries with Spencer before Penelope notices the time and begins herding them out the door towards the parking garage.

“No way,” Aaron laughs as she heads towards her car.

“What?”

“You are not driving, Penelope,” he says, laughing even more at her incredulous reaction. “I’ve seen you; you drive like a maniac. We’re taking my car.”

She pouts. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Does this mean I have to sit in the back, too?”

He just levels her with a look that has her sighing dramatically and flinging herself into the backseat, but when he looks over at Spencer and sees a smile on his face, he’s suddenly even more thankful for Penelope.

They sit in the waiting room while Spencer has his appointment and try desperately not to make each other more anxious than they already feel. Penelope flicks through fashion magazines at a pace that tells Aaron she’s not reading a single word, and Aaron reads over and over the case notes he’d bought with him to pass the time, no more going in the second, third, eleventh time than it did the first.

Finally, though, Spencer emerges from Dr Parker’s office with a script in hand and they both sigh a small breath of relief at the idea that he’s finally getting the help he’s been needing so badly.

“Okay, baby?” he murmurs as Spencer reaches for his hand on the way out of the psychiatrist’s office, and something loosens in his chest when Spencer nods and smiles, looking happier and more relaxed than he has in weeks.

Derek and Emily come over just after lunchtime, and Penelope gets up to open the door for them, Spencer and Aaron not moving from their position on the couch, Spencer resting his head in Aaron’s lap as one of his favourite sci-fi movies is playing on the TV.

When he sees who it is, though, Spencer moves to sit up slightly, still keeping himself folded into Aaron’s side.

“Hey, Spence,” Emily says softly, taking a seat in the armchair while Penelope comes over to perch on the arm, wrapping an arm around her girlfriend, “what’s this about?”

Both Emily and Derek look confused enough that Aaron knows Spencer will be able to tell that neither he nor Penelope told them what happened last night, willing to give him a last minute out if that’s what he needs, as well as full control over the narrative.

Derek comes over to the sofa and sits next to Spencer, keeping enough distance between them to keep Spencer comfortable, though he still rests a warm hand on his ankle. “What’s going on? You can tell us anything, pretty boy, you know that.”

Spencer looks to Aaron, and the expression on his face conveys what he needs immediately.

“Yesterday, your consult with Spencer on the methanol poisoning case triggered an… event,” he explains, trying to choose his words carefully. He wants to tell the truth, but he also doesn’t want to sound like he’s blaming Derek and Emily or use language Spencer wouldn’t be happy with. “It was a breaking point of sorts and as such, he decided to go back on his medication.”

Relief tied up with confusion are the first emotions he watches play over Emily and Derek’s faces. Everyone’s been hoping Spencer will return to his medication, but he knows they’ll want more information as to what exactly happened and why they’ve been asked over.

“An event?” Emily asks, sounding a little hesitant.

Before Aaron can answer, Spencer speaks up, his voice a little tired and croaky but convicted nonetheless. “It was a breakdown,” he says plainly, not sugar-coating his words. “I was in a bad place already and I was out of practice with what a time sensitive case entails, and it sent me into a tailspin. It reminded me of all the feelings that working in the BAU caused that year, and I couldn’t handle it. I lashed out at Aaron and…”

“The details don’t matter,” Aaron rescues his tailed off sentence. “The fact is we thought that more secrets were only going to make things worse in the long run, and you needed to understand what happened last night since Spencer going back on his meds was bound to raise questions anyway.”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Spencer interjects, his voice anxious and urgent. “It wasn’t your fault, it’s just the way of the BAU and if I’d been on my medication like I should’ve been in the first place it wouldn’t have been a problem, it was just a horrible medley of circumstances. But I’ve decided that I won’t be doing any consults for a while until I can get my head on straight again. It may be that I’m never able to do them without being triggered, but we’re going to play it by ear.”

Aaron smiles at him proudly, kissing the top of his head as soon as he buries back in for a cuddle.

“Oh, Spence,” Emily sighs sadly. “I’m so sorry, we didn’t even think. We were so caught up in the case we didn’t even stop to consider you and how you’d interpret things.”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Spencer says again, this time from his place on Aaron’s chest. “I’m sorry that it had to be you guys that triggered the breaking point.”

“We should’ve been more considerate,” Derek says firmly, his expression filled with regret. “The last thing I’d ever want is to make you feel the way I did last year, and even though other circumstances contributed to what happened last night, we still failed you, kid, and I’m so sorry for that.”

“It’s fine, seriously. In a way, I’m glad it happened. Something had to give, and I’m glad that I can look forward to finally feeling normal again. I talked to my psychiatrist this morning and even though… it still feels a little bit like giving up, I feel better about it. And we’re gonna work on my attitude to medication in the next couple of sessions until I feel more comfortable about it.”

Aaron knows how much Spencer hates talking about his recovery, so it feels like a big step for him to be so personal and vulnerable in front of four different people, even if they are all virtually his family at this point.

“I’m proud of you, Spencer,” Emily says earnestly, and even though Aaron can tell she still feels guilty, at least it’s no longer the most dominant emotion on her face.

“Me too, kid. You’ve been through hell and back and we’re all so proud of you for getting to where you are.”

Spencer smiles gratefully, but Aaron can tell he’s exhausted from the events of the morning, so he sends a look to Penelope and she shows Emily and Derek out, but not before giving Emily a kiss and being teased by Derek for it.

“Right, baby,” he says as the apartment quietens and it’s just the three of them left. “I think you could do with a nap, don’t you?”

“Don’t wanna leave you,” Spencer mumbles tiredly, clinging to his t-shirt.

“Well how about I come and sit with you while you sleep, yeah? You go and get tucked in and I’ll be in in a minute, I promise.”

“You better.” It’s not much, but it’s the closest to teasing Spencer’s come in weeks, and he’ll absolutely take it.

He gives Penelope a warm hug and disappears into the bedroom.

“Looks like I can leave you to it,” Penelope says quietly as soon as the door’s closed behind him.

Aaron looks at her seriously, before wrapping her in a rare hug. “Thank you for today. I mean it. I don’t know what we would’ve done this past year without you, Penelope, but we sure as hell wouldn’t be where we are now. I’m always gonna be thankful that Spencer has someone as wonderful as you to call a best friend.”

“Hotch,” she says tearily, “I love you both so much. You don’t have to thank me, but it means a lot that you did.”

He smiles at her. “You should go back to the BAU. Go and find Derek and Emily who are no doubt beating themselves up and tell them they’re being ridiculous.”

She gives him a mock salute as she smiles back. “You got it, boss.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Keep me posted,” she says as she gathers the last of her things and heads to the door. “Let me know how he’s doing tonight and I’ll pop round after work to see him tomorrow, okay?”

“Perfect.”

As soon as she’s gone, he climbs into bed with Spencer and wraps him up in his arms, feeling — for the first time in weeks — a distinct conviction that everything is going to be okay.

Chapter Sixteen

Soooo, we don't hate me anymore? I really enjoyed writing this part of the fic, I'm such a sucker for third act angst and the resolution is always so satisfying to me, so I hope I managed to give you guys the same feeling. Only one more chapter to go, and then we're done wtf, how did that happen? I can't wait for you to all read the happy lil ending I wrote for you! See you next Saturday, for the very last time :( If this chapter has brought anything up for you and you're feeling unsafe please check out this link <3

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @marvel-ous-m @oliverbrnch @sbeno22 @aaron-hotchner187 @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @anxious-enby (add yourself to my taglist here!)

13 notes · View notes