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cuubism · 4 months

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more physical therapy au

Dream comes to his next physical therapy appointment marginally--marginally--less apprehensive than before. When he'd first gone, he'd expected to be told he was being melodramatic. That he should just be grateful that the surgery was successful and he has some functioning. That he should just give up on his art, that it didn't matter, that it was hopeless.

He doesn't know why he thought that. It's been hard to have a charitable view of people, lately.

But Hob wasn't like what he feared. Hob was... kind. To him.

So he goes back.

He has, in fact, been doing the exercises that Hob gave him. It is not as though he has much else to do with his time. Other than setting up his new flat, where he now lives after fleeing what had once been his home. Even a few months later, the place is fairly... minimalist. Which is not Dream's style. But he'd left with little more than his art portfolio and the clothes he was wearing, deciding that it wasn't worth going back, and he hasn't had the energy to replace anything since.

Or the two functioning arms required to move things.

His flat is depressing enough that even the physical therapy office feels warm and welcoming by comparison. Hob gives him a big smile as he comes in. It's pathetic that it makes his heart flutter.

He goes over to Hob, setting the folder he brought on the table.

"You look cheerful," Hob notes. Dream highly, highly doubts that. But he is perhaps slightly less morose than last time. Nevertheless, he finds Hob's optimism... somewhat cheering. Normally, he would find such a thing annoying. But there is something very steady and reassuring about Hob. Not much in Dream's life has felt steady in some time.

"I have tried finger painting," Dream tells him. He takes the piece out of the folder and shows it to Hob.

It had been interesting, at least. Distracted him for a moment. Made him think about the way children make art, before becoming mired in theory and technique.

He had considered bringing one of his usual pieces to demonstrate to Hob what he's meant to be able to do, in case that would be helpful, but it's still painful to look at them.

Hob takes the painting and stares at it with wide eyes. "How is this actually good?"

Dream should probably be offended by his incredulity but instead he just finds it amusing. "I had lots of time to spend."

He has, once again, painted a bunch of cats, all different colors, cluttering the page. It's simple, and lets him avoid thinking about his more conceptual pieces he hasn't been able to work on.

"Wow," Hob says, propping the painting carefully against the wall by his computer. "Okay. Good work going above and beyond on the instructions, Dream."

That praise alone shouldn't make something in his chest start glowing. But it does.

"It did not hurt... much," he says tentatively, before Hob can ask. "However, with a brush..."

It is incredibly frustrating. It's like his body continually wishes to betray him. He's lost his home and everything he owns and now he cannot even have his art.

"Give it some time," Hob says, reasonably. He is much more patient, and optimistic, than Dream.

He makes Dream draw and write again. It's... perhaps marginally easier after the exercises Hob had given him. Still, he finds himself getting frustrated by the weakness of his grip. And the more frustrated he gets, the tighter he grips the pencil. He knows he shouldn't. But.

"Lighter," Hob tells him, and Dream glares at him. Hob raises his hands. "Not telling you how to do your art. Just telling you how not to hurt your hand."

Dream bites down on his annoyance, but loosens his grip.

He doesn't see very much progress, but Hob seems satisfied. He makes Dream run through some other strengthening exercises, which... don't hurt as much as Dream was expecting them to. He'd expected that this whole process would be nothing but gritting his teeth through agonizing pain, to minimal results. Perhaps Death is right, and he should be less pessimistic.

In any case, Hob seems proud of him at the end. Even if Dream doesn't think he's done anything to be proud of.

But he does leave, perhaps, slightly more hopeful than he entered. And he wants to come back. At least to see Hob again.

Hob doesn't know if it's patronizing to be proud of Dream, but he is. Over the last few sessions, his grip has improved a lot. Dream doesn't seem to see it, but that's alright. Hob does. He's been keeping all of Dream's drawings. They are getting better.

Hob is pretty good at optimism. But even so, it somehow hadn't occurred to him that quiet and morose wasn't Dream's natural state. That is until he sees the joy that lights up in him the first time he's able to draw a cat without his hand shaking. Dream smiles so wide, like he isn't even aware Hob is still watching him, and Hob realizes that there is lightness to him. It's just been buried down.

The time after that, Dream even brings some of his old art to show. Hob's been dying to see it for ages, but hasn't pressed. And Dream's art is gorgeous. Hob can understand, now, why he'd been dissatisfied with those first cats he'd drawn, no matter how charming Hob had found them. His big pieces are so finely detailed, so precise. It's... possibly going to take a bit more time to get him back to that than Hob had thought. But he's determined.

But Dream seems happy to be sharing his art, doesn't fold in on himself this time just to mention it. He talks with enthusiasm about his process, the most words Hob's heard him say in... well, ever. Hob tells him that he's made enough progress to pick up painting--with brush, not fingers--again if he wants, but not to beat himself up if it doesn't look the same as his old ones. And for once, it seems like Dream actually accepts the instruction not to berate himself.

All of this is, most certainly, the reason Hob does the insane thing he does next.

He's organizing his records, having already walked Dream out, when he hears raised voices from out on the walkway. The front door is still open a crack, he realizes, so the sound carries.

"Come on, you're overreacting," says an unfamiliar, male voice. "I said I won't do it again, didn't I?"

"Do not," Dream replies, voice anxious, but determined, "follow me."

"Well if you'd just pick up your phone--"

Hob steps outside. An unfamiliar man--the ex-boyfriend, Hob assumes, he doesn't know his name, hasn't asked, doesn't care--has Dream cornered in the doorway. His posture doesn't immediately scream rage or aggression, which is more unnerving rather than less, considering this is the same person who'd snapped and broken Dream's hand.

And Dream looks scared. Under the mask of stoicism he likes to wear. Any cheer or hope he'd gained from today's session has evaporated, and he looks like he did before, when he'd first come to Hob's office, curled in on himself. It breaks Hob's heart. And makes him angry.

"Stop being selfish and just--" the ex-boyfriend continues. Hob means to cut in and diffuse the situation. Tell him to leave in a reasonably professional manner.

Instead he punches him in the face.

Ex-boyfriend's nose goes crunch in an extremely satisfying way, and he reels back with a shriek, hands going to his face. Dream startles back, hands clutched around his art portfolio.

"What the FUCK!" yells ex-boyfriend, voice nasally from the blood running down his face. "You can't just-- this is assault! I'll call the cops!"

Oh he wants to go there, does he? "You wanna talk about assault?" Hob says, voice rising in volume. Dream edges behind him, though Hob's not sure he's fully aware he's doing so. "You want to get police involved, that's really what you want?"

Ex-boyfriend looks from Hob to Dream and back, hesitating. That's fucking right, Hob thinks. Not so easy to kick someone around when there's consequences, huh?

It helps that Hob is visibly stronger than Dream, and spends all day physically moving people around. If ex-boyfriend tries anything he's going to get put on the ground.

Finally he retreats, though with a look of rage towards Hob. Once he's gone, Dream finally seems to relax, some of the tension easing from his shoulders.

"You did not need to," he murmurs.

Hob shakes his head. "No one gets to come and threaten you here. Particularly not that dickhead."

Dream huffs a small laugh. Then he picks up Hob's hand, studying it. Hob winces. It's certainly going to bruise.

"Now you will need physical therapy," Dream says, lips twitching. Hob's glad for the humor in his voice.

Hob laughs. "Worth it."

"No one has..." Dream starts, slowly, "done something like that. For me."

It hurts, to think that no one's stood up for him. Or even let him know that someone should stand up for him.

"If he comes back I'll do it again," Hob says, and gets a tentative smile from Dream.

Then asks, "Does he know where you live?"

Dream frowns. "I do not think so."

"Want me to walk you home?"

He doubts Dream's ex-boyfriend will come back to the office now that he knows Hob's willing to deck him, but that doesn't mean he won't try to corner Dream elsewhere.

Dream deliberates, then says, "Would you?"

"'Course, love. Just let me lock the place up."

He doesn't realize what he's said until he's already turned back to lock the door. Shit. Today has already gone so far beyond what he's supposed to do as Dream's physical therapist, and now...

In the end, Dream doesn't call him out on it. But he does stick close to Hob's side as they walk, and occasionally when Hob looks over at him, he catches a tiny smile on his face.

#this is so sappy oh my god #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #cw abuse #physical therapy fic #long post

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ghostlytide · 2 months

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For Business Only | One

I hope you like it ^^

Vincent Renzi x Fem! Reader----1.6K

MASTERLIST -> Next

Synopsis:

After the whirlwind affair Vincent and you shared years ago, he was sure his goodbye was definitive. A fleeting memory filled with both regret and a peculiar ache that he can’t quite place. But life wishes to scorn him once again when his newest case obliges him to seek out your help. Though this case isn’t the only complicated thing in this strictly professional relationship—not with the way his heart seems to jump at your proximity, or the already familiar tune of your voice. For all the things that had changed, would this mean your story could have a different ending now?

General Tags: Second Chance/Exes to Lovers; Slow Burn; |They were Coworkers; Denial of Feelings; Pining & Longing; Idiots in Love; Eventual Friends (?) with Benefits (?); English isn't my first language so watch out for typos;

It was a late spring night when Vincent said his goodbye to you, so it was only fair that your reencounter would occur in another.

Life played both hommage and karma at him, remembering his words: You may forever hate me, but I promise you that you'll never see me ever again. I've bothered you enough.

That night, he had regained the common sense that had slipped out his grasp since you entered the law firm as an intern; eager to learn from whoever would spare you a glance for something more than to request their thousandth cup of coffee.

Of course, he did.

And how could he not to? When you were so bright and cheerful, all the opposite from those seniors who had seen the worst, to experience who knows how many times the balanced and blind justice's weight to tip at the wrong side. To have to face the client's hopeless expression.

Of course, you'd probably be sheltered from such a dark world at your station once you reached juniorship. But that wasn't the point right now.

Just as it wasn't the point to reminisce. He felt as ashamed as it could be possible while climbing the stairs of the skyscraper, which on the inside was decorated with pieces of steel, glass, and contemporary art that combined perfectly against the simple columns and the frescoes painted in the dome of the main hall.

Vincent shouldn't be overwhelmed by the sight, but he'd never been inside the Building of the Société Générale, white marble walls against a dark mosaic creating a cube to showcase the colorful paintings hung on the walls.

The secretary at the front desk showed him the way to the elevator behind the reception, polished black walls against the metal door as Vincent felt a pull in the pit of his stomach—either for the sudden upward movement or for nervousness, he didn't wish to dwell much on it.

Walking much faster than he wanted to, the secretary passed through an empty, quiet hallway in which Vincent could read a myriad of plaques varying from Accounting Department, all the way to Human Resources.

Finally, she stopped at a door labeled as Banking Associate: Cultural Department. Calling your name, she said: "Monsieur Favrè has sent his lawyer impromptu to meet you."

A muffled voice—your muffled voice echoed in the still hallway, stirring old memories inside of him he wasn't aware of keeping in the first place. "Alright. Let him come in."

A simple nod and the woman was gone. It was only the two of you now.

He took his time, a skipping beat. At the same time, you finished writing away at your keyboard. Then the door was closed with a gentle click.

"Monsieur Delaroux, what can I do for y—" A tentative pause, your bright, smart eyes locked into his. "Vincent?"

This hadn't been the deal planned out in his mind; he was almost hoping you'd ask, with a puzzled voice, who he was as if memory could morph at will rather than being one's source of torture.

So many years passed since he heard his name coming out of your soft lips, that if he remembered quite well, would taste like mocca and vanilla. But why was he remembering that now, from all times?

"Hello," he said, an awkward smile shining in the well-lit office. He put one of his hands inside the pocket of his dress pants, suppressing the childish urge to wave.

You blinked. "What… what are you doing here?"

"I know this isn't what we agreed on," he started, using small steps to get closer to the desk, as if you were a deer likely to run off, or a lion ready to pounce. Vincent had no idea which of the two could be worse. "But I need your assistance for a case. You're the most capable person I can think of, so I had to come and ask for your help."

Reclining from your seat, he let the words simmer into you, using the little time he had to look around your office, part of him was curious to see if he could still recognize a glimpse of the old you, and what he could learn from the present.

"How did you find me?" you asked, hands gesturing from him to sit in front of your desk.

"There are not many art lawyers with your name," he said, slightly flustered he had to admit about searching your name among colleagues, prying into your life when his promise was all the contrary. It wasn't the first time he felt like a fool, yet prideful because he was here for work.

And solely for work.

"I have a case linked with a small private art collection." His voice was plain, devoid of any emotion. He wasn't Vincent right now, the man that tried not to break your heart but failed terribly; he was Maître Renzi one of the talented lawyers from the before small law firm that now was rising like smoke after every case taken. "A murder. Probably linked to the growing art stock. I need an expert in the subject to conduct the required procedures."

"Since when do you take cases about private art collectors?" you hummed, eyes almost twinkling with amusement from all those times he had shit on the upper class and their slippery ways around the judicial system.

It was a good sign that you weren't bringing up his words last spoken, the past that at this moment felt too much aflush despite the time trying to bury it.

"This one is an exception." He couldn't help but get defensive, feeling like a stupid teenage boy being teased despite you being quite some years younger than him. "The owner of the law firm assigned me this case directly. We need to win so the firm can have an expansion." Which meant more law specialties, and more hired lawyers. And then it was… "They're even considering putting an Art Law department."

You could join, he almost said foolishly. Why would you like to be coworkers with him again, when that exact professional relationship prompted all the rest?

You seemed to be thinking the same. "It'll pay well," he added before you could say anything that derailed from his sketched conversation. "And it can help with your curriculum." Vincent signaled to the plaque in front of your computer, reading Junior Consultant. "It could be the case that turns you into a Senior."

There it was the ghost of you, biting your bottom lip in a pondering manner while your gaze was glued to the empty seat next to him.

"What makes you think you're going to win?"

"Have some faith in me, will you?" He chuckled, though deep inside he knew what you meant. It was a question that always lingered at the bottom of his mind, the one that stole his sleep some nights.

"Vincent—"

"Trust me. This is a high-profile case, very important for all people involved. I need your help. I know you're the only person that can help me." He couldn't make another empty promise. To never see you again? Vincent just broke it, and the opposite of that, to be partnered with you as colleagues didn't sound appropriate either. "You're the only one I can trust to remain on my side even if everything goes to shit," Vincent muttered after a while, blue eyes searching for yours as he tried to convince you with pity, even. Because you could never say no to him, and because this case was obliged to use all the desperate, creative measures he could think of.

Though Vincent wasn't lying about said statement. And you knew it.

You looked at him in a long, silent gaze that felt strangely, annoyingly charged inside the medium-sized office, silent so thick he heard the moment you chortled, a breathy, contained laugh that blessed him with the tiniest of smiles.

"Send me the generalities of the case so I can give it a glance tomorrow and write the protocol to follow."

"If tomorrow is one of your free days, we can discuss it over lunch," Vincent found himself saying before his brain could tell him to do better. "I'll give you a printed copy of everything so you can revise it easier. I apologize, but due to the nature of this case, I don't find myself comfortable with sharing this information via remote."

You put away the pencil you were playing with, settling it against the wooden desk with a thunk. "Breakfast. Tomorrow at 9 AM meet me at the Fontaine Saint-Sulpice. We can go to a nearby café once there." Looking from your computer to him, you arched an eyebrow. "Something else you need? You should go before the receptionist notices that you aren't Monsieur Favrè's lawyer."

He shrugged. "I showed her my card, she didn't say anything."

"Well, I'm not allowed to take private clients while on my shift."

"I'm not a client, we're colleagues."

You gestured away. "Wording. You know what I mean."

"You're a lawyer, Mademoiselle, wording matters."

"I write contracts and track art exhibits, Vincent," you told him in a familiar tone he recognized from when you two engaged in a well-needed, unwinding banter. "The one asked to give speeches is you, not me."

"Well, then you better prepare for an exception, because you will have to declare at court about your findings." Vincent heard your sigh and took in the sight of your angry pout, one you dedicated at him when it was time to get out of his office and help other junior lawyers while on your time as an intern. He was surprised to find it as charming as it once was. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

He stood up, torn between walking facing you or just striding toward the door. He did the last one, turning to smile at you while his hand tapped to feel the door's handle.

It was his time to call your name. "Thank you. Truly."

You nodded, one of the locks of your hair falling toward your brow, obscuring your view. "I'll see you tomorrow, Vincent."

#vincent renzi x reader #vincent renzi #vincent renzi fanfiction #anatomy of a fall fanfiction #swann arlaud x reader

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dragon-kazansky · 2 months

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When the raven calls

Morpheus x Female Reader

You, his raven, die protecting Jessamy while rescuing the Dream Lord. When Morpheus returns to his realm, he mourns your loss, only to find a stranger waiting for him in his throne room. The stranger claims to be you, now in human form. He doesn't understand, but his raven will always watch over him.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Eleven - All together now

☆☆☆

The knock on your door is firm but also cautious. You can tell he is hesitant. You know it's him before he even speaks.

"Go away."

For the first time ever, Morpheus doesn't know how to feel about you. You've never spoken to him like that before. You've always welcomed him. Now he senses your disdain toward him.

"Can we talk?"

You don't answer him. Morpheus feels hopeless right now. Upsetting you was something he never wanted to do. Ever. Not since... Not since he realised just how he felt.

He gently rests his head against the door and sighs softly.

"I did what I had to do. Gault will learn her lesson, and she will return one day. I did not think this would upset you so much."

Morpheus is startled by how quickly you open the door. You glare up at him, eyes still glistening with tears.

"Upset me? You've hurt me. How dare you send Gault away like that. She was trying to protect the boy. She wasn't harming anyone."

"She was keeping Jed in a lie. It is not our job to protect them from their waking lives." Morpheus tries to tell you.

"I know that much. God, you're so... difficult!"

Morpheus stares at you.

"You punish people just because they dare say no to you. How can you be so happy about that?" You look at him desperately. "Gault. Nada. Neither of them hurt you. Just your pride."

Dream clenches his jaw. He didn't expect this personal attack on him.

"I hate that I care so much. I hate that... that I can't do anything to fix any of this. I hate... that I feel the same way she did, and yet you're letting me go about my business."

"You feel the same way?" He asks, unsure of what you're referring to.

"I'm not the way you made me. Not any more. I changed. You're not punishing me for being different."

"Your case is different."

"Is it? Because it doesn't look it to me. Gault wanted to be a Dream. I think that's beautiful. You denied her that wish and sentenced her to the darkness." You wipe at your eyes gently. "I don't like being human any more..."

Morpheus feels his heart break.

You turn back into a raven. "I won't need this room anymore. I'm going to stay a raven. So, forget everything. Forget me stupid emotions and... and the clothes and the ice cream, and all that stuff we did."

You fly past Morpheus and disappear into the palace.

Morpheus stands there with his thoughts.

☆☆☆

You had gone to the library to seek comfort in Lucienne. She wasn't surprised to see you back in your raven form. The main reason you had stayed in your human form so long before was because Dream had asked you to stay like that.

She could see he was particularly fond of you as a human.

Still, she said nothing and let you keep her company. After all, Lord Morpheus had been quite clear to her about her place in the Dreaming.

It seemed everyone was having issues with the stubborn king.

Matthew comes flying in quickly and lands on the table beside you and Jessamy. You look at him.

"I don't know how she did it, but Rose just got Lyta pregnant."

"What?" Lucienne looks at him confused.

"Apperantly it happened in her dream, and when Lyta woke up-"

"She was still pregnant."

"Very much so," Matthew confirms.

"Then it's starting." You say. Lucienne nods.

"Rose is weakening the walls between the realms."

"You gonna tell the boss?" Matthew asks.

"No." Lucienne says.

"No?"

"It's none of my business."

You caw softly and step a little closer to her hand, pecking her finger gently with affection.

"Uh, since when?"

"Since Lord Morpheus reminded me that I'm merely a librarian and should concern myself with my books from now on." Lucienne tells him.

"He said that?"

"He's being an ass." You scoff.

Matthew is surprised to hear speak badly about him. He had always assumed you looked up to the guy. You had always been so fond of him and talked very highly of him before.

"What is wrong with him?" Matthew asks.

"Nothing is wrong with him. He's always been this way." Lucienne explains. "He's juat been away so long I'd forgotten. He's determined to deal with the vortex and the missing Arcana by himself. Without anyones help. So any news must be reported directly and exclusively to him."

"Okay. But can I keep you in the loop?"

"You'd better not. In his Majesty's current mood, he could banish us to the Darkness." She sighs. "As he did Gault."

"All right, fine. I'll go back to spying on Rose. But you should make up with him. Both of you."

"I should make up with him?" You ask, almost laughing.

"Yes. Now's not the time to be fighting, not when there's a vortex getting people pregnant and runaway Nightmares doing God knows what."

You sigh. "I'm not going to talk to him."

Matthew caws.

"I'm going to help you." You say.

"Huh?"

"With Rose."

"Is that a good idea? You wanna tell the boss first?" Matthew asks.

"Nope."

Before either Matthew or Lucienne can say anything, you fly off. Matthew turns to Jessamy, who had been quiet this whole time.

"What is happening?"

Jessamy looks at him. "They're having their first fight."

Lucienne looks at her. "I see."

"I don't." Matthew caws.

"They're in love." Lucienne says softly.

☆☆☆

You sit outside the window of Rose's room. You can see her talking to Lyta about dreams. Lyta wants to live in her dreams with her husband and the baby.

Rose's phone rings, and she answers it. You can't hear the other side, but you can tell Rose is talking to Jed.

She knows where he is.

You could go there and keep an eye on Jed.

Someone knocks on her door and you decide to leave.

You fly off.

The location in question is a hotel. It may be three hours away from Rose, but with your access to the Dreaming, it did not take long at all. You land in a tree opposite the hotel and decide to stake it out.

☆☆☆

Morpheus is in his throne room looking at his broken windows. Something is happening in the Dreaming. Quakes. Violent shaking, leaving damage behind.

Something was wrong.

"Loosh? You in here?" Mervyn comes in but stops when he finds Morpheus. "Whoops. Oh, sorry, boss. I was looking for Lucienne. See ya." He tries to leave.

"Wait." Morpheus stops him. "Why were you looking for Lucienne?"

"Oh, well, we just had some minor seismic activity and a little, you know, damage i wanted to report." Mervyn says.

"Then why not report it to me?"

"Uh, because you're busy? While you were away, Lucienne started taking care of that stuff, so I figured... why bother you when-"

Morpheus looks displeased. "Mervyn, if the Dreaming has been damaged in any way, I will be the one to address it."

The whole place shakes again. The window cracks even further.

"Oh, for crying out loud. You want me to fix that for you? Or will it just keep happening?" Mervyn asks.

"It will not keep happening because I will find the cause of the disturbance, and I will eliminate it." Morpheus declares. "Thank you, Mervyn."

"Uh, you're welcome."

Morpheus looks back at the window in thought. He then walks away, heading to the library.

He walks through the aisles with books under his arm. He walks with determination and then stops when he reaches where Lucienne is.

"Lucienne?"

"My Lord."

"I have come to return these..." He hands the books he was carrying. "And to assess the extent of the damage from the recent disturbances." He looks around. "Have... you any idea as to what caused them?" He asks.

"I assumed it was you, sir."

"Me?"

"Making further improvements to the realm... now that you're back."

"Lucienne, when we last spoke, I did not mean to imply that your efforts beyond the library are without value."

"Oh?"

"I really wish to relieve you of responbilities with which, had I been here, you would never have been burdened."

"I see."

"And... in that time, did you experience any... similar seismic disturbances?" He asks slowly. He speaks carefully.

"I did not."

"Have you any... theory as to their origin?"

"Speaking strictly as a librarian? I do." She says. "But you won't like it."

"Go on."

"I know you're waiting to see I'd the vortex will lead you to The Corianthian and Fiddler's Green. The way she led you to Gault."

"She may yet still." He says.

"Yes, but while you're waiting, she's putting cracks in the foundation." Lucienne sighs.

"Rose Walker has visited this realm before and done no damage. This is something else, something new."

"Perhaps. But if there is something new in the Dreaming and you did not create it, how did it get here? This is the vortex. I assure you."

Morpheus thinks it through.

☆☆☆

Dream stands at your door. He hadn't brought himself to dismantle the room after what you said last time he spoke to you. In fact, he hadn't seen you since that conversation.

He felt sad. Sad that he had upset you. Sad that you had refused your human form. Sad that he didn't stop you from leaving when you got mad at him.

He wanted to talk to you, but he knew you weren't in there. "What am I doing?" He asks himself.

Morpheus walks away.

I'm sorry. He wanted to say.

Morpheus decides to give you your space and go deal with whatever is happening on his own. He can make things up with you later.

He finds himself in the dream of Lyta Hall. Rose is there, too. As is Lyta's deceased husband.

He needs to fix this.

"What do you think?" Matthew caws.

"Tell Lucienne she was right about the source of the tremors, and that I'm taking care of it."

He walks down to the house.

☆☆☆

You see Rose climb out of a car that just pulled up. There's a man with her. One you recognise immediately, though he didn't always look like that.

"Hm."

They head inside the hotel. You look around and then fly down to the ground, landing on two human feet. You won't get far going inside as a raven. You head for the entrance.

When you get inside, you don't see Rose or the man she was with. You sigh and look around the lobby. It's busy.

You don't even notice The Corianthian who had come inside because he thought he saw Jed run down the hall. He noticed you though.

It just hasn't clicked who you were yet.

He goes back outside. You walk further into the hotel.

Gilbert had seen and heard some things he would rather have not. He walks out of one of the rooms and frowns. As he turns, he catches a glimpse of you. Something clicks.

He knows you are.

He goes to call you, but you walk away. He panics. Gilbert heads back to the lobby and leaves a message at the front desk for Rose. He then leaves the hotel.

He needs to see Morpheus.

☆☆☆

Back in the Dreaming, Morpheus enters the library looking for Lucienne.

"Lucienne?"

"My Lord. There's something I must tell you." She comes out from between two shelves.

"And I will listen." He says. "But first, you must let me tell you you were right. The vortex was responsible for the damage to our realm, and I was... wrong to risk our safety in the hope that she would locate the missing Arcana."

"You were not entirely wrong, sir." She days to him. "She's found them both."

"What? The Corianthian and Fiddler's Green? Where? How do you know?" He asks.

"Fiddler's Green told me."

Gilbert comes into view and joins them. He looks at Morpheus with shame. He bows his head and looks back up at Dream.

"Apologies, lord, for having left."

"Why? Why did you leave? I trusted you. You were the heart of The Dreaming."

"No, sir. You were the heart of The Dreaming. And you were gone." Gilbert tells him. "I was curious. And it turns out that life as a human contains substance I never even imagined when I was here. Which is why I've returned because... he's murdering them."

"The Corianthian?"

"He appears to have built up a cult of worshippers who kill for pleasure, endangering the waking world and the life of a friend called Rose Walker."

"The Corianthian has found Rose Walker?" Morpheus asks, needing to know for sure.

"Yes." Gilbert looks confused.

"Can you imagine the damage he could do with someone like Rose?" Lucienne says, looking at Dream.

"You must tell me where they are."

"I thought perhaps you knew." He said. "Your raven is there, at least, I believe it was her."

Morpheus' heart sinks.

"My raven...?"

"Yes. Although, she appears to be human now." Gilbert wad rather confused. He didn't know you could do that.

Your name falls from his lips.

"No..."

Lucienne looks at Morpheus with worry. She knew you had gone to see Rose, but it didn't dawn on her that you would go so far. Now you were close to The Corianthian, too.

Morpheus leaves the library immediately.

☆☆��

You see no sign of Rose or of Jed. You decide they must be upstairs somewhere. As you turn back around to head for the lifts or elevators as they call them in this country, you find yourself face to face with The Corianthian.

"Well, hello."

"Oh dear..."

☆☆☆

@missdreamofendless

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@sitkafay

@snowsatsu

@ladyofdreaming

@thoughtsfromlayla

@modest-irish-goddess

@mystic-mara

@dreamingblueberries

@littlemoistcarrot

@simpingdeadcharacters

@bluespecs14

@modest-irish-goddess

#when the raven calls #morpheus x reader #the sandman #female reader #dragon writes

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thestarrynightslover · 9 months

Text

Second Time Is the Charm

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 1,211

Warnings: None, just fluff.

Summary: Jay meets the Reader, Hailey's best friend, when she's meeting Molly's for the first time after having moved back to Chicago.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way, or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: Still not in my best writing but I hope you like it!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| mastelist |

"Hey, guys! This is my best friend, (y/n) (y/l/n), who I told you about! She just moved to the city a few weeks ago, so, be nice!" You heard your long-time friend, Hailey, warn her coworkers, who she always swore by to be some of the very best people in Chicago.

"Whatcha sayin', Detective Upton? I'm always nice!" a tall guy, who you recognized as being the one Hailey'd had a fling with some time ago, exclaimed, feigning offense.

They all are very sympathetic to you and you can see how they managed to get Hailey's friendship so easily. But there is one person who stands out from the rest of the group. And you just can't help yourself but to stare at the handsome guy who Hailey said is her partner. The famous Jay Halstead. You do know that it's impolite to basically ogle him like that but you. Just. Can't. Stop. He might just be the most beautiful man you've ever seen and that's saying a lot since you'd already lived in many places and had already met lots of hot guys.

Maybe you were dreaming or something but it seemed like he, too, was taking a few glances at you. But you must've been imagining 'cause he never made a single move your way — not that you were dealing any better with this sort of crush.

The hours ticked by faster than anyone there would've imagined with all the friendly chit-chat and the stories being told but, when you noticed the time, you decided it was time to go home, so you announced: "Hey, guys, thanks a lot for tonight! It was really nice meeting you all, I had a blast! But now I think I'mma head home."

"What? No! I can drive you there later," Adam started but you cut him off:

"No need for that, really. I live nearby and the walk home is gonna be good for me!"

"But going alone this time of night…" Kevin trailed off.

"Well I was thinking about heading home too and I'm also gonna walk. So maybe we can go together?" Jay asked, speaking directly to you for the first time in the whole night.

Not really knowing how to politely decline that one, you accepted: "Oh, um, okay, that'd be nice."

"It's really nice of yours to offer to walk me home, Jay. Thank you again." You said in an attempt to break the ice.

"Yeah, no problem. You know I like making myself available for the community!" He said with a wink? Was Hailey's partner seriously trying to flirt with you? "So, back at Molly's everyone explored a lot why you came back to Chicago but I wanna know what made you leave it in the first place, 'cause you went to college here, with Hailey, right?"

"Uh… yeah, we were roommates, actually. But I left for many reasons, the main one being a wish to see what the world had to offer. Which wasn't very hard since I can easily get a job pretty much anywhere I want…" You answered, leaving out the part about how your ex had humiliated you into leaving the city just to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

"Hmmm, I see. But you said work had you moving back?"

"Yeah, well this was an exception because I was being offered a better position in case I came here." And because now you'd already gotten over what happened with your ex.

"Then which one is your favorite city so far?" There he got you, you always had a hard time picking favorites…

"Hmmm, maybe Amsterdam?" You thought that it would be a smooth way to do some flirting of your own. "It can be a very romantic city…" You started, "and I've always seen myself as a romantic, hopeless or not…"

"Oh, is that right?" The detective asked.

"Yeah, well, what can I say if everything romance just makes me happy?" You said, looking up brightly at him. Before he could muster up an answer though, you realized where you were, "Oh, that's my building right there!" You exclaimed pointing at the building across the street. But just as you said it you found yourself being sweetly and longingly kissed by Jay, which caught you completely off guard.

"So…" You started without really knowing how to continue after the kiss.

"So…" He imitated while nervously scratching the back of his neck. "I guess it was a bit awkward to just kiss you like that-"

"No! I, uh, I liked it!" Gosh, you sounded like a teenager, " I mean it wasn't bad or anything."

"Then maybe you'd be okay with giving me your number?" He asked.

"Yeah, sure!" Once again, teenager, dammit! "I, uh, what I mean is that I wouldn't mind it if you wanted to call me sometime, detective. You know, just making myself available for the community." You repeated his previous words with a wink.

"Huh! Careful with those empty promises, ma'am," Jay said playfully.

"Who said anything about empty?" You countered.

"Okay, then… Just know that you might be getting a call from me sooner rather than later." He half confessed while shaking his head.

"Looking forward to it!" You shot back and turned around to walk towards your building. Just as you were about to take the first step though, you decided to take a last glance at him, saying: "Have a good night, detective." He didn't answer, you didn't give him time to. But, as you were almost at the building's door, you heard your phone starting to ring and decided to pick up, since it wasn't very common for you to get calls at that time of night. "Hello?"

"Hi, uh, is this (y/n) (y/l/n)'s phone?" You heard Jay's amused voice on the other end of the line and instantly turned back around to see him, still standing on the other side of the street, purposely in your eyesight.

"Really?"

"You said to call at any time-"

"Hmmm…"

"And I just couldn't wait!"

"Are you making fun of me right now?"

"Not at all!" He quickly responded. "I am, actually, inviting you to grab coffee with me one of these days." At that, your heart started beating faster and you could only hope that he wasn't able to hear it through the phone. "Or, you know, lunch, dinner, whatever you prefer!"

"I, uh, I would love to, Jay." Was all you could answer, as the flirty banter suddenly seemed pointless. "I would love to grab coffee or lunch or dinner with you sometime!"

"Okay. That's, uh, that's great! So, maybe this Saturday? 9 o'clock?"

"Yeah, sure! That sounds good! Just let me know where you wanna me-"

"Nope, nuh-uh, that's not happening! Just be ready by then and prepare yourself to be surprised!"

"Jay, I-"

"Not taking no for an answer! Goodnight to you too, (y/n)." He said and hung up, waving at you as he continued his path. Meanwhile, you went upstairs thinking about Saturday and about how you'd snatched a guy like that on your third day back in the city. Maybe Chicago wasn't as bad as you remembered it anymore...

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mundrakan · 9 days

Text

Prompt: Locked in a room

@wolfstarmicrofic - 345 words

“I won't let you out until you behave.” Molly is such an overbearing person. It really wasn't all that bad. Everyone would get on each others nerves, caged into this house. But no, they were insufferable and had to make up. As if Remus wasn't the most reasonable person. He shook his head at Sirius' posture, perched on the window sill like he used to when he was a boy, even though he can't open the window here to smoke.

“So...” He sniffs. “Is she gone?”

“I bet she camps outside in case we figure out how she locked the door.”

Sirius grins. “Oh, the hardship. Locked in a room with my best remaining friend.”

“You didn't behave like I was, lately.”

Sirius looks pensive. “Maybe.”

“You push me away, when I'm only trying to...”

“Yeah.” Sirius' curtness is unsettling.

“Would it be such a bother to explain yourself?” Remus really has enough.

“You know. Don't you?”

Into the confused silence falls a huff. “It's really fucking hard to... keep my distance.”

“What? Why?”

“The way you keep looking at my cousin. I mean... I wish you all the best.”

No. It can't be. Is this real? “She has your eyes.” And when she feels like it, Sirius' lips. She knows she copies the most gorgeous person in the room.

Sirius exhales, utterly hopeless. “Only sometimes.” Those lips open, and he licks them. It's... mesmerizing. Doesn't he see how Remus looks at him?

“That's when I look...” Just doesn't cover it. Something more needs to be done. Remus takes up all his courage and takes them, those lips.

Molly has a perfect timing for the wrong moment. It's been silent for too long, so she opens the door, right into their first kiss ever. But that's good. Just the look of pure outrage on her face makes Sirius first smile and then deepen said kiss. Pissing others off has always made him bold as brass. But does the reason matter, when it's so good?

#wolfstar microfic

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whydousernamesevenexist · 1 month

Text

@wolfstarmicrofic 27th April: Soulmate AU

Word count: 447

AU: soulmate, non-magic/Muggle, modern

"Top marks, too?" That is the sentence written on Sirius's wrist in a messy handwriting.

It's his soulmark. Those are supposed to be the first words his soulmate says to him.

Soulmate. The one person in the world who is supposed to love him unconditionally. Sure, it is possible to fall in love with someone who is not your soulmate. It's also possible to not fall in love with your soulmate even if you meet them.

But can you blame Sirius for being a hopeless romantic? His family didn't love him. They were always cold to him, caring only about his success at school.

So Sirius clinged to the hope of his soulmate loving him and caring about him.

If Sirius's soulmark had been anything else, Walburga would've discouraged her son from wishing for a soulmate, but in this case, Sirius, in hopes of finding his soulmate as soon as possible, has poured his souls into his studies.

Sirius is sixteen, sent to a boarding school away from his best friend James, because Walburga thinks he's a bad influence.

He sighs and opens his room, mentally preparing himself to make friends with his roommate.

"Hello, I'm- Wait, James??" he stares at his best friend, who is laying on one of the beds, with wide eyes.

"Heya, Padfoot," James smirks mischievously. "I convinced my parents to send me here too. And it didn't take much convincing for the staff to give us a room together. Now come here," he sits up and opens his arms for a hug.

"James…" Sirius sighs as he hugs James tightly. "You didn't have to do that for me, you know," he mumbles.

"Nonsense," James chuckles, "you're my best friend. You'd do the same for me."

Two weeks later, they have written their first exam. Sirius studied day and night for it, as always.

The results were posted on a notice-board in the hallway. The students weren't sorted alphabetically, but by their results.

Sirius, anxious about his results as always, started searching the lists from the back, from the worst end. His name wasn't there, of course. Soon he got to the first page, and there it was -

Black, Sirius: 100%

Lupin, Remus: 100%

"Top marks, too?" a voice behind him asked in a cheerful tone.

Sirius spun around, looking up at the tall brunet man with a scar across his face. The words registered in Sirius's brain and he smiled softly.

"I finally found you," he breathed out and rolled up his sleeve to show the man - Remus - his soulmark.

"You have," Remus laughed and raised his hand to caress Sirius's cheek. "Can I kiss you, my dear soulmate?"

#wolfstar microfic #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders fic #marauder microfic #marauders fanfiction #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #sirius x remus

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b3llasdears · 2 months

Text

"Moon lady"

Leonidas x selene! Reader

For those who don't know, Selene was the goddess and representation of the moon in Greek mythology.

English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes!

● first, how did you meet? How do the "human" moon and the king of Sparta meet?

● well, It was on one occasion when he went out for a walk at night. That day he had argued with the oracle so he was quite stressed, and going for a walk at night sounded like a good idea.

● reaching a cliff, he found you, seeing the crescent moon

● He was quite confused, it wasn't common for his people to go out at night

● He took his shield and called to you, asking who you were. although unlike what he expected, you got scared

● You explained that you were only there to see the moon, he was still suspicious, but in the end he accepted your answer

● He thought of you as a strange woman, not only because of your nervous but calm personality, but also because of your interest in the moon.

● a woman who sees the moon in the city of the sun, it's strange just to say it

● you managed to get along during the time you spent there, so you agreed to meet again on that cliff

● it took you a while to reveal to him that you were a goddess, this man is not very discreet when it comes to his hatred for the gods

● when you told him he was a little upset, but he let it go because by that time you were already friends

"Fine, at this rate I have no choice but to stay."

● boy admit that you care about her

● your routine was maintained, meeting on that cliff to talk, or eat on certain occasions that he brought you food

● sometimes you get a little insecure because you're afraid that humans will get bored of you, so he comforts you

● He noticed that the moon barely rises at those moment's... but he decided not to say anything

● the confession of love was quite... spontaneous?

● It was a day that Leo had brought you food, common.

"I can't believe I fell in love with you"

"What"

● woman can no longer eat in peace.

● but seriously, You were very happy when he said that, it was just the shock of the moment.

● you immediately started dating, although it didn't change your routine that much, it only added the signs of love of a romantic couple

● You once bathed together in a lagoon but we are not here to discuss what happened that day (at least not today)

● The Battle of Thermopylae was a difficult time for you, you went through the 5 stages of grief in a matter of seconds

● fortunately you were a goddess and you were quickly able to go to Valhalla, where you met him again

● you were in peace for a long time, and you thought it would stay that way

● but the other gods are idiots, so it couldn't be

● Although you already knew about Ragnarok, you did not expect Leonidas to agree to fight, even if you knew his nature and ideals, you didn't think that he would put his eternal life in danger for humanity

● internally you really didn't care that much about humanity, what bothered you was that he was putting humanity over you, or at least that's how you felt.

● you are not the best at hiding your feelings, and it is not so easy to do it from someone who has known you for centuries.

● You ended up talking about it, and he assured you that he would win, always having his confident attitude that you loved so much.

● although you were still a little distrustful, but you knew that it was a hopeless case to try to talk him out of fighting, so you accepted his decision

● you refused to be on the steps of the gods, So you stayed in a separate room with a screen so you could watch the fights.

● although when his round arrived you ended up leaving the room, staying on the roof of the coliseum where you had a good view of the fight

● you were nervous, but you had nothing else to do other than wish that your beloved king came out of that arena alive

I'm not exactly back (I have school and I'm lacking inspiration) but I'm doing the best I can (*/▽＼*)

#ror leonidas x reader #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader #ror x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #snv x reader #record of ragnarok leonidas #ror leonidas #snv leonidas #snv leonidas x reader

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lixern · 10 months

Text

; it's just a friendly interaction!

• Multiple HSR men x GN!Reader

-- Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Blade, Gepard.

• You've been ranting to your friend about your problems with romance for quite some time now, but you didn't know how touchy the both of you were starting to become...

song; laufey, falling behind + from the start

Dan Heng and you were struggling, well.. you atleast. Dan Heng was such a kind friend, letting you rant and be all over him. Ugh, he was just so perfect! You hated your own guts for being such a pain, hopeless romantic.. yet you back away like a coward whenever someone gets too close- besides, you cant even tell if you love someone anymore!

But whenever you ranted, he'd always let you be a bit touchy with him. Most of the times it's him reading a book in the archives and you in his lap going on and on about how you aren't loveable and how you wish you were.

Dan Heng looked like he wasn't listening, but the way one hand was on his book and one hand was on your head told you that he was. None of the crew members would question your closeness- even though they probably knew already.

What was funny- atleast, was everyone was wrong. You guys were just bestfriends! Who were too oblivious to see your feelings...

"I hate how people on this app just post their videos of them with their partner! Like this one video where this guy was holding this girls waist.."

You continued blabbering about whatever you wanted to, and Dan Heng would nod and hum at what you said.

"And God... this girl is so annoying. She's such a pick me, how does she have a boyfriend and I dont huh?!"

Was the next thing you said, which Dan Heng let out another hum too.

"Mhm..."

Hmm... normally he'd provide you with a logical reply on how your wrong, so why was he agreeing with you now?

No matter, you brushed it off. Maybe he just got too used to it! Yeah, that was the case.

Except when you got up to finally do your duties that pom pom kept reminding you about, Dan Heng followed you..

Your hands on the doorknob, but you felt a pair of hands grip your waist. Dan Heng is that you?

"Where are you going?"

He said, unphased even! But to how you were so used to Dan Heng being touchy you didn't even see that he liked you... You still got flustered though, but you were just so oblivious!

"Doing my duties!"

You didn't move a muscle, smiling at Dan Heng once you meet eyes. You slowly opened the door to get out, telling Dan Heng a sweet "goodbye" before you walked out.

You thought it was just a friendly move and he just wanted to chat longer!

Well he did want to chat longer.. but the move wasn't really that platonic either.

He just wished you'd have it figured out by now.

Jing Yuan was so helpful to you, that sleeping general making time for you just you to spend it all on ranting about men. He'd let you lay beside him as you ranted, on his shoulder, his lap, anywhere and anytime!

Whenever you knew he'd have free time and you saw him outdoors, you'd sneak up to him just to backhug him. And he expected you all the time, though, he'd pretend to act surprise just for you! You were so easy to read, especially because hes been training for a long time and he learnt how to know when someone was sneaking up on him..

Everyone was so surprised when you just suddenly hugged the general like that, like- you could do that!?

How you two would hug and hold hands... just what two close friends would do!

"It's all so frustrating you know Yuaaannn?! No one loves me... no matter how hard I try to look good and be good no one ever loves me! It's like I had a glowdown or something.. ugh."

You started ranting while Jing Yuan was at your back, hugging you and resting his head ontop of yours. He was really comfy not gonna lie, what a good friend!

"Mm... they just don't know any better. I think you're quite lovely yourself, no?"

Jing Yuan commented, smiling at how you were ranting so suddenly. It wasn't even a surprise anymore for you to burst out screaming about being single and lonely.

"Well I know that I'm a lovely person! But what if I'm just like- missing something y'know?!"

You continued, countering his compliment. You tilt your head up to see Jing Yuan smiling at you, and you smile back, tilting your head back down so he can rest on it.

How touchy you guys have been, even the others have noticed! Only you two haven't, or atleast... only you haven't.

And it's so painful to see how you haven't even discovered your own feelings for Jing Yuan. The way your heart beats faster when you see him.. you're just happy to see him right?

Well, your heart says otherwise than the brain.

Blade isn't really a loverboy, but he's not so amused to accomodate your little outbursts of hopeless. He still does anyway, if that'll get you off his back.

You'd find him leaning against a wall while you tell him about your problems, and it annoyed you even in the slightest bit. Wasn't he listening?! You poked him and messed up his hair, even caging him inbetween your arms but he was still unfazed!

Mess up his hair? He'd fix it like nothing ever happened. Poke him too much? Nah, no reaction. He's pinned to the wall? With how small you were in his eyes he'd laugh at the attempt.

Still, no matter how annoying he was you'd still rant to him, after all Silver Wolf and Kafka weren't really people you wanted to rant to for some reason..

"Bladee... are you even listening to me?! Seriously, do I have to repeat everything I just said? You ignore me just like how everyone did in the past..."

He laughed a bit on how desperate you were, before looking at you and replying.

"It's cute how you think I'd listen to all of that."

How insufferable he was! You just wanted someone to listen to what you wanted... was it that hard to fullfill that wish?

You'd pout at Blade for how mean he was being, you didn't like it at all. It made you believe Blade didn't want to hear you ranting at all, which made you a bit upset..

So why did you still repeat the actions you've done before with a burn in your beating heart? That's normal right?

In some instances... you found yourself being held by Blade a bit too much. Him gripping your wrist or waist to make sure you don't walk out- but what you meant by often, was only 1-2 times a month. Which was way more than before!

You could consider Blade your most annoying friend with how you were the closest to him. Every stellaron hunter didn't even get that close before!

But what you didn't know... was that the only reason he acted like he didn't listen was so you could come back to him single every time.

Gepard was such a sweetie, he let you do anything you wanted. When he was outside of work- atleast. But, well you didn't care. You were all over him and crying how you didn't have a lover.

You always surprised him by calling his name and running up to him, you'd trip but then as a good friend he'd catch you in his arms!

You were never scared to fall again after that, after all he'd always catch you! And infact, he'd always listen to your sweet voice rambling on how no one would ever love you...

"Geparrrdddddd!"

You ran, tripping up again. Gepard was just intime to catch you though! He looked a bit mad, sorry Geppie! But he wasn't really mad at you.. just annoyed on how you could've gotten hurt!

He put his hand on his head, sighing once he put you back to your feet. Scolding you for your actions.

"You would've gotten hurt.. stop running like that!"

He had a faint blush on his cheeks, but you couldn't have seen it from how you were so lively. Such a shy boy when it comes to you...

"Nope! You'd catch me always anyway, also- ughh! There was this couple that I saw, and they were doing PDA! I can't stand PDA, it just breaks my heart to know someone has found love and I haven't!"

You pouted, rolling your eyes at the image of the couple in your head. How cute... Gepard thought.

He fixed his uniform while listening to you rant and rant, how sad he couldn't hold you in his arms right now... wait, what?

"And, and- they kissed! So passionately too.. like ew get a room!"

You screamed out loud, Gepard then told you off for that again...

"Hey, Hey, we're in a public area.. you might cause a noise disturbance and I don't want people to go all over you screaming about how loud you are."

He had a stern face but anyone but you wouldn't buy his facade, you can see the slightest twinkle in his eyes and dust of pink on his cheeks...

He suddenly held your hand, dragging you to a much more secluded place. You asked him where you guys were going but he just shut up, how your cheeks turned red... luckily he didn't notice and neither did you!

But sometimes, his older sister would just hope you two oblivious things would see how much your eyes would light up at the sight of eachother..

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locallixie · 1 year

Note

hi!

can you do a chan angst but with fluff ending?

love your work 🫶🏻

us first — bang chan

> summary . it wasn’t just your fault, it seemed the both of you were in the wrong for lashing out at each other the way you did that night.

> genre . angst, fluff, domestic au, married life, husband!chan, gn!reader.

> warnings . argument, minor language.

(wc) > 3.1k

(sunny's note) ☆ oh my god is this angsty, the playlist i had playing the background when i was writing this really got me in my feelings.

It was one of those nights again, one of those nights where you had to go to bed by your lonesome. It has been like this for the past couple months, he hasn’t been coming home for a long long while now. You didn’t think you could even recall the features of his face anymore. You could not remember how his cologne smells like, or how his stature stood beside you. It almost felt as if you were never married at all.

Gazing at the silver wedding band that wrapped neatly around your finger, has this thing lost its meaning? It supposed to be a union, not a separation. Without him around, the ring you wore was just another random accessory that carried no significant. It came in a pair, did it not? The rings from a velvet box, it tied his soul to yours.

You knew to give up hope earlier than you expected, sat yourself straight with the reality that he was not coming home anytime soon. Chan has always been a workaholic, he would sometimes canceled dates ‘cause of how much work he had. You understood, or at least tried to. He only did it on rare occasions though, and if he did, he would make it up to you. However, that was during the time you two were still young and filled with passion. You were too in love to foresee the future when he proposed.

Now that you were in this situation, you couldn’t help but regret a bit. Overjoyed, you said ‘yes’ too fast. Was this what you really wanted? Or did you simply not want to embarrass him? You were sure with your feelings for each other, you were confident with your relationship. But sometimes you wished you spent a little more time thinking about your decision the day he proposed to you, if you didn’t let your heart fully speak for you.

Won’t be home ‘til two, don’t wait up. | 11:45pm

“You're always making me wait, you jerk.” You sighed, having some sadness peaking through your voice. You held no resentment for your husband, but in this case, you sure did have some hatred. He had forgotten you, where were his priorities? You didn’t want to be selfish, but you were his spouse, you should have a say in this relationship too. The 'your' was plural, it wasn't singular.

You couldn't sleep tonight, tossing and turning in your bed in distress. Your mind was in a disorder, thoughts kept flying across your head, thoughts that you repelled wholeheartedly. His warmth, you missed. The bed felt cold, a bit too cold for your liking. You knew your husband haven't even been coming into bed with you, he slept on the couch outside in the living room. At least it was the couch, and not the bed of another.

Where was he? At this late of a time? Please come home, you needed him. In desperation, you could only called out to him with your aching chest. No missed calls, a simple text message hurted so much more. You didn't feel like picking up your phone, it was all hopeless. Whatever he was working on, his total focus would be on that. But if he could just check his buzzing phone for one second, would he remember about you?

You couldn't help the tears, it had a mind of its own but a fragment of yours came along. The fabric of your pillows was the only thing wiping away your tears for you, wetted with the woe of yours. This bed was now too spacious for you, you hated how much space he left you with.

Crying to ease yourself to sleep, you felt light-headed enough to pass out. This sleep felt forced, felt like a distraction for you to forget momentarily. It seemed that you were going to miss his arrival once more, why did you try to stay up in the first place? Oh, it was the fact you had to constantly remind yourself that he loved you, he was busy and couldn't get home in time.

The clock told you it was the middle of the night, you awoken unwillingly with your head banging painfully. The door to your bedroom was still shut tight, but you saw a small ray of light peaking in through the cracks. Putting on your cardigan that you had threw on the floor earlier in a fit of silenced rage.

You got off the bed, leaving your shared bedroom. Despite how heavy your eyelids were, you could still make sense of the figure sitting on the couch. The T.V wasn't on, his bag was on the floor as well—he probably got back not too long ago.

"Hey, did I wake you up?" His voice sounded odd, deeper and tired. Not just that, you couldn't register in your head that that was the voice of your husband.

You sat down beside him, "Why are you not in bed?"

Chan looked at you, hesitant at the sudden question. You didn't bother to answer his. "I just got back a minute before, don't worry about it, I'll just finish a few things then I'll come—"

"You still have work?" You cut him off, not sensing the anger that was building up inside of you. He was pushing your limit and your patience, how longer must you wait to have one night with him just in bed with you?

Chan stopped for a second, the tone that you chose to deliver in was unlike you. “Yeah, why don’t you go back to bed, okay honey?”

After all that working, making you wait for God know how long, and he still have shit to do? He wasn’t just a workaholic like you thought he was, your husband was literally work obsessed. At this point, all he could think about was work, work, and work. In the span of the couple months he spent being away, the only thing occupied his mind would be his work. The songs he had to produce for his company’s artists, the meetings he had to attend, the ludicrous amount of paperwork about copyright infringement that he has to resolve. Not one second did he stop and think of the one waiting for him at home every night and day.

“You haven’t even been in bed for the past couple months, why are you telling me to go back?” Asked, the disappointment he left you was unbearable. He kept playing around, toying with the tiny bit of hope left in you that he would be back home early for once. Ever since you two got married, he has been working more and even overtime. As long as you remembered, you two haven’t went on your honeymoon yet. Did he put a ring on your finger and left as if your title as his spouse was a mere status symbol?

“Honey, let’s not do this. I’m stressed out and exhausted, and I don’t want to pick a fight with you right now.” Chan sighed, rubbing his face into the palm of his hands.

It had been too long, you were done with the stupid mind games he put you through. You wanted to pick a fight, wether he like it or not. You didn’t care about anything else, you would rather argue with him than not seeing him at all. You would happily pick a hundred fights with him if you could, as long as you’d get to be with him.

Your volume started getting louder, “And what if I want to? You don’t fucking care about me anymore! Is this the only way I can get you to pay some attention on me?” Tearing up, throat becoming tighter as you continued to force your words out.

Before he got a chance to reply, you interrupted him once more. “Shut up, you’re always telling me to wait, how about you wait until I’m finished saying what I got to say?”

You agreed that was quite rude of you, out-of-character might you add. But gosh were you angry, it has been sitting on your chest and making it hard for you to breathe for a while. There were many things you wanted to say, the only problem was that he was simply never home for you to do so. Until now that was, on the rare chance of having him in the same room as you. You were face-to-face with your husband, screaming and crying while he sat there without a clear emotion.

“The only thing you’re concerned about now is your work! What am I to you then, an after thought?! If you’re so interested in your work, why don’t you just leave me and go marry it already?!” You told.

“Can’t you see that I’m working to support us? I’m trying my hardest to put food on the table and shelter over our head, so what if I come home late or not at all, at least you’re not waiting for me on the cold fucking street!” He instantly retorted.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you tried wiping away the tears falling from your eyes but they kept coming nonstop. “Fuck you, Chan! I’m working too, it wasn’t my idea to move in together when we had nothing to our names!”

You deserved credit too, you were dealing with your full-time job to bring money in for both you and him. You weren’t a housewife, depending on Chan to survive. Instead, you were out there fighting for your life in a crazily competitive industry. Yes, you must admit that Chan contributed the most in your relationship, but that didn’t mean that he could throw you away along with your accomplishments.

You two were both broke college students when he popped the question, it was a risky decision back then. Everything that weighted heavily on your blossoming romance was the harsh reality, student loans, rents, and the debts that you both were in from your marriage. Young and dumb, what an era to be dead. What if you didn't say 'I do'? What if you told him to wait a bit longer? Then you two wouldn't be in this position, screaming at each other's faces with venom and knives.

"My mother was right about you! That I shouldn't have settle down in a rush like that! I had my whole life planned out ahead, but you came and ruined everything I have ever worked for!" You yelled at him, the plans you made didn't include him. He, was the part of the story in which you did not plan to write in the beginning, out of the blue he appeared in front of your eyes.

"Oh yeah?! You don't think that I want better things for my career? But I agreed to step down just because I didn't want any fame to get between us, if I haven't asked you to marry me then I would be out there making millions in a foreign country!" And he too was crying with you, his eyes and ears was flushed red in regrets.

"You know what, Chan?" You had enough of him, you couldn't stand another day living this soulless life in a house where it was cold and woeful. Taking off the ring that bind you two together, you threw it at him. "Let's end this, let's get a divorce."

Running away in tears, you locked yourself in your bedroom. No matter how many times he was going to knock or call out your name, you weren't going to open yourself any time soon. This time, you would be closing it off for good. So was this the end? That was it? You wished you and him could have a different ending, but from how you both acted, there wasn't any chance it seemed.

Like you expected, as soon as you opened the door, he was no where to be found. This house felt nothing like home, the shades of blue you two painted it with. For the next few days, he was not going to be home. You did not receive a single text, much less a call from him. He didn't tell you where he was, or when he was going to be home. The line has gone quiet, and you had no idea of how to fix it—or if you should even fix it at all.

A cold war between spouses, neither of you were ready to apologize to the other. Of course you were mad at him, furious even. However, you were at fault for lashing out at him the way you did, how could you? The words you spoke were totally out of anger, you didn't mean it. No, maybe you did a bit—and you guilty of it. As far as you knew, you messed up big time.

Stubborn, you wanted to be, kept waiting for him to finally break off this foolish war that you started. You admitted that you were quite embarrassed and scared to face him again, you were such a coward with your true feelings that you would rather hide and wait for the other person. You were wrong, but you were not ready to face that truth yet. In the back of your mind, every part was building up the courage to tell him that you were sorry. Sorry for a lot of things, or sorry for everything. Because you knew, if you kept up with this recreant act, you may not see him ever again.

That pain in your chest, between your ribs kept aching. Day after day, the absence of him slowly broke you down little by little. It started with the thoughts of him, how his image and the happier moments you made together began replaying in your head without a stop. It had gotten so bad to the point you were desperate, hugging the clothes he left in the closet. Anything, you would give anything! If it meant that Chan would be back home, you were ready to give up so much for him.

You haven't eaten much these recent weeks, your body was weak and slowing down from the lack of nutrients. The silenced conflict you had gotten yourself in has taken quite a toll on you, missed one or two work days, shed some tears here and there. Still holding onto one of his black hoodie, the scent of his perfume was beginning to fade away already. The only thing that was never going to disappear from your grasp was the music he wrote, all his wonderful songs that his artists blew life into. You couldn't stop listening to them, even if his sweet voice wasn't present, the lyrics had a piece of his heart and half a piece of his soul.

The sad love songs he wrote lured you to sleep, the lullaby of a devoted husband. One more time, you begged with the entirety of yourself for him to come back home. You were raising the white flag, you were backing down and asking to restore peace. No more fights, your husband was enough for you, you would not ask for more.

As you awoken for tomorrow, there were no life left over for you. Immediately closing your eyes to shut out everything, at this moment, it felt as if everything was going to hurt you. A cold feeling kissed your skin when you went to wipe your wet eyes, it contrasted drastically on your warm cheeks. Your sight fixed itself on the wedding band around your finger, it took a minute for you to realize that it was physically there in front of the shock on your face.

The weight on your stomach wasn't just the blanket, a whole arm laid over your body. Nothing could describe the feeling you were going through, finally seeing your husband soundly sleeping on the same bed as you. Every time you tried to move, he pulled you a bit closer to him. The touches of his rough calloused fingers brushed appreciation upon your skin, worn out from working, to you were gentle nonetheless.

This life would be nothing without him, sometimes the rain will be falling and the sun will hide away. Although, it was terrible, especially when you were out there wet with no umbrella. After the gods stop crying, something wondrous was bound to happen. Either it was sunlight pouring upon everything, or him running to you just as wet with a coat in hand.

I love you | 2:45am

You were his person, his desire, and his pride. He too, would be a nobody without you. This life that you created together from nothing to something. The doors wouldn't have to close as long as he was here beside you, he would polish your lock and share the keys with you.

Lowering your ego, pressing your lips on his forehead. It wasn't worth it to fight, everything got blown out of proportions. Let's both agree to come home and see eye-to-eye again. In a weak voice, you spoke to him. "I'm sorry."

In answer, you received his soft lips on yours. Pulling you to him, his hand holding you nape. When was the last time he kiss you? Too long to remember. A hazy memories yet you wanted to live in the present. Reminiscence held no meaning, 'cause it felt every emotions you once felt and every thought you once had was happening right here right now. If he could hold you forever and never have a single thought of letting you go, you were ready to see the end with him.

"I'm in the wrong, honey, don't you say sorry." Chan replied, wrapping his arms around you once again. Holding you sweetly as he pulled the covers over your body. Whatever time of day it was, you two would happily miss works for your reunion.

"Chan, but it was not right of me to blow up on you like that. If I could have been a little nicer, and have a bit more patience—"

Chan interrupted, "Stop talking, I love you, okay? I don't care what happened or is going to happen, I just care about you." He held your left hand to his lips, kissing it with all the love and adoration he saved in him for solely you. "From now on, I'm putting us first."

For once, this house actually felt like home. The warmth that now arrived from its long hiatus, may it co-exist with you and your husband for eternity. Yes, you would be having many more fights in the near future, but for only this moment, you were going to live in the present in his embrace.

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deputyrook · 7 months

Text

Impressions- 5/? Mark Hoffman x Psychic!Reader

PART 1. PART 2. PART 3. PART 4.

You're a psychic. He's a detective. And a serial killer.

(You're a team.)

Word count: 4050

WARNINGS: CORRUPTION, stockholm syndrome, abusive dynamics, general Saw-levels of horror & violence. Reader is drinking the Jigsaw Kool-Aid.

“God, you’re persistent,” you tell Kerry, laying back on your couch and rubbing your temple, “Fine. Yes, I’ll go to therapy and I'll check out the community resources for Jigsaw survivors. Are you happy?”

It's not exactly a lie. You might check out the resources. Kerry's voice crackles across the line in reply: “Good. And if you’re able to remember anything while you’re there-“

Of course. It’s not that she wants you to get help, but rather, she’s hoping that you’ll pick up on some kind of psychic lead from discussing your capture and trauma with a therapist.

A swell of bitterness fills your chest, though you wish it didn't. You’d asked her to come and help you with groceries and chores today, but she’d declined, saying that she was too busy working on the case. Somehow, Mark had been coming around to help more often than she was, and he was balancing his job with being a serial killer.

Kerry’s work has always come first, and her dedication is something you had often admired. The two of you had bonded in university over a shared discomfort at parties and social events. Neither of you had ever quite fit in with the crowd. But even knowing her for as long and as well as you did, it still hurt to know the obsession came before your friendship.

“When are you going to take a break?” You ask, instead of voicing your frustration.

“When I find Eric,” she replies, steadfast. You must make some kind of a critical noise in response, because Kerry adds, “What? Do you believe it’s hopeless? That I should just give up?”

“It’s not that,” you mutter with a sigh, already regretting this line of conversation, but knowing that Kerry won’t give it up until she pulls the truth from you.

“Then what?”

“Just that maybe Matthews shouldn’t have gone and played Cowboy Cop, shooting from the hip.” You finally snap, to Kerry’s stunned silence. “You play stupid games and you win stupid prizes, Ally. If he had just listened to the rules he’d been given-"

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you right now," She says, voice sounding more shocked than angry, "Jigsaw took your eyes, put you through hell, and you’re defending him?”

“I’m not defending him,” you bite back, wondering if you are, “But Matthews was corrupt. You know that, even I know that. Sometimes, you get what you deserve."

There's a beat of silence over the phone line, and you wonder if you've taken it a step far. It almost surprises you, to hear the words coming from your mouth. A month ago, you wouldn't have believed you would feel this way, but it's true, isn't it?

Matthews had a way out, just like everyone else did. Just like you did. If he hadn't fucked around and found out, he would have been fine.

Your sympathy for the other Jigsaw victims- the other subjects- has become somewhat muted since you became one yourself. Being able to intuit all of their faults in high definition had only dulled it further.

“You think he deserved to be murdered, is that it?" Kerry asks, and if she wasn't angry before, she definitely is now. Thankfully, you know from experience that she tends to anger quickly, and cool off just as fast. "What about you, then? You got tested, too. How the hell can you say it's deserved?”

Because I deserved to be tested, too.

Something about the topic of conversation turning to you causes a vision to spring forward from the recesses of your mind, like it had simply been waiting for the most opportune moment to reveal itself.

You see yourself, standing in what appears to be a shallow pool of water in the middle of a dense forest. It is quiet and still, save for the ripples in the water caused by your movement. You can't hear any animals- the forest is silent.

You look exactly as you remember, save for a few key details- wide, white globes for eyes stare wildly back at you, and you are drenched in the water. You are soaked through and dripping, the water running down your forehead in rivets. On your head, twisted and gnarled, is a crown of some sort. At first, you think it's a crown of branches- fitting for the forest that you've found yourself in- but once you approach and look closer, you realize it's a crown of rusted, jutting metal pieces.

In your hands, you hold out a crumpled piece of paper, one you’ve somehow kept from dissolving in the water. Carefully, you take it from yourself and unfurl it, to see a wrinkled advertisement for a Jigsaw survivor support group.

Interesting. You file that piece of information away for later. Your lips are moving, but you can't hear the words. You lean in, trying to listen. It seems you're repeating something, over and over, mouthing along to an inaudible refrain.

“Hello?” Kerry's voice pulls you out of it.

“I'm sorry,” you reply. Any anger you'd been feeling is gone, shaken out of you, “My head's been all over the place."

"I know," She sighs as well, and you can feel her unspoken apology in return as she continues, "The FBI's getting involved. I've been in contact with one of their agents."

Immediately, you think back to your vision of the two dangerous people- the man and the woman.

"Damn," you remark, before you note, "He's a lot to deal with, isn't he?"

"That's putting it lightly," Kerry huffs, and you can feel her frustration not only at you, but at the FBI agents getting involved before she's been able to find Matthews herself. She feels embarrassed by it, the scrutiny and criticism only mounting the pressure she feels to find an answer, quickly.

"Tell me this," She asks then, weary, "Is everything going to be okay?"

There's a sinking in your stomach, but you lie to her, and say, "I think so."

Your words hand in the air, as if from a hangman's noose.

"Thanks," Kerry replies, and you're not sure if she believes you.

"Hey, Ally?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful out there. Keep your head on a swivel." You feel like you can hear the smile in her voice when she responds to you, though her tone remains grave.

"Always. You too."

---

[11:47AM - Outgoing] Did you know about the FBI getting involved in the Jigsaw case?

[11:48AM - Incoming] no.

[11:48AM - Incoming] fuck.

[11:50AM - Outgoing] That one isn't a vision either, straight from Allison

[11:51AM - Outgoing] But I've seen them, too.

[11:51AM - Outgoing] Two agents I think. They look like trouble.

[11:53AM - Incoming] thanks for the heads up

[11:54AM - Incoming] fbi... what a pain in the ass

[11:55AM - Outgoing] If they start poking around, it could be a lot worse than that

[11:55AM - Outgoing] Be careful

[11:59AM - Incoming] well how about that. you do care.

[11:59AM - Outgoing] Don't let it get to your head

---

The Jigsaw Survivor Support group meeting is held in a church basement. It's the first time you've been in a church for a long time, and the atmosphere feels weighty with the desperate prayers of its inhabitants.

Of course, there isn't an elevator. Down in the cool of the basement, a circle of chairs waits for you, and you get the sense that several men and women already seated when you arrive. Hushed voices quiet to silence as you approach, tapping your cane ahead of you.

"Oh! Hello!" A woman's voice calls out as you approach, nervous but excited. From her tone, you guess that she's an older woman. "You're new! Normally, Dr. Gordon would greet you, but he's actually away this week. He's the one who organized this group."

Doctor Gordon. Why did that name seem to strike a chord of familiarity with you?

You wince as someone takes your arm. You've learned that one major difference about being blind is that strangers are all too willing to touch you, now that they think they're being helpful.

You sure wish that they wouldn't.

The person who grabbed you by the arm leads you further into the room to a chair, "helping" you sit down. They seem a bit offended when you don't thank them, instead setting your cane beside the chair and folding your hands in your lap.

"So? What'd he take from you?" A male voice asks from across the circle, after you've settled into your seat.

"Take a guess," you reply dryly. No one in the room laughs, and you're not sure if it's better or worse that you can't actually see them all, staring and judging you. You clear your throat, and try again. "My ability to see."

"You don't need to talk about it, if you don't want to," the woman placates quickly, a note of admonishment in her tone. "Ned, you can't just ask the new people what was taken them-"

"It's okay," You interrupt, feeling surprisingly calm. Between the woman who had grabbed you, and the man who interrogated you, she had bothered you more than he had, "Not much throws me off, these days."

Reaching out with your senses, you survey the circle. A tangled mess of self-pity and loathing hits you, and you have to keep your lip from curling in a sneer of distaste. These are the survivors? You only get a hit off of one of them that doesn't repulse you- a reluctant, begrudging respect, an acknowledgement that he's made changes in his life that have improved things, since the game that he was in.

Feelings of ownership, control, responsibility- could the Jigsaw games really inspire them? Mostly, it just seemed to have traumatized these people-

These people, who were so miserable and desperate to begin with, their sins writhing inside the marrow of their bones. You have to free the sins, get the them out of the marrow to save them-

Your head throbs. The headaches have lessened considerably since you... refocused your senses, but they hadn't completely disappeared.

Briefly, you itch for a painkiller, but you ignore the craving as best as you can as you listen to each subject in the group introduce themselves.

The only name you fully register is that of the young man who you'd felt the sense of kinship with- Daniel Matthews. Hm. Isn't that ironic?

"I'm still processing everything," you say, after you introduce yourself. "But to be honest... I guess I have been seeing things in a different way."

"I'm sure you've learned to appreciate your life, and be grateful," you can hear the scowl in the man called Ned's voice. You have no idea what his test was, or how he survived, but you can hear the sarcasm in his tone- if someone here is grateful, it isn't him.

You consider the words seriously instead of taking the bait.

Had you?

"I've learned to appreciate the life that I have, rather than the one I used to wish I had," You say. You can feel the attention of the others burning on you, and it makes your skin crawl. Their judgment is like a heavy blanket over the room, and its almost suffocating. But still, the words pour out of you, too honest, too raw.

"I'm the only person who can do what I do, and the only person who can see the world from my perspective. Wishing and hoping for things to be different is pointless- it's pathetic."

No one says anything, so you continue, trying to explain further how you feel. Maybe you hope that you can convince someone here to see their game in a new light. Maybe you just need to say the words have have been stuck in your throat for so long.

"I am who I am. I'm the person I love and the person I hate. Good, bad. It doesn't really matter. I don't care anymore, and I'm so tired of making excuses for being myself."

The room sits in quiet silence, until finally, Daniel Matthews speaks up for the first time in the session.

"But do you know... who that is? Yourself?"

The version of you in your mind's eye- the version from the forest lake with the jagged metal crown- looks at you and grins with teeth.

Your words in response seem to be carried by an incoming chill.

"I think I'm figuring it out."

---

You're not sure what you expected, but a house in the suburbs is not it.

"I'm renovating it, so careful where you step," Mark says, leading you through the front door with a hand on your waist. "Would be a hell of a waste if you died tripping over a brick."

"Hey, you're not allowed to make fun of me for being blind," You reply back, without any real venom. His hand squeezes your waist, playful but dominant.

"Who said anything about you being blind? I was talking about your two left feet." You jab him in the side with your elbow, and he chuckles to himself, pulling you along with him.

It feels altogether domestic- far easier than it has any right to feel. You can imagine a life together, in this home. Taxes and fighting over chores and going on trips. Putting on music as the sun goes down, brewing coffee in the mornings as it rises. You allow yourself the indulgence of it, for just a moment.

The house smells like sawdust and paint, but there's a metallic undercurrent of blood. It's hard to tell if that scent is really there, or if it's just something your mind has picked up on, independent of your objective reality. Mark seems to lead you on forever, around too many corners to count.

There it is again, that sixth sense nagging at you. Something bad happened here. Something bad will happen here. Layers of pain, like the rings in the centre of a tree. You think back to Daniel Matthews, and his nervous, angry energy. So much like his father's, but still so different.

The coffin of glass swallows the target, but he doesn't know what it means. He thinks he is safe inside, but he is wrong. The walls are closing in on him, not his opponent, who is pulled through to the heavens. This isn't how its supposed to happen.

"Is this place a maze? What kind of architect designed this?" You mutter, as Mark stops walking and crouches down beside you. You tap your cane around, noticing a hollow sound ringing from part of the floor.

"Probably John. The layout's a nightmare. But the place is huge. It'll be nice, once its fixed up." Mark responds, and you hear a loud thud. "It's a trap door," he explains.

"Great," You reply, "Always a good sign."

Mark helps you through the trapdoor and down a ladder. Your tentative movements take time, but if he's annoyed by your slow pace, he doesn't complain. Once you're down the ladder, you reach out with your mind's eye, and survey your surroundings.

It is much colder, down here, somehow. Something bothers you about it, like an open sore in the back of the mouth.

"Hey, where are you going?"

You don't realize you're walking away until you hear Mark's voice, calling after you. Something is drawing you in like a beacon. It feels, suddenly, like you're on the cusp of completing something important, something you'd nearly forgotten about.

Drawn through the cold, damp, narrow tunnels, you somehow know instinctively which ways to turn. You don't trip, or run into walls, but keep moving, deeper into the dark. Until finally, you feel yourself stop in front of... something.

Reaching forward, you grasp the bars of a cell.

"Somewhere deep and dark. Low, inside the earth," you echo your words from weeks ago now, and hear a low, guttural groan in response.

Poor Eric Matthews, more animal than man by now.

"Yeah, he's not doing so great," Mark whispers in your ear, having followed after you. You get a brief flash of vision- Mark grabbing Eric by the hair, grown matted and shaggy, and dragging him back as he sobs and claws at the ground. Mark, punching him heavy in the stomach, throwing slop at his feet.

He hated it, at first. Then he grew to relish it.

Pure horror settles in you, uneasy in your stomach.

"Why... keep him?" You ask hollowly, feeling Mark's arm around your waist again, territorial.

"Kramer wants him for the next game," He replies, too quiet for Matthews to hear, "Needs him as an incentive. You know how bad the precinct wants to save him. Hell, it's why you're here in the first place."

"Is someone out there? Help me-" Matthews pleads, his voice broken, "P-please-" Your mouth is dry. You'd been brought in to save this man, and now here he was, begging for help in front of you.

"Huh. So he does remember how to speak," Mark mutters. Part of you wants to reach out, to comfort Matthews, to lie badly to him and tell him it will be alright.

But this is what it is. Open wounds, dirty basements, and pain like the refrain of a prayer. The maw of Hell itself. This is what it means, to be a part of this.

To be partners with Detective Mark Hoffman.

You jump in surprise at a sudden, loud clang- Mark has grabbed your cane, and slammed it against the rusted bars of the cell. You hear whimpering, as Eric Matthews seems to retreat. You take a few steps back, away from the cell, closing your eyes as if it will help.

"It gets easier," Mark tells you, "I know, I know. It's alright to be uncertain. Too feel sick about it. I was at first, too."

You swallow, and nod. He presses his lips to your temple, in a gentle gesture, and continues to soothe you with honeyed words.

"Don't worry. No one's going to find out. You and me, we do this together. We help each other. Right?"

You nod again, and he kisses you, on the lips this time. It's almost forceful, as though by the action alone, he can make you forget your conscience.

"Come on," He says, "Lemme show you the bathroom."

---

Although you've never set foot in this room before in your life, you feel as though you're returning back to a place you grew up in. It has an air of nostalgia about it that's almost uncanny, like a place you've dreamt about a million times, but can't quite map the layout of.

Frankly, it's kind of fucking creepy in here.

The smells of decaying bodies doesn't help. It's unmistakable, almost sweet in its rot, and you clasp a hand over your mouth as you grimace.

"You're renovating, but you couldn't take out the bodies?" You ask, fighting the urge to gag.

"Yeah, let me just carry them to my car," Mark snipes back, and you suppose he has a point. "I don't really come down here. But hey, do your thing." You hear the scrape of a chair, and wonder- is he pulling up a seat?

With a deep breath, you calm your nerves, and try to dial in to your extrasensory perception. The first task you'd been given- find Eric Matthews- has been completed. The second- find the secret apprentice- has not. That's your goal, and the reason you came here. You know that this place has the answers you seek. The walls bleed with them.

You sense Mark, somewhere behind you, curious and sharp. But you need to reach something older. Glass crunches under your boots, and you slowly pace the room, stepping carefully as not to trip over anything.

Then, you catch hold of something. Before you can understand what you're doing, you're crouching in front of one of the bodies, taking his bony, brittle face into your hands. The skin is like tissue paper under your touch.

"Oh, Adam," You murmur to him softly, "How unfair. He didn't follow his own rules for you, did he?"

"Are you... talking to the corpse?" Mark asks, an edge of disgust in his voice.

You ignore him. The corpse doesn't speak, of course, but he answers you in his own way.

"He promised," you hear your voice saying, an echo from a thousand miles away, "He promised he'd come back to save him. A Knight in shining armour. But he never did. He dies down here, missing his mother and wondering if he'll ever see her again. He dies over and over again. He exists as a ghost, haunting the third. The fourth? The secret one, the guilty one, the one who got away."

You hold the skull delicately, with a care not to disturb him. Of course, he's just a body. Just a shell. But before that-

You smell cigarette smoke, hear the click of a camera snapping a shot. Despair, fear, loneliness. Despondency, hope. Bitterness, so much resentment. A cell phone ringing, a hacksaw, tearing into flesh, pain, pain-

"Who was tested in here?" You ask Mark, letting go of the body and standing. The room spins around you, seems to pulse in the darkness. You get the impression of patterns, swirling about- the kind you can read and understand, that you can use to tell the future, if you just focus. You wipe your hands on your pants.

"That guy," Mark replies, presumably pointing to Adam, "We strung up another guy in here at one point. And Matthew's game ended up in here, with the kid and Amanda."

"Who was with Adam?" The answer is so close to you. For some reason, you think of the Jigsaw survivor group, and briefly wonder if the secret apprentice is Daniel Matthews. It partially seems to fit, but your intuition suggests that guess is off base.

"A doctor, I think. We planted his pen light. I think he ended up surviving. What the hell was his name...?" As Mark thinks, the answer comes to you, bold, in flashing neon lights.

"Doctor Gordon," you whisper. You ankle aches in confirmation.

"That was it," Mark replies, and then he pauses. "Him?"

"Him."

"You're sure?"

You see a blonde man, pale and sickly looking, crawling away as blood pours from the stump of his leg. It flows like paint spilling from an overturned tub, until the man presses it to a boiling pipe. Flesh melts and blood coagulates. He survives.

He survives. But he is alone. He has no one else but the ghosts, and the King, omnipotent in his wisdom, sees a subject in the making. A knight to stand guard, to protect the most valuable pieces. To save, when he could not save before.

"I'm sure," You reply, and you are. You hear Mark stand up from his seat.

"What now?" He asks, walking back over to you, "Do we...confront him? Ask Kramer about him?"

It's curious, you think, that he's asking for your opinion now. But you shake your head.

"No," You answer. You've never felt so sure of something in your life. The impressions of the patterns spell out hints to you, show a chessboard with its pieces, ready for play.

"No, we sit on this. We'll need him, later. We don't let anyone else know that we know," You say and you hear Mark make a small hum of contemplation.

"We'll need him?" He asks, a note of skepticism in his voice, and you nod.

"I don't know how yet. But I can feel it. Trust me on this?" You ask. He sighs.

"You haven't been wrong yet," He replies, and you smile at him in thanks. The pieces are coming into focus now, starting to settle into place. John Kramer has been lining up these dominoes for half a decade.

And you can sense what's coming. Your sight will be your survival. You catch the sound of a buzz, coming from where Mark stands.

"It's John. He wants to meet with you again, one-on-one," Mark says then, and you hazard a guess that he's looking at his phone. Does John Kramer know how to text?

"When?" You ask back. Your intuition tells you this will be important- that it might be the last time you see Kramer, face to face. He's a tyrant, his dark shadow looming over you and Mark, and you know in your soul that even when he's dead, that isn't going to change.

"Now. You ready?"

You hope that you are. You think of Eric Matthews, rotting in the dark; and Daniel Matthews, living in the day. You think of Adam, resigned to the depths to die alone, and Ned, who survived to scoff at the notion of gratitude.

It makes you sick, and not out of guilt.

A/N- A bit plot heavy, but since I actually know where this is going now, I'm actually laying down the building blocks for the end! Thank you for waiting, I'm a bit nervous about this chapter so if you liked it, please leave a review <3

TAG LIST: @icarusinstatic @honimello @haven-is-happy @karmaswitch @the-jester-calamity @teamhawkeye @thebrideofcaliban @mjrkime @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @mrs-hotforhoffman @aliengutzstuff

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xhmeusworld · 4 months

Text

atychiphobia (1) | lee chan

genre: non idol! dino, figure skater! dino, skier! reader, sports au

pairings: chan x afab reader

warnings: mentions of anxiety

word count: 5.5k

note: introducing part 1 of chan’s series! i think this will roughly have maybe five to six parts, each being around 5k-6k words. i have included some original characters within the storyline for plot reasons as well, but you should see some familiar names too! let me know what you guys think and if you would like to be added to the tag list ☺️

•••

you have trained your entire life for the chance to compete in the Olympics. starting at age six, you practiced almost every day. although, at the time, you felt miserable; you knew that you were setting yourself up for victory someday. through countless training sessions and hard work, you caught the attention of the norwegian public earning you the nickname "the scandinavian sweetheart," and a spot to compete in the 2018 olympics in pyeongchang, South Korea.

to you, it felt like you went from being nobody to somebody overnight. after one brilliant run in the FIS Freestyle World Championships, you became a household name. with your almost white hair and beautiful blue eyes, you became a role model for the young girls and a hopeless crush for the boys. your coach, Aksel, basked in the praise and attention that his bright star had begun to receive.

sponsors came rolling in like waves, your follower count on every social media platform skyrocketed, television broadcasts constantly stated the fact that you were the best athlete in the entire country of norway. to Aksel, this meant that after coaching you for nearly ten years, his work was beginning to payoff. their work was beginning to payoff.

however, you did not see it that way.

in your mind, your work had yet to begun.

before you could begin to believe that you were indeed the Scandinavian sweetheart, you had to prove to yourself that you deserved the title, that you deserved to be in Pyeongchang. the only way to do that is to win gold.

other athletes were hungry for the gold mainly for the fame and validation that accompanied it while with you; you just didn't want to be a disappointment to yourself and your country.

"y/n, are you listening to me?"

you turned your eyes away from the view outside the car window and turned your head toward your coach, your eyebrows raised. "Yes, Aksel?"

"we are almost to the hotel, so I want to lie down some ground rules," he explained. "one, do not pig out on any form of sweets. two, you will be asleep by eleven at the latest to make sure you are well rested. finally, three, do not go anywhere without informing me first even if you just want coffee down the street. I will drive you in the car."

Aksel rented a car for their sixteen day stay in Pyeongchang in case you wished to travel throughout the city. the thought of you taking the bus or walking made his stomach churn. due to the sickness that was plaguing multiple countries during the winter months, he was terrified you would become sick before your competition even begun.

of course, you had no problem with following any of the rules you coach created. you did not have an outgoing personality, so staying up past eleven and traveling throughout Korea wasn't something you were planning to do.

the car rolled to a stop outside the hotel and the cold air of Pyeongchang felt like a slap in the face to you as you climbed out. of course, norway was colder than Korea currently, but after being in a heated car for a few hours, you were caught off guard.

Aksel walked around to the back of the car, you following close behind, willing to help carry whatever your small frame could.

"put this on," Aksel instructed, holding something out toward you as he opened the trunk.

you took the item into the palm of your hand, a look of pure confusion on your face. "why do I have to wear a face mask?"

"because of sickness, y/n," he replied, pulling multiple suitcases out of the trunk of the car. "the flu is going around and it's common courtesy to wear a mask to prevent the spread."

you did not like germs. you were borderline germaphobic even. the thought of millions of bacteria floating through the air was enough to set you on edge, but you also despised the feeling of the cloth against your face. the texture just felt wrong. however, you did as you were told without complaint.

you positioned the strings of the cloth behind your ears before reaching down to grab your backpack, slinging it onto your back, and your suitcase.

"I got your skis," Aksel told you, slamming the trunk shut. He slung his duffel bag over his shoulder before grabbing your fluorescent yellow skis off of the ground and starting toward the entrance of the hotel.

you quickly followed, your breath coming out in puffs and fading into the frozen air.

when they entered the hotel, the first thing that greeted them was a small Korean man positioned behind the front desk. He smiled as they saw them. "hello. welcome to the Athlete Village."

you let Aksel do the talking while you glanced around at the architecture. Everything just looked so elegant and grand. you felt slightly out of place.

"Which athlete is competing?" the dark-haired man asked.

Aksel stated your name and the man turned to his computer, typing quickly.

"We have her rooming with another women," the Korean man explained. "Is that okay?"

"y/n-“ Aksel spoke, but when he turned around you were no longer behind him. Instead your feet carried you across the hotel lobby and into the arms of a familiar red-haired girl.

the girl was caught off guard at the sudden contact, causing her to drop her bags onto the floor.

"y/n, you are so lucky that I wasn't carrying my skis!" she cried. "you could have just came up and hugged me like a normal human being instead of attacking me."

you grinned, your arms still around the korean girl's neck. "what would be the fun in that, jihyo?"

with a defeated grin, the korean girl hugged her best friend of four years tightly. "It's really good to see you."

"I can't believe it's been six months since we've seen each other."

jihyo opened to her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Aksel who cleared his throat loudly.

"you and y/n will be roommates for the duration of your stay," he explained. "each country has their own designated floor; however, I pulled some springs and jihyo’s coach allowed her to be placed on Norway's instead of south korea’s. I assumed that you both would like to be placed together instead of with a stranger."

you and jihyo were best friends. you were the best friends that had countless inside jokes and would stay up until early morning talking about anything and everything. jihyo even decided to train in Norway for part of the year to be closer to you. but though all the jokes and laughs, they both knew that putting them in a hotel room together was not the greatest idea.

"that’s why coach just randomly shoved a keycard in my hand and took off," jihyo scoffed. she ran a hand through her hair before muttering "god give me strength," under her breath. you easily overheard.

"why would God have to give you strength if you are rooming with me? I am a blessing after all," you teased.

jihyo rolled her eyes as they followed Aksel toward the elevator that would carry them all the way up to the eighteenth floor which was built to house as many athletes from Norway as possible.

to the two athletes, the elevator ride seemed extremely short while Aksel felt that it lasted forever. from the lobby floor to the eighteenth, he had to tell you to calm down a total of five times due to your rapid talking directed toward jihyo.

at last they were standing in front of room 46.

"this is your room," the older man remarked. "here’s your room key. please be responsible and do not lose it."

"I won't!" you retorted.

"but remember our rules, y/n," Aksel advised.

“of course. don’t eat sweets, don't stay up past eleven and if I want to go anywhere, I have to inform you."

aksel smiled. "i knew you were always smart." He reached into his duffel bag and tossed a box into your hands. "also, here."

your eyes widened as you surveyed what you were holding. "condoms? why are you giving me a box of condoms?"

"they are not from me. the Olympic village gives each athlete a small box every year." the older man said casually as if it wasn't a big deal. "use them as you please."

"so you are giving me permission?" you asked warily, raising your eyebrows.

"as long as you are asleep by eleven, there won't be a problem," Aksel responded. "i’ll be on the coach's floor if you need me."

as your coach started back down the hallway toward the elevators, you handed your to key to jihyo who didn't feel like digging her own key out of her bag.

jihyo swapped the card in the door and pushed it open before stepping inside.

"would you like to explain to me why each athlete gets condoms when they check in?" you asked as she shut the door behind her.

the red-headed girl chucked her bags onto the floor before replying. "have you heard anyone say 'what happens in the Olympic village stays in the Olympic village?' well, it's because casual sex happens a lot. I mean, a lot."

jihyo pulled her jacket off, bending down to stuff it into one of her many suitcases. "I read an article a couple weeks ago that said Pyeongchang are expecting 2,925 athletes to compete. If you are a math whiz like me, that works out to around thirty-seven condoms per person."

you stepped past the older girl, sitting your suitcase onto the bed furthest from the window. you unzipped it before stuffing your red Norway jacket inside.

"the article also said at the Olympic Games in Seoul in 1988, there were so many condoms on top of athlete housing that they literally had to make a rule banning outdoor sex."

your face twisted in disgust at the thought of actually being naked outside with another person. the very thought of being naked in front of another person disgusted you, but doing it where there was no privacy was even worse.

"what person needs thirty-seven condoms over a two-week time frame?" you asked, tucking a strand of your blonde hair behind your ear.

jihyo grinned. "oh, you poor innocent child. when my sister was in the Olympics in 2000 she went through fifteen and some of her friends went through more than that."

your hometown of Oslo, Norway was called the one night stand capital of Europe for a reason. casual sex was a common occurrence and when you used to attend public school, it seemed like every day someone in group of friends had hooked up with someone. you were only one who didn't broadcast your sex life or therefore; your lack of one. so hearing that some people were able to have sex at least fifteen times in a two week period was amazing to you.

"let’s go explore downstairs. I heard that there is a pool." jihyo pulled a plain black hoodie onto her body. "besides, I'm starving."

"do you think there will be grandiosa?" you asked curiously.

"you are the only person who comes to South Korea hoping for Norwegian frozen pizza."

•••

due to this being the first time you had ever had the opportunity to compete in the Olympics, you were nervous to go downstairs.

jihyo was full of excitement and energy. she was excited to see fellow athletes that she hadn't seen since the last Winter Olympics. she was so excited that she failed to see how uncomfortable the younger girl felt.

jihyo had always been known as an outgoing and adventurous person. no matter what was thrown her way, she took it in stride. whether it be meeting someone new or traveling to a foreign country, she could deal with it without stumbling. that was the prime reason why you and her got along as well as you did.

every single time you were with jihyo, you were shoved out of your comfort zone.

today was no different.

you weren’t exactly nervous about meeting new people. you were just afraid that you would embarrass herself.

the two individuals threaded in between the multiple tables that filled the dining area of the hotel, but jihyo automatically stopped in her tracks when you clutched onto her arm, forcing her to stop.

"oh my god," you said, your eyes widening.

jihyo looked at her with puzzlement on her face. "what? what are you looking at?"

you nodded her head in the direction of a brown-haired girl. "it’s jiheon.”

jihyo’s eyes darted back and forth between you two, surprise in her features. "how did she even make it to the Olympics? the last time I saw her skate, she sucked."

"she was barely fourteen when you saw her last," you retorted, your anxiety spiking. "she’s like really good now."

almost as if the younger girl knew she was being discussed, she turned her head in the direction of where you were standing. before jiheon could comprehend who she was looking at, you grabbed jihyo’s arm shoving her toward one of the tables.

"she’s looking over here. get under the table now!" you got on your hands and knees, pulling the back the tablecloth and seeking solstice under the small round surface. "come on! hurry up!"

jihyo appeared beside in a mess of arms and legs and a hiss left her lips as she happened to hit her leg against one of the wooden chairs. "ow, fuck!"

"hush!" you told her, half tempted to place a hand over your best friend's mouth.

"i wasn't even being loud!" the older girl protested.

"do you even realize what her being here means, jihyo?" you questioned. "bad things! it means bad things are bound to happen!"

"why? you guys used to be like extremely close to one another."

you gave your best friend a pointed look and realization dawned on jihyo’s face. "oh, I get it now."

"yeah and if we run into each other, I will-"

your words trailed off as the white tablecloth shifted to reveal a boy with curly brown hair. he stared at the two humans under the table with curiosity in his eyes, but he did not speak.

he seemed slightly familiar to you, but you couldn't place where you had seen him before.

the awkward eye contact that you were holding with the boy was broken as a noise was heard from above.

"why are you looking under the table?" a voice questioned, curiosity in his voice.

the tablecloth moved once again as another boy peeked his head in to survey the two girls. "oh, that's why."

"do a lot of people hide under the table at the Olympics?" the curly haired boy asked.

"not usually."

you smiled sheepishly at the two boys before turning to your best friend. "i think we are in the clear now."

"we were probably in the clear before," the older girl mumbled as they climbed out from under the table to see that jiheon was in fact out of sight.

"i don't appreciate the tone that you use when you are talking to me."

"do I look like I care?" she questioned.

their blickering was interrupted by one of the boys in front of them clearing their throat.

"why were you guys hiding under the table?" the younger boy asked, cocking his head to the side.

"oh, it's such a long story, but needless to say, we were trying to avoid someone." you couldn't help but blush as the boy spoke to you. you couldn't believe that you got caught hiding under a table by two boys because you were afraid to speak to a girl you hadn't seen in almost two years.

"she was trying to avoid someone. I was not," jihyo clarified.

the black haired boy just smiled, gesturing to himself and the other boy. "I'm joshua hong and this is vernon chwe."

at the mention of the two korean boys' names, your mind was refreshed and instantly flashed back to the last time you had saw them skate. it had been over two years ago.

you had been amazed by the man named josh and how he seemed to have the entire audience in the palm of his hand without even trying. the plushies thrown into the rink at the end of his performance to celebrate almost brought tears to your eyes.

with vernon, you remembered him for his flawless routine that was particularly hard, especially for someone for his age. however, he pulled it off effortlessly. you also remembered him falling asleep against josh’s shoulder during one of their post interviews.

jihyo smiled at the boys. "I'm jihyo and before you think I'm a freak, she's the one that dragged me under the table, not the other way around. I'm completely normal, I promise."

you rolled your eyes. "she's not normal. she's a liar." you turned back to josh and vernon. "it’s nice to meet you guys. I'm y/n."

josh raised his eyebrows at you. "you saw us skate before, haven't you? you were sitting in the VIP section and you told me good luck right before I got on the ice."

on top of irrational fear of failure, you were also afraid of being forgotten. you were afraid that the moment your soul left the earth that your name would leave the world's minds. you would mean nothing, so the shock on your face was apparent as josh explained that after two years he remembered your face.

your tone of voice gave away your surprise to his reaction. "yeah, I'm surprised you remembered that."

"well, it made me feel happy, so yeah, thank you for that." josh gave you a kind smile. "have you guys ate anything yet?"

jihyo shook her head. "No, but I'm starving."

josh gestured in the direction behind him before turning back towards the girls. "uh, we have a bunch of friends in the lounge room. there’s food in there if you would like to join us."

you opened your mouth to respond, but jihyo was already replying. "of course, we would love to!"

with everyone in agreement, the girls followed the boys toward the lounge area for any of the athletes who wished to use it.

as they entered the lounge area only two people were present. your eyes widened with recognition as you took in the sight of the two familiar human before you.

"y/n!" hirai momo screeched, throwing herself into the arms of the younger girl the moment she realized she was in the room. "I've missed you so much!"

choi seungcheol smiled at the blonde girl. "she really has. all she's been talking about for the last few weeks is how she'll get to see you at the Olympics."

"you are as excited to see her as I am," momo retorted. "Don't act like you're not!"

"I'm not acting," seungcheol responded as momo stepped back from the Norwegian girl, allowing her figure skating partner to step forward.

the dark-haired boy held his hands out to his sides, gesturing for you to come forward and hug him. you slowly wrapped her arms around seungcheol’s waist. his arms tightened around your small frame for a brief period before he mumbled "we both really missed you."

"I missed you guys too," you responded, your voice muffled by the boy’s shirt.

jihyo snickered beside you as she noticed the red color that had appeared on your normally pale cheeks.

a few seconds later, you guys pulled away from one another, which allowed momo to once again throw her arm over your shoulder.

"chan was here a few minutes ago, but I think he decided to go take a nap in his room," she explained. "but don't worry, you'll meet him soon."

a flash of black hair appeared in her mind at the mention of the name chan; however, you couldn't picture his face.

"sana, sana, come here!" momo gestured to the small Asian girl who had just entered the room.

the girl named sana came over to the small group of figure skaters, a smile on her face. "Hi!"

"sana, this is y/n and her friend, jihyo," momo explained. "y/n is competing in freestyle skiing for Norway while jihyo is competing in alpine skiing for korea."

jihyo smiled. "Nice to meet you."

you gave the girl a smile as well. "i’ve seen you skate before. You are very elegant."

momo responded with a polite thank you as momo led you toward the couch that seungcheol had previously been sitting on; his spot was now occupied by Joshua Hong.

due to not having seen you in person for at least six months, momo’s lips moved a mile a minute as she covered every topic from ice dancing to her and seungcheol’s YouTube channel.

you listened carefully and carried on the conversation until she was interrupted by the red headed korean girl.

jihyo cleared her throat.

"i don't mean to be rude, but where's the food?"

•••

you had only been in Pyeongchang for almost two days and you were already finding yourself feeling homesick. maybe you missed the weather of Norway or maybe you just missed not having huge amounts of pressure on your shoulders. you weren’t exactly sure. all you knew was that you missed home.

Aksel assured you that what you were feeling was completely normal and it was as a result of the fact that you never had been this far away from your home country before.

you had trouble adjusting to the time change as well. when it was night fall in South Korea, it was mid-afternoon in Norway. needless to say, you hadn't gotten much sleep since arriving and it was easy to tell.

a yawn escaped your lips as all the athletes were ushered toward the dining area after the introduction ceremony. over 2,500 athletes from various countries all had to stand up on stage and be introduced to everyone in attendance. you would be lying if you said that you didn't fall asleep on your coach’s shoulder until your name was called.

it was now almost ten at night and all the athletes were just now about to eat dinner. much to the blonde's surprise, you didn't feel that hungry. all you wanted to do was go to sleep.

"hey, jihyo?" you asked, grabbing ahold of your roommate's arm as weaved through the crowd of people. "i think I'm going to go to our room."

the red-headed girl furrowed her eyebrows with concern. "are you feeling okay?"

you gave a weak smile. "you know Aksel's rules. in bed by eleven."

you loved jihyo dearly, but you didn't want to admit how scared you were to compete and how that was draining you mentally. during the entire Olympic introduction ceremony, multiple athletes; some you knew, some you didn't, approached you and wished you luck. everyone seemed to know your name and were hoping that you made Norway proud.

that just made you feel extremely pressured and nervous. what would happen if you failed? what would happen if you didn't medal? not only would your entire country be disappointed, so would Aksel, your mother, and at the current rate, the whole world.

you could imagine the headlines now as you started down the hallway toward the elevator.

y/n, the Scandinavian sweetheart, falls short in first Olympic debut.

you wouldn't be able to recover from that. a failure that extreme would cause you to put away your skis forever.

a familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts while also causing your blood to run cold.

"well, it's none other y/n. it's been such a long time."

you knew that you should keep walking. you knew that you shouldn't stop and acknowledge the person speaking from behind you, but every muscle in your body seemed to lock up at the sound of the voice.

you slowly turned around to face the brown-haired boy who was watching you with an amused smirk on his face as he walked toward you.

"i knew that you were bound to make it to the Olympics this year, especially with all the news coverage you've been receiving," jonas solhelm told you. "you are finally having your talent recognized. jiheon was so happy when they called you up on stage."

you surveyed the taller boy in front of you with wary eyes. his tone of voice was too nice. too fake.

although jonas wasn't invading your personal space yet, you still felt boxed in. you felt like you were trapped unable to escape.

"are you still with that choi dude?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "or did Aksel make you break up with him?"

"seungcheol and I were never together," you responded, your voice barely above a whisper. "we are just good friends."

you were being honest, but you could tell by jonas’s facial expression that he didn't believe you.

the boy shrugged. "i noticed that he wasn't sitting at your table, so i was just curious, but whatever you say. it honestly doesn't matter to me anyway."

then why did you ask?

the thought that jonas had been close enough to you to see your table during the introduction ceremony made you feel slightly ill. he was watching you when you didn't even know that he was present in the room.

you desperately wanted to escape to your room or to the dining area where the dinner was underway, but it was practically impossible to do so. if you tried to walk past jonas or tried to walk the opposite direction away from him, he would most likely grab your arm to keep you from leaving.

"jiheon told me that she thought she saw you yesterday in the dining area, but she wasn't sure because you disappeared before she could reach you." your hands began to shake as jonas inched closer to you. "last time i knew you and her were on good terms. why are you avoiding her? it would break her heart to know that you no longer want to speak to her."

you had never been weak-minded or weak-willed. you knew that jonas was just trying to get a reaction out of you. he was trying to get you to feel guilty, but somehow his words still felt like knives hitting your skin.

"jonas, please just leave me alone, okay?" you responded, your voice surprisingly firm. "you and I are on polite terms. don’t ruin that."

your words seemed to go in jonas’s ears and leave without even making an impact. he just stepped closer to you. "that’s why i’m talking to you, y/n. because we are on polite terms. i’m just being nice. i’m doing nothing wrong."

all of the words that were filling your mind; begging you to tell jonas off, begging you to tell him to leave you alone once more, seemed to disappear the moment you needed them most.

"i think she said to leave her alone," a voice responded from behind jonas causing him to turn.

you weren’t able to see who the speaker was based on jonas obstructing your view, but you couldn't help but breath sigh a relief at the thought of no longer being alone with jonas. he made you feel extremely unsafe.

"you aren't a part of this conversation," jonas backfired.

the boy with the dark hair stepped in between jonas and you, his body slightly turned toward you in a protective stance. "yes, I am, and now, you no longer are."

you took in the boy positioned in front of you and your eyes rested on his frame. one word popped into your mind.

chan.

this was chan.

jonas and the boy facing off against one another had to be an odd sight. jonas was every bit the height of six foot, so he had a good five inches on chan, but he didn't look intimidated in the slightest. he stood his ground with his head held high while you remained silent, praying that a fight wouldn't occur.

when jonas realized that the boy wasn't going to move from his position, he rolled his eyes. "whatever." he made brief eye contact with you. "hopefully, i’ll see you around at some point."

he turned around and headed back toward the dining area. you watched him go until he was out of sight.

"are you okay?" chan asked, his dark eyes meeting contact with your bright blue ones as he turned to face you. "he didn't hurt you or anything?"

you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat and took a deep breath before responding. "no, he didn't. thank you so much for helping me."

"no worries." he smiled, holding out his hand for you to shake. "i’m lee chan."

when you accepted chan’s hand, you hoped that he didn't realize how clammy your hands were. he showed no signs that he noticed. "so you are chan. it’s an honor to meet you. i’m y/n."

chan cocked his head to the side. "momo and seungcheol haven't stopped talking about you since they arrived."

that statement caused a smile to appear on your features. "only good things, i hope?"

chan nodded. "absolutely. they both adore you. they also never shut up about how talented you are when it comes to skiing."

you did not particularly like praise, but you never felt embarrassed by it, so you were shocked when you found yourself cheeks heating up at the boy's words.

"I heard that you are amazing in your sport as well."

he shrugged. "i'm okay." he was quick to change the subject.

"um, would you mind if i walked you back to your room?" chan asked. "just in case that guy tries to bother you again."

you knew jonas solheim better than you knew yourself. there was no way he was going to try to approach you again after the encounter with chan. however, you weren't about to turn down the figure skater's kind gesture.

"yeah, sure. thank you."

you and chan started down the hallway. although he was taller, you were able to keep up with his stride easily.

as they arrived at the elevator, you clicked the button, causing the silver doors open up and both of you stepped inside.

"what floor is norway?" The figure skater asked.

"eighteen."

"cool. my floor is six."

the button lit up as it was pressed and the elevator doors closed.

the elevator had reached the fifth floor before chan decided to break the silence. "so who was that guy?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"jonas solhelm, norway's prime athlete in skeleton," you responded, glancing down at your feet. that wasn't the answer chan wanted; you knew that. he wanted to know how you knew the boy, but that detail wasn't important.

"skeleton honestly scares the shit out of me," chan replied with a visible shudder.

you giggled, causing a feeling of happiness to form in the figure skater's chest at the fact that he was able to make you laugh after what occurred in the hallway. "me too. sliding down a course head first at sixty miles or more an hour is very scary, but some people live for the thrill."

"figure skating is enough of a thrill for me."

only a few seconds later, the elevator doors opened and the two athletes stepped out into the hallway.

It didn't take long to get to room forty-six.

"well, this is my room," you remarked, stopping in front of the door that had a gold 46 engraved on it.

"alright," chan said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "have a nice sleep, okay? i know how tiring today has been for all of us."

you slid your key card in the door and a clicking sounded. "you too, chan. thank you for walking me to my room. i really appreciate it."

he smiled. "couldn’t risk you getting cornered by that creep again."

you pushed the door to room open, leaning against it. "goodnight, chan."

"sweet dreams, y/n."

TAGS: @aaniag @wonwooz1 @chweverni

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sebstan2020 · 1 month

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The King

Chapter 8

Violet is a bad girl at school, not giving a care about her grades that are falling and getting in trouble every week. She smokes, drinks and she's only sixteen. Her mother has had enough of her and doesn't know what to do with her. But when she's forced to go to her mother's employee dinner for the United States Army, she meets the mysterious and handsome General James Barnes.

She is infatuated with him and can't seem to stay away. The closer she gets to him, the more she craves him and soon she finds herself entering a world of darkness, pain and pleasure.

Violet was scared. and she never gets scared. Her big bad ass 'didn't give a fuck' attitude instantly slipped away and was replaced by the cowering girl, who sat in the steel chair against the steel desk. Hard handcuffs enveloped her wrists tightly and clicked with every movement, keeping her restrained. The room was deathly quiet, and she glanced at the camera in the corner every five seconds, wondering who was watching her.

After several years of rebellion, attidude, and mischief, she was in trouble, and it wasn't even her fault. Yes, she was drinking, and yes, she was at a party that she shouldn't be at. but the joint wasn't even hers. She had been caught red-handed by some stoned-out guy who couldn't handle his weed. She only had one puff; does that really count as possession of class B drugs? She was getting the blame for it and paying the price. Her stomach rolled with nerves, and she bounced her leg to try and distract herself.

The officer who had brought her here had left her for what felt like hours but was only twenty minutes, and she listened carefully for noises and voices outside the room. It was cold and dark in here, with grey walls and a large door with no window. She was confined to the room. There was a muffled noise outside, and Violet sat up slightly, listening and getting into position in case someone walked inside.

Had she made the wrong move, picking James to come down? She definitely didn't want her mother to know about this and had begged and pleaded with the officer not to call her mother. one for strike, and she'd be grounded for the rest of her life. although now she wishes they had called her mother. Being grounded sounded better than potentially going to juvie, a place that was on the end of the string of rebellion she was walking on, and she had neared the end.

Her initial thinking was that James could get her off easily. They had grown to know each other over the last few months, and he had made it clear that if she ever got into trouble, she could call him for help. but was this stretching it a bit? Her palms were sweaty and her stomach tight, and when the turn of the handle of the door sounded, she gasped softly and stared widely as it opened, revealing James. The door shut, and it was just the two of them—no officer, no chief—just her and him. She relaxed slightly but was still on edge, and by the look on his face, he wasn't pleased.

His normal softness of his eyes had turned to a hard, deadly stare, his lips pressed into a tight scowl and fists at the sides clenching, keeping his body and displeasure at a regular beat. He walked over to the table and sat on the opposite side, pulling and scraping the chair across the ground and dropping heavily into it.

There was a hopeless silence, and Violet didn't know whether to begin or not. She didn't know if making the situation lighthearted was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Thanks for coming," she said, and he hummed a little, still giving his deadly stare.

"Shit, I'm going to go to Juvie, aren't I?" She sighed, knowing fate was on the other side of the room, and she had to accept it. She almost felt like crying, letting the tears come to the surface and letting them wash everything she was feeling away. She had gotten away with so much in her life, and now it had come to an end. She had been beaten, caught, and captured, and she was ready to be locked up for the rest of her life. The past few months of trying to turn her life and grades around had all been for nothing after one night of rebellion and criminal activity.

"No," the simple answer came from James, and Violet looked up in shock, with wide, almost teary eyes and a shocked open mouth that could let flies in.

"Seriously," she said, and he nodded.

"You're lucky this is just a warning, and you're lucky you called me down and not your mother; otherwise, you would be sitting on the bus heading to your cell right now. I spoke to the officer and assured him that this wouldn't happen again," he said with a monotone voice, and Violet grinned, but it fell flat as James didn't grin back.

"Thank you, thank you so much," she pleaded, and James leaned forward onto the table, arms resting on the cold steel but protected by his long black coat. He was dressed differently tonight, wearing a beautiful dark black suit with a turtleneck jumper underneath, his hair slightly tosselled, and his rich cologne spreading across the room. Had he been out?

"This could have been a lot worse, Violet. You're seventeen years old, and you were drinking and smoking, which you promised me you would stop, not to mention drugs. That officer could have easily had you trailed and sent to jail and then prison," he warned her with a harsh tone.

"I wasn't doing drugs, I promised. Yes, I was drinking, and yes, I was smoking, and I know I promised you I wouldn't, but I wasn't doing drugs. Some guy handed it to me, and then the cops busted in," she snapped, and James raised a brow. Fuck, he was too good. He knew she was lying, and she sighed heavily, falling into a slump in the chair and looking up at the boring ceiling of white paint.

"Okay, I had one puff," she murmured. James sighed and shook his head.

"If you carry on like this, Violet, you're going to end up in prison, and you'll be stuck serving fast food for the rest of your life.".

"Well, what's the point anyway? I'm shit at school; no one gives a fuck," she said in a huff with a glare to her eyes.

"I do," he answered softer this time, and she was taken by surprise. The silence came back, and Violet looked over to James and pushed herself off the chair, the handcuffs clinking once again, and she winced at how tight they were.

"Really?" she whispered, and he nodded. The corner of his lip finally turned into a smile.

"The last few months, you've improved so much on your schoolwork; you could be doing so much more if you put your mind and time into it. Smoking, drinking, and skipping school are going to get you nowhere, and trust me, I know. I had a punk ass friend back when I was fourteen, and trust me, he got into all sorts of trouble that I was having to bail him out of."

"If you carry on like this, I won't be able to save you. You're lucky. I know the officer well enough that he's going to let you off tonight.".

"Are you going to tell my mom?" She whimpered slightly, and James sighed.

"No, I won't, as long as you promise me something," he said. He stood up from the chair and walked around, standing at her side and sitting on the edge of the table, towering over her. Violet looked up with wide eyes and turned, so her knee knocked on his leg.

"Yes, anything." She'd promise anything at this stage—anything for James not to leave her. It felt like over the last few months, he had not only been helping her study but also helping her thrive and live. She couldn't imagine her life without him now. She needed him and would do anything at this point.

"I want you to promise me that from this point onwards, you'll obey me.".

It felt like time had stopped. All sound had ceased, and Violet was frozen, staring at him, staring at those giant blue eyes looking down at her. obey him, like a slave to their master.

"For how long?" she asked with furrowed brows.

"Forever," he said simply, and she raised her eyes wider. She almost wanted to laugh, but knew now wasn't the time. He was being serious, and if she laughed, it would be like throwing it back in his face.

"Forever is a long time," she murmured.

"Yes, but if you do, then I know you'll be safe," he said. He stopped for a moment and reached inside his coat pocket, pulling out a slim card.

"There is a lot you don't know about me, a lot that might scare you or confuse you, and when the time is right, I will tell you those things, but for now, you need to listen to me and obey me in every order, command, and lesson I give you. And I'm a smart man, Violet; I know when a girl has a crush on someone." He looked directly at her, and she blushed instantly, her cheeks burning bright red.

He knew she had a crush on him, and her unplanned adventures in his office at work and her personal tutoring sessions weren't what she made them out to be. From the first day she had crept up to his floor, he knew she came to see him specifically. She hadn't just gotten lost, and yes, she may well have been on the way to find the storage room, but she had planned a detour on the way so she could bask in the magnificant James Barnes.

"I wouldn't call it a crush," she joked back, and James smirked. He reached forward and took her chin in his thumb and finger, pressing a small amount of pressure there and lifting her head up.

"You're right, not a crush, more like an obsession," he said, raising his brow, and she blushed even more. She could feel the heat from her cheeks, and she yanked her head out of his grip, although she would have enjoyed keeping it there.

"So what?" she shrugged, trying to slip into her old self with her bratty attitude.

"So when the time is right, we can explore that more.".

Was he for real? Was she actually saying that when she was no longer a minor, when she had reached the age of adulthood, he and she could explore the feelings she had felt for him since the moment she met him, and from the sounds of it, he had them too?

"So you have a crush on me," she sassed with a raised brow.

"Obsession?" he counter-answered, and she gasped.

"But right now isn't a good time. You're still a minor, and we could both end up in jail at this point. You need someone to be in control of your life, to give you order, some structure, and discipline; otherwise, you'll run ragged around this city." He said that, and Violet sat on the edge of her seat. She would happily take all of that now.

"Yes," she nodded hard, and Jmaes raised his brow in confusion.

"Yes?".

"Yes, I promise to obey you forever and ever and ever, until I'm dead," she said quickly, not giving it a second thought, and James smiled. He looked down at the card and handed it to her. The card was sleek black with white writing. It was an address.

"If you are ever in trouble and it's an emergency and I'm not around, I want you to go to this address, but only for emergencies.".

"What is it?".

"A friend," he answered simply, and Violet nodded.

"I will," she said, looking up with her only smiling face.

"I mean it, Violet, only for emegancies. Can I trust you to do that?" He said it seriously.

"Yes, sir, only for emergencies," was her first command, and she had accepted it easily and willingly.

"Come on, I'll give you a ride home, and tomorrow we can have a chat about your friend," he said, pushing himself off the table and standing beside her. He easily grabbed her handcuffed hands and pulled her from the chair, having her stand in front of him. He reached into his pocket and pulled a small key out, unlocking the silver cuffs and throwing them with ease onto the table, letting them clatter loudly. Violet immediately rubbed her wrists and noticed the red, raw marks they had cut into her.

James led the way out of the room, and Violet followed behind closely, but not before looking back at the lone cuffs, and she immediately had a thought. How did he have the key to the cuffs?

Chapter 9

Hey I hope you like this chapter, let me know what you think in the comments

@pattiemac1

@sebastiansluts

@charmed-asylum

@blackwood-bodecker-housewife

@abaker32

@samjuarezzz

@sebastians-lover-blog

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#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fanficiton #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes dom

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oblivious-idiot · 1 year

Note

Could you do a Lockwood x reader where he does little stuff for the reader without thinking? Like he buys her something he’d think she’d without a second thought and he doesn’t notice till George or Lucy comments about it. Thank you :) ❤️

Subconscious actions

AN: This was such a cute prompt, thank you! I hope you like it <3

Warnings: fluff, George is done with Lockwood being oblivious, Lockwood is a hopeless romantic <3

Word count: 1.3k

Pairings: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Lockwood was one of those people who would do anything for others without even thinking about it. He was selfless to his core, almost to the point he would literally die for you and the rest of his team and wouldn’t think twice about the decision. But he was also selfless in aspects of doing things for others because of the fact he knew it would make them happy, and you were one of those people he loved to see smile.

Although Lockwood tended to be quite hard on himself and didn’t always let people in, he couldn’t help but soften up when you were around, he practically turned to butter when he saw you. The two of you had become pretty close over the last six months since you moved in to 35 Portland Road, but of course you could never say anything to one another about your feelings. George and Lucy knew of course, they weren’t that oblivious.

“I’ll make myself a cup of tea then” George grumbled as Lockwood left the kitchen with two cups of tea in hand - one for him and one for you. “Is he running around making teas again?” Lucy asked, no surprise in her voice at all “I swear that boy is so lovestruck it’s making me feel ill” she continued as she sat at the table, which made the two of them laugh. “Shall we tell him, that we know?” she asked “Lucy, do you think he even knows himself?” George said as he rolled his eyes “Lockwood’s so oblivious I think even the whole of Fittes and Deprac will know before he does”

"George! Come give me a hand with the shopping will you!" Lockwood called as he entered the house, arms ladened with carrier bags. George made his way down the stairs, cleaning his glasses as he went, before looking to Lockwood "please tell me you didn't blow the months budget again, or I'm going to have to stop you from going out by yourself." "Oh George, do you really have such low expectations of me? Besides, y/n gave me a list of all the things we were running out of" Lockwood flashed George one of his charming smiles before he heaved the bags down into the kitchen "That answers my question then" George grumbled as he followed Lockwood through the house.

The two boys slowly put away the groceries in a steady rhythm, being quite used to the job since living together for over a year. Whenever George came across something that they didn't usually buy he left it on the table, sure that Lockwood had a reason as to why he bought it. "So, are you going to tell me why you brought home half the stores chocolate selection, pastries, and some weird fancy tea" George asks, looking puzzled at the box of tea bags in his hand "What kind of tea has coconut in it anyways?" "Y/n said she was feeling homesick, I guess I thought they would make her feel better" Lockwood shrugged in response as if it was nothing to worry about.

This carried on for weeks, Lockwood never really thinking much more than how happy you always looked when he gave you something new, but you thought it was really sweet. You weren't sure if there was a reason why Lockwood was so keen on doing little stuff for you, you were sure that it wasn't because he liked you, so you never said anything incase it made things awkward. Surely he did this kind of thing for George and Lucy too right?

Walking home one morning from a case, dawn was breaking to reveal a soft blanket of mist lying over the park you were walking through. It was still early spring so there was a chill in the air "It's days like this where I wish I brought a coat on cases" you shuddered, your breath forming clouds in front of you "The sun will come over soon I imagine" George said as he checked his watch. Without even giving it a second thought, Lockwood shrugged off his coat and placed it over your shoulders "Lockwood, I-, you didn't have to" you gave him grateful smile, in which he flashed you one in return "I can't have one of my best agents shivering to death. Besides, I'm almost never cold, practically warm blooded" he said as he slid his hand into yours, his warm touch feeling like a furnace on your icy fingers. "You're human, Lockwood, of course you're warm blooded" George said as he rolled his eyes, but Lockwood simply batted away the comment with his spare hand.

When the team got back to the house, Lucy and George pulled Lockwood into the kitchen while you went upstairs to shower. "Jesus wept Lockwood, this is getting insufferable" George cried, in which Lockwood just gave him a confused look in return "I'm not sure I follow George..?" "We're talking about you and y/n, Lockwood. Have you even told her you like her yet?" Lucy said as she boiled the kettle. Lockwood gave an uneasy chuckle and his cheeks flushed red "I- no, I haven't. How did you even know?" "Oh Lockwood, you are one of the most oblivious people I know, for someone who's ego is so big" George said, shaking his head, "Oh come on, now that's not fair" Lockwood gave out a small laugh, but Lucy and George just gave him unimpressed looks in return.

With Lockwood now conscious of his actions, you noticed he was a little more distant. Less impromptu teas or purchases of your favourite snacks, you weren't sure if you had done something but you knew you needed answers. One evening when Lucy and George had gone to bed, you found Lockwood in his usual spot in the library reading his gossip magazines. You had brought in two cups of tea for the pair of you, which he thanked you without making eye contact. You sat in an armchair opposite him "Lockwood, what's the matter? Have I done something to upset you?" you questioned "No, no of course not! The very opposite I assure you y/n." "Then what's going on with you? You seem distant is all..." He took a long sip of tea, his ears turning a little pink "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be. I've just been dealing with some things is all" He finally answered and gave you a soft smile. You placed a hand on his knee and gave him a reassuring smile in return "You know you can tell me anything Lockwood, no judgement on my part." He couldn't meet your eyes - "I've really started to like you y/n... I guess I show that with all the things I do for you" he hesitantly answered. Even with the surprise confession, you couldn't help but laugh, which made Lockwood's eyes shoot up to meet yours "I'm sorry, I just never thought I'd see a flustered and shy Anthony Lockwood with my own eyes, you're always so confident" - you calmed your laughter and softly enclosed your fingers around his "I like you too Lockwood."

One you and Lockwood had gotten over the awkwardness, you finally went back to normal. Lockwood didn't stop doing little things for you, he actually started doing it more. He started subconsciously packing a jumper in your kit bag for cold nights or letting you borrow his coat without asking. Sometimes he'd bring you back books from the store or bunches or flowers he's see growing near the road - he was a hopeless romantic really, but he'd never been happier.

#allie writes #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x fem!reader #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co imagines #lucy carlyle #george karim #lockwood & co #lockwood and co #lockwood #35 portland row

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inkabelledesigns · 2 months

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Okay can we talk about Simon from Wish real quick? Can we talk about the wish lore of Wish? Because I love that we got more on this magic than I thought we would, but there is something here that is really making my brain itchy. So Simon is one of the Seven Dwarf parallel characters, and he's sleepy and out of it all the time. The movie seems to indicate this is because he gave the king his wish, since he's the only character in this group that's 18. And like, what a horrifying implication! His wish is such an integral part of him that its absence has left him struggling to function in everyday life, and the king does not care about this whatsoever. But when he betrays his friends and rats them out, Magnifico grants his wish and tells the crowd he wished to be an amazing knight that served the king. And it hurts him to have that wish granted.

Why does it hurt him? Is it the corrupted state of the King's magic? Is it the guilt of betraying his friends? Or, is it because that wasn't really his wish? Like I dunno your majesty, it seems a little too convenient that his wish would be to serve you. Like earlier in the film, we have him trying to con Asha into wishing to be the best apprentice for him. Like, I firmly believe this man only saw potential in her because she wasn't 18 yet, and sir you are rancid for it. So if that's the case, what was Simon's real wish? What did his heart want more than anything? I wish we got to see that. The same goes for Asha's mom. Like it's a BIG deal that her wish is SHATTERED right in front of her, we get to see in real time just how powerful wishes are, and how much damage the king can do when left unchecked. I feel like it didn't have to be much, but I would like an answer given how important they are to Asha.

My guess is that Simon's wish was something very small all things considered. Maybe he didn't want to fly or change the world, but perhaps he wanted to live a happy, comfortable life. Have a little home where he and his friends are safe and secure. It feels like Simon is a very humble character, so he'd have a humble wish. And taking away something like that, making them feel like they can't have something as basic and integral to being human as happiness, would be a really good reason for him to feel so incomplete and broken. I wish this story had focused on it a little more, the danger of putting your dreams in someone else's hands. The danger of hopelessness. I really like the messaging that you can make your own dreams come true, and towards the end we get a brief glance at what it means to have good friends to help you along the way. I wish we had just a smidge more time to see Simon and his friends make that a reality. Maybe if I do any AU stuff, I'll take a sec to give that some love.

#disney wish #wish spoilers #simon disney wish

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hardtofindeggs · 10 months

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Cease and Desist Pt.1

❀ pairing: professor!levi ackerman x chancellor!f!reader

❀ genre: enemies(ish) to lovers, slow burn

❀ cw: light swearing, high tension situations (???), alcohol consumption, slight angst, fluff, jealousy, mutual pining (but levi is hopeless)

❀ summary: levi ackerman has been a professor at acadia hills university™ for almost 6 years now. levi ackerman has also had his eyes on you - the chancellor of this university - for 6 years now. he hasn't allowed himself to get too close to you, despite it being hard since your social circles are nearly identical. what'll happen now that he can't avoid you as much as he'd like? now that he's too close to you?

❀ parts: pt.1 -> pt.2 -> pt.3 -> pt.4 -> pt.5

"We create our own thorns, and never stop to count the cost. All we can do is suffer the pain, and tell ourselves it was well worth it. Belief doesn't rest on proof or existence... it rests on faith... without faith there is nothing," Levi slams the book shut, observing as the students in his classroom scribble down notes and take pictures of the large boards behind him (most twirl their stationery between their fingers), before he takes in a shallow breath then resumes speaking: "Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Over the course of your long awaited weekend, I want you all to revise the past 2 chapters thoroughly. I expect no less than an A on all of your papers next week."

He shoots a warning glare in the direction of two of his more troublesome pupils: Connie Springer and Sasha Braus. "Am I understood?" he watches as his classroom scrambles to snap their attention back to their strict teacher.

"Yes, professor," his students drawl out. Levi gives his classroom one last once over before giving them a satisfactory nod. "Good. Now, have a great weekend, the lot of you."

Small whoops and relaxed sighs are heard among the chatter of friends arranging outings, study groups and figuring out dinner plans. Levi smiles to himself shortly before he continues to watch them all leave, nodding goodbye to the kind freshmen that wish their professor a good weekend.

As the last of his students leave the lecture hall, Levi takes a seat behind his desk and starts grading the last four homework assignments he has. The time is 5:37 pm. By the time he finishes, the time is 6:56 pm. Taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose, Levi breathes out a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding. Bad habit. Levi gets up, pushes his chair back and stretches, twisting to the left and then the right - cracking his back.

Levi starts piling supplies into his worn pencil case, listing all the things he should have as he goes along: both pens, correction tape. His train of thought is rudely cut off by the sound of rapid knocking on his door. He's all too familiar with this routine.

"Hange. Leave. Me. Alone," he says in a stern and loud voice. Loud enough for the eccentric Dean of Science to hear. Ignoring him, she bursts in with arms wide, already attempting to get into Levi's good graces.

"Oh come onnn, Leviiiii!", she drawls out while smiling cheesily, an arm slung around him while she pokes incessantly at Levi's cheek, already making the man roll his eyes dramatically. He pushes Hange's hand away and begins to lead her out of the door.

"No, Hange," he refuses to hear her out.

"Jeez, I haven't even spoken yet!" she turns to face him, "21 Bounce Street. That's the bar we're headed to if, God forbid, you change your stubborn old mind." Her sarcasm was the thin rope that kept their friendship together. Mind, it was a rope that continued to wear.

Unfazed, Levi retorts, "Hilarious. But I have better things to do with my time." He checks his watch in a conspicuous gesture of irritation.

"Like what? Practise being sad and lonely?" Hange continues to taunt him. Levi decided silence is the best medicine for a case of Hange. Eventually, she sighs and swats him away. "Whatever, princess. We'll be there if you change your mind."

Levi walks down the halls and turns left to exit the building. The slightly open door to the Chancellor's office catches his eye, and he subconsciously slows down. What was he doing? Surely it would be absurd to knock? To disturb you and your work would be absurd, right? What did he even want anyway? Truly, nothing came to mind. You two barely talk, for goodness' sake! He doesn't even know why he's debating this right now. This is stupid. He should just walk away and get into his car. He has no reason to -

"Excuse me, Chancellor Y/L/N. May I come in?" Levi waits outside the door for your reply. What am I doing? "Yes, you may," your voice calls out from inside. Levi continues to stand outside for a short few seconds before he steps foot into your office. Clean, ebony desk. Folders stored away in numerous cabinets behind you. This was certainly your office.

"Ah, Professor Ackerman! I thought it was going to be you. I still struggle to recognise voices through that unnecessarily thick door," you attempt to joke, a polite smile spread on your face, yet all Levi can manage to give back is a curt nod, if that. He stares at you, a neutral expression on his face as he awaits your permission to continue speaking. You clear your throat and begin organising papers, throwing them into your drawer and ask, "Excuse me. Tell me, how may I be of assistance, Professor?" You look up from the papers in your hands to lock eyes with the stoic man before you.

"I, just - nothing. Sorry, your door was open a touch and I was curious to know whether or not you were in or simply forgetful. As per, of course," his eyes flit around the room before meeting yours. You can't tell if he's being snide or sincere.

"You forget yourself, Professor Ackerman," you scoff before continuing, "I didn't plan on staying too long, which is why I kept the door open. A reminder to leave, if you will," you hint at your desire for him to leave, jerking no reaction from the professor.

"The time is 7:31 pm, Chancellor," he comments.

"And?" you quirk your brow, amused at his arrogance.

"I heard your friends would be at the bar is all. Thought you'd be entertained by simple activities as such." You searched his face, but nothing. Not a single clue to what he was feeling.

"Professor, if there is nothing more I can answer for you, ..." you pointed your open palm towards the door.

"I asked if you will be at the bar, Chancellor."

"For your information, you didn't. You made some incoherent statements about my friends' plans and expected me to give a response. Why are you even here, Professor Ackerman?"

He stands dumbfounded, pondering the question as he stares at the frame on your desk: an old photograph of you and Hange, arms slung around one another, cracking up laughing. Of course, Levi knows this photograph. An exact copy sits in the living room of your eccentric friend's house, with all the other pictures she's gathered over the years. Finally breaking the silence, Levi speaks, "You ought to close your door, Chancellor. Somebody could steal that frame of yours," he adjusts the strap on his bag and takes out his car keys before he turns around to walk out of your creaked door.

A soft exhale exits your nose as you shake your head, "Goodnight, Professor. Do close the door on your way out. I wouldn't want to get ransacked, now, would I?" you comment sarcastically.

Out of the door, he turns to face the side of it. He swiftly wipes his finger along its edge, collecting dust. Much to your disbelief, he pulls out a white handkerchief and cleans a small patch. "Certainly, Chancellor," the click of your closing door echoes throughout the hall. You listen to the paced sound of his frustrated footsteps getting further and further away. He was gone for tonight.

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