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pullhisteeth · 1 year

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the end is near | eddie munson x reader

posting this here as well as my old blog because there’s a part two in the works hehe. xxx

summary: you’re with Steve, Robin, Dustin and Max when they find Eddie in Rick’s boathouse. You don’t know him, but he knows you. The two of you spend the night together, not knowing you’re sitting on the edge of the end of the world, and get to know each other.

word count: 5.5k

contains: 18+ !!! a recount/rewriting of the events of episode 2, angst (Eddie is terrified, obvs), bitchy!reader, fem!reader, use of y/n, implied/very light smut, weed, a Pretty In Pink reference, enemies to lovers (kind of), one-sided pining, lots of dialogue. it’s a bit bittersweet, but in my head the ending of s4 is very different. maybe there’ll be a part 2 idk I am a busy woman!!! also fluff. lol

author’s note: had this idea so long ago and I finally finished it! I hope the bits that are word-for-word rewrites of episode 2 aren’t too boring! I will also inevitably edit this tomorrow so sorryyyy. enjoy xxx

It’s a cold March this year.

1986 has been a doozy so far – you’re out of school with nothing to do but doze off behind the counter of the record store downtown. It’s next door to Family Video, where your friends work: Robin, your life-long best friend, partner in crime, and (platonic) love of your life, and Steve Harrington, her unlikely new companion. Lunch breaks are spent by the bins out back, chatting shit and eating even worse shit from the diner across the street. But it’s nice enough; you have very little to complain about.

That is until one dull, frostbitten day, when your break is interrupted by two teenagers whose voices are far too loud for your liking. One’s a nerdy little kid, brown curly hair and a stupid baseball cap, whose enthusiasm for life seems way beyond your own, but the other, a sullen redhead wielding a skateboard and a serious case of resting bitch face, is more to your liking. You see yourself in her a lot.

They’re shouting wildly, arms flailing at Steve and Robin, and you catch the words missing, trailer park, Eddie.

You’re not an idiot; you’d seen the news that morning, same as everyone else in Hawkins. Eddie wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to you – he’d been doing his second senior year the year you’d done your first with Robin – but what you do know of him is unsavoury. He’s an unkind and boisterous individual who riles the basketball team up and deals drugs to kids, and you had wanted nothing to do with him.

You’re paying very little attention to what’s happening behind the counter, instead spending your limited minutes on break strolling aimlessly up and down the aisles, wondering whether you should rent a movie for that evening. A sudden grip on your wrist and tug of your arm shakes you clean awake, and without realising it you’re being pulled out of Family Video and into Steve’s car by a very frazzled looking Robin.

You are completely silent in the back seat. The car’s swamped by shouts between Steve, driving, and the louder kid, wedged in the trunk. You learn that his name is Dustin, and realise that this must be the one Steve moans about – never cruelly, always fondly. The girl, who you decide is called Red for the time being, is to your left, looking sullenly out the window.

You inch your hand across the leather between the two of you and tug lightly on the sleeve of her jacket. She turns to you, brows furrowed slightly.

“Are they always like this?” you murmur, leaning closer so she can hear you over the echoes of how do you know where you’re going?! and there is no way I’m getting the car up there and Steve, keep your eyes on the road!

She looks taken aback when you speak to her, almost as though she didn’t realise you were there at all.

“Yeah, most of the time,” she says, sharp and monotonous. God, she really is just like you.

“How do you put up with it?” you ask her, genuinely interested.

She reaches into her backpack between her feet and pulls out a Walkman and a pair of headphones. Giving you a sympathetic smile, she puts them on and pushes the heavy play button.

You lean forward and rest your chin on the side of the passenger seat in front of you. Robin’s turned towards Steve so she sees you, and when she shifts to look at you her face softens.

“Sorry about this,” she says, eyes genuinely apologetic.

“S’okay, just left the shop unlocked and ready to be robbed bare, but it’s fine,” you laugh. You really don’t care too much about your job, and you know the owner probably won’t notice that you took off for the afternoon. You’ll just miss a day’s pay.

You push the thought to the side.

“Where are we going?” you whisper to her, faces close enough that she can hear.

“Up to the lake. Henderson’s friend Eddie’s up there. We think, anyway,” she says.

“Eddie Munson?!” you exclaim, a little too loud for the small gap between yourself and Robin. She winces at the volume and the other voices in the car stop. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Red turn to look at you and take off her headphones.

You watch Robin take a breath as she starts to speak, but Steve cuts her off.

“He’s not a murderer, y/n, before you say anythi-“

“That’s not what the news said!” You sit back, away from Robin’s chair, and stare wide-eyed at Steve. His knuckles are white where he’s gripping the wheel.

“Shut up,” he bites. His voice is hard and it stings like a slap to the cheek.

“Fuck off,” you spit back, huffing and crossing your arms, slinking back into your seat. “This is crazy, Steve. Pull over and let me out, I’ll just walk back.”

“Y/n,” comes a voice right beside your left ear. It makes you jump out of your skin.

You turn to see Dustin Henderson leaning over the back seats. Your eyes drift to Red, who’s staring at the commotion.

“It’s y/n, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well, hi. I’m Dustin.” He sticks his hand awkwardly over the seat, as if to shake yours.

After a confused beat of looking between it and his grinning face, you sheepishly take it in your own and shake lightly.

“Nice to meet you, kid,” you mutter.

“Eddie didn’t murder Chrissy,” Dustin begins. “He wouldn’t, he’s a good guy.”

“Yeah, right,” you grumble.

“Seriously. She died, but he didn’t kill her. We think we know-“

“HENDERSON!”

All three of the other people in the car scold him, loudly and in unison. You’re more confused than you were when you left the video store at this point.

“What?!” Dustin shouts.

“Just- Everyone shut up, please?” Steve begs. His grip is still white with tension around the wheel, and you see Robin give him a sympathetic look before turning to look out of her window. Red’s doing the same to your left. “We’re like five minutes away. Just be quiet.”

He’s not wrong. He puts the car in park a few minutes later, and through the sparse trees you can see a run-down looking shack.

You have so many questions buzzing around your brain but you choose to remain silent, scared in part by the stoic expression on Steve’s face.

“Rick!”

“Henderson, seriously?” Steve sighs as Dustin walks away from the car, towards the shack, yelling the name of a convicted drug dealer like he’s looking for his cat in the garden.

The rest of you follow him with flashlights, but when you get to the house it seems completely empty. In fact, it’s as if no one has been here for months – from what you can see through the grubby windows, the living room is covered in a thick layer of dust.

Ding.

You and Steve whip round to find Dustin stood at the front door, ringing the bell.

You hear Steve huff out a “what the-“ before Dustin begins rapidly pressing the bell and banging on the door.

“Okay. Well, that’s settled. I guess he’s not here,” Steve says, defeated.

They’re so intent on getting through the door that they don’t spot Red – but you do. She’s creeping around the side of the building, so you follow her.

Before you round the corner, you hear her yell, “hey, guys.”

When you catch up to her, she’s pointing at an old boathouse down by the lake. It’s derelict. Perfect for hiding a fugitive.

Carefully skirting down the banking, the five of you wander around the building. It’s dark now, the sun still going down early, and this whole thing’s got you spooked.

Robin’s the first inside, pushing the creaking metal door open, and as the rest of you follow, you feel the anxious well in your gut getting deeper. You cling to Steve’s jacket, and he doesn’t ask questions. Instead, he extends his arm behind him, and you take his hand wordlessly.

It’s quiet inside, the floor creaky and it smells of rotting wood. You separate, each of you heading in a different direction, flashlight beams dotting around the room. There’s a boat hanging in the middle of the room, and you nearly trip over old beams and boat stuff a couple times.

A loud noise and Dustin saying, “what are you doing?!” makes you jump again. You spin round to see Steve with an oar in his hand, prodding tarps and boxes with it.

“What are you doing?” Dustin repeats, voice hushed.

“He might be in here,” Steve shrugs, still beating a pile of tarp.

“So take the tarp off!”

“If you’re so brave, you take the tarp off.”

“I thought you guys said he didn’t murder her,” you say bluntly.

Dustin looks at you with a hurt expression. It instantly makes you feel bad.

“Hey, look over here.”

Red’s stood across the room, by a table. You and Robin join her, and you see she’s found a mess of empty beer bottles and food wrappers.

“Maybe he heard us. Got spooked and ran,” Robin suggests.

“Don’t worry, Steve will get him with his oar.” Dustin’s sarcasm doesn’t do much to dispel the strange tension filling the musty room.

“I know you think you’re being funny, Henderson,” Steve retorts. “But considering the fact that everyone in this room has nearly died a hundred times, personally, I don’t find it funny in the-“

Before you can begin to try to process the fact that he just said everyone here has nearly died before, and numerous times, something – or someone – comes flying out from under the tarp Steve had been battering.

Everything happens very quickly. You guys realise it’s Eddie – he’s difficult to mistake for anything other than a wild animal, but the very iconic denim vest gives him away – and soon he’s got Steve backed against a wall with what looks like a broken glass bottle at his neck. There’s a lot of shouting and screaming, and from where you’re stood you can see the incredible look on Eddie’s face.

It’s one of fear, sure, but it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before. He looks terrified, eyes wide and sunken.

“Eddie! Eddie, stop, it’s me, it’s Dustin, this is Steve. He’s not gonna hurt you, right, Steve?”

From underneath Eddie’s huge hand around his neck, Steve chokes out a right, yeah, and drops the oar on Dustin’s command. You watch Eddie visibly relax, although his guard is very clearly still up, and find yourself thinking that he actually looks quite good, until you shake the thought away, because he’s a murderer and you’re in the room with a murderer and he might murder you and all your friends and why the fuck are you here again?

Eddie’s eyes are flitting around the room, across the familiar and unfamiliar faces, and when they land on yours you feel yourself stiffen.

There’s some more tense interaction, but between them, Dustin and Robin bring Eddie down. The whole situation sends your head a bit fuzzy, and even while you’re hanging back, behind everyone else, you feel unbearably exposed. There’s exchanged names wherein you learn that Red is really called Max, and when Dustin tries to introduce you, he says, “actually, I don’t know who y/n is, but she’s cool, okay?”, and you wish the kind words of a teenager weren’t making you feel so rosy on the inside.

Eddie’s very clearly panicked, and when Dustin tells him you guys are just there to talk, he says, “you won’t believe me.”

You’re taken aback by this, having been so sure he’d just deny everything straight up, but then Max says, “try us.” And so he does; he recounts the most batshit story you’ve ever heard. And while you stand there, arms crossed defiantly across your chest, your mouth hangs agape. But then you look around and see that everyone else, even Robin, seems entirely undisturbed by this elaborate story.

“You all think I’m crazy, right?” Eddie says between sarcastic scoffs and what you’re sure are tears.

“No. We don’t think you’re crazy,” Dustin responds.

For a kid, Henderson is damn good at being reassuring.

“Speak for yourself,” you mutter under your breath. You think it’s quiet enough, but you realise you’re mistaken when everyone turns to look at you. Including Eddie.

“We believe you,” Robin says calmly, turning back to look at Eddie. He looks at her, really looks at her, and then Dustin says, “Look, what I’m about to tell you might be a little difficult for you to take.” And he turns to you, and says, “both of you.”

You look at the faces around the room, bewildered, and then Robin nods over to Eddie. It takes you a moment, but you realise she wants you to go sit next to him.

You’re a stubborn person by nature, and so you stand rooted to the spot for a brief moment, until the daggers she’s shooting at you through her eyes force your feet to move. You take a few creaky, uneasy steps over to him, and sit as far along the box he’s using as a seat as you can.

He eyes you suspiciously, but turns back to Dustin, satisfied.

To describe your emotions in the following minutes would be to attempt the impossible.

Dustin, Robin, Steve and Max stand around yourself and Eddie and tell you an otherworldly story – literally – about parallel dimensions, monsters they’ve named after Dungeons and Dragons characters (this particular detail seems to entertain Eddie, though it’s lost on you), and a girl you’ve never met who can read minds or something. It’s all impossible to take in; your brain becomes impenetrable, and you refuse to believe any of it. Eddie’s right there with you, until they start asking him questions about ‘dark particles’ and Chrissy’s death.

“You know, I tried to wake her, man. She couldn’t move. It was like she… she was in a trance or something,” Eddie says.

“Or under a spell,” Dustin offers, a layer of concern coating his voice.

“A curse.”

“Vecna’s curse.”

It’s this revelation, which appears to happen only between the two of them, that changes everything. You’re still sat next to Eddie, but you feel further away from this conversation than ever. None of it makes any sense.

It’s so dark out by now that it must be late. Steve and Robin decide that you’ll leave Eddie there for the night and come back with supplies in the morning, but Dustin isn’t satisfied.

“He can’t be here alone,” he insists. “What if something happens? One of us should stay with him.”

“None of us have time to stay with him, Henderson,” Steve barks. When Robin had told you he’s like a mother around these kids, you’d thought she was exaggerating. She wasn’t. “He’ll be fine on his own.”

“No, Dustin’s right,” Max says, giving Eddie a sympathetic smile. “It’s kinda dangerous to just leave him out here.”

There’s more bickering, Steve insistent that there’s no use anyone staying, Robin adding that they all have lives to live and it’ll look super duper suspicious if one of them just disappears, Eddie maintaining that he’ll be fine, just fine.

“I’ll stay.”

Your words cut through the arguing like a whip, the crack splitting the noise. Everybody turns to look at you, once again.

You’re stood away from the little circle that’s formed, by the box you’d been sat on, with your arms crossed over your chest. This time, it’s for warmth, rather than out of your usual stubbornness.

You’re not sure what made you say it, really; you don’t particularly like Eddie, but there’s something about the way he recounted the events with Chrissy that pulls a certain empathetic heartstring. You don’t know why.

Maybe you can find out.

“Y/n, you have work,” Steve says.

“I’ve already bailed all afternoon. They don’t care that much.”

“But what about your pare-“

“It’s fine.” Your words are hard and final, and Steve closes his mouth.

Robin treads over to you, face soft again.

“Are you sure about this? We dragged you out here without telling you anything, you don’t have to do this.”

“It’s fine. Just bring us some stuff in the morning. Eddie could do with some company, I’m sure.” You look at him, at where he’s stood. He’s mirroring Steve’s position, hands on his hips, and he shrugs.

“Would be nice, I guess.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, turning back to Robin and giving her arm a squeeze.

“Okay. We’ll be back in the morning. No mischief, okay?” she says with a laugh, looking between the two of you. Everyone else seems to soften a little. She comes in closer, and whispers, “be nice, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” you reply.

The four of them leave you with flashlights and a few snacks Dustin found in Steve’s trunk. It’s cold and wet and generally fairly miserable all round, and quite soon you begin to question why on earth you offered to do this at all.

Eddie’s returned to the spot where he’d been hiding under the tarp. He’s cracked open a box of Cheesits, and so you take the chance to wander around the room, looking for anything that looks remotely warm.

“So, y/n,” Eddie pipes up, making you jump. “How’ve you been?”

You suppose the small talk was inevitable, so you indulge him. “Good, I guess. Better than you.”

“Ooh, scathing,” he gloats, with a dramatic hand clutched to his chest.

“Three goes at senior year doesn’t exactly sound like fun, Munson.”

“I’ll have you know I’m in love with Miss O’Donnell so I will keep failing her class until she falls in love with me too,” he says, and the attempt at a joke gets a genuine laugh out of you. You don’t miss how it makes the corner of his mouth turn up, even in the darkness. “I see you at Trax sometimes, y’know.”

“Oh, yeah? How come I’ve never seen you?” You’re surprised he’s ever noticed you enough to remember where you work.

“Oh, I never have the money for that place.”

You’re unconvinced by his excuse; you’ve got the distinct feeling he’s hiding something. He gives himself away by tripping over his words slightly.

“It’s a secondhand record store, Eddie. And you deal drugs.”

“Mm-hmm, that I do, but I’ve got a precious van to spoil with my riches.”

“Is it the same one as always?”

“Oh, so you remember her, do you?” He’s beaming at you now, clearly humoured by the fact that you remember him.

“Hard to forget a bright green van in the school parking lot.”

He chuckles at this, and you continue moving around, pulling things out that look like they could be soft and not made of plastic.

“This is the only blanket I could find,” Eddie says from behind you.

You turn and look at him and see that he’s pointing to a pile of something on the floor by his feet.

“No jumpers or anything?” Even though you layered up, you dressed for record store cold, not sleeping-in-a-boathouse cold, so you’re in a mini skirt, wool tights and a sweater.

“Nuh-uh. Here, take it,” he says, toeing the pile with his sneaker. You step over to him, across the rotting wood floor, and sit beside him on the tarp. He pulls the blanket up and tries to shake it out, and you reach up and help him so that you can spread it across the both of you before he tries to deny you. It’s thick, and seems to be padded with something, so it’s good enough for now.

He makes more conversation with you, asking about work and life after graduation. You ask about D&D, and you notice way his eyes widen when you keep going. You’re genuinely interested in it and he loves talking about it.

“I read Lord of the Rings when I was a kid, I love shit like that,” you tell him between handfuls of Cheesits, and he thinks you might be some kind of angel. You’re starting to warm to him, too; you no longer think he’s a murderer, at least.

“So you really remember me from school?” he asks you.

“You’re a little difficult to miss, Eddie,” you tell him, smiling. It’s true – he’s so loud, and tall, and his hair’s been long for a while now. He drives that stupid green van and plays metal so loud the whole parking lot hears him coming. And in the cafeteria, he’s never quiet.

“Yeah, but you were cool. Didn’t think cool people really noticed me, unless it’s Jason Carver trying to kick my ass,” he admits, and it makes your heart ache a little. He underestimates himself, firstly, and secondly, who the fuck does Jason Carver think he is?

“I was not cool. I had one friend.”

“Yeah but you’ve always been cool, you know. You were nice to me, and you always dressed pretty well.”

“What does that mean?!” You’re shocked at this confession of his. You try so hard to look like you don’t care that sometimes you think it works too well – you can’t believe that someone’s actually noticed any of this.

“I don’t know, you just always look good!” Under the sparse light of the moon, you watch as Eddie Munson blushes before you.

“Well, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, tone half-joking.

“I always thought you were an asshole,” you confess frankly.

“Now what does that mean?!” You look at his shocked expression and can’t help but laugh.

“Seriously?! You used to shout shit at people in the hall, you were always winding someone up. And that time you made Tammy Thompson cry in front of everyone? That was not cool.”

He shuts his mouth at this, and again you see a flush creep up his neck. Except this time it’s combined with a strange look on his face. His mouth’s turned down and his brows are too, like he’s sad.

“I don’t wanna make excuses for that,” he starts, and you give him A Look that says, but you’re going to anyway. He rolls his eyes playfully at you, but returns to his sombre expression, and continues. “I was an asshole, but there were… reasons.”

You don’t say anything, wanting to hear his reasons.

“There was… a lot going on, with my dad and stuff, and I think I took it out on other people. Not fair, I know,” he adds in response to the condescending look on your face. “But also Tammy Thompson nearly made me cry, so-“

“What?!” you say through a loud, barking laugh.

“Her and her friends were dicks. Steve Harrington being one of them,” he grumbles.

“Oh, so that explains the bottle,” you say, laughing at him, a little dramatic. This is fun, you think. You like talking to him.

“What d’you mean?”

“I did really think you were gonna kill him,” you say. “Partly ‘cause I thought you’d just killed Chrissy, but- shit, sorry, fuck. Shit. Sorry.” You realise you’ve brought it up, the fateful elephant in the room. You see his face drop.

“It’s, uh… it’s okay.” He lifts an arm to scratch at the back of his neck, and you wonder if he always does that when he’s anxious.

An awkward, stuffy silence blooms between the two of you and you wish the rotting floorboards would finally give way so that something could free you from this embarrassment. You fiddle with the rings on your fingers in your lap and feel an unbearable prickling warmth up your neck.

“Hey,” you hear Eddie say beside you, voice soft. He shifts where he’s sat so he’s turned to face you, his legs crossed. “It’s fine, seriously. It’s just still all so… fresh.” You feel oddly comforted by his confession of his anxieties, but his face makes your heart ache again. He’s so concerned, clearly traumatised, and it brings something to the boil within you.

“Eddie,” you whisper, too scared to speak any louder. Everything suddenly feels incredibly still and silent and you don’t dare do anything that might startle him.

He looks up at you with those big, round, sad eyes.

“It’s going to be okay,” you tell him. You have no idea if it’s true, or if you should be saying it, but that something within makes you.

He laughs an awkward, sarcastic laugh, and says, “I don’t think it is, y/n.” You don’t know what to say to this, but then he says, very earnestly, “thank you, though.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper back.

“You always were so nice to me,” he tells you again.

“I just wasn’t mean to you, Eddie. Your standards aren’t very high.”

“No, I always thought you were nice. Kind.”

That flush comes back into your cheeks; his words give you butterflies. It reminds you of high school, of those fleeting crushes that feel like Armageddon.

He really does look good, if tired. His eyes are red and sunken, his hair’s a matted mess, but he’s very pretty.

He looks like he needs a hug.

You twist around and up onto your knees in a way that feels like your body’s on autopilot. Pushing up off the ground, you wrap your arms around a very unsuspecting Eddie, who freezes in your grasp. You wind them under his arms and across his back and squeeze, squishing your face into the rough collar of his vest. It takes him a moment, but he appears to come to, bringing his arms around you, too. He gives you a grateful squeeze in return and settles his nose into the junction of your neck and your shoulder, and you hear him mumble “thanks,” into your sweater.

You’re not sure how long you stay like that with him. It’s likely no more than a minute or so, but it feels like forever. He smells funny, a concoction of weed, Cheesits, a cologne you can’t place, and the musky smell of the boathouse. It’s a comforting smell nonetheless.

He thinks you smell divine. Perfume, but not too much, washing powder, and weed, too. There’s a warmth there somewhere that smells like home.

You pull back when your knees begin to ache, but his arms don’t let you go too far, so you scoot closer so you can sit back on your heels anyway.

“See? Always so nice,” he says softly.

You look him in the eye as he speaks, and watch as he studies your own face. Before you is a boy, a scared boy, and he’s crying.

“Eddie, are you-“

“I’m okay,” he says through a laugh and tears. Those seem to come in a pair for Eddie, like he can’t take his own emotions seriously enough.

You offer him a frown and brush the wild hair out of his face. He drops his arms from around you as you awkwardly reach up and use the hair tie on your wrist to tie it back.

“Can see you better now,” you say as you finish the final loop.

“How do I look?” he asks lowly with a smirk.

“Lovely,” you say back.

His smirk turns warm and he lifts a hand to your face. You’re not sure exactly what’s happening, but he just tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. It’s like a scene in a movie, where you’re rooting for them to just kiss already, except you’re sure that’s not where this is going.

Surely not?

“Can I tell you something?” His eyes are bouncing around your face, your hair, anywhere but where you want them - on yours.

“Sure,” you say, nervous.

He takes a slow breath in through his nose, and then he says, “I had a crush on you when you were at school.”

God, what the fuck?

“What?”

“I had a crush on you. A pretty big one, actually.”

You can’t help but laugh. All those years spent thinking Eddie Munson was an asshole, and all the while he was pining after you. The idea is hilarious.

Even though he’s laughing too, at your silly, stupid laugh, he says, “why are you laughing at me?! That’s like the worst thing you can do right now!”

“I hated you!”

“Yeah, well, I liked you!”

The two of you sit there laughing together, and it feels oddly fun to be sat here with a fugitive in a rotting boathouse, unknowingly on the edge of the end of the world, giggling about high school crushes.

“You’re less of an asshole than I thought,” you admit to him.

“Thank you very much, that makes me feel better,” he says, beaming.

Eddie’s a very hard to read individual, you think. But here, he suddenly seems to be baring all for you, and it’s unusual. You’re not a very approachable person, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“You should come into Trax more often, Eddie.”

“Can I tell you something else?” He’s straight-faced now and you’re giggling, blithely unaware of his racing heart.

“What?”

“I still have a crush on you.”

You stop laughing and stare at him. He’s not laughing, either, his face instead etched with worry.

“What?”

“I avoid Trax because I have a crush on you. You’re always fuckin’ in there, and you’re kinda intimidating.”

You know this is true. Plenty of people have told you before, and even if they hadn’t, Robin, who is notoriously terrible at reading social cues and even worse at listening when infant you told her to go away, was your only friend until you met Steve. It’s not difficult to read the room.

But he’s Eddie. Eddie Munson. If anyone’s intimidating, surely it’s him.

“I-“

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.”

“No, I-“

“Seriously, y/n, it’s fine, I know you-“

You shut him up with a hard, hot kiss to his mouth (kind of – you don’t quite get your aim square-on because he moves a lot when he talks). Just like he did when you hugged him, he freezes, so you move back to sit on your heels again, and say with a smile, “would you shut up for a second?”

The blanket’s around your knees now, forgotten; the heat under your skin from Eddie’s confession is enough to keep you warm.

He stares at you, finally looking you in the eye again, and smiles. It’s a slow, easy smile.

Before you know it, he’s leaning over to you and kissing you back. You snake your arms around his neck and pull him in, but you lose your balance on your aching knees and topple to the side, pulling him with you.

Through laughs and huffs of pain, the two of you stand up and brush yourselves off. You’re incredibly close to each other; his face is right there, and kissing him felt really nice, and you want to do it again so badly. But he moves before you can, hands flying to the sides of your head and pulling you in so close your nose is crushed with his and you can’t really breath. You don’t mind, though, because you’re up on your tiptoes and your hands are on his arms and your lips feel like someone’s shot 8 volts through them.

There are teeth and tongues and your hands move around to grip the front of his tired Hellfire shirt. You slot your legs either side of one of his to get as close as you can, and when the pressure of his knee hits that spot between your thighs, you whine into the kiss.

But then it disappears, and so do his lips, so you grumble and he laughs at you.

“I am not doing this for the first time in here,” he says. “I want to, trust me, but not here.”

You want to argue with him so badly, but you can’t. He’s right; it’s disgusting.

“Here,” he says, lowering himself to sit back down. His hand takes yours and pulls you with him, so you’re straddling him.

“You’re trying to stop me having sex with you by making me sit on your lap?” you ask with a smirk.

“Don’t,” he scolds, and you try to hide the way his authoritative tone makes you whimper. You don’t succeed.

The two of you get a couple hours sleep, but you wake up when the birds do. It’s early, and you’re both groggy, but you braid his hair to pass the time and teach him how to braid yours, and you find a pack of cards on a table by a window, so he teaches you to play Solitaire. And then, an hour or so after the sun comes up, there’s a noise outside.

You’re both on edge, but it’s just Steve, Robin, Dustin and Max with cereal and beer and news, good and bad.

They answer your questions, and don’t pry when you sit right next to Eddie, thighs flush, or when you hold his hand when Dustin tells you that the police are looking for him. And though none of you know what the next days bring, or how much your lives will change, you’re very grateful that you’re not facing it alone.

#eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader

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letters-i-can-never-send · 1 month

Text

Haven’t driven in like 3 years

I’m being expected to drive on roads I’m unfamiliar with like I’ve been driving consistently during that time

Bruh I don’t know where I am. Living in this state is brand new to me.

I haven’t physically used a car in years so I quite literally don’t remember most of the functions

Like damn give me a refresher before throwing me out to the wolves. This is how accidents occur.

And I’m sorry, but I’m not dying in that fucking death machine today or causing a death.

I want to drive, but I also want to make sure I’m comfortable too. And I am quite literally terrified.

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subpar-ghoulfriend · 3 years

Text

A Family Affair

Slasher AU CannibalFamily!EraserMicxReader

We’re going with the “strange family that lives outside of a small town” trope. After a few deliveries to the Aizawa household you get pulled in to an affair you never wanted to be a part of.

Spooky season is upon us and I’ve already begun watching too many horror movies. This fic will definitely be a two parter

Super Dark Content Warning!!! Literally do not read if you have any reservation and definitely no minors!

TW: cannibal themes, mentions of murder, mentions of corpse mutilation, kidnapping, unhealthy relationships

Part 2 is gonna include more of this and the smut

Growing up you were grateful for living in a small town. You didn't really relate to the coming-of-age stories told in the movies where the small town girl runs off to the big city for a whirlwind romance and a chance at some "big break." To you, small town life was more picturesque than any overcrowded city. You knew your neighbors, and watched a lot of their families grow and change throughout the years. A small town allows you to become a regular at several businesses, including the coffee shop and your favorite diner downtown. Going away to college was tough even though you didn't go far. The nearest city - a little over 40 miles away - had a great college with a program you were really interested in pursuing.

You went home every break and picked up delivery jobs at one of the local restaurants. It was winter break of your last year in college when you first delivered to the Aizawa residence. In all your years at the restaurant they never ordered delivery, one of the two men would always place an order for pick up. The thing about small town stereotypes is that small towns tend to self-impose said stereotypes. The Aizawa's were that family. The one that everyone whispered when they came to town and children would tell horror stories about during Halloween. They were the weird family that lived just past the outskirts of town.

You weren't entirely sure what either of the two men did. Everyone speculated that Mr. Aizawa was some sort of mountain-man-feral type and maybe did some mechanic work for the folks that tend to live in between towns. His husband, Mr. Yamada seemed like the stay at home trophy husband but you heard he did some sort of conspiracy podcast. They had children - reportedly, but no one has really met them - and other family members that live similarly further out into the middle of nowhere. The drive was absurdly long but they were loyal customers and the owners didn't want to turn their request down. Your boss handed you a chunk of bills to fill up your tank before heading out. That's no place you'd want to get stranded, he told you.

The paved road got worse the further you got from town. Forty-five minutes later you were pulling down the dirt road that led to the illuminated Aizawa home. A wall of cold air slammed in to you when you opened your car door and you grumbled about leaving your gloves at home. There was no doorbell, so knocked and did that awkward please-don't-let-me-freeze dance while you waited. Two unfamiliar faces opened the door, an apathetic looking teen and an adorable little girl. Must be their children. The older one called out for his dad before taking one of the bags you held and disappearing into the home. You looked down awkwardly and wave at the girl. She smiled shyly and reached out for the other bag.

"Are you sure?" You asked her, "It's a little heavy."

She nodded.

"Okay, but use two hands," You passed her the bag. "Oh jeez, you're strong. Don't tell your brother, but I think this is the heavier bag."

You smiled when she giggled and ran off.

Mr. Aizawa appeared in the door, "How much do we owe?"

He was just as terrifying up close and for a split second your mind went blank while your basic instincts were begging you go back to the car. He raised an eyebrow at you, looking irritated at your falter.

"Uh - forty-two."

He pulled counted out a chunk of bills and then you were off. You didn't even count the amount until you parked. Forty-two with a forty-dollar tip. They may be odd but apparently they're loaded. You didn't think much of it until the following week when you were heading back to their house with another delivery. You wished that they would order earlier but at least you could hope for another generous tip. You were taken aback when the little girl answered the door by herself, jumping up and down with excitement.

Was she old enough to answer the door by herself?

"Papa," She yelled. "The lady is here!"

She turned her attention back to you with a huge grin, "Shinsou got sore that you told me I'm the stronger one."

Before you could respond to her the other man, Mr. Yamada, bounced around the corner, "Eri, what have we told you about the door? Oh no, you must be freezing come stand inside while I go get your payment. Forty-two right?"

You wanted to protest, feeling uneasy in their entryway but the little girl tugged you by the delivery bags. So you stood there quietly while she ran back in forth so she could unload the delivery for you. Shinsou peered around the corner so you gave a small wave. Then it was just you and Eri once again. In the background you could hear Yamada asking his husband where the wallet went.

"I like your shirt," You smiled, trying to fill the silence.

"I wanted a Pegasus shirt but this was the only one my daddy could find."

"Well I think unicorns are pretty cool too."

You use to babysit for some of the families in town, no part of you could imagine doing that all the way out here.

The blonde rejoined you, giving you another lush payment. You heard the little girl whine about you leaving so quickly until her father appeased her by saying you'd be back.

Something about that rubbed you the wrong way; but you were back like clockwork the next week with their usual delivery. Once again you were brought inside while they went to get your payment. But on your fourth and what should have been your final delivery of the winter break you noticed something was off when you parked. Their truck was missing from its usual spot. Strange but they probably just moved it somewhere else on the property. You had become accustom Eri running to answer the door and telling you wait for her parents in the entrance of the house. You became suspicious after she had run back and forth to take the food to the kitchen.

"Eri, where are your parents? Or Shinsou?"

The little girl's response was nonchalant, "They had to go out, one of our cattle got out. But they gave me the money."

You stuffed the money into your jacket; payment was the issue here. In the back of your mind you though about how you never saw any cattle on your deliveries. A child her age shouldn’t be left alone.

"Oh, well, can I hang out with you while we wait for them to come back?"

The little girl lit up as she pulled you to the living room. There was a kid's movie playing on the TV and she had a coloring book out. Eri divide up her crayons and tore out a page for you to join her. You kept looking to the window, waiting for the truck to pull up.

Suddenly there was banging at the door, which elicited a cry from Eri. You reached into your pocket only finding the crumpled bills. Shit, your stomach dropped. You left your phone in your car. After all, this was just supposed to be a quick delivery. The noise stopped, only for a moment, before resuming.

"Eri, sweetie," You whispered to the stunned little girl. "Do your parents have a phone here?"

She shook her head.

A man’s voice tore through the door, "Let me in dammit, you have to let me in before they come back."

You held your finger to your lip, and Eri nodded, repeating the gesture. The living room light was on and you realized that if he came to the side of the house you'd be seen through the window, but turning out the light would draw attention. Maybe he was bluffing, maybe he didn't know if anyone was inside and turning off the light would signal your presence. You pointed to the kitchen, where the lights were off and the two of you tip toed to the safety of darkness.

"Eri, honey, can you go sit in the pantry for me and be really, really quiet? I'll be right out here and don't come out until I come to get you okay?"

She looked hesitant and tearful but you were surprised at her level of composure for a kid. Finally she complied. Once the pantry door was closed you began rummaging through the drawers, looking for something that could inflict the most damage. A meat tenderizer could work. The banging continued and you swore you hear wood beginning to splinter. Your grip tightened with every bang. Finally the door gave way and a man stumbled through the splintered wood. He stopped when he saw you holding the cleaver.

He was dirty, without shoes or a shirt and his skin was red from the cold.

You hoped your voice wouldn’t crack, "You need to leave-"

"Monsters, monsters," he blabbed. "They're gonna come back and we gotta go."

You decided to bluff, "Get out of here, I already called the cops."

"Good, good, good," He mumbled, “but we still gotta go. NOW."

There was one step forward from him, one step back from you.

"If you come near me, I'll make sure you don't get up," You warned. At the very least you had to keep him away from Eri. Even if that was all you could do.

There was a desperate look in his eyes; they darted from you to the keys hooked to your jeans, then back to the keys. Finally he smiled, "You have a car, man that's perfect. Listen I won't hurt you but we need to get in your damn car, now."

Sounds like something someone who wants to hurt me would say, you thought. Apparently you took too long to respond, the man lunged toward you and you tried to swing the meat tenderizer. The tool connected with his shoulder and he howled out in pain but still managed to wrestle you to the ground. The two of you struggled with each other and the man was yelling that you'd die if you didn't listen to him. You landed a weak hit to his jaw, splitting his lip. You even tried biting at him but he was persistent and struggling to get your keys. You were telling him he could have them that he just needed to let you go but he wasn't listening to you. Managing to grab his ear you had a flashback to the self-defense seminar you had to take in college, it should be easy to rip a human ear. So you pulled. Blood began to flow from the wound down his face and on to you. He got you off him before you got the whole ear by delivering a blow to your stomach. The air rushed from your body, is this what it means to get the wind knocked out of you?

There was a loud noise and fog lights flooded through the broken door. Then saw Shinsou and Aizawa pulling the man off you. You pushed yourself and back, clutching at your stomach. Your cheeks were wet. Were you crying or was that blood on your face? Probably both.

The trio wrangled the man outside where you heard more struggling, fighting, and groaning.

Eri. You managed your way to the kitchen but realized you were covered in blood. Not wanting to traumatize the little girl any further you spoke through the door.

"Eri, can you stay there a little bit longer?"

"Can't I come out? I heard my daddies," She cried, tugging at your heartstrings.

"Not yet, okay? They're here and everything's okay, I'm gonna have them come get you okay?"

Thankfully, the door didn't open. As you shuffled toward the front door Mr. Yamada entered, wiping specks of blood off him.

You were shocked when he pulled you into a hug, "You're okay. Sho and Shinsou got everything under control. Where is Eri?"

You told him about her hiding spot and he sighed in relief and rushed to her.

The other two returned with bloodied knuckles that made your stomach churn.

"Yamada," The mountain man called, with his eyes scanning the home.

"Don't worry, Sho, I got Eri. She's fine. Our delivery girl is okay, she's got some bumps and bruises but she made the other guy look worse."

Aizawa ushered you to the couch, expecting your legs to give out at any moment.

"We need to call the police," You finally spoke.

Aizawa assured you he did. They were 45 minutes out but they'd work on getting here faster. Yamada brewed you a cup of tea, “for while we wait.” They finally calmed Eri down and Shinsou took her upstairs to get ready for bed. It felt weird for them to return to mundane evening routines so quickly after all that chaos, but maybe you were just the odd one out. Close to an hour later you were still waiting for the police to show up. Your tea was finished long ago and your nerves had calmed. You were even having trouble keeping your eyes open.

"You think they're almost here, babe" The blonde wondered, draping a throw blanket around your shoulders. "I'm sure she wants to this day to be over with."

---

It was still dark when you woke up. The blonde was fast asleep on the recliner next to you. The police must have come by now but there was no way you slept through the visit. Anxiety from earlier made it’s way back in to your chest. The clock read 4am; had they even called the police. All of the childhood rumors you heard came flooding back and you exited the house as quietly as you could, not realizing your keys were no longer with you.

When you made it outside you noticed dried blood on the ground, trailing toward what you assumed was their barn or storage shed. You were entranced. Looking back to the house, no one was awake; there was no movement, no light, just quiet. You shouldn’t follow the bloody trail, you shouldn't go near the shed; but your body moved on it's own accord and before you realized it you were at the doors. You gave a tug, expecting it to be locked, but the door swung open and inside you noticed the lock lay on the ground.

You should have turned around, got in your car, and drove away. Instead you stepped inside and found the bloody, broken body of the man who attacked you. There was a slight sway to the corpse that was hanging from a reinforced pillar. Nearly screaming your hand shot to cover your mouth.

You should've left.

Aizawa was watching you from the kitchen, cursing Hizashi for leaving the shed unlocked. His hand hovered over the secured cabinet drawer that stored a pistol. He wouldn't shoot you only scare you a bit. But you weren't running out in a panic. He didn't even hear you scream. Interesting. He went to join you, moving like any predator concealing it presence and leaving the gun safe untouched.

You should've left.

You finally came to your sense and whirled around only to run into your late night admirer. A terrified squeak escaped you as you jumped further into the confined space.

"Mr Aizawa! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have - I'm sorry."

He didn't look angry, although you wished he did. It would be better than the unsettling smile on his face.

"That's alright, I was heading out here anyway," He closed the door behind him and flicked on a dim light that lit up the room with shadows. "Can't leave it hanging for too long."

Your throat tightened, he stood between you and the only exit. If he noticed your terror there was no indication that he cared. He turned his back to you momentarily, rummaging through the clutter on the workbench. Now was the best chance you may get and you made a dash for the door. It was a futile attempt and part of you knew it but your nerves were ablaze with adrenaline and you were running on instinct not reason. There was a foreign tightness around your throat that kept you fighting to inhale. Struggling to breathe you didn’t even register the sharp pinch of a needle piercing your deltoid.

Aizawa pressed his nose to your hair, "Behave. Even if you get out of here, your tire has a flat, pesky nails tend to find their way on to the roads out here. A real shame."

He dragged you over to a chair across from the lifeless body cuffing both your wrists to the armrests. Stupid, stupid, he was grabbing out cuffs and I ran straight into him, you scolded yourself. You went to open your mouth and beg to be let go, but you were silenced.

"Keep it down or I'll have to find a way to keep you quiet."

Your heart was beating so hard it hurt. Once a friend said it was possible to die by fright, if that was true you wouldn't last much longer. Now that you were safely out of the way, Aizawa could make quick work dismembering the carcass. He donned his usual rubber apron and pulled back his hair. With his experience he could finish the job in less than two hours. Now was as good a time as ever for you to learn.

With a sigh he began his explanation and craft:

"Cannibalism has been around as long as we've existed: sacrificially, ceremonially, culturally, especially during times of plague, war, and famine. You can find documented accounts from pretty much every part of the world. And there's no one reason. Our family keeps it simple. We eat meat, animals are meat, and humans are animals. In times of famine and other hardships, this was a reliable food source. Of course now, there's not much of a risk for severe famine to effect people like us but it's tradition. This is how it's been for our family for years. And not just those of us around these parts but our relatives everywhere. It's important to keep old trades alive."

He paused, now splattered with blood, to take note of your dry heaving.

"Please," You gasped. "I just want to go -"

With narrowed eyes he continued:

"It's important for you to listen to our family history. Typically we don't reap a harvest until three weeks after the winter solstice and 3 weeks before the summer solstice. Twice a year is enough to get us by. Zashi and I are impressed that you managed to wrangle him in. Poetic in a way, don’t ’cha think? Consuming the flesh of someone who tried to overpower you. First reap of the harvest. Nice that it's a family affair."

The room was spinning and you were fighting the sedative as hard as you could. There was no way any of this was real, maybe you were dreaming? Maybe you'd been knocked unconscious when that man rushed you. Or better yet, maybe you were asleep at home still. It was possible that this whole delivery fiasco was just a nightmare. Your stomach churned at the speech. There was sun peaking through the cracks in the wall by the time he finished separating the ... different sections. There was no more body, just pieces. You nodded off for a few minutes before being jolted awake by the door opening and letting in the bright morning light .

"Good morning, you two night owls," Hizashi beamed. Walking to his husband handing over a tall mug of coffee. He was completely unfazed by the scene he walked in on. In fact the only frown he made was when Aizawa said he put too much sweetener in the coffee. "Anyways, grumpy pants, I called your sister. She's on her way to pick up Eri and Shinsou for a few days. To give us some time to focus on our little muse. Speaking of, I should go get her some water. Oh, plus we need to fix our door."

---

After you refused to drink anything they tried to give you they left you alone in the shed. The handcuffs were too tight for you to slip through and in your struggle you managed to topple the chair over, hitting the floor with painful slap. It was hard to ignore the buzzing of the flies swarming the space where the body once hung. You closed your eyes, your mind wandering to your family and what they would think when they realized you were missing.

Outside you heard a car pull up and were tempted to scream for someone to help you. Maybe it was the police; maybe someone realized you didn't go home last night and found out where your last delivery was. Your captors came out to greet whoever it was and you were glad you didn't yell, they sounded friendly. They were coming toward the shed but you were too defeated to react.

"Sho," Hizashi gasped, "She fell."

The response was sharp and sarcastic, "I hadn't noticed." He yanked you up with ease and the world was no longer side ways but the jolt paired with the exhaustion and drugs left the world spinning.

The woman must've been the sister they mentioned earlier. She squealed with delight, "Oh isn't she the cutest, lemme get a good look."

She resembled neither of the men and gave off cool-soccer-mom vibes. With a gentle grip on your chin she bore into your eyes.

"Please,” You begged, “I just want go home."

The sister didn't waiver, "Don't worry sweet thing, these two are gonna take such good care of you. Just relax and let them help you."

Help? You don't need help from them. You needed to get out of this hell.

"Okay," She bounced toward the exit, "Bring out my niece and nephew, we're gonna have a fun weekend. And take care of your girl, she looks like a keeper."

Finally you screamed in frustration. Brief, loud, and full of anger but it deflated just as quickly when the two men shot you a menacing look. How could all three of them show no display of empathy? You were again convinced this was an alternate reality when both children peaked their heads in to wave goodbye before they peeled away from the home, leaving you alone with Hizashi and Aizawa.

---

There was a hatch toward the back of the room where the two disappeared until they came back with a third body. They were dragging a woman up like a ragdoll and acidic bile burned your throat. If you had to guess you would say she was late middle age. It felt like they were setting a stage, Hizashi pulled you closer to where they stood while Aizawa managed to tie the woman down to the stained table.

"Why are you doing this," you cried. But they ignored you.

"Did you know there are people who pay for certain oddities and they’re willing to spend big bucks to get what they want? We keep whatever makes sense to eat and sell the rest. Ideally nothing goes to waste.”

The next hour and forty-seven minutes were excruciating. There were several “items” – as they referred to her body parts – that they removed while she was still alive; but finally Aizawa made the perfect incision along her thigh and a pomegranate wave gushed out. There was no way she would suffer much longer with this amount of blood loss.

"Please just let her die," You begged the universe. "Please let it end."

For the first time since starting they stepped back from the body, leaving it on the table to come over to you. Aizawa knelt before you and his bloody hand brushed hair from your face; his thumb rested on your lip and you couldn't even physically respond. Hizashi was behind him, rubbing his partner's shoulders.

"You're going to kill me?”

Both men finally softened, coming down their endorphin high. There was something so satisfying about your question. Arousing, even. They made it clear that your life was up to them, which meant they had you where they needed you.

"Am I having a blonde moment? I don't recall saying we'd kill her."

Aizawa threw an incredulous look his way before addressing you, "We aren't going to kill you. We wouldn't've saved you from that terrible animal if that were the plan. We don't kill just anyone. We wanted to introduce you to our lifestyle and now’s the best chance. Eri’s wanted to keep you since day one, but if you can't behave that'll be an issue. Can you prove to us that you’re going to behave or do we have to get you down into the cellar?”

There was no other choice than to nod. Picking up a piece of the dissected woman Hizashi muttered something about starting dinner before telling his husband that you really need to get more rest. Aizawa agreed, and since it seemed like you were having trouble getting rest he decided to give you another little dose of medicine.

#slasher au #mha x reader #bnha yandere #mha yandere #yandere erasermic #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere x reader

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marjansmarwani · 3 years

Text

I can’t let go of all the things I hoped we’d be

6.3k || ao3

There was someone missing. “Where’s TK?”

His parents exchanged a look and Carlos felt his heart sink. Why wouldn’t they just tell him where his boyfriend was? He might not know what had happened but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that no matter what it was, TK would be by his side; unless he couldn’t be.

“Dad,” he tried again, shifting his gaze to his father, “just tell me. Please.”

------

After an accident Carlos is left to deal with the aftermath as he waits and hopes for the best, because he’s not sure he’ll be able to survive the alternative.

Written for day 1 of @911lonestarangstweek

The prompt was “c” and the obvious ones are “car crash” and “coma” but there are about 10 in here, see if you can spot them all 💜

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

The bed beneath him felt harder than he was used to.

He scoffed silently, thinking about how TK had assured him it just meant they needed to break in their new mattress and that these things just take time, babe.

There was only so much time he was willing to give before a new mattress was deemed unsuitable though. They both had very physical and demanding jobs and they both deserved to have a nice mattress, damnnit. He opened his eyes and rolled over to say as much to his boyfriend but when he opened his eyes, he wasn’t met with the familiar soft gray of their bedroom. In fact, he quickly realized as the harsh lights above him forced him to squint and he shifted on scratchy sheets, now that he was more aware it became clear that this wasn’t their bed after all.

Hospital, his mind provided. That would explain the too-bright lights and the beeping machines just beyond his peripheral. He blinked again and the room came more into focus, as did the two occupants of the chairs beside the bed.

His dad was the first to notice his open eyes. He looked exhausted and was turning his hat over in his hands in that way he did when he was nervous, but when he looked up and met Carlos’s eyes some of the tension seemed to fall away.

“Carlitos,” he breathed, and an instant later his mother’s eyes were on him too; wide and tear-filled. She was up in an instant, beside his bed and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead before he could even blink.

“It’s so good to see your eyes open,” she said softly, “you scared us, mijo.”

“Sorry,” he said on reflex, only then noticing how raspy his voice was. He gratefully took the water offered to him by his father, trying to pull his thoughts in order as he sipped. He could remember this afternoon clearly, but everything after was a haze. He frowned as he looked down at his body, taking in the cuts on his arms, pain in his ribs, and the weight of a cast on his left leg.

“What happened?” he asked his parents, blinking at them owlishly.

They looked at each other for a moment before his dad answered him with a question: “What do you remember, Carlitos?”

Carlos shook his head, “Nothing after this afternoon. I remember getting home and...wait,” he paused, looking around the room. There was someone missing. “Where’s TK?”

His parents exchanged another look and Carlos felt his heart sink, “Mom, Dad, just tell me where he is.”

His voice was shaking now but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The look his parents were giving each other sent his heart racing. Why wouldn’t they just tell him where his boyfriend was? He might not know what had happened but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that no matter what it was, TK would be by his side; unless he couldn’t be.

“Dad,” he tried again, shifting his gaze to his father, “just tell me. Please.”

His dad gave his mother another look before he sighed and looked back at Carlos.

“There was an accident…” was all he said, but it was all Carlos needed to hear before some switch was flipped and the memories came rushing back to him.

-----------

It’s the commotion that wakes him, he thinks.

Opening his eyes is harder than it should be but when he does manage to peel them open he is greeted by the reflection of flashing light on the wet street and the sound of unfamiliar voices nearby. Those observations are quickly followed by the pain.

It rips through him once awareness returns and he can’t help the noise that slips out of his mouth, drawing the attention of a figure outside his door. They shifted closer, bending down to peer at him through the remains of his window.

“Sir, I need you to hold still for me until—” but then the voice breaks off suddenly and lost the air of professionalism as they cursed, “Shit! Donovan, the driver is Reyes!”

“Carlos?” Another voice said from somewhere farther away, “Fuck, is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” the voice next to him responds before leaning closer, “Hey, Reyes, can you tell me if anything hurts?”

And Carlos knew he should. Between being a cop and living with a paramedic for two years, he knew all the ins and outs of an accident from just about every angle. But he couldn’t make his brain focus on that yet. There was only one thought in his mind, and that was what he managed to get through his lips: “TK?”

He felt the hand on his still and heard the crunching of boots on glass telling him that his visitor was shifting, likely looking past him towards the passenger seat, where TK should be.

He didn’t miss the muttered curse that followed the action and his heart began to race as he heard the question asked: “Donovan, what’s the ETA on that RA unit?”

“3 minutes, why?”

“Tell dispatch they need to make it less.”

“Is Carlos…”

“It’s not for him.”

And Carlos somehow found it in himself to turn, despite the hand’s attempts to stop him and the protests that he shouldn’t move. The sight he saw froze him more than anything else could as fear and a different kind of pain rushed through his battered body.

TK was sprawled against the dashboard beside him. There was blood leaking from his hairline and he was so, so terribly still.

And in that moment, Carlos forgot how to breathe.

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

TK was rushed to surgery as soon as they arrived at the hospital, his parents told him. There was significant concern about internal bleeding and a traumatic brain injury. His broken ribs, his mother told him gently, punctured his lung; leading to a hemothorax. Paramedics treated him as soon as possible before rushing him to the hospital but with them both unconscious no one is sure when it happened or how long he was drowning in his own blood. They knew his brain was deprived of oxygen for a period of time; they just didn’t know how long that was and what the effects might be.

It’s all so much and Carlos could feel himself spiraling. His dad must have noticed too because he stepped closer, eyes full of concern as he laid a hand on Carlos’s arm.

“Breathe for me, Carlitos,” he instructed, voice gentle but firm. “It’s going to be okay.”

He did manage to take the breaths requested of him and when he found his voice he looked to his dad. “Is it?” he asked skeptically, “TK nearly died and from the sounds of it, he still might. What part of that is okay?”

His dad opened his mouth as if to say something before faltering and Carlos felt his dread grow.

“This is all my fault,” he whispered, causing his mother to frown at him.

“What do you mean, Carlos? Of course this is not your fault.”

“I was driving,” he reminded her, “how is this not my fault?”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” his father told him firmly. “This was an accident. The roads were wet, it was dark; anything could have happened.”

“But I was still the one behind the wheel,” Carlos said dully, “and TK is the one who is in danger. It doesn’t seem fair.”

His mother gave him a sympathetic look before she carefully bent down to wrap her arms around him, doing her best to provide him comfort without jarring his ribs, “Things like this never are,” she told him softly. “But that doesn’t mean it is your fault. TK would tell you the same thing.”

Carlos didn’t say anything to that, leaning into the comfort his mother provided and letting the tears silently fall down his face instead. But she hadn’t been there and now that Carlos could remember the sights and the feelings, he couldn’t stop this fear. It fed the next thought that entered into his head, echoing through all the corners of his mind: TK probably would, but thanks to Carlos, he might never have the chance to.

----------

“Reyes,” the officer at his window — Nate Quinones, Carlos had eventually realized — tried again before switching approaches, “Carlos! You need to keep still! We don’t know what kind of injuries you have, you need to stay still until fire gets to you so you don’t make anything worse.”

But as Carlos watched the newly arrived paramedic team assess TK, he was fairly certain that there was no way anything could be worse. The captain looked grim as he did his initial exam and when he turned to talk to his team it was with quick words and a low voice. Carlos tried to lean closer to hear, tried to put a hand out to reach TK but he was pinned by the steering wheel and couldn’t reach him. Carlos would be frustrated by it if he wasn’t so busy being fucking terrified that TK hadn’t moved in all this time, hadn’t even reacted to the arrival of the first responders or the unfamiliar hands on him.

“TK…” he tried to protest, but Nate shook his head.

“I know this is hard,” he said more softly, “and I can’t even imagine how you must be feeling, but you need to trust that the paramedics are doing their jobs and take care of yourself for now. Besides,” he added with a forced smile, “how would your boy feel about you doubting the paramedics?”

Carlos wanted to laugh at that, he could picture TK’s affronted look in his head. But the grim reality in front of him eclipsed all thoughts of humor because what could ever be funny when he might lose TK?

“I need…” he tried to say, but he couldn’t get the words out. His colleague seemed to get the gist of what he was trying to say though and shook his head.

“All you need to do right now is hold still. A second crew just pulled so I’m sure they’ll be getting you out of here in no time.”

Carlos wanted to argue, he really did. But his body wouldn’t let him. It was taking all the energy he had to simply be present. Any extra he had was going towards staring helplessly at TK, and toward the desperate hope that he was okay.

He focused on that thought as he watched them extract TK from the car and lower him to the ground. He couldn’t see him now but he could hear the measured tones of the paramedics as they worked. His mind was still foggy and he wasn’t following much but what he did hear did nothing to calm his nerves. He may not be able to understand the words but he knew the tone: it was the type reserved for the worst cases, for the ones when each moment mattered the most. Carlos had heard that tone in the field more times than he could count, but had never thought he would have to hear it directed at his own boyfriend. This entire thing, every single second, has been a nightmare that he is desperate to wake up from.

He was vaguely aware of the presence of a fire crew at his side, of their efforts to free him from the remains of his Camaro. But he couldn’t focus on that—not when TK was mere feet away and in trouble. But soon enough the noise of the jaws blocked out the sound of the paramedics working on TK regardless of how hard he strained to hear them.

It took some time but eventually, he was out, being hoisted out of his car by several pairs of strong arms. Soon enough he was on his feet and instantly he was searching for TK. He heard the noise before he found him and the words drifting through the night air were enough to grind his world to a halt: “We’ve lost respirations, Cap.”

“Start compressions,” the captain instructed as he continued to work. “Stalh, get the ambu bag going.”

Carlos’s mind was still spinning with pain and confusion, but the sight of TK on the ground before him with someone else pushing the air into his lungs and someone else pumping his heart and pushing the blood through his veins came to him with stark clarity. He tried to get to him but he found he couldn’t move. That didn’t seem right but then again TK was on the ground not even 20 feet from him and he wasn’t breathing. Nothing was right about this.

“Still nothing, Cap,” one of the paramedics noted and Carlos could feel the world around him start spinning far too fast for him to follow.

“Get him on a gurney,” the captain instructed, “we need to get him to the ER now. Don’t stop compressions, Valdez.”

Valdez said something back but Carlos didn’t catch what it was. Everything was fading out, his vision was turning dark. He felt his knees buckle and more hands on him and the last thing he saw was the sight of TK being lifted onto a gurney with the paramedics still working frantically to keep his heart beating as he was swallowed by darkness.

----------

His dad’s phone buzzed about an hour after Carlos woke up. He checked it surreptitiously but Carlos tracked his movements, studying his expression. He just knew it had to do with TK and it was all he could do to stop himself from jumping out of bed to see the news for himself. It was only the pain in his ribs and the knowledge that his mother would murder him kept him stationary as he waited with bated breath for the knowledge that hung over him like a verdict.

“He’s out of surgery,” his father announced eventually after typing out a reply. “Owen said he’s being moved to a recovery room soon.”

“And?” Carlos prompted, voice taut, “How did it go? How is he?”

“He’s hanging on,” Gabriel replied, pocketing his phone and stepping closer. He clapped a hand on Carlos’s shoulder and squeezed, “don’t count him out yet, mijo. That boy of yours has a lot of fight in him.”

“Don’t I know it,” Carlos retorted with a fond shake of his head and, for a second, everything almost felt normal.

But only for a second.

In the next Carlos registered what his Dad wasn’t saying. He hadn’t said TK was okay, he had said he was “hanging on” and Carlos didn’t like the implications of that. He opened his mouth to demand that his father give him details, but Gabriel slipped his phone back into his pocket with an air of finality.

“You need to worry about yourself right now, Carlitos,” he said gently. “I know you’re worried about TK but there is nothing you can do for him right now.”

A sudden thickness filled Carlos’s throat and he had to swallow before he could respond, “I know that,” he admitted, “I just can’t help…” he trailed off, and both his parents gave him looks that spoke volumes of understanding. His mother reached out a hand to squeeze his knee beneath the blankets.

“Get some sleep mijo,” she told him softly, “we’ll wake you if anything changes, I promise.”

He wanted to argue, but he had been fighting the pull of sleep with sheer stubbornness for the better part of the hour he had been awake so he reluctantly nodded instead. His mom placed a kiss on his forehead as he closed his eyes, the sound of his parent’s hushed voices providing soft background noise as he drifted off.

He slept fitfully, never allowing himself to truly rest in case he missed something, in case something happened with TK. He drifted in and out, his mind fighting his exhausted and battered body but he must have fallen into a deeper sleep than he thought at one point because the next time he opened his eyes his parents were gone and the chair beside his bed was occupied by Owen Strand instead.

“Owen?” he asked tentatively, trying his best to ignore the growing dread in his gut.

His boyfriend’s father looked up from the floor that he had been studying at the sound of his voice, his expression shifting into a tired grin when he saw Carlos looking at him.

“Hey kid,” he said softly, “it’s good to see you awake.”

Carlos nodded, and then frowned. “What are you doing here? Is TK…”

He didn’t know how to end that question. He didn’t know what he hoped or feared at this point. All he knew is that he was hurt, tired, scared and that he needed his boyfriend to be okay. And he didn’t know what he was supposed to make of the fact that the fire captain was currently sitting by his bedside rather than his son’s.

Owen leaned closer to place a bracing hand on his shoulder, “He’s still hanging on. There’s been no change, but the doctors assure me that at this point, that’s a good thing. I’m choosing to believe them. I wanted to check on you though, so your parents and I decided to rotate for a bit. They’re with him right now, but I can call them back here if you’d rather.”

Carlos shook his head. “It’s fine,” he assured the older man. “I’m glad they got to see him. I just wish I could as well,” he admitted. “Everyone keeps telling me he’s alive, but until I see it myself…”

He trailed off again, unwilling to give voice to the thoughts and fears in his head as Owen nodded.

“Believe me when I say I know where you’re coming from,” he replied, “but you’re hurt too. You need to heal before you can do anything of the sort and I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist on that. Just think of what TK will say when he wakes up if he ever found out I let you trapse all over the hospital while you were still injured. Don’t make me have to deal with that, Carlos.”

Carlos had been prepared to argue his case until he achieved the result he wanted, but something about the sincerity in Owen’s voice and the certainty with which he said “when he wakes up” quelled him and he found himself nodding. Owen gave him a warm smile that spoke volumes of relief, but there was still an edge of sadness in his expression. The sight of it made the feeling of guilt still within him flare up again.

“I am so sorry, Owen,” he said quietly, pulling his gaze from the other man and looking down at his blankets.

“Sorry for what?” he replied, and even though Carlos couldn’t see him he could almost hear the confusion on his face.

“For all of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely to their location. “That TK is hurt.”

“That’s not your fault, Carlos.”

“Of course it is!” he retorted, “I was driving, Owen. Whatever happened, that’s on me and I am so, so sorry. I never meant for anything to happen, I—”

He was aware he was crying in earnest now, the tears falling down his face without his consent. He did his best to wipe them away, but there was no stopping them. They just kept coming and before he knew it he was sobbing, his breath coming in heaving gasps as all of the pain and fear that had been lurking since he first woke up in the hospital finally demanded release.

He had almost forgotten Owen was still in the room until he felt the bed dip beside him and the warmth of a hug as arms wrapped around his shaking frame, holding him tight as he cried.

“This isn’t your fault,” Owen assured him, voice full of conviction even as it wavered. “It was just a terrible accident. You would never do anything to ever hurt him. I know that, Carlos, and TK knows it too. I don’t blame you, and I’m glad you’re safe.”

Carlos vaguely wondered how the man could say such things when he was facing the possibility of losing his son, but for once he didn’t question it. Instead he allowed the comfort to soothe him and the arms to hold him as he cried himself dry, bleeding out all the pain inside of him.

-----------

“You cannot be serious?” TK demanded, turning in the passenger seat to look at him incredulously.

“I said what I said,” Carlos retorted, biting his lip against the smile that wanted to form at the thought of the indignant face TK was surely currently making.

“You cannot be telling me that I am in love with someone who thinks that Area 51 is real.”

“I believe it exists,” Carlos countered, “I just don’t believe it has anything to do with aliens.”

“So, you don’t think the government is hiding proof of aliens?”

“I didn’t say that either, I just said I don’t think it is in Area 51.”

“So where is it then?”

Carlos shrugged, turning to glance briefly at TK before turning his eyes back to the road, “How should I know, it’s a secret for a reason, TK.”

“So, let me get this straight. You are certain the government is hiding proof of alien life in an undisclosed site more mysterious than Area 51, but you still think Big Foot is a hoax.”

“It’s clearly a series of people in fur suits, TK.”

He grinned as TK spluttered indignantly, muttering something about disrespecting cryptids before he sighed and looked over at Carlos, “I can’t believe I love you.”

Carlos grinned, turning his head to offer his retort when he caught something out of the corner of his eye. He saw the flash of panic on TK’s face as he turned abruptly back to the road and heard him shout a warning as he wrenched the steering wheel to the left in a desperate attempt to avoid whatever it was in the road. There was the squeal of tires on wet pavement and the spine chilling noise of crunching metal and screams of pain that he couldn’t identify, before everything faded to black.

-----------

His parents and Owen weren’t the only visitors.

Soon enough Carlos was treated to a small group of solemn firefighters trying their best to plaster on smiles as they crowded into his room, the nurse’s reminder that they could only be there as a group as long as they stayed reasonably quiet following them in. He did his best to return their smiles but his was even more strained and after a moment, he gave up. The pain in their expressions was just as raw as the one he felt and he was forcibly reminded that as much as they were his friends, they were TK’s family first and foremost.

“I’m sorry,” he managed after a few long moments of awkward silence. “I am so, so sorry.”

It was Judd who spoke first, his Texas drawl coming out harsher than usual, “You have nothing to be sorry for, Carlos.”

“I was driving,” he repeated, “and it was my idea to be out at all. That means…”

“That means that an accident happened. Tell me you haven’t seen this a thousand times on the job. Do you tell the person who was driving it was their fault?”

“No,” Carlos admitted, voice low.

“No,” Judd agreed, “because it ain’t. This could have happened to anyone, it just happened to happen to you and that’s not your fault.”

“Besides,” Marjan added, falling into the seat beside his bed and placing a hand on top of his, “you didn’t mean for TK get hurt. You would never want that. This was an accident, Carlos, and we’re sorry it happened to you.”

Carlos swallowed, taking in the expressions of the others. His eyes searched the faces of Mateo and Paul before settling on Nancy, looking for any hint that they didn’t agree with what Marjan said, that they did blame him for bringing this on to TK. But he saw none and when Nancy met his eyes, she shook her head. She didn’t say a word but the message was clear: she didn’t blame him. TK was her partner and closest friend and she didn’t blame him. He released a breath he hadn’t entirely realized he was holding and the smile that he gave them in the moment after was almost real—or as close as he could get without knowing definitively that TK was going to be okay.

For now the knowledge that they didn’t blame him helped, he just wondered if he would ever manage to stop blaming himself.

-----------

“You know, this could be considered kidnapping.”

“I am not kidnapping you, TK,” Carlos replied evenly, “I just said it was a surprise. Besides, I would think you of all people you would know what kidnapping feels like.”

TK paused at the passenger door before climbing into the camaro, raising an eyebrow at him across the top of the car, “Are you joking about my trauma, Reyes? I didn’t know you had that in you.”

“I really don’t know if I should be flattered or not right now.”

“Definitely flattered,” TK replied decisively, flashing him a grin as he bent down to climb into his seat, “I think it’s hot.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “You think everything I do is hot,” he retorted, grinning at TK’s answering laughter.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, babe.”

Calro shook his head but as slid into the driver’s seat he patted at his left pocket, making sure that the small box was still there as TK shifted gears and prattled on about how Carlos should tell him where they were going.

“It’s a surprise,” he reminded his boyfriend with a grin, earning himself another eye roll as he started the car. And, he added silently, if all went well by the time they got home tonight, he wouldn’t be his boyfriend anymore.

With that thought he grinned as he backed out of their driveway, the box in his pocket and the butterflies in his stomach making him almost giddy as they drove down their street, and towards their future.

-----------

On the afternoon of the second day Carlos was finally allowed to leave his bed. He wasn’t cleared to leave the hospital, his doctor had made that abundantly clear, and he was absolutely confined to a wheelchair; but he could go see TK. Since that was what he had wanted all along he was all too eager to comply with any and all conditions so when he was helped into a wheelchair by a nurse and wheeled down the hall by Paul, he did so without a word of complaint.

As they traveled to TK’s room, he thought of the box currently stashed with his other belongings back in his room. He hadn’t said a word about it, the subject too raw for him. No one else had said a word either, but he hadn’t missed the way his mother’s face had shifted when she had seen it as his belongings were unpacked or the way she had turned away quickly to conceal the emotion she couldn’t hide. His dad had simply clutched the box for a long moment before he met Carlos’s eyes and slid it back into the bag without a word. Neither of them had mentioned it again and Carlos was incredibly grateful for that, but now that he was on his way to see TK for the first time since that night it was all he could think about.

This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. He had been taking them to the field where they had watched the borealis, the night they had become them. He was going to ask TK a question that he was pretty sure he already knew the answer to, and then they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. That had been the plan, not him facing the possibility of a future without TK in it.

Paul slowed as they came to a doorway, pausing at the threshold. Carlos looked up at him to see his friend studying him with concern.

“Are you sure about this, man?” Paul asked. “This is a lot and you’re still healing yourself. No one would think anything less of you if you didn’t do this just yet.”

“Nothing can be worse than seeing him that night, Paul,” he replied, voice rough as the memories returned. “I was pretty sure I was watching him die then and there, and anything has to be better than that.”

Paul still looked hesitant so he tried again, “I can’t have that image be the last picture of him in my mind, Paul, no matter what. I can’t handle that.”

His friend finally acquiesced and reached around him to push the door open, revealing a small and bright private room. He steered Carlos in as Owen stood from his spot beside the bed and walked over to them, clapping Carlos on the shoulder.

“I’ll give you some time with him,” he told him softly, offering a sad smile before he nodded to Paul and exited the room. Paul pushed him to the side of the bed before patting him on the shoulder as well.

“I’ll be right outside,” he reminded him. “If you need anything…”

“I’ll let you know,” Carlos agreed. “Thanks, Paul.”

Paul nodded and with one last look at the figure in the bed, he headed out of the room, leaving Carlos alone with TK for the first time since that night.

It took him a few moments to even look up and when he did he had to suck in a deep breath. In so many ways TK looked so much better than Carlos’s last memory of him fighting for his life under the care of the paramedics on the roadside. But as much as the sight of him breathing on his own brought him comfort, there was still the fact that this figure in the bed was too still to be TK Strand.

In all the time Carlos had known him he had hardly ever seen him hold still for longer than a few moments. To see him now, pale and bandaged with a slack expression on his still face just screamed so many different kinds of wrong at him. This was not his boyfriend; this wasn’t the man that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. That man was expressive and energetic and wore his entire heart on his sleeve. He was so kind and good and had so much passion Carlos still marveled at it even now, after over two years of knowing each other, of loving each other. This man was a stranger.

Carlos reached out and clasped one of the still hands in his own, hoping that maye the familiar touch might reconcile the image of TK in his mind with the still body before him. Carlos still wasn’t sure what he had ever done to find someone who loved so wholly and completely, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. TK Strand was it for Carlos, and he intended to spend the rest of his life with him. He wanted him to be his fiance and his husband, because he was already his everything. The fact that they might lose that chance struck Carlos again and it was all he could do to breathe through the pain of it.

TK was going to wake up, he decided, because no other option was acceptable.

----------

“I don’t know man,” Paul said, his voice light and teasing as they entered the store, “I don’t think you two are quite there yet. You know usually couples who hit this stage are insufferable to be around, spend nearly every waking moment together, are absolutely infuriating to single people...oh wait, I guess that is you two. My mistake, man.”

Carlos rolled his eyes as he greeted the jeweler and gave his name for his order, turning his attention back to his grinning friend as the woman disappeared into the back room. “Laugh all you want, Strickland, I know you’re just jealous and it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Paul chuckled, but his expression softened, “I’m not jealous, but I am very happy for you. For both of you.”

“That’s assuming he says yes.”

Now Paul did roll his eyes, “Of course he is going to say yes. He is just as ridiculously in love with you as you are with him. Besides, I know you guys have talked about it. This is what you both want, right?”

Carlos nodded, “Yes, but it’s still terrifying.”

“It’s a big step,” Paul pointed out reasonably, “but you’re ready for it. And I am ready to be your best man.”

“Oh, you think so?”

“C’mon man, you know it’s true.”

Carlos’s response was interrupted as the jeweler stepped back up to the counter, a small, square box in her hand. She set it on the counter and opened it, allowing the gold of the simple band to flash in the light. Carlos could hardly breath as he looked at it, the magnitude of the simple object striking him with full-force. Paul put a hand on his arm and squeezed, “It’s perfect man, he’s going to love it.”

Carlos managed to flash him a shaky smile before he reached out and picked up the box, running his finger over the smooth metal within. This was really happening. This was it, there’s no going back now.

But he knew he didn’t want to, and he had never been more sure of anything in his life.

---------

The next day passed in much the same way. Carlos sat in his wheelchair at TK’s bedside as much as he was allowed, only returning to his own room for required intervals begrudgingly. But he wasn’t about to argue with the arrangement—it was a world better than not being allowed to see him at all.

It was only luck that he was in the room the first time TK’s eyes fluttered open. They were only opened for a second and and they closed nearly as fast but a glance at Owen told Carlos that he had not imagined it and he felt a renewed sense of hope rush through him. After that, he refused to leave TK’s room and nobody seemed too keen to argue that point with him.

His eyes—the gorgeous green eyes that Carlos had secretly been becoming convinced he would never get to see again—opened several more times, but it was hours before they stayed open for any length of time.

But Carlos didn’t mind the waiting; he would wait a lifetime for TK.

It was only the sound of his name that informed him TK was both awake and aware at long last and it was everything Carlos could do to keep it together as he leaned forward, wrapping TK’s hand in his own.

“Hi, love,” he whispered against his cheek as he bent down to press a kiss there.”I am so happy to see those eyes of yours.”

TK squinted at him as he pulled away as if he were trying to deduce something, “Are you okay?” he asked, and it was all Carlos could do to keep from laughing. Of course TK was asking him that when he had just woken up from a coma, he shouldn’t have expected anything less.

“I’m fine,” he assured TK, squeezing his hand. “Even better now that I know you are too.”

And TK smiled at him and Carlos could feel the weight and guilt of every single second before he woke up fall away. TK was awake and alive and okay, and nothing else mattered. He could handle anything as long as TK was okay.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with visitors filtering in and out, all there to see them, all there to make sure they were both okay. Carlos’s heart felt full as he watched the ragtag group that had become their family show up one by one: his parents with hugs for them both, a relieved Gwyn fresh off a flight from Singapore. Each and every member of the 126, the Vega twins, Grace with little Ava who had drawn cards for them both.

As he watched Judd settle his daughter on the edge of the bed at TK’s insistence, Carlos thought of a ring in a box back in his room down the hall. Since the accident he had been so worried that he would never have a chance to ever ask that question. But now, safe in the knowledge that he and TK were both okay and would both make it past this, he wasn’t worried. A part of him still wanted to do it now, to not waste another of their precious moments, but as TK smiled at him over Ava’s shoulder as she pressed her little body against his in an impossibly gentle hug for a toddler he conceded that there were all types of precious moments.

When he did ask it wouldn’t be anything spectacular and he was well past the idea of a grand gesture, but they still deserved to have a moment that was solely their own. Maybe after their company left and Carlos had bribed his way into spending the night by TK’s side. Maybe once they were both discharged and were back in their home. Maybe it would be months from now, over their morning coffee.

Whatever or whenever it was, Carlos knew it would be perfect. Because it would be him and it would be TK and they were going to spend the rest of their lives together no matter how he asked, and Carlos couldn’t think of a better future than that.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #my writing #userkimmy #userac #userjilly #userbones #jazzyjess #reyesstrand #reyeslonestartag #buckybarnesalways #tuserjamie #tuserpaige

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leonstamatis · 3 years

Text

for blasetober today: bending the rules. a team i’ve never written before, through the eyes of a guy i definitely have.

“You’ll need to fail the bar exam.”

Jacob assumes, logically, that he’s misunderstood. Kina is speaking through a mouthful of chocolate and coconut. It’s very possible that one of those words was something else.

“I have to take the bar exam?” he asks.

Kina shakes hir head. “No. You have to fail it.”

Shi takes another bite of hir almond joy, watching him carefully. Jacob isn’t sure if it’s because shi wants to size him up, or because this is already a test and he’s failing it somehow. The Breath Mints are small – much smaller than the Flowers, anyway, and the locker room feels oddly empty and quiet even with the full lineup milling around.

He even gets his own locker, one he doesn’t have to share with anyone else. It’s not the weirdest thing, but it’s the part that’s standing out to him now. There are no flower pots stacked on the floor, no packages of dirt or fertilizer. The entire space feels… hollow, almost. Like half the team called in sick. Like half the team always calls in sick.

“Why do I have to fail the exam? Isn’t that kind of counterintuitive?” He almost doesn’t want to know the answer.

Kina shrugs. “I don’t know. I never asked.”

If Kina is difficult to understand, then Twooney is almost impossible. The phone on the locker room bench crackles to life with more static and white noise than Jacob has ever heard.

“You’d better start studying, Jacob!” she says. “We have high standards here!”

The more questions Jacob asks, the more confused he gets. Maybe he should know better by now; half the time, what happened on the Flowers didn’t make any sense to him. He got used to that eventually, and he can get used to this. Even so, he clears his throat and leans over to get closer to the phone.

“Why would I have to study if I’m supposed to fail?” he asks, and tries to ignore the way Winnie snickers.

“You have to know the right answers in order to pick the wrong ones,” Twooney says. “Obviously.”

“Let the man adjust before you go throwing any qualifications at him.”

Helga Washington is a terrifying presence. She towers over everyone else, and the horns on her head leave very little room to question anything she says. Already, Jacob wants to duck his head down and turn away, and she isn’t even looking at him yet.

He forces himself to take a deep breath and relax. Helga is just tying her boots and packing up her things, getting ready to return to wherever she calls home now that the elections are over. Jacob’s seen a lot of scary things in his time and this really shouldn’t be one of them.

“Fine,” Kina acquiesces with a sigh. “We’ll make him take the bar later. But you’re going to have to explain that to Leach and Jode, Helga. I don’t want to deal with the paperwork.”

“That’s fine.” Helga pushes her way to standing and throws a backpack the size of a small boulder over her shoulder. She reaches out and pats Jacob on the shoulder, and the force of it almost knocks him to the ground. “Come on, you can stay at mine for the night. It’ll remind you of home.”

Jacob doubts it. There’s not a lot around here that reminds him of anything he’s known, not the endless field of long, untamed grass they play in or the unfamiliar skyline on the horizon. Helga lives far from the stadium, but the long drive is silent except for the bluegrass radio station.

They make it through the meadow, then through town, then down an old road that leads into farmland and then further still. The house at the end of the road, an old wooden cabin with a rickety shed out back, could not be less like the Boston condominium Jacob’s lived in for the past twenty years.

“Home sweet home,” Helga offers. She jumps out of the pickup truck and gestures to the front door. “Doesn’t look like much, but you get used to it.”

“Thanks for letting me stay,” Jacob says, but his discomfort must be clear on his face, because Helga lets out a heavy sigh.

“Look around back, slugger. I’ll meet you inside for some dinner.”

He does as he’s told. Jacob walks around the perimeter of the house as Helga makes her way inside, whistling some country tune or another that he doesn’t recognize. He gets to the back, and.

And he finds a garden. Raised beds with cards labeled in neat, precise handwriting. Vegetables and herbs spilling over themselves, ready for the harvest, and it isn’t home but it’s something familiar and Jacob is so lost, so far from the place he wants to be, and this is something close.

He falls to his knees in the dirt, and he stays there for a long, long time.

#blasetober #blaseball #blaseball fanfiction #jacob haynes #kansas city breath mints #remember how jacob spent a whole season with the bints #i think it was fine but it was probably. an adjustment.#bints i love you thank you for taking care of my boy <3

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puppywritings · 3 years

Text

fidelium - johnny suh x gender-neutral reader masterlist

⇢ synopsis: you can’t wait to spend the weekend at johnny’s house. your boyfriend was a bad boy, and a motorcycle rider to boot. things were new, thrilling. perhaps more thrilling than you bargained for. you come to learn that it’s a lot more difficult to leave than to stay.

⇢ word count: 6.8k ⇢ trigger warnings: death, guns, toxic relationship involving manipulation, objectification, arguments. sexual elements and implied sex but no explicit scenes. ⇢ warning: the relationship displayed in this fic is in absolutely no way healthy or ideal. it’s one red flag after another. if somebody disrespects your boundaries, threatens you, objectifies you, manipulates you, or anything of the sort, they’re not a good person to be around and they don’t deserve to stay in your life. the contents of this fic may be upsetting to read.

⇢ a/n: this is my piece for @du0tine‘s 21 ways to kill your lover collab. intended for 18+ audiences. i also want to say, it’s not my intention to romanticize or glorify toxic, harmful, or abusive relationships - this is purely fiction. this writing also doesn’t reflect the real johnny suh, who i’m sure is a lovely person and would never engage in this sort of behaviour.

taglist: @prettyjaems @ethaeriyeol @1-800-seo @neonun-au (sorry if i forgot anyone i’m super disorganised w my taglists atm)

Johnny Suh didn’t fit your usual dating criteria. With his black leather jacket, heavy lace-up boots, and hulking motorcycle, he was a bit of a bad boy. And there was something exciting in that. You’d met him late one night, in the bar where you worked. You’d served him all night - rum and coke, his drink of choice. He certainly caught your eye, at first. He was handsome, with his brown eyes twinkling and his long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. But it wasn’t until the two of you started talking that you became interested. It was a quiet night, and Johnny insisted on sitting at the bar in front of you. He was teasing, charming. And when he gave you his number at closing time, you actually tapped the digits into your phone, rather than just discarding it like you usually do. Unlike the rest of your patrons who thrust their contact details upon you, when it came to Johnny the interest was mutual.

So, while it was true that Johnny wasn’t quite the typical man you went after, the relationship had been going well. He’d been nothing short of a gentleman in the duration of your relationship, though he still thrilled you with his affinity for the more reckless things in life; late-night motorcycle rides, drinking just a little too much and partying all night. He took the mundaneness out of your life - he made your life an adventure.

Towards the end of your shift that Friday evening, you found yourself getting jittery; you checked the time every five minutes, and a swarm of butterflies was building in your stomach. Johnny was picking you up after work on his bike, and it was all you could think about. You almost ran out of the establishment, when the clock struck ten, marking the end of your shift. Your heart swelled at the sight of Johnny in the bar’s parking lot, leaning against his motorcycle with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey, angel,” he greeted you, affection glowing in his eyes and his smile.

“Hi,” you beamed, wrapping your arms around his waist and taking in his warmth. He picked you up immediately, holding you tight and spinning you. “Johnny!” you giggled, fingers grasping the cotton of his white t-shirt.

“You ready to meet my boys?” he asked you, punctuating his question with a kiss on your nose. He was referring to the friends he considered family; he lived with them, in a rather large house on the outskirts of town, from what you’d heard. They were special to him, and you knew it was important to him that you got along with them. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t completely terrified. You knew it’d be okay, though. If they had Johnny’s approval you were sure they’d be good people. Plus, you could never be too scared with Johnny’s hand in your own.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you responded with a smile.

“Hop on,” he instructed you, tossing you a helmet and putting on his own. At the beginning of your relationship, he’d given you his own helmet, forgoing his protection for the sake of yours. You hadn’t liked this - this display of his reckless attitude that surpassed thrilling and sat nicely in the territory of dangerous - and so you’d pestered him until he bought a second helmet.

You secured your rucksack on your back, prepacked with all the clothes and toiletries you required for the weekend you’d be spending with your boyfriend, before climbing onto the large black bike behind him. Johnny had been driving you around on his bike for a number of weeks now, but you still weren’t quite used to it. The mix of fear and exhilaration, both from the wind whipping past your ears and from the sensation of your chest pressed flush against Johnny’s back, your arms tight around his waist. It made your heart race. The feeling you got from riding a motorcycle embodied everything that Johnny was: dark, exciting, intoxicating, addictive.

Johnny hadn’t been lying when he said he lived on the outskirts. The bright lights of the town centre were far behind you, and even the streetlights had begun to die out. You were alone with the moon and starlight now. The neatly paved roads gave way to rough muddy lanes. The built-up urban surroundings gave way to empty fields, then to a dense and seemingly endless forest. The bike’s headlamp shone a path through the trees, guiding Johnny to his home. Though your partner clearly felt familiar here, the environment sent chills down your spine - you could’ve sworn you felt eyes on you, peering out from the darkness. When your journey ended, at a solitary house looming tall against the dark backdrop of the forest, you were thankful.

“Here we are,” Johnny welcomed you, helping you off the bike. The house was bigger than you could’ve expected. The term mansion wouldn’t be amiss.

“So,” you commented, looking up at the structure, illustrated by the silver moonlight. “This is where you and your biker gang live?” You looked along the line of bikes, queued up around the house. They were of different styles and sizes, though (with your limited knowledge on motorcycles) they all looked rather impressive.

“I keep telling you, we’re not a biker gang,” Johnny corrected you, with a lighthearted roll of his eyes. “We’re just a group of friends who live together, and just so happen to ride together too.”

“And if that’s not a biker gang, what is?” you teased.

“Zip it,” Johnny said gently, and you complied. “Here, I’ll take your bag.”

“Ever the gentleman,” you commented, passing it to him. You braced yourself, as he led you into his home.

It was warm inside, much warmer than out in the chilly woodland. From what you could tell by looking at the entranceway, the place was tidy and well-lit. Your boyfriend led you down the hall, into an open-plan kitchen and living area, where Johnny's friends were sitting around the television.

"We're home, guys," Johnny announced, drawing their attention towards you.

"Hey, look what Johnny brought home!" one of them called out, bringing a blush to your cheeks.

"Watch it," Johnny warned, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close to him. "Y/N is all mine. You can look, but you can't touch. In fact, you can only look for five seconds at a time."

“These are the boys” Johnny introduced you to them. “This is Jaehyun, Ten, Mark. And that’s Donghyuck. My protege, right kid?”

“That’s right, John” the boy grinned up at Johnny from where he was sitting.

You gave a shy wave as you looked around at Johnny's friends. Though he had named them all, introducing them, it was a redundant act. You'd asked to see pictures of everybody prior to that night, not wanting to get lost amid a sea of unfamiliar faces. You saw Jaehyun, with his dimples and broad shoulders; Mark, with pronounced cheekbones and a delicate nose; Ten, with a feline-like beauty; and Donghyuck, full cheeks and long eyelashes.

"I think we're just gonna turn in for the night, right Y/N?" Johnny spoke, looking down at you. "See you boys tomorrow."

You waved at Johnny's friends, with a polite, "Bye." The boys chorused their goodbyes back at you, and Johnny led you away.

You couldn't help but admire the house as Johnny guided you to his bedroom, your hand in his. The place was huge, grand. You weren't sure under what circumstances Johnny and his friends acquired this house, but it can't have been cheap.

"And this," he led you inside, "Is my room."

The room was a fair size, with several tall windows and a four-poster double bed. The matching furniture looked sturdy and high-quality, a dark antique wood.

"This is impressive," you told him honestly. Johnny beamed in pride; he was always looking for praise, and you were happy to feed his ego.

Johnny lounged on his bed, laying back propped up on his elbows. "Come feel how comfy my bed is," he invited you with a smirk.

"Johnny Suh, you are not smooth. I know that's just an excuse to get me into bed," you said, falling beside him.

"If you knew it was just an excuse," Johnny asked, pausing to plant a kiss on your jawline, "Then why'd you join me?"

"Because," you tell him, "Maybe I want to be in bed with you."

Johnny gave a low chuckle, before kissing you again; a line beginning at your jaw, trailing down to your neck, and ending at your collarbone, making you gasp and lean into his touch.

"Johnny," you purred, your voice full of want.

"Let Johnny take care of you, baby," Johnny hummed. You obliged, submitting to his touch and surrendering to the pleasure.

Coming down from your high, you collapsed against Johnny’s bed, smiling as you looked up at your boyfriend who lay beside you.

“You’re perfect,” Johnny told you, his dark brown eyes gazing deeply into your own. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, and you looked away, only for Johnny to tilt your chin back up towards him. “It’s true,” he reiterated.

“I’m not perfect,” you denied, wrinkling your nose.

Johnny pecked your lips. “You are. My angel.”

You looked at him, lying beside you in his bed. His sex hair was immaculate, perfectly tousled from rolling around and from your fingers tugging on it. His lips were plump and pink from your kisses, and his collarbones were decorated in pink splotches. He looked beautiful, he was glowing, and you couldn’t help but grin at him.

“Hey,” Johnny says suddenly, sitting up and untangling himself from the blankets. “Let me give you a massage.”

“It’s okay, babe, you don’t have to,” you waved away his offer. He seemed deadset, however, cracking his knuckles in preparation.

“I insist. Roll over.” You obeyed, lying on your front and allowing your boyfriend to straddle your waist. His hands pressed into your skin, rubbing deeply into your muscles. The sensation was pleasant, you had to admit. Mostly, you just enjoyed the proximity between you and Johnny, and the feeling of being taken care of by someone you loved. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to slip away and ease into the feeling.

You weren’t allowed to slip away for long, however, as your phone began to buzz, startling you. The vibrations against the hardwood of Johnny’s bedside table conjured a harsh screeching noise. You lifted your head, peering at the screen.

You lifted your torso, as much as you could with Johnny’s weight on you. “Oh, it’s my mom. I should-”

“You can call her back later, angel,” Johnny said, pushing you back down onto the bed. The action was gentle, but Johnny didn’t need to use much force to manipulate your body; your boyfriend worked out, and bordered on freakishly strong - at least, in comparison to you. His buff arms held your shoulders down, preventing any movement. "This is my time to pamper you," he explained, resuming the massage.

"Okay," you tentatively agreed. "I'll call her back later." You got the sense that this massage was much more for Johnny's benefit than for yours, but if it kept him happy, then so be it.

“Good morning, angel,” Johnny greeted you. Your eyelids fluttered open, adjusting to the light in his bedroom. With a groan, you stretched your muscles, stiff from sleeping. “I brought you a cup of coffee.”

You looked to your boyfriend, smiling at you as he entered the room, a mug in each hand. You couldn’t be sure how long he’d been awake, or what time it was, but he was dressed already, beige cable-knit sweater and loose jeans, with his hair pulled back in a low ponytail. It was a contrast to his usual greaser bad-boy image, and the sight warmed your heart. He looked cozy, soft. You smiled back at him, sitting up and letting the covers pool around your waist.

“Morning, Johnny,” you beamed at him, accepting the cup of coffee he handed to you. You took a sip and moaned in delight. Your boyfriend made a mean cup of coffee, perfectly sweet without being overbearing. He sat beside you on the bed, caressing your cheek lightly.

“I was thinking we could go out for a walk,” he suggested, before taking a swig of his own coffee. “It’s a nice morning.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

A while later, fully dressed and hand-in-hand with Johnny, you found yourself venturing through the forest that surrounded the house. There were a few man-made footpaths winding between the trees, but for the most part, you were truly in the middle of nature, an environment completely untouched by humans. Birds flapped their wings, rustling in the trees, and creatures whose species were unknown to you scrambled to run away in your wake, paws pounding on the forest floor. Johnny had been right; it was a nice morning. The sun filtered through branches and leaves, casting light and warmth down upon you, and the air was clean and fresh.

“It’s so nice out here,” you commented, looking around at the greens and browns that encompassed you.

“Yeah,” Johnny agreed. “I’m lucky to live here.”

“You really are. I’d walk through here every morning if I were you.”

“You’re lucky, too,” Johnny acknowledged, squeezing your hand. “You’re dating me. You can walk here whenever you want as well.” You smiled, your heart swelling at his words.

“It really is isolated, huh? Your house?” you remarked, peering around at your surroundings. The nearest road was so far away that you couldn’t even hear the rush of cars from where you stood.

“Yeah,” Johnny confirmed. “It’s not easy to get out of the house.” Why anyone would wish to escape this peaceful surroundings, you had no idea. It felt so far removed from the hustle and bustle of everyday life; your usual troubles felt so distant.

The sun had risen higher in the sky by the time you returned to Johnny’s house, and you realised you hadn’t even brought your phone with you. You hadn’t even thought to check the time once since you woke up. This was so out of the ordinary for you, particularly on a Saturday morning, when you’d usually be lounging in your apartment scrolling through social media.

The house had woken up by the time you stepped through the front door. It had been silent when you left, though now it seemed that the entire household was up and about.

“Where have you been, John?” Ten called out, as the two of you entered the kitchen.

“Just out for a walk,” he explained, taking a seat at the kitchen island, where you joined him.

“By the way, Y/N, it’s nice to meet you,” Ten greeted you, smiling sweetly.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” you returned, smiling back politely.

Johnny leaned in close, stage-whispering. “It’s really not all that nice to meet him. He’s a pretty lousy guy. Into some real weird stuff. Has probably killed a guy.” Ten gave Johnny a pointed glare as he departed the kitchen, and you giggled at your boyfriend’s antics.

“So,” Donghyuck asked, his voice somewhat muffled as he peered into the open fridge. “What do you guys have planned today?”

“Hmm. Not much,” Johnny answered. “Have some lunch, take it easy.”

“I want to shower first,” you announced, stretching your arms above your head. The physical exertion of your outdoor walk, along with your heated activities the night before, had left you feeling a little less than squeaky clean.

“We should do that together,” Johnny suggested, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek, which flamed at his proposition.

“Okay,” you giggled in spite of yourself. Johnny was the only man, since you’d been twelve years of age, who was capable of reducing you to such a blushing, giggling mess.

“Let’s go,” Johnny invited you, smirking as he stood up and held out his hand. You took it, and laughed when Donghyuck fake gagged and Johnny stared at him with daggers in his eyes. You allowed Johnny to lead you, your hand in his, all the way upstairs. After retrieving your toiletries and change of clothes, you joined him in the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

“The lock is funny,” he told you, leaning over you to fiddle with it. “You really have to twist it-” he grunted, “There we go.”

You smiled, bunching up his shirt in your hands and pulling him closer towards you. He looked smug as he leaned in to kiss you, his lips sweet and commanding. Your hands went under his shirt, ghosting over his chiseled abdomen, which tensed delightfully under your touch.

Johnny pulled away, his eyes scanning up and down your body, setting you alight with his gaze. “Why don’t you doll yourself up for lunch, huh? I want to show everyone how beautiful you are.”

“Okay,” you nodded, agreeing to his suggestion. He captured your lips again, and you smiled against his lips. “We need to shower, baby. And no funny business.”

“No promises,” Johnny grinned, his eyes twinkling. When he took his shirt off, however, your request of no funny business went completely out the window.

Sunday morning came all too fast, as your weekend with Johnny came to a close. It had been peaceful, relaxing, a greatly needed recharge, and you weren’t quite ready to return to your regular life. Walks through the city rather than through the woodland, and shifts in the bar all week long.

"I wish you didn't have to leave today," Johnny said, pouting as his fingertip traced shapes along your forearm as you lounged on his bed together.

"I know, babe, me too," you agreed. His eyelashes looked long, fanned across his cheeks as he gazed downwards.

"You should stay," Johnny suggested, a hopeful lilt to his voice. "Just another day or two?"

You shook your head at him. "I'm working all week babe, it's easier if I just go home. I can stay again next weekend."

Johnny sighs, an irritated huff, retracting his hand from your arm. "You don't wanna stay with me?" he asked, looking up at you with hurt in his eyes.

"It's not that I don't want to, John, it'll just be complicated. You'll have to give me a lift to work, and it's so far that I'll have to wake up a lot earlier."

"You don't even sound like you're going to miss me," he pointed out. His voice had a tinge of anger and it frustrated you in turn. He was acting so petty - you hadn't seen this immature side of him before.

"Of course I'll miss you, Johnny," you assured him with a roll of your eyes. "But we can see each other next weekend, okay?"

"Whatever," Johnny scoffed.

"Whatever?" you asked incredulously. "Johnny, you're acting like a child."

"Sorry. Sorry I'm going to miss my partner because they insist on leaving me."

You shifted away from Johnny, swinging your legs off the bed and facing away from him. "This is stupid," you muttered.

"I'm stupid?" Johnny exclaimed.

You rubbed your eyes in frustration. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't need to." Johnny jumped up from the bed, swiftly storming past you and exiting the room, complete with exaggerated stomps and a hefty slam of the door.

“God!” you cussed, in irritation and disbelief. You couldn’t believe he was acting like this. This side of Johnny, bitter and bad-tempered - you couldn’t say you enjoyed it. If anything, his outburst had only made you want to leave more. You cursed the complete and utter isolation of the place. You could hardly leave and catch a bus - you’d get lost if you even tried venturing out into the woods. Johnny was your ride home, and you didn’t want to face him. You weren’t even sure if he’d oblige, if you asked him to take you home.

You stood, scanning through your options, and your feet led you out of Johnny’s room. Down the hall, to the room you were sure belonged to Donghyuck. You knocked on the door, two uncertain taps.

“Yeah?” Donghyuck’s voice called out from within - bingo. You pushed the door open apprehensively. The room was smaller than Johnny’s, though still a decent size. He had a large television mounted on the wall, hooked up to a gaming system that looked rather impressive, to your amateur perspective.

“Oh, Y/N,” he remarked, sounding surprised and pausing his video game. “What’s up?”

“I’m sorry to bother you,” you prefaced, stepping into his room and closing the door behind you. “Johnny and I… had a bit of an argument. I was wondering if you could give me a ride home?”

“You fought?” Donghyuck asked. “What about?”

You sighed “It’s nothing. Something silly.” You didn’t particularly want to divulge the details to Donghyuck - you didn’t want to end up badmouthing Johnny to his friends.

“Hey, sit down,” he invites you, patting the space beside him, on the end of his bed. “Come play video games with me. Take a minute to calm down.” You hesitantly joined him, taking a seat on the end of his bed. “Think this through, Y/N, it’s probably not a good idea to storm out.”

You picked up the controller Donghyuck gave you, holding it loosely. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Johnny wouldn’t be happy if I left without saying anything.”

“That guy has a temper,” Donghyuck commented under his voice. You felt inclined to agree, after the way he’d acted that morning.

“How do I play?” you asked, examining the controller in your hands. Donghyuck leaned over, running you through the controls and rules of the game. The other boy pressed play, and you were flung into the game headfirst, forced to learn and adapt to the fast-paced course of the game. You didn’t know how much time passed, but by your fourth round of the game, you were laughing and shouting along with Donghyuck, all thoughts of smothering boyfriends erased from your mind.

“Feeling better, huh?” Donghyuck asked, beaming at you.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, nodding. “Thanks.”

“One more round?”

“I should probably go talk to Johnny,” you denied apologetically. “But thank you.”

“Any time,” he smiled, holding out his fist for a bump, which you obliged.

“Bye,” you bid him, before departing his bedroom and moving down the hall. You stood for a moment, outside Johnny’s bedroom door, taking a deep breath and bracing yourself.

When you pushed open the door, you found Johnny already standing in his room. You approached him slowly and with apprehension, speaking in a calm and gentle tone. “Hey, Johnny? I’m sorry for blowing up earlier.”

“It’s okay,” he assured you. His composure surprised you, after the volume of his outburst earlier. He didn’t look at you, nor did he turn around to face you. He stood before his dresser, apparently very focused on something inside it. “Why were you in Donghyuck’s room?”

Your eyes widened a little. He didn’t sound mad, nor did he have the right to be. But something about the situation, or perhaps about his demeanor, made you feel a little jittery. You didn’t know he’d been watching you. “Oh. Um. He was just convincing me to stay.” You cleared your throat, feeling the need to change the subject. “What are you doing?”

“Come look,” he beckoned you. You joined him, peering down into the dresser which he seemed so enthralled by.

You gulped. The open drawer was like something you’d find in a museum; it was lined with crimson velvet, and several vintage-looking pistols were laid out in it. They ranged in size and style, the smallest being the size of your palm and the largest stretching to the length of your forearm. “I… I didn’t know you had guns.” The sight of them made your heart race. If you were being honest, you’d led a rather sheltered life, and had never been in the presence of so many weapons. It made you feel uneasy.

“I don’t use them. They’re only collectibles.” Johnny picked up the smallest gun, and you flinched. He glanced at you, and the look in his eyes was undetectable to you - it wasn’t offence, nor regret, but his eyes definitely glinted with something. The way he handled the gun, you weren’t sure if you bought the ‘collectibles’ line. He handled it with such ease and grace, that it almost seemed like he was born with a gun in his hand. Though it was small, compact, barely the size of your hand - and it appeared even smaller in Johnny’s palm, which dwarfed it - you found yourself stunned and shivery, thinking about the damage it was capable of. Did Johnny collect bullets, too? you found yourself wondering.

You averted your gaze, discomfort taking over, and noticed that your phone lay atop the dresser. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You weren’t sure where, exactly, you had left your phone, but you were certain you hadn’t laid it there. “Hey - my phone-”

“Oh, right,” Johnny said, placing his gun back in the drawer and closing it sharply, twisting a key which sat in the keyhole, locking it away. “Your boss called. He said you don’t have to work tomorrow. That’s great, right? You can stay the night - you don’t have to leave.”

You nodded, feeling a little sick but faking a smile anyways. “Great.” You were tired, physically and emotionally. You felt bad for even thinking it, but you wanted a break from your boyfriend. You wanted some space. He was making you feel uncomfortable, bordering on unsafe, and you found yourself craving the security you felt in Donghyuck’s room.

“Um, I’m gonna take a shower,” you conjured the excuse for an escape.

“Okay,” Johnny accepted it easily, smiling widely. He wrapped his arms around your waist, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Don’t be gone too long, alright?”

“Alright,” you nodded, breathing a sigh of relief when he released you. You would stay another night; it wasn’t worth upsetting Johnny over.

You had to admit that you felt a lot better after showering. The warm water had relaxed you, along with the familiar and comforting scent of your shampoo grounding you and bringing your emotions to a calmer, neutral level. You were standing before the bathroom mirror, applying moisturiser to your face, when you heard a click. A turn.

The broken lock.

Before you could act, Donghyuck was before you, staring at you with wide eyes. You let out a yelp, turning around, though most of your skin was hidden beneath your towel.

“Fuck, sorry! I’m so sorry! Don’t tell Johnny about this!” he blurted.

“It’s okay,” you responded, cheeks flushed. You weren’t sure Donghyuck had heard your forgiveness, however; you’d heard him dash away while your back was turned. You laugh awkwardly to yourself at the mishap, before closing the door again and making certain to twist the lock properly. It had only been a silly mistake, you reassured yourself. And he hadn’t seen anything, besides your bare shoulders, which was hardly a great reveal.

You shook your head, before drying and dressing yourself. The poor boy had been so flustered, and you had to admit it was sort of endearing.

“Nice shower?” Johnny asked when you returned to his room, lying on his bed atop the covers.

You nodded, joining him on the bed. “I feel so relaxed now.”

He pulled you close to him, kissing your lips gently. “Jaehyun’s making dinner for everyone, it’ll be ready before long.”

“That’s nice of him,” you murmured, laying your head on Johnny’s shoulder. “Poor Donghyuck, though. We had a really awkward moment in the bathroom, I don’t know if he’ll be ready to face me.”

You felt Johnny tense, his muscles going hard beneath you. “What do you mean?”

“He walked in on me showering. I don’t think he saw much, but-”

Johnny sat up abruptly, causing your head to fall back on the bed. “He fucking what?” Johnny hissed.

“Johnny, it’s fine,” you insisted. “I was wrapped in a towel-”

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Johnny cursed, standing.

“Johnny,” you spoke firmly, grabbing his arm in a tight grip. “Stop. I said he didn’t see anything.”

“I fucking hope not,” Johnny growled, sitting down once more. He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, stroking your face lightly. His hand was trembling. “You’re my angel,” he said. “I don’t want anybody else seeing you like that.”

“It won’t happen again, okay? I’m all yours, I promise.” You placed your hand on top of Johnny’s, soothing him with your touch. His temper, flaring again. This wasn’t something you liked much about Johnny, and you hadn’t been all that glad to meet this side of him. But, you bargained, nobody was perfect - you certainly weren’t. Besides, you had been ready this time; your firm tone and gentle touch had helped to calm him.

Johnny stood up, rubbing his face with both of his hands. You heard him release a shaky breath.

“Please calm down, Johnny. I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine,” he said, nodding certainly. “I’m calm.”

“Let’s go get dinner, yeah?” You stood, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Yeah,” he agreed, squeezing your hand a little too tightly.

Johnny’s rather sour mood remained all throughout dinner, as evidenced by his clenched jaw and the protective hand he laid on your thigh. His sullen demeanor made him somewhat of a bore to be around, and you found yourself laughing and joking with his friends; you’d be happy to consider Donghyuck a friend, and Mark was hilarious too. Johnny didn’t seem to like this, however. You spent the last portion of the meal in silence, quietly eating and staying close to Johnny’s side.

Even afterwards, as you watched a movie with the group, Johnny refused to relax and let go of his needless worries. Everybody was laughing at the movie, but you couldn’t help but notice that Johnny hadn’t even cracked a smile the whole time. In fact, you didn’t even think he’d been watching the movie; his eyes hardly left you, flitting between your face and your body. As though if he stopped watching you, something horrible would happen. As though he were keeping guard.

He pulled you closer towards him, though there was very little space between the two of you on the couch beforehand. His lips connected with your cheek, before straying down towards your neck. You felt your skin heat up in embarrassment, although all eyes in the room were still trained on the television. Johnny wrapped his arm around your waist, using his strength to lift you onto his lap. You squeaked at the sudden action, earning inquisitive glances from Johnny’s friends, which only fuelled how flustered you were. He held your body close to his, squeezing you. His breath tickled your neck, sending shivers down your spine, before he sunk his teeth into your skin. You hoped your muffled moan went unnoticed, but your eyes were shut tightly so it was unknown to you. You squirmed in Johnny’s lap, thighs clenching together tightly.

In another show of Johnny’s strength, or perhaps just his relative power in comparison to your apparent weakness, he lifted you swiftly. The abrupt movement surprised you, and you gasped sharply.

“Y/N and I are going upstairs,” Johnny announced to the group, and you silently allowed him to guide you away.

“Because,” he continued as you two left the room, “I can take Y/N any time I want.”

“Johnny!” you scolded him, mouth agape with humiliation as his boys hollered in your wake. He ignored your cries of reprimand, scooping you up off your feet with a grin on his face.

“C’mon, baby,” he whispered, carrying you away to his bedroom. You sighed in fond exasperation, laying your head against his chest. You condemned his announcement of “I can take Y/N any time I want,” but the fact remained true that he could certainly take you then.

Monday morning. You were growing terribly bored of this big, old house in the middle of nowhere. Spending time with Johnny was nice, when he wasn’t baring his angry possessive side. Although you really liked him, you found yourself wanting some space. And so, when you woke up before Johnny, you left his sleeping form behind, pulled one of his oversized sweaters over your head, and set out to explore the enormous house that had become your confinement.

Nobody else was awake, or so it seemed when you ventured downstairs and poured yourself a glass of juice. You felt itchy, agitated. Even when you settled on the couch, the sense of calm you desired simply refused to fall over you. With an agitated sigh, you advanced throughout the house, exploring the ground floor. You had learned that all the bedrooms were on the first floor, and so you’d been wondering where one specific door led. Off the left of the hallway, aside from the kitchen and living area, and the ground floor bathroom.

The door creaked as you pushed it open, as did the floorboards when you stepped through the threshold. The room was dark, though you identified the furnishings of a study when you squinted your eyes. You moved to the far side of the room, drawing open the heavy red curtains thereby illuminating the space and releasing a cloud of dust at the same time. You waved the cloud away, choking.

There was a sturdy desk, littered with boxes full of clutter, accompanied by a rickety chair that looked like it would fall apart if you put any weight on it. You gasped a silent “wow” as you took in the wall opposite the door, lined with shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, crammed to the brim with books of every size. You approached the extensive library, examining the titles. You didn’t recognise anything, apart from a few classics, but it was still an impressive collection. You began to wonder whether one of the boys had inherited the property from an older relative - none of them seemed particularly studious or academic, at least not enough to warrant an assortment of books this great. You trailed a finger along the spines, accumulating yet more dust. The books, much like the room in its entirety, had sat untouched for a long time.

“Boo!”

You shrieked, spinning around with your arms raised in defence, only to sigh in relief and clutch your heart. “Donghyuck! You scared me!”

The boy bent in half, in stitches at the fear he’d instilled in you. “I’m sorry! I couldn’t resist!” You couldn’t help but join in with his laughter; it was just so infectious. Even minutes later, you were cackling while wiping tears away from your eyes.

“So,” Donghyuck spoke, as his laughter died down. “What are you doing in here?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, still smiling. “Just exploring, I guess.”

“I don’t think there’s anything interesting in here,” Donghyuck claimed, looking around at the books.

“Really? It seems like hidden treasure to me.” You peered upwards, at the higher shelves, before standing on your tiptoes and stretching upwards, reaching for an eye-catching book with a golden spine.

“Careful,” Donghyuck murmured, placing a hand on the small of your back to steady you as you strained.

You heard Johnny’s growl, a split second before he entered your field of vision, entering the study and shoving Donghyuck away from you.

“Johnny!” you cried, feeling helpless and out of control as he squared up to the younger man.

Donghyuck had his hands raised in surrender, looking at his friend with concern tainting his expression. “Hey, man, calm down,” he attempted to pacify Johnny.

“Stay away from Y/N,” Johnny yelled, right in Donghyuck’s face

You leapt into action, maneuvering your way in between the pair, palm flat on Johnny’s chest. “Johnny, look at me,” you commanded him firmly. There was a fire in his eyes that you didn’t recognise. It flamed, bright and angry, threatening to burn anything and everything in its path. It scared you, and you resisted strongly against the urge to cower before him.

“Come on, Y/N,” he bit, gripping your forearm tightly. Potentially tight enough to bruise.

“Come on where?” you asked, stumbling as you struggled to keep up. He tugged you out of the room and down the hall, as you tried not to trip over your own feet.

“We’re going for a walk. Put your shoes on,” he demanded, arms crossed, waiting for you to obey.

“I- Johnny- What?” you sputtered. “Can I at least go upstairs and get my coat?”

“No,” he denied flatly. You rolled your eyes, slipping into your shoes. Wasting no time, Johnny pulled you out of the house, slamming the door behind you. You followed after him, your heart pounding with a mixture of uncertainty, anxiety, and speechless anger, as he marched you out into the woods, only stopping when you reached a clearing a good distance away from the house.

“Something’s going on between you and Donghyuck,” Johnny stated with hard certainty, as though it were fact. His face was flushed red, veins prominent along his forehead. He looked at you expectantly, but you had no idea what he wanted in response.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes tiredly. You couldn’t help but yell at him. “Johnny, what are you talking about? You’re my boyfriend. I like you. But not when you act like this, Jesus Christ!”

Johnny advanced, closing the gap between you, and you flinched when he regained his grip on your arm. “You need to stay the fuck away from Donghyuck, okay?”

“This is such a huge overreaction!” You tried to struggle away from his grip, but he was far too strong, his will iron.

Johnny leaned in, impossibly even closer to your face. “I brought you here, as my baby, to show you off to all my friends,” he hissed. “And you let them get their grubby little hands on you? I thought better of you, Y/N. I thought you were fucking faithful.”

Your heart raced, pounding wildly with how badly you wanted to get away from him. You didn’t think you could forgive him for this outburst. You just wanted to leave. “You’re fucking insane,” you shouted at him.

Johnny looked disgusted at your words. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Me?” you asked incredulously, finally shrugging out of his grasp. “Me, don’t talk to you like that? Listen, Johnny, I’m not your shiny little toy you can show off to your friends. I’m a human being. And you have no right telling me who I can and can’t talk to.”

“Come here.” Johnny was looking at you, his mouth a straight line, his eyes cold.

“Why?”

“Come here,” he repeated, and you hesitantly took a step forward, afraid to disobey him when he spoke in such an angry, demanding voice. Johnny reached out, gripping you by the arm before spinning you round quickly, pulling you close to him. Your chest was pressed tightly against his back, his arm across your chest, locking you in place. You could feel his heavy, ragged breathing.

“I’m not happy, Y/N,” he jeered, whispering into your ear harshly. “You’re my angel, and you’ve upset me. Maybe you aren’t such an angel after all.” You thrashed, but his grasp on you only tightened. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Johnny, please,” you begged, your voice nothing but a hoarse whimper.

“Let me talk,” he hissed at you. “You’ve hurt me. And I need to show you - I need to hurt you back.”

“What are you- let me go!” You continued to flail in his hold, kicking out your feet but failing to do any real damage to him.

“Shh, it’ll only last a second,” he hushed you, his lips touching your ear and sending shivers down your spine. You felt him fumble behind you, and found an opportunity for escape, but it was no use. His grip on you was iron-tight, unrelenting. Johnny jabbed you in the chest, slightly to the left of your sternum, directly over your banging heart. You looked down, choking on a sob.

One of Johnny’s pistols, the so-called collectible item, was pressing into your skin.

“Right in the heart, Y/N. That’s where you hurt me.”

“Johnny, please!” you cried, struggling in vain. Tears blurred your vision, and spit flew from your mouth as you pleaded with him. “Let me go, Johnny, I’m sorry!”

“Goodnight, angel.”

You heard the gunshot before you felt it. In fact, you hardly even felt it at all. There was a bang, your ears rang, and then nothing. You collapsed, falling limp in Johnny’s arms. His angel.

139 notes · View notes

imaginesfor-thesoul · 4 years

Text

spencer reid x Hotch! daughter

PART TWO ( you can find part one here)

word count: 3.7k

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long, thank you guys so much for all the support on the first part.

:: :: ::

The board room in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI was bustling. To an unfamiliar eye, the scattered papers, photographs and maps all across the floor would indicate that a hurricane had blown through the room. Though this madness, as chaotic as it may be, was a methodical look into a profilers brain.

In the eye of the hurricane, sat (y/n). She would fidget with the rings on her fingers or tap her foot against the ground. Now two days into the investigation, the possibility that they may not find Lacy alive plagued (y/n).

Across the room, Spencer Reid was working on a geographical profile centered around the home that Amber (deceased), Lacy (missing) and (y/n) (Currently fucking terrified) shared.

“I’ve been looking over the note that the unsub left, I noticed something in the second line.” Prentiss announced. “-and don’t worry, I cared for Amber in her last moments. I took her last breath with poise and precision” She quoted.

(y/n)’s foot tapped a little harder. Unbeknownst to her, noted by a gentle eyed Spencer.

Prentiss continued, “The emphasis on care, precision and poise determines almost a sincere effort to impress and please whoever found the note. These sound like the words of a female unsub. An incredibly insecure female unsub at that.” She concluded.

The team collectively agreed with this theory and continued on.

Derek sat down at the table next to (y/n). “So, we know you’ve still got your phone on you, have you turned it on since you left?” He asked.

(y/n) shook her head “No, I haven’t just incase it’s being tapped.” Suddenly her fingernails became oh so interesting once more.

Derek nodded in understanding. “Right, okay, now listen (y/n), I know it’s going to be scary but after we give the profile and do the press conference, I’m going to need you to turn that phone back on for me, it may be our only contact with our unsub.”

This made (y/n)’s heart feel as though it were about to stop. The continual state of shock and fear that she remained in, had manifested a sense of detachment and disconnect to the whole case. This roped her right back in to the center of the case.

A quick nod was enough of answer for Derek as he shot a friendly wink her way. Getting up he said “Thanks kid, you know, you’re really doing great.” Before walking off.

Replacing Dereks absence, (y/n)’s father, SSA Aaron Hotchner took a seat next to his visibly overwhelmed daughter. “How are you holding up?” He placed a loving arm around her shoulder and pulled her in.

A quiet stream of tears slid down her cheek as she hid her face into his chest, “I’m ready to wake up now, dad.”

This killed him. A breaking father holding his broken daughter.

(y/n) held her head back up and excused herself to the restroom.

Above the hum in the room, Hotch cleared his throat, gathering everyone’s eager attention. “We are ready to present our profile. JJ, get in contact with the local PD’s and bring them all here this afternoon, we are going to need as much help as we can get.”

JJ nodded obediently and rushed out of the room straight to her office.

:: :: ::

(y/n) sat quietly and patiently as she listened to her father and his team deliver their profile. They determined that the unsub was female, insecure and incredibly manic. The impulsive nature of this unsub means that anyone in contact with her must be prepared for her erratic behavior. This behavior may present itself through violence, self harm, or fleeing.

Every mention of Lacy and Amber made her flinch. She knew what she had to do once these meetings were over, and she was terrified.

The core team filed back into the board room and (y/n) placed her phone onto the table. Morgan spoke up. “If you are right about the unsub tapping your phone, shortly after turning it on there is a large chance our unsub will try to contact you.”

“Reid!” Hotch grabbed the young genius’ attention. “Can you prep (y/n) for the call, it has to be her on the phone.”

(y/n) and Spencer sat down across from each other next to a window. Far from all the chatter. Reid looked at (y/n). And suddenly, momentarily, it was like they were back on the floor of the bullpen. Something about the two of them was magnetic, there was no longer a killer that had killed one roommate and kidnapped the other, there was no unsub, no threat of security. But for now, there was a more pressing issue hand, so this spontaneous, charismatic revelation of love and soul would have to be pushed to the side. Though a silent mutual understanding had been made next to that window. That was for later.

Clearing his throat, Reid began. “Right, I’ll go over the basics for you.” He was being overly professional. Not only does he have FBI guidelines to follow, but also this gorgeous, incredible young woman’s father right across the room. Suppressing every urge in his being, he continued.

(y/n) listened with wide eyes, panic blowing on the back of her neck.

“You need to keep the unsub on the phone for as long as you can, okay? Garcia will be tracking where the call is coming from, but the more time she has the better.” Reid hesitated when he saw (y/n)’s hand begin to tremble. All he want to do was place her small hand in his, look her in the eye and assure her that everything will be okay. But he couldn’t. He cleared his throat “Um okay also, don’t let the conversation get off topic, we want as many hints as to where Lacy could be, her…condition-”

A glaze glimmered across (y/n)’s eyes. The saddest glimmer the young profiler had ever seen. Reid could see she was trying to hold it together.

“We’ll all be here with you. Your father, Rossi, all of us.” (y/n) nodded, a lone tear escaping her.

Instinctively, Reid’s hand lay gently on top of her own. He gave in to yearning. The second (y/n) and Reid finally connected, a new star found its way into the sky. A rosebud bloomed and all the birds sang.

“I’ll be there.” He concluded.

(y/n)’s heart was fighting its way out of her chest. “Okay…” She began. “I can do this, we can do this.”

Reid nodded.

“For Lacy.”

“(y/n), Reid. We’re all set up. Ready when you are.” Garcia announced from across the room.

Reid quickly detracted his hand, (y/n) instantly felt a sense of loss and longing for its return.

Taking a deep breath, (y/n) responded back with a (hopefully) confident sounded “I’m ready.”

She sharply stood up and found her way over to the large table where the rest of the team had already crowded around. A speaker sat in the center, as well as veins of wires spreading between all sorts of machinery.

Taking a seat next to her father, she felt his hand make its way to her shoulder.

“You’ve got this, (y/n). I’m right here next to you. She can’t hurt you from here.” Hotch told his shaking daughter. She leaned into his hand before sitting back up straight.

“Okay… turn it on.”

Garcia reached across the table grabbing the phone. Holding down the power button, the screen began to light up. The room got silent.

36 seconds.

36 seconds of sheer panic.

36 seconds of pure silence.

36 seconds and (y/n) and Spencer Reid’s eyes did not leave one and others.

The hum of a ringtone slices through the silence. The tension cut short.

“Show time.” Rossi says quietly, shooting (y/n) a look of encouragement.

(y/n) looks to her father one last time before grabbing the phone. “Hello?” She asks. Struggling to hear anything past the bulldozing beat of her screaming heart.

Garcia connects the phone to the speaker so everyone could hear.

There was a low trill which was slowly getting louder. a laugh. not a maniacal laugh. more like a hysterical, painful, uncontrollable roar.

All eyes across the table dart to one and other, not entirely sure of how to proceed.

The laughing finally ceases. “It’s good to hear from you, (y/n). I’ve missed you.” The woman drawls.

A shiver ran down her spine. “Do you have Lacy?” (y/n) ignored the tremble in her voice, using all of her power to not burst into tears.

The woman on the phone chuckled once more. “You mean the bitch that won’t stop whining and screaming?! I’m surprised you can’t hear her.”

Prentiss nodded and whispered in a hushed tone “This is a good sign Lacy’s still alive.”

Morgan leaned over to Garcia. “You got it, baby girl?” He asked

“Just need a little longer to work my magic” Garcia responded.

“C-can i talk to her?” (y/n) asked.

Spencer looks to her worryingly. As if trying to warn her, she may not like what she hears.

There was a slight pause, the static on the line held steady.

“I think that’s going to have to be a no.” The woman on the phone decided. “Bye now, (y/n) See you soon.” She said

Before (y/n) could even process, the line goes dead. She instantly looks to Garcia. “We’ve got a location!” She announces

A big sigh of relief falls over the table.

Hotch stands quickly, grabbing his jacket. “Right, let’s head out.”

:: :: ::

Crammed in the SUV, Hotch and (y/n) took the front two seats, with Hotch driving. Spencer and Rossi took the back two seats, and the others traveled in a operate vehicle.

“So we can definitely determine that you have come in contact with this unsub before, or at least she has come in contact with you.” Spencer piped up while Hotch weaved through traffic.

“Did you recognize their voice?”Rossi asks (y/n).

(y/n) was once again fiddling with the rings on her fingers, “Uh…no, I don’t think I did.” The entire car ride her thoughts felt like the static on the other end of that phone call. She couldn’t think of any thing other than Lacy. Hoping, pleading that she would be okay.

A petit blue house at the end of a road was surrounded by flashing sirens and yellow tape. This was it. (y/n) thought. They were getting Lacy back.

Hopping out of the van, (y/n) was instantly fitted with a bulletproof vest. Her father, also wearing a vest, made his way towards her. “Listen, there’s a chance that we’re going to need you in there. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t come to that. But I need you to be ready… just in case, okay?” Hotch looked at his daughter, the pair both had matching vests and matching teary eyes.

Not letting any tears spill, (y/n) nodded harshly. “Okay, I just can’t wait for this to be over.”

Hotchner sighed and agreed. “Me too kid-“ Placing his hands on her shoulders, he continued “We’ve got to go in now. I love you, (y/n). Always.” He pulled her into a welcome bone-crushing hug.

“I love you too, Dad.” She whispered, before letting go, and watching her dad, Prentiss and Morgan file into the old house, after kicking down the door of course.

Looking to her left, (y/n) noticed the doe-eyed genius had stayed behind. “Aren’t you supposed to be in there too?” She inquired. Not really caring about the answer, more just trying to distract from the deafening static that comes with a side of panic and trauma.

Reid smiled slightly. “Oh I asked to stay behind with you. Just so…you know, in case you do need to go in, you don’t have to be by yourself.”

This was the first time (y/n) had seen Spencer less than 100% sure of what he was saying. But she couldn’t help but admit the relief and gratitude she felt after hearing this.

Looking him in the eyes, that familiar magnetism returned. “Thank you.”

:: :: ::

Almost 6 minutes had gone by, and (y/n) was getting nervous.

“What do you think is taking them so long?” (y/n) asked Spencer.

Just as he was about to respond, both radios attached to their vests began to sound. Amidst the harmony of static and beeping, the pair could make out Prentiss’ voice saying. “Bring (y/n) in. I repeat, bring (y/n) in. Slowly.”

(y/n)’s heart sunk. “Fuck.” Was all that she could muster up.

Instinctively, Spencer reached for (y/n)’s hand once more, this time with no plan of letting go. “Hey, it’s okay (y/n). I’ll be right here with you.”

Following his lead, (y/n) could barely feel her legs. Entering the building, she quickly assessed the room. To her left, Morgan and Prentiss had their guns drawn, following their aim, she saw the back of a blonde woman’s head, she was scrabbling around screeching, fighting (y/n)’s father. Through the shock and haze, (y/n) couldn’t really process what was going on entirely. Looking even more to the right, she noticed Lacy, strapped to a chair, with a gag made of cloth surpassing whatever she was trying to say.

This was what it took to break (y/n) out of the daze. Making eye contacted with her missing, presumed dead roommate after days of worrying created a wave of emotion to crash through her. Sobbing, she screamed out “LACY!” Slipping out of Reid’s grasp and running towards her helpless friend.

The commotion between Hotch and the blonde woman halted, “(y/n)! It is just wonderful to see you again.” The familiar voiced drawled.

(y/n) looked towards the woman, instantly noting the large blade dangling between her thumb and finger. Finally, (y/n) made eye contact with the woman. The woman who killed amber. The woman who kidnapped and tortured Lacy. The woman who looked a bit too familiar.

“Sylvia.” (y/n) finally matched a name to that devious smile.

Sylvia chuckled. “Oh, so you DO remember me.”

Of course she did. Sylvia was (y/n)’s old neighbor. A few weeks after moving in, (y/n) had met Sylvia one evening when they both arrived home at the same time. After some introductory small talk, (y/n) was invited in, though she didn’t want to be rude, she had already had such a long day at work and was ready to go to bed. Politely declining, in the following weeks she would see Sylvia every day. It seemed no matter what time (y/n) would come home, Sylvia would be there too. It was then things started to take a turn. Frequently, (y/n)’s power would go out, she’d awake to find her front door was wide open or that a faucet had been left on. She didn’t stay in that apartment for very long.

(y/n) quite literally hadn’t a tear left to shed. “Why are you doing this?” .

Lessening the grip on the blade, Sylvia became once again fixated on (y/n). (y/n) held her gaze, knowing what she was doing.

“All…all I’ve wanted from you, was a friend. I offered you tea. I tried to hang out with you. And what did you do?? YOU TURNED AROUND AND MOVED ACROSS TOWN WITH THOSE TWO BITCHES.” She was screaming now.

Noting the vulnerability. Spencer took the opportunity to kick the blade out of Sylvia’s hand.

“GO!” (y/n) cried as her father roughly grabbed Sylvia’s arms and forced them behind her back. “Don’t you ever even THINK about hurting my daughter ever again.” He threatened, venom spilling from his lips.

Walking her out of the door. (y/n) rushed over to Lacy, along side Prentiss and Reid. Spencer unbound her hands while Prentiss and (y/n) worked on untying the gag. The moment she was released she threw her arms over (y/n) in a roaring sob of relief.

“Oh god, oh god. Thank you.” Lacy cried.

:: :: ::

The paramedics came in to take Lacy away to the hospital. Because of her fragility mentally and physically, no visitors were allowed to go with her for the time being.

Before they knew it, the case was over. It had never felt real.

Back in that SUV with her father, Spencer and Rossi, (y/n) couldn’t help but smile. Lacy was okay.

It was a longer drive back, there was no need to rush. The sun was setting. The highway lines glowed against the purple sky. An orange halo fell onto all of them. Glancing up into the rearview mirror, (y/n) caught Spencer’s eye. He smiled towards her. Her chest fluttered. That was a quiet drive, but none of them seemed to mind.

:: :: ::

FOUR MONTHS LATER

It took about a week and a half for (y/n) to finish moving and unpacking all of the boxes in her new apartment. Though she had garnered some help from her father and Rossi.

On a warm summer Friday, (y/n) had decided to invite the BAU team over for a house-warming dinner party. Of course, her cooking would not be as excellent as Rossi’s homemade Italian cuisine she had come to know and love. Since Sylvia, Hotchner had been a lot more open about bringing (y/n) into the office. She had formed quite a bond with the team members, specifically a certain cardiganned doe eyed genius.

It was 5PM now, 1 hour until she told everyone to come. (y/n) wore sweats as she attempted to makeup her face a little. It was then that the doorbell rang. Jumping up, (y/n) only assumed that it was her father. He was always way too early. Opening the door, she was shocked to see Spencer standing there.

“Oh! Hey Spence.” She invited him in, instantly becoming overly aware of what she was wearing, how she was standing and only having one eyebrow done. Being so fixated on this, she didn’t recognize the unusual nervousness Reid was exhibiting. He rocked back on forth on his feet, not being able to find the right words.

“Hey, uh, sorry I’m so early. I just wanted to talk to you about something real quick before everyone else got here.” He managed to stumble out.

(y/n) nodded for him to continue, feeling slightly worried.

“Do you remember when we first met? On the floor of the bullpen at the BAU?” He posed, somewhat out of nowhere.

(y/n) smiled fondly. “Of course I do, silly.”

“Well,” Reid started up again. “Ever since that morning, I have never been the same.” He stopped abruptly, checking in with (y/n), making sure he wasn’t scaring her.

(y/n)’s heart skipped a beat, “Go on…” She prompted.

“It’s just that, every time I look at you, my brain slows down. All I can think about is you. I don’t even have to be in the same room as you, but If I think of you, which I do often, you’re all I can focus on. At first I thought there was something wrong with me, but then, I realized that this wasn’t a bad thing.”

A small smile found it’s way to (y/n)’s face. Hopefully she was correct about the direction that this was going.

“You see, (y/n), I WANT to only think about you, because when I do, I feel as though the sun is dancing all around me. When we look at each other, It feels like magic. Like the world was made for us to be in the same room. Please, tell me you feel it too.” Reid’s ramblings pause.

Sighing, (y/n) takes a step closer to him. “Well it’s about time you said something. I was worried it was just me.” Her smile widened as did his.

“Thank god.” Spencer quickly muttered, and before she knew it his large hands were on the sides of her face slipping into her hair. The moment their lips connected it were as if lightening had escaped from within them. It was electrifying.

(y/n) and Spencer made their way onto the couch as their hands gripped all over each other.

An electrical storm of love and soul consumed them. Breaking apart only to catch their breath.

Suddenly a loud chime made it’s way from the door. (y/n) shot up straight. “Shit what time is it??”.

Spencer glanced at his watch. “5:58” He reported.

Getting up, she whispered just incase whoever was behind the door had recently acquired super hearing. “Can you get the door? I have to finish getting ready. Also, you should probably fix your hair so you don’t look like we just made out for 40 minutes.” With a wink she left the young agent with a passionate kiss before running off to her room.

Frantically completing her other eyebrow and applying lip gloss, (y/n) slipped on a new sundress. Past the door she could hear a couple of familiar voices. Taking a breath she smoothed out her dress and opened the door.

In her living room, she found a JJ, Garcia, Morgan and her father. While the girls complimented her look, she gave her dad a quick hug as they waited for the rest of the team to arrive.

Emerging from the kitchen with two glasses of water, was an awestruck Reid. He not-so-subtly looked her up and down before shortly clearing his throat and handing her a glass.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think boy wonder had a crush.” Morgan chuckled. Almost everyone found this amusing. However, Hotch’s face didn’t show even a glimmer of amusement.

Brushing it off swiftly, (y/n) and Spencer subconsciously stood a little farther apart than normal.

The night continued on as the rest of the team showed up. At this point, everyone was at the very least a little bit drunk. Some more than others (Prentiss went hard).

While everyone was laughing huddled around the loud kitchen, Spencer took this opportunity to lean and whisper to (y/n). “I like the lipstick.”

(y/n) blushed, something she wasn’t quite used to the feeling of. “It’s a good thing you interrupted me before I had the chance to put it on, otherwise your face may be stained right about now.”

He jokingly rolled his eyes at her as they seamlessly rejoin the conversation.

At the dinner table, the riotous chatter continued, and somewhere, at some point, Spencer and (y/n)’s hands had found their way into each others. Out of sight from everyone else, however nothing else was on their minds.

:: :: :: FIN!!

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684 notes · View notes

floral-and-fine · 3 years

Text

Curious Misfortune part 1

Modern AU

Sandor Clegane x female reader

Warnings: part with guys acting like jerks/creeps

Summary: During the holiday season, the reader finds herself in a small town after she breaks up with her boyfriend.

A/n: The whole inspiration for me starting this fic is the idea of Sandor in flannel. Thank you @luna-xial @ewokiee and @liamakorn for the help

“Damn,” you muttered to yourself, as you passed another sign on the highway. None of the small town names looked familiar, and it was far too dark out for you to recognize any landmarks.

You clutched the wheel tightly, angry, and upset over the whole situation you found yourself in. Your damn phone didn’t get any reception out here, wherever you were, and you were hungry, tired, but mostly pissed.

In fact, you wouldn’t have been driving at all tonight on this unfamiliar highway if it hadn’t been for your now ex-boyfriend.

You had come out all this way to spend a nice Thanksgiving with his family, but when you and him arrived, his family had been nothing but rude to you. They nitpicked about everything, your outfit, your job, your education, nothing was good enough for them.

You had hoped that Jaime would’ve done something about it, stick up for you, defend you, however, he pretended not to notice. When you finally couldn’t take it any longer, and you brought it up to him, he acted like an ass and tried to convince you that you were overreacting.

God, you wanted to smack him across the face. You really were better off without him.

You groaned as you glanced at the time, you should be somewhere warm right now, eating pumpkin pie covered with whip cream, but instead, you were...lost, most likely.

Yet to be perfectly honest with yourself, you weren’t in a rush to get back home, because being there meant you’d have to face the aftermath of your failed relationship. Who would move out? Who gets to keep what? If only it could all resolve itself on its own.

You passed a sign, this one indicating that the next town was a mile away. You really ought to stop somewhere, get something to eat at least, that is if anything was still open, it was a holiday after all.

Taking the exit, it led you to a small community, a simple kind of place with small homes and just the basics. As you drove down the main road, you noted that most of the businesses including small diners and restaurants were closed.

It figured the best you could probably do now would be to get a bag of chips or something from the gas station. Just as you were about to give up your search, the blinking red light of an open sign caught your attention. The establishment was just some local bar with just a couple of beat-up old trucks parked out front.

As you got out of your car, you hoped they served food, or at least something besides peanuts, noticing that you were hungrier than you had originally thought.

Opening the door, the few patrons inside turned their heads. You could tell they weren’t used to unfamiliar faces stopping by. There were only a handful of people, a small group of guys by the pool table, a large man in a flannel shirt at the bar, and an old bartender.

You smiled shyly as they watched you walk up to the bar, finally returning to whatever they were doing before once you sat down.

You sat on a stool that was a couple of seats away from the stranger, he didn’t seem to want any company or make any small talk.

“What can I get ya?” The bartender asked, approaching you.

“Are you still serving food?” You asked hopefully.

“Yep,” he nodded, reaching down and then handing you a menu.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” you said practically giddy. Quickly, you looked over the options and gave him your order.

As you waited for your food, your eyes wandered over to the man at the other end of the bar. He had dark brown hair and a thick beard, even with him sitting you could tell he was easily over 6’. He sat there quietly, eyes focused on the TV above as he drank his beer. There was something about his posture and intense gaze on the screen that made you feel as though he was avoiding turning his head to look at you.

As you wondered why you almost jumped out of your seat when the bartender placed a plate in front of you. You grinned looking at the spread, before picking up your fork and digging in.

Distracted by the food, you didn’t notice the man taking a quick glance in your direction. He’d never say anything out loud, but you were rather pretty and awfully sweet it seemed.

He couldn’t help but overhear you tell the bartender all about your woes. You talked about your damn ex and his stuck up family and how you had no idea where the hell you were.

Seems like your Thanksgiving was worse than his.

Just as you were about halfway through a slice of pie, the group of boys by the pool table were starting to get rowdy. They were so drunk that they were practically spilling beer on each other and the floor and yelling about stupid bullshit.

The man tsked, annoyed with their behavior, as you tried your best to ignore them and focused on finishing your pie.

“Alright fellas,” the bartender started. “I’m cutting you all off for tonight.”

“C'mon old man,” one of the guys started, most likely the leader of the group. “We’re just having some fun.”

It was obvious they were all looking for trouble, from the smirks on their faces to the way they were holding the pool cues. They slowly closed in on you and the bartender like prey.

“I ain’t gonna repeat myself,” my bartender stuttered. “Get out.”

“Why don’t you make us,“ the leader sneered looking down at the old bartender.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat as they crowded around you. Clasping your hands on top of your lap, you looked down anxious over what might unfold. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as one of the boys gazed at you like a piece of meat.

“Hey,” he whispered, leaning in so close, that you could feel his breath on the side of your face. “That pie looks pretty sweet,” he purred before he swiped some whipped cream off your plate and licked his finger.

You clenched your eyes shut, feeling sick to your stomach, as he then proceeded to touch your hair.

However it didn’t last long, the man at the end of the bar roughly yanked the boy away from you and practically threw him across the room, before addressing the group.

“Listen you little fucks, unless you’d like me to drag each one of ya out by your hair, you better fuck off,” he snarled.

Swallowing thickly, they scurried to exit, looking absolutely terrified.

You took a few deep breaths to calm your nerves and opened your eyes, quickly wiping away a couple of tears.

Turning around, you looked over to the stranger to thank him, but your mouth hung open for a moment as you noticed the burn scars on the side of his face. They were all over his cheek, forehead, and part of his jaw.

Immediately, he turned away, taking his wallet from his back pocket and leaving some cash on the counter.

The bartender shook his head, grabbing the money and handing it back to the man, “Keep it, Sandor, it’s the least I can do.”

“It was nothing,” Sandor replied, heading towards the door.

Quickly, you got up from your seat and made your way over to him, you couldn’t let him leave without thanking him properly.

Gently you reached out grabbing his hand to stop him. “Thank you,” you said, giving his hand a light squeeze.

He glanced down at you, keeping the scarred side of his turned away from you. “Don’t worry about it.”

You shook your head and smiled up at him, “I was really freaked out, I’m glad you intervened.”

Sandor flushed a little under your gaze, making you smile more. He really seemed like a sweet man underneath it all, maybe a little rough around the edges, but still sweet.

Standing on your tiptoes, you kissed his cheek. “Good night.”

“Night,” he mumbled, the blush on his cheeks had now spread to his ears.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and took out his keys, giving you a nod before pushing the door open. Sandor paused letting out an exasperated sigh when he saw the condition of your car outside.

“Those fucking cunts,” he muttered under his breath. They had smashed the windshields, busted the headlights, and slashed all the tires.

“Girl,” he started, turning back around and looking at you.

“Yes?”

He rubbed the back of his head, “looks like you won’t be getting anywhere tonight.”

“What?” You squeezed past Sandor to get a good look. Your eyes went wide over the state of your car. This fucking day had to have been the worst one in your entire life. Not being able to hold back any longer, you started to cry.

Sandor stood there awkwardly, watching as sobbed into your hands.

It was getting late now, almost midnight, the bar would be closing soon, and he already knew none of the local mechanics were open.

“C’mon, I’ll give you a ride,” he said, placing a large hand on the small of your back. “We’ll get this all figured out in the morning.”

You peeked up at him, lowering your hands slightly. “What?” You hiccuped.

“You can stay at a motel for the night,” he explained. Sandor wouldn’t blame you if you said no, figured you might be cautious accepting a ride from him, but the least he could do was offer. He wasn’t sure what other options you had.

Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you nodded, “Alright, thank you.”

“My trucks this way,” he said, guiding you towards it with his hand still on your back.

“Oh,” you perked up. “I need to grab my bag.”

You grimaced looking at the state of your car up close. Those jerks, hopefully, your insurance would cover the damage.

Popping open the trunk, your face fell when you found it empty. In your rush to leave that dreadful house, you must have left your luggage with your ex and his horrible family.

“Fuck,” you huffed, startling Sandor.

He watched in amusement as you stomped around yelling, cursing up a storm, and waving your arms around. You even kicked your car a few times.

Finally, getting it all out of your system, your attention turned to him. “Could we please stop at a convenience store or something on the way,” you said in a defeated voice.

“Get in the truck,” he nodded, opening the passenger side door.

The drive was a quiet one, giving you a chance to admire the small town’s charm. Besides the assholes from the bar, it seemed like a decent place. You were fortunate that Sandor was around to help you, who knows how this night may have unfolded without him.

“Sandor,” you started, curiosity getting the best of you. “Why aren’t you with your family for Thanksgiving?”

His eyes stayed focused on the road ahead as he answered you dryly. “Don’t really have one. I’ve got a brother but I’d rather eat shit than spend a minute with him.”

“I see,” you muttered. “I’m not close to mine either.”

He pulled up in front of a small store, the sign indicating it was 24 hours.

You were pleasantly surprised that Sandor joined you inside to shop, he followed behind you as you browsed, his hands tucked into his pockets as shuffled along. You told him that he could’ve waited in the truck, but he shook his head, muttering that it was fine.

It didn't take long, you only needed a few things to get you through until tomorrow, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant.

You placed the shopping basket on the counter, the cashier gave you a polite smile, but it faded when she noticed Sandor standing beside you. She intentionally avoided making any eye contact with him.

Before you could get your wallet out from your purse, Sandor had already handed the cashier some cash. Before you could protest, he grabbed the plastic bags and headed for the exit.

“I appreciate it, but you didn’t have to do that,” you said, once both of you were back in the truck.

“Don’t worry about it, you’ve had a rough day,” Sandor interjected.

As he drove, you took a moment to admire him like you had done back at the bar. He was an intense person to be around, but what caught you off guard the most was his thoughtful and considerate behavior.

Arriving at the motel, Sandor sighed, “I know it doesn’t look like the nicest place, but the staff are decent people.”

You smiled, “Thank you again, tonight probably would’ve been a lot worse without you.”

As you were climbing out of the truck, Sandor stopped you.

“Here,” he grabbed something from the back and thrust it at you. “You can wear that instead of having to sleep in your dress.”

You looked at the flannel shirt in your hands, your eyes crinkling as you grinned, “Good night, Sandor.”

He nodded, “I’ll be back in the morning.”

He watched from the truck as you went into the lobby, wanting to be sure everything was alright before putting the truck in reverse and leaving.

#got fanfic #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #got fanfiction #sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane fanfic #reader insert #Female reader #modern au #the hound #the hound x reader

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alj4890 · 3 years

Text

Delicate

(Ethan Ramsey x Olivia Nevarkis) (Olivia Nevarkis x Drake Walker) in a Choices The Royal Romance/Open Heart Crackship Series

A/N It's Thanksgiving and Drake just happens to be in America. Seems perfect to drop in and see Olivia. Let's just say that it doesn't go at all like he hoped.

@jooous @krsnlove @nomadics-stuff @twinkleallnight @motorcitymademadame

Masterlist

Part 4

Olivia's Apartment, Boston...

"I suppose you have a very good reason for calling me this early." Olivia mumbled.

Ethan's chuckle brought a sleepy smile to her lips.

"How would you like to spend Thanksgiving at my place?"

"You'll be working." She reminded him.

"True." She could hear him shuffling papers around. "But we could have a late dinner. I'll also be off Friday and Saturday."

She rolled over in bed while keeping him waiting for an answer. "I might like that."

"Might?"

"Well, you didn't tell me who was cooking?"

"I see." Ethan readjusted his phone. "Would it entice you more to know I'm willing to do the cooking."

"I think it would." She laughed at his groan. "When should I come over?"

"Tonight." He replied. "That way you will already be there Thanksgiving morning."

"Then I better finish sleeping."

"You're right." His voice deepened. "I intend to keep you up late."

"Can't wait." She said softly.

She ended the call and rolled over with a deep sigh. She couldn't remember a time in her life that was anything like this. Her happiness was so new.

So unexpected.

Everything was moving perfectly. Her research hospital was being constructed. She had already hired a number of physicians that held credentials that would make any medical college weep over. And personally speaking, her love life wasn't too shabby.

No, it's perfect.

Ethan pursued her. He never stopped trying to impress her. Just like now with wanting her to be with him for his holiday. He made plans with her in mind, plans to learn all he could about her while sharing pieces of himself in the process.

Olivia knew she had dropped every barrier she had kept up to protect herself. Perhaps the only reason it didn't bother her was because, he too had left himself vulnerable before her.

For the first time, she could fully understand why her friends had done so in their own lives. It was a heady feeling, this power over someone. Knowing you could either make them happy or send them into the depths of sadness was both thrilling and a bit terrifying.

Olivia had given him that power over herself.

She justified her willingness by the type of man Ethan was. He was loyal to a fault. He was intelligent. Dedicated to whatever was important in his life. He never held back on what he was passionate about.

She shared so many of those qualities and understood the driving force behind them.

Perhaps that was why he didn't mind leaving himself open to her.

Perhaps, Ethan was truly the only man for her.

Do I love him? She wondered. Being so unfamiliar with the emotion, she thought of how much she wanted to be with him. The still unexpected joy she felt from his calls and seeing him. The longing for him when they were apart. She had even caught herself grinning like she had seen her friends do whenever they were daydreaming about their love.

Even if it was love, could she admit it? And if she did admit it and he admitted it too...what happens next?

She rolled onto her stomach and buried her face into her pillow. She detested unanswered questions and hated herself for even thinking of them.

Determined to push them to the back of her mind, she closed her eyes and dreamed of Ethan.

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

Outside Nadia Park's Apartment, New York City...

"You sure you're okay driving by yourself?" Maxwell asked. "You know my pilot will take you wherever you want."

Drake finished placing his luggage in the back of the Jeep Grand Cherokee he had rented. "I would rather drive." He shut the back. "Thanks though."

"It's a long way to Texas." Maxwell reminded him. "You sure you'll make it in time?"

"Mom plans on us celebrating this weekend instead of tomorrow." Drake explained. "Savannah and Bertrand can't get there until Friday. Something about Bartie's preschool pageant thing."

Maxwell hit his head with the palm of his hand. "I forgot all about his performance! He had wanted me to see his dance moves."

"Don't worry. Savannah is filming every bit of it."

Maxwell eyed him when he seemed to hesitant to leave.

"You," Drake cleared his throat, "You think I should stop by and check on Liv? On the way down there?"

"You could." Maxwell replied. "Have you talked to her since we were last here?"

Drake shook his head. "I'm not really a phone guy."

Maxwell slowly nodded. "True." He tried to think of a legitimate reason for Drake to see her to help his pride. "I took some photos the other day of the research hospital's construction progress for my next book. You could show them to Olivia."

Drake perked up as Maxwell scrolled through his images on his phone, picking the best to send to him.

"She'll love seeing that." Maxwell added.

"Yeah, she will." Drake muttered. He rubbed the back if his neck. "Listen, thanks for uh, for helping me with this. And for not making me talk about it all the time."

Maxwell briefly grinned and slapped a hand on Drake's shoulder. "That's what friends are for."

"I know." Drake nodded. "See you Tuesday."

"Have a safe trip." Maxwell waved in goodbye.

He stood out there until the jeep disappeared around the corner.

"Good luck, Drake." He mumbled.

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

Olivia's Apartment, Boston...

"Should I cook something?" Olivia frowned at her nearly bare cabinets while talking on the phone. "What do people usually eat for this holiday?"

"I might not be the person to ask this to." Amanda responded. "Thomas usually doesn't want the typical Thanksgiving fare."

"I would call Riley but Hana told me Liam was surprising her with a trip back to the island this weekend." Olivia muttered.

"A second honeymoon so soon?" Amanda laughed. "I think we might be hearing news of a new heir to the throne this holiday season."

A soft smile formed on Olivia's lips at the thought. "I didn't think of that."

"As for if you should cook something, you can never go wrong with a dessert." Amanda added. "Something you could enjoy together."

Olivia turned around in alarm when she heard a knock at her door.

"Amanda, you are still in California, aren't you?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because only you and Ethan come to my apartment." Slipping a dagger into the sleeve of her sweater, she ended the call and cautiously opened her door.

Drake's hand was halfway up to knock once more.

The two simply stared in surprise at one another.

Olivia's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"

She relaxed her grip on the dagger.

"I, uh..." He glanced about. "I was driving to my mom's and thought I would stop along the way and um..." He dug into his pocket and handed his phone over. "Show you the progress on the hospital."

Her suspicious expression smoothed out into one of excited interest as she began to scroll through the images. Stepping back, she silently motioned him to come in with the blade of her dagger.

A relieved smirk formed on his lips as he followed her inside.

"These look incredible." She sat down while admiring photographs of labs and operating rooms. "Ethan and Naveen will be so pleased."

Drake sat down across from her. "Have you finished finding the right doctors for it?"

"For the most part." She replied. "Naveen suggested we hold off on some until we see what is needed most, specialist wise."

"Ah." Drake tapped his fingers against his leg while trying to think of something else to talk about.

"So..." He muttered.

Olivia quirked an eyebrow at him.

"How are...how are things?"

"Things?" She repeated.

"Yeah, how er," he wondered why he was so nervous, "how are they?"

"Fine." She eyed him curiously. "How are things with you?"

"Good." He cleared his throat. "I mean, good that things are fine."

"So things aren't good for you?"

"Yes. I mean, no." He grit his teeth. "Things are great for me."

"I see." Olivia handed his phone back to him. "Well, thanks for stopping by and showing me these. You should probably get back on the road. I assume it is a long way from here to wherever your family is."

"Texas." He reminded her. "You went there for Savannah's wedding."

She narrowed her eyes again. "I've been there one time. Don't expect me to remember every farm I have seen."

Drake felt his own temper spike. "It’s a ranch."

She flicked her fingers dismissively. "Whatever. Shouldn't you go to Texas before Thanksgiving is over?"

"I don't have to be there until this weekend." He explained. "What are you doing for this American holiday?"

"I'll be spending it with Ethan."

His smirk slowly disappeared. "I see. And are you and the good doctor having a traditional turkey dinner with all the trimmings?"

Her eyes were now mere slits. "I believe so. He's cooking for me."

"He would." Drake muttered. "Are you showing that you too can be a little sunshine filled homemaker?"

"A sunshine filled..." She trailed off, refusing to allow him to ruin this for her. She had never had a man invite her to spend the holidays together. "Actually," her smile held a touch of evil, "I was just about to leave to get the ingredients I need to do so."

"You are?" He snorted. "I've never known you to cook."

"You never knew me outside of the bedroom." She snapped. "I can do many things, Walker."

His jaw dropped for a moment over her bluntness. "Like what?"

"None of your business." She got to her feet. "It was great seeing you. Let's not hurry to do so again."

Drake stood up. "I'll drive you to the store."

"That isn't necessary."

"I see what is going on. You're scared of my driving."

"Please. I'm not scared of anything you do."

"Then you'll let me to drive you to the store." Drake replied.

"Fine." She put her coat on and grabbed her purse. "Anything to get you to hurry on your way."

"But I'm not in a hurry." He needled.

"Nobody cares!" She griped.

"You must," he snickered, "you've brought up my travel plans more than I have."

She jerked the passenger side door open and slid in. “I forgot how annoying you are."

"I forgot how easy it is to irritate you." He countered.

She folded her arms and motioned with her chin for him to get going.

A proud smile flirted across his lips as he followed her directions.

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

"So...what is the duchess making?" Drake pushed a grocery cart through a crowded store.

"Dessert." She ground out.

"What kind? Pie? Cake?" He scanned the aisles for the baking one. "Some kind of health thing since it's for good old Ramsey?"

"I don't know!" She snapped. "I've been trying to decide but some idiot keeps talking!'

"Funny, I didn't know Maxwell was here too." Drake made a show of looking around.

Olivia briefly closed her eyes before exploring recipes for a dessert Ethan might enjoy.

"Pumpkin pie."

"What?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Pumpkin pie is what you should make." He shrugged. "It is the traditional Thanksgiving dessert."

"I don't like pumpkin." Olivia bit out.

"Since when?"

"Since forever."

He narrowed his eyes. "I didn't know that."

"Why would you?" She griped. "It wasn't like we ever ate a meal together."

His frown firmed. "Does Ramsey know you hate pumpkin?"

"Yes." Her chin lifted proudly. "He makes a point of never ordering me pumpkin spiced anything."

"He knows one thing about you." Drake grumbled.

She shot him a murderous glare before gathering items to make an apple pie.

"Feeling homesick?" Drake asked.

"No." She searched for cinnamon. "Why?"

"Did you forget your country is obsessed with a certain fruit?"

She rolled her eyes.

"When's the last time you baked a pie?" He followed her down the aisle. "Was it for the Apple Queen trials?"

Her shoulders stiffened. "I've baked since then."

"Really?" Drake's eyes settled on her profile when she paused to examine different flours.

She cut her eyes to him. "You really think I'm like all the other nobles don't you?"

"Good Lord, no." He chuckled. "No one at court acts like you."

A reluctant smile appeared on her face. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should." He grinned at her. "That's one of the things I like most about you. You were never one of them."

She shrugged while setting a bag of sugar in the basket. "I never saw a reason to act like them."

"It's a shame more aren't like you."

"Ha." She rolled her eyes. "If they were, you would not only be miserable but probably suffering from multiple stab wounds."

"I'm serious." Drake took the bag of flour from her.

Their fingers grazed one another's.

He felt a jolt of disappointment that she was not affected by their touch.

"Most of them could learn a lot from you." His lips firmed into a half smile. "That's one of the reasons I wish you would hurry up and come back home."

Olivia's eyebrow lifted. "You have other reasons for wanting me back in Cordonia?"

"I do."

"And they are?"

"A grocery store aisle isn't really the place to discuss them."

Her eyes narrowed in concern "Is it security?" She lowered her voice and checked to make certain no one was really paying attention to them. "Is someone after Liam and Riley again?"

"No, I didn't mean--" he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Liv, I meant that I miss you."

She snorted on a surprised laugh. "You? You miss me?" She walked off toward the produce section, still shaking her head. "That's hilarious."

He gripped the grocery cart as he followed after her. "Yeah, who would've thought it possible?"

She began to pick through the apples. "Not me or anyone we know."

"Maxwell knows."

She stilled.

"What?"

"Maxwell knows or knew about us. He figured it out whenever he noticed us sneak out." He muttered.

Angry spots of color appeared on Olivia's cheeks. "And you went ahead and told him he was right in his suspicion?"

"I didn't have to." He snapped. "He knew by how I acted after you left."

"How you acted?" She glared at him. "Are you that hard up to find someone to meet your needs?"

"Stop talking about it like that!" He exclaimed. "It wasn't just--"

"Yes, it was exactly that!" The apple in her hand began to drip juice from how hard she was squeezing it. "That was all you wanted. It was all I wanted in the beginning!" Her eyes held his. "We got together because we couldn't be with the ones we thought we were in love with."

Drake staggered back. "That's not--I never--"

"Oh please." She tossed the apple back with the others. "I saw it throughout the entire engagement tour. You wanted Riley just like I wanted Liam to choose me."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't use you to--"

"You did." Olivia's tone eased into a more matter of fact level. "And I allowed it because I was doing the same with you." Her eyes narrowed to mere slits. "Drake, we started our thing the night of their wedding reception! You can't tell me you came to my room for me." She turned back to the apples. "You came for yourself."

"I--" his head dropped back in frustration. "Fine. But it didn't stay that way." He stepped up beside. "I started coming for you."

She ignored him.

"Was it Liam the whole time?"

Her head jerked up. "Would I have stood there like a simpleton asking if what we had was going to turn into something if I still had feelings for Liam?"

"No." He slipped his hands in his coat pockets.

She finished picking apples and pushed the cart toward the checkout.

Without a word he followed her.

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

The silence between them was deafening. Drake had never experienced a more uncomfortable car ride before. Every few seconds he would cut his eyes to Olivia, only to be more perplexed by how relaxed and content she appeared.

Her head was bent as she answered a text from Amanda wondering who had been at her door and then she saw one from Ethan.

Her lips curved as she read how much he was looking forward to the next few days with her.

"Liv?"

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't you--"

"You drove past my apartment building."

He cursed and made a quick right to circle back around.

"Why didn't you--"

"Just stop here." She ordered. "I can go in this side entrance."

"Let me find a place to park."

"There's no need." She reached behind her for the bags of groceries. "I can easily carry these."

"Yeah, but I wanted to--"

"You should really get going." She lifted her eyes to the gray clouded afternoon sky. "You're losing daylight."

"Damn it Olivia!" He snapped, hitting the steering wheel. "Why won't you let me talk about it?!"

"Because there is nothing more to say!" She yelled at him. "Why do you keep harping on it?! We had sex. Yes, it was enjoyable but I now need more." Her chest rose with her frustrated breaths. "And I have found someone who gives me what I need."

"You really think this Ramsey is what you need?" He taunted. "One day you'll leave here and he will see the real you in Cordonia. This Boston bubble you're living under is going to pop. What will he do when he sees you as a duchess, mingling amongst the court?"

Drake wanted to hurt her since she didn't seem to care that she had and continually did hurt him.

"You think he'll adore you then? Just wait until he hears all the tales of your years of temper tantrums and cruelty."

All the color drained from Olivia's face.

The stark pain reflected in her eyes made him feel like the biggest jerk in the world.

"Liv, I didn't mean--"

She scrambled out of his car, slamming the door behind her.

He watched her until she disappeared into her building.

Drake dropped his head on the steering wheel.

He wasn't sure how his plan on reminding her the good between them had instead showed him as the worst possible ex she had ever had.

#delicate #ethan ramsey x olivia nevarkis #drake walker x olivia nevrakis #drake x olivia #dr. ethan ramsey #choices open heart #choices the royal romance #oh crossover #trr crossover #choices crackship #trr #choices oh

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misteria247 · 3 years

Text

Forgotten

Chapter Three

WARNING: The following chapter has swears and a few mentions of alcohol. If this makes you uncomfortable then I encourage y'all to check out my other works!

~~~~~

The truck drove through the night, the driver humming softly to themselves with the radio. Tonight had been a rather strange night for them, after having something hit their truck and seeing nothing around other than broken tree branches, rocks and other natural things the driver had been a little bit spooked ever since. Now they were even more desperate to get home, to get back to the city and away from the creepy woods.

"Soon I'll be back in my shitty apartment and away from this bullshit."

The driver grumbled to themselves as they continued the long journey home. After a good ten miles or so the familiar shapes of old houses and gas stations started to show up again instead of trees. The human sagged a bit relieved to see the familiar landmarks when the sudden dinging from truck startled them back into their once tense position. Eyes scanning the dashboard they finally landed on the gas meter and the human cursed.

"God damnit...I need gas."

They growled driving the old truck towards a gas station nearby. Pulling up to the pump they parked the truck and turned it off, searching for their wallet. Once found the driver got out of their truck and slammed the door shut before making their way towards the building.

~~~~~

The sound of a door slamming shut was what woke him up. As silent as a grave and on high alert, he peeked through the holes of the tarp that kept him hidden and blinked rapidly at the sudden bright lights that blinded him. Once the specs of color and darkness were out of his sight he took in his surroundings and bit back a swear.

'Civilization, I stayed too long in the truck. I gotta get out of here before I'm caught.'

He thought in a slight panic before forcing himself to calm down.

'Okay think, is there anyone who could see me? Are there any cameras?'

He looked back through the holes in his tarp and saw no one in sight. He breathed a sigh of relief before looking for any cameras. Seeing that the truck was parked far enough away he took a deep steadying breath.

'Keep calm, stay focused. Move swiftly, stay to the shadows. That is the true way of the ninja.'

The thought rang through his head leaving him slightly confused.

'Ninja? Why would he know the way of the ninja?'

He didn't have time to ponder the questions as he had a time limit. Not wasting another moment he sprang from the truck bed as quickly and quietly as he could bolting for the trees that were still around. Once he was safe under the cover of complete darkness again and out of sight of any humans he relaxed.

'You did well......my.....'

He blinked in a sudden daze as a soft voice echoed in his mind. A voice that sounded familiar yet unfamiliar. It made him feel something, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

It made him feel safe.

Shaking his head to get rid of the whispered voice he continued to run until he was out of sight of the gas station. He didn't know exactly where he was going but he knew better than to stay around here. He'd find some other way to get to a city, he just had to think. Thankfully he wasn't seen, the last thing he needed was for angry humans to go after the freak.

~~~~~

"What.....the.....fuck....."

The driver breathed in stunned shock and disbelief. They'd had just gotten done paying for their gas and had stepped out of the gas station building when they'd seen it. Something big running in the treeline before disappearing. The driver could barely make anything out but they could have sworn that they saw something green.....almost like skin......

The driver didn't stick around long after that too terrified already from the night's events. Filling their truck they quickly hopped in and sped out of the gas station lot. Zooming down the road the poor drive didn't look back, instead focusing on getting back to the city. They nearly cried tears of joy when they saw the familiar sign signaling that they were almost there.

New York City, five miles ahead.

"Finally, jesus I hate nature and I hate whatever the hell that thing was."

They said in a spooked tone speeding down the road until they'd finally hit city limits.

~~~~~

New York was a rather crowded city. Filled with people of all walks of life and all kinds of backgrounds it was a melting pot of anything and everything. It was the place where you could thrive in the hustle and bustle of fast living. The city that never sleeps, always awake in some way twenty four hours a day. It was a hectic lifestyle but it was how things were. And wherever hectic things occurred there was bound to be someone who sees it. It was the perfect place for someone who worked in the news to find great stories.

It was a perfect place for people like April O'neil.

April was a rather smart woman, working for big companies and finding the latest scoops to sell to the huge news media stations, she had a keen sense of finding things out that others could never dream of finding. Because of this natural talent April had been the first one to discover the secret of New York City. The secret that protected the city and its inhabitants from unknown dangers and kept the shady groups of people and other criminals off the streets.

The Turtles.

April's precious family. She hadn't meant to find them, it'd been an accident if she was being honest. What started off as one of her normal routine information diggings it'd ended up with her finding out some rather dangerous information involving an underground group that had wanted to destroy the city. Long story short she'd been saved by these mutant turtles and the rat mutant known as their father and master and taken in when she'd needed protection. After that April O'neil became inseparable from them. She'd ended up fighting alongside them in their dangerous battles against all kinds of enemies such as The Kraang, The Purple Dragons, and even their family's most dangerous enemy, The Foot Clan.

Over the years April fought with them and helped them out in anyway she could. She did everything within her power to keep the turtles and their father safe. They were her family and she loved them dearly and the feeling was mutual. Perhaps that's why April had been one of the people who took what had happened the worst out of all of them mentally. Perhaps that is why to this very day she pushed herself for her boys as hard as she did. Perhaps that is why she was currently in the place she was in now. The bar was crowded tonight, filled with all the drunkards and other unsavory types of people who drank away the night with booze and other alcoholic beverages. The red head was seated at the bar station, her stool scooted away from everyone as much it could go as she listened to the gossip and information that was passed around by its inhabitants.

As she stirred her coke, she'd heard a voice speak up from a nearby table.

"I'm telling you guys! It was some kind of monster thing! I saw it with my own eyes!"

A person exclaimed in a somewhat panicky manner, their eyes wide. One of the men sitting at the table with them just laughed.

"Really? A monster? Ya sure you weren't seeing things?"

The man mused before taking a sip of his beer. The person huffed looking slightly irritated.

"I wasn't seeing things.....no one could imagine something like this."

They said sounding a bit unnerved. That caught their companion's attention as well as April's who was quietly tuning into the conversation.

"This thing....it.....it was big....! And it moved so fast! I couldn't make out much of it but I could make out that it....it had...."

They paused seemingly shaken up recalling it. The man grabbed their shoulder and gave them a little shake.

"What?? What did it have???"

The man demanded sounding a bit irritated and on edge.

"It had green skin......I swear to God.....it was green like.....like some kind of frog or lizard or something like that I don't really know but I do know one thing. It....it wasn't natural...."

They finished off. The man meanwhile just stared at them in shock.

"Jesus Christ...."

The man breathed. The conversation seemed to die down for April who sat on her stool frozen dead in her spot. Her bright blue eyes were wide with disbelief. She didn't think about what she was doing next as she suddenly stood up from her stool and made her way to the table that was near her and quickly shot out.

"This gas station, where was it??"

She nearly demanded the poor person who jumped at her sudden appearance. The person blinked before they responded.

"Uh the old gas station outside of the city right before you come into its limits. About five miles out-Hey lady where you going?!?"

The person exclaimed baffled but April was already gone from view. She quickly left the bar, her mind racing a mile a minute.

'There's no way....it couldn't be.....it's been four years.....!'

She thought trying to think about it logically. It just wasn't possible not after.....April slowed her pace down on the sidewalk as she remembered the sobering moment that ruined her and her family's lives four years ago. The one moment that broke up an entire family and effectively broken their spirits. April felt her throat tighten as she thought about the turtles and their father. How they'd mourned and grieved still to this very day. It just wasn't possible.

'But what if it's really him....? What if it's really truly him....? If there's even a small chance that it could be him.....I have to know. I'd never forgive myself if I didn't go and see if it's really him....'

April's thoughts whispered brokenly. She had to know, she had to see if what this person saw was really the one she and the boys believed was gone. With a determined fire that she'd thought had long past died April began speeding up her pace again, her blue eyes alight with something she hadn't dared to entertain since the incident four years ago.

Hope.

With a practiced motion she reached into her pants pocket and pulled out her cellphone ready to call the turtles when she paused.

"I can't bring them into this, not without knowing if it's really him or not. If it was just something that the person imagined...."

April mumbled softly. The red head knew that if she got the boys involved and it'd ended up not being him......

It'd most likely destroy the family even more than it already was.

"But I can't just go alone! I might need backup! Ugh but who can I call-"

April stopped mid rant her eyes going wide as another person popped into her mind. One who she knew for sure would go with her. Scrolling through her contacts she finally came across the familiar number of the one person she hadn't spoken to in a good while. Pressing the call button she patiently waited for the phone to pick up. After a few short rings it finally picked up.

"Casey, it's April. I need your help."

*Three parts in the span of a few days hot damn I'm on a roll y'all and it feels hella good!!! I'm lowkey pretty proud of this part and I'm just having a blast writing for my boy Leo and this premise that I've got going on. Hopefully y'all are having a blast as well!!!! Anyways if any y'all read this I hope you enjoyed it!!!*

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lovestrucked-again · 4 years

Text

Sanguine II Mafia

Genre: Mafia AU Warnings: dark themes, blood, guns, creepy evil guy. Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: You’re a second year med student taken in by the house of NCT. It’s not uncommon to be the last to learn things within the house but when your safety is threatened, you’re forced to leave home with no option. But it only makes things worse.

Part 1 || next ****

You don’t even take a second to think things through. Your rationality and sensibility gone out the door when the man mentioned Taeyong being unconscious. You could only puzzle all the things together. For Taeyong to be unconscious would mean the other guys were also in danger.

You clutched onto your phone, debating whether you should wake Lucas up or not but the warning to come alone rings in the back of your mind. You creak open the door and switch on your phone light, using it as a torch as you quickly slip on a proper shirt and pants. The keys for the car are on the nightstand beside Lucas. You tiptoe over, desperately trying to keep quiet while he sleeps completely oblivious. The idea to leave a note crosses your mind, by the time he wakes up you would be long gone, and who knows maybe this will be my last time seeing him.

But the vibration of your phone and the notification popup your screen shows brings you out of the thought.

Unknown number: I’m waiting.

The text leaves you sprinting out the room.

The drive home is completely silent apart from the swimming thoughts surrounding your mind. The freeway seems to be completely deserted, letting you speed down the straight road whenever possible. You don't realise how long has passed with your hands gripped on the steering wheel until the sudden ring on your phone causes you to jump.

You glance over at the Bluetooth mini screen displaying the caller ID, Lucas. The corner of the screen shows the time, 6:03am. The ring continues for over a minute and then disappears. The second ring coming through doesn't surprise you as he tries again. The thought to turn off your phone isn’t possible as the unknown number may call, so you reach for your phone and disconnect it from the Bluetooth of the car, switching it to vibration mode.

The guilt inside you begins gnawing in your stomach as you drive and your phone continues vibrating on the passenger seat beside you. As desperate as you were to answer, you didn't want to risk it, and besides, Lucas would be safer if he wasn't bought in.

Everything looks normal on the outside. None of the windows are smashed, the house seems to be stable, nothing looks like its collapsing. The house seems visibly fine but it's the dozens of unrecognisable cars along your street that's concerning. There’s at least 10 vehicles; vans and cars included.

Deciding it’s better to stay hidden for as long as possible, you take the back route, driving through a dirt road hidden by a KEEP OUT sign. You park a bit further back from the house to ensure the sound of the engine isn’t heard.

You sneak in through the back door, heading for the top floor of the house to check out the situation. The commotion in the living room indicating to you where everyone is. As you tip toe up the stairs, a loud roaring laughter comes from the floor below. You decide to take a peek, getting on your knees and crawling to the edge of the railings which overlook the living room.

The amount of people crowding in the living room makes it seem tiny. But you can easily pick out your members from the 20 or so individuals.

The first person you notice is Taeyong who seems to be barely conscious, his arms roped behind his back as he’s tied against a wooden chair, a man with a gun standing beside him. The rest of the boys stand behind with what looks like a gag preventing them from speaking, their hands tied by rope, faces bloody and bruised, a gun also resting at their heads. Your eyes can only glimpse at them, not baring to lay your eyes on anyone for too long.

It's a slight breath of relief knowing not all of them are here. You can only see a few of the guys which would mean the others were safe, at least that's what you hoped.

Jaehyun was standing in a pool of blood, the red seeping through part of his shirt on his right shoulder indicating a heavy wound. Beside him, was Yuta and Jeno. The swift glance over them letting you know none of them seemed visibly injured, apart from the stained clothing. The last person you noticed brought a gasp out of your mouth. Winwin was leaning against the couch for support, his hands left untied as he presses onto a bleeding patch on his lower abdomen.

Tears instantly form at the side of your eyes as you scramble back from the sight, making sure you’re unable to be seen before you start shaking, the fear now kicking in. Breathe, don't panic.

You crawl back forward, you had to see how many enemies there were. You had to think of something quickly, but the image of the scene below continues to invade your mind. There’s no time.

As your about to stand, making your presence known, a hand tugs you back down. The other hand of the person instantly whipping around your mouth to prevent the squeal that comes out.

“It’s me, Mark.” A whispered voice says into your ear. He feels you relax against his body before letting go and you turn to face him. He looks stressed, His eyes are red, the veins popping out while his shirt’s covered in colours of blood and dirt. “What are you doing here?” Mark asks, tugging you to the back of the wall.

The men from downstairs continue talking, deep rumbles of laughter invading your ears.

“I-I got a call.” You’re so relieved to see Mark. Even in this situation, seeing him and knowing he wasn't hurt was reassuring, “What happened?”

“I can’t explain this now; you have to leave.”

“Where’s the others? A-are they okay?” You ask, desperate to know.

“They’re fine.” He tells you, “Y/N listen to me.” He grips onto your shoulders, turning you to face him properly, “Johnny and Haechan are outside near your car. You need to leave okay.”

“I can’t just leave!”

“We’ll take care of things here.”

“That guy called me here.” You tell him, “He’ll let them go if I talk to him.”

“That bastard.” He mutters underneath his breath.

You know there’s no chance things can end nicely in this situation and you weren’t prepared to let anyone die today. But knowing the boys for so long, there was no way they would bring you into this. You can hear Mark as he turns around to whisper to the wall, presumably informing Johnny and Haechan about the situation through the ear pierce.

This would be your only chance to go down there alone. You prayed Mark wouldn't be stupid enough to follow you. It would be pointless for him to reveal himself alone. While he continued mumbling into the earpiece, you took a deep breath, preparing yourself. Now or never right?

And then you stood up properly, and walked down the stairs.

“Y/N!” Mark lets out a hissed whisper in surprise, attempting to grab onto your wrist but fails.

The noises stop from downstairs as a larger built man sitting directly in front of Taeyong stands up. His eyes now trained on you. You recognised him by his face.

You’d walked into the meeting room one time and they’d forgotten to hide the photos sprawled out on the table. You picked up the photos along with the file on the table out of curiosity. The file contained more images, graphic ones. There was a photo of a boy, perhaps 4 or 5 years of age, lying in a pool of blood in an empty room. The words NCT stained onto the wall behind the child.

At the time all you could remember was crying. You had bawled you’re eyes out, terrified of the people you were surrounded by. The file slipped out of your hands and all the contents flowed out. You remember gathering everything in a scurry, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand simultaneously. All the images were of different angles in that room. Except one.

There was a photo taken of an older guy. He looked like he was in his mid-teens in the image but his facial features were very distinct, including the scar under his left eye which ran across half his face.

The guy staring at you, was him. Your mind went around in a frenzy, trying to piece together the possibilities of what he wanted with you. Why is he here?

“Well, hello there.” The guy greets, beaming a crooked smile from his position. Taeyong instantly whips his head around to follow his gaze. His eyes widen immediately, his mind gone completely blank seeing you here.

You stopped moving at the bottom step. Scared to get any closer to the man who was now slowly approaching you. You looked past him, meeting Taeyong’s eyes. For the first time since you met him, since he bought you into this family, he looked terrified. He was covered in blood and his face losing the usual bright colour in his complexion. Taeyong was the only one without a gag, but he was weak right now and it was obvious he would be with the bath of blood underneath his chair. He was barely conscious.

The others only stared at you, Jaehyun, Yuta and Jeno who were too shocked to move. Winwin who was barely conscious.

“Run Y/N.” Taeyong whispers out, his voice inaudible to where you are. The guy approaching you whips his head around to Taeyong, letting a little grin wash on his face before nodding to his men standing silently on the side.

You watch in horror as the guys gather around the members, kicking them from behind the knees causing them to collapse. The members can only growl as they struggle with the binds behind their backs and the fabric preventing them from talking. As one of the unfamiliar guy’s approach Winwin you realise he had fallen into an unconscious state.

“Don’t!!” You scream out, just as the guy’s foot swings into the air. The guy stops, everyone’s eyes now trained on you.

The leader chuckles, as the man in front of Winwin looks over at his boss, and then looks at you. The leader gives a little nod and the man steps back, leaving Winwin on the floor. Your heart drops and you can feel the air seep out of you.

“It’s nice to finally meet you Y/N,” the guy says, now just a metre away, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Can’t say I feel the same.” You mutter out, taking a step back up the stairs, to distant yourself.

The guy in front you laughs, taking another step closer. “I just want to talk.”

“Let them go and I’ll talk” You offer, watching his expression carefully.

He lets out a hum and you think for a second, he’s considering your deal, but the snicker following seconds later lets you know his answer. “How about we have a talk outside? Where there isn’t such a big audience?” He purrs, closing the gap between the two of you as he brushes away the fallen strands of your hair. You turn to face the side, not wanting to look into his intimidating gaze. But he brings a finger to your lips, forcing you to look up at him as he speaks, “Just the two of us.”

“Fuck off.” You spit out, your saliva hitting him in the face. He steps back in surprise, eyes shut as he chuckles to himself. His men in the room stand silently, shocked at your behaviour towards their leader.

“What a pretty bitch.” He laughs, wiping his face roughly. You step back too late, as he leans forward grabbing your jaw harshly.

“L-let her go or I’ll kill you.” Taeyong growls out, his voice still weak. Your hands are gripping at the guy’s wrist on your jaw, trying to fight your way free.

“You can try.” The man claims, turning around to face Taeyong.

“It wasn’t us.” Taeyong mutters out, his eyes closing shut as he tries to fight the pain from his gunshot wound.

“Really?” The guy asks, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He lets go of your jaw, stomping back towards Taeyong. “No one else knew about him except you Taeyong.” He spits out, jabbing a finger at Taeyong’s chest as he speaks. You watched as the guy visibly stats to shake, using more and more pressure as he jabs into the wound, “Only you knew him!”

For some reason, it seemed there was a deeper story between the two leaders, one which you had never learnt.

Mark who was still upstairs had called Johnny and Haechan in who were already at the back of the house for backup when you had gone downstairs. However, the three of them, now crouched at the railings, could only watch. Mark had called the members who were in the safe house, deciding they needed everyone to come to try even out the numbers at the very least before fighting back.

With just the three of them, there was no way they could win against the 15+ men downstairs. So all they could do was watch and wait, praying the members could hold on until then.

As the leader falls back onto his chair, exhausted at his outburst, you sneak a peek at the members’ injuries, finally being able to see the extent of damage from a much closer view.

Jaehyun seemed to be hiding his pain but the soft patter of blood droplets adding to the pool he was standing in needed to be attended to. Winwin was also losing too much blood and his unconscious state was making you panic. He needed help quickly, before it was too late. And there was also Taeyong’s physical state which was driving you insane.

It’ll be too late to save them if they stay like this for any longer.

“I’ll go with you.” You tell him, breaking the conversation between the leader and one of his men. You walk over to him, ignoring the blood splatters on the floor and the eyes of the members burning into you. “But we leave now. All your men in this house, outside the house, the ones watching us from afar. Everyone.”

He stands up, brushing off his pants and walks to stand in front of where you stopped.

“You’re a brave girl Y/N.” He leans in, tilting his head to the side so his lips are right at your ear, “But you don’t get a say in this situation baby, you’ll be coming with me anyway.” He moves back to watch your face fall, searching your eyes for the horror expressions he feed off.

But you’re not scared, not shaking, not doing anything that he was expecting.

“Please.” You beg him desperately, throwing away all the confidence you had before. He watches you, amused at the sudden change of attitude, but it's a nice thing for him. So he accepts your offer. His plan had only been altered slightly so there was nothing bad in it for him.

Originally he had told one of his men to be ready to knock you out and take you, leaving the members of NCT to watch as you were taken from them. But you just made his life easier by willingly going.

“Let’s go.” He commands, waving his hand at his guys to retreat. “We’ll listen to the princess’s demands.” He snatches hold of your wrist, dragging your feet to follow after him as he heads towards the front door. “After all, it’ll be more fun like this.” He laughs, directing his words to Taeyong.

The man guarding the door opens it, letting the leader step through as you trail behind, your eyes glued to the people in the living room.

You take a last look at everyone. The pleading eyes everyone was staring at you with. You knew Taeyong would probably go crazy mad for a few days. But you had faith. Faith that they would be okay now and faith that there would be a way for you to return home. ____

A/N: i really should edit this and I will edit this tomorrow but for now GOODNIGHT. <3

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hamburgerhelpersotherhand · 4 years

Text

Infatuation P3

Joe Goldberg x Reader x Love Quinn

Warnings: Love is a cuck for a sec, Joe stalks, I briefly mention drugs, surprisingly not a lot happens.

Notes: Only animal crossing thoughts today, boys.

You’re barely conscious on one of the sofas in Love’s home. One of your arms shields your eyes from the light above our heads, the other one limp to your side. I take a step forward and I’m facing your vertical form. Something about this feels weird, yet... perfectly normal all at once.

I watch your chest heave up and down and the word intoxication drifts by my mind.

Without any effort, I look to my right and see Love seated on the sofa across. Her legs are brought up to the cushioned seat as she sips a glass of wine. She nods towards me.

Without coming to the realization of what I’m doing, I begin to crawl over you. I can’t come up with a reason why, but I’m definitely wondering, thinking. My hands rest by your head and seem to cage you in. It’s not like you were going to slide off the couch anyway.

You make a sound. I can feel it as I look above you but I couldn’t quite hear it.

What am I doing?

I look toward Love, confused and wondering what the hell is happening. When my eyes meet hers, she looks almost ecstatic and beckons me with a simple gesture to continue.

My eyes are back onto you now. A sort of heated pool of conflicted expressions arise and I find myself leaning in despite not wanting to. You’re not even conscious enough to speak, what am I doing? What is Love doing?

I’m trying to stop myself, I think, but my body moves on it’s own. You shift and your shirt rides itself up. I grab at it and pull the shirt up a little higher, exposing you to me. My other hand begins to rub circles into your inner thigh and you tense up.

Gah! There’s cold sweat running down my body and I wake up almost immediately. I start to calm my breathing and gather my sense of self.

I’m in my house. It’s past midnight. I’m getting up to wash my face of whatever had just happened.

The dream comes back to mind. I begin to lose some detail, but I remember the gist of it. You were nearly unconscious and... was I taking advantage of you? I could almost feel those soft hands now. A tingle runs up my back before I can mentally slap myself in the face.

Stop it, Joe. Stop. It. Today is my day off. Rather than spending my nights thinking of you, I’d prefer actively thinking about Love.

I need some fresh air, so I pull on my clothes from the other day and secure a baseball cap atop my head. I’m going out.

Last night, Love had asked me to drop you off at your apartment. It’s surprising to me... especially after our talk. Nevertheless, I tried to be social with you on the way but you remained your quiet self.

“It seemed like earlier you wanted to tell me something. Do you remember what it was?” I ask.

“No.” You didn’t even think before responding. You’re clearly lying, but I can jog your memory.

“Why’d you move out of Los Angeles?”

You shift in your seat like a child. No position in my car is comfortable for you.

“... Boyfriend troubles.” You state and look out the window like it means something. I know the truth.

“Forty told me you two went on a date before you left.”

It’s dead silent in the car and you’ve gone rigid. I look to you and see your expression reflecting in the window. You’re absolutely terrified. Why be? I’m not going to hurt you, even if you are a liar.

We remained silent for the rest of the ride, but you did eventually ask me to let you out about a block away from your apartment.

I stayed in the car, parked on the side of the road, and watched you walk.

I have a feeling you’re thinking about the fact that I haven’t driven away yet... or maybe I just like to think that you’re aware of me breathing down your neck and are incapable of doing anything about it.

It’s 4 am now.

I’m standing across the street to where you live. You’re on a higher floor but I can easily see your bedroom window from down here. Your light is on.

Do you wake up early or stay up late? It’s hard to tell on my own.

While waiting in the pitch dark night, I begin to wonder if anything happened between Forty and you. You seem to react differently depending on if he’s there or absent. I’m willing to bet something has.

Why is Love so worried of me scaring you away when Forty is more than clearly the issue here? Can you tell me that, Y/N?

Huh.

You walk by your window, shirtless, and I suddenly have no shame as I continue to watch on... maybe the lack of sleep has turned me into an early-morning voyeur.

Buzz.

Love is calling, I pick it up.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” She exhales. “I’m sorry to ask you this but can you pick me up? I’m with Forty. I’ll explain everything when you get here.”

It would seem Forty has fallen back into his addictions.

He’s currently sitting in the backseat of my car, crying. Love’s hand is outstretched and holding his. She never ceases to amaze me with how much shit she can take.

Forty had left Love a long voicemail going on about his future— or lack there of- and where to find him. He was scared, and reasonably so. I’d be scared too if I was drugged up and in the middle of an unfamiliar metro station.

Love spent a good hour looking for him and called me as soon as he was in her hands. Like the good boyfriend I am, I came to her rescue. And, despite not outwardly asking me, I know she’s wondering what I’m doing awake at this hour.

I won’t tell her it’s because of you, no matter how much I want to.

Love squeezes my free hand as I drive her brother back to her home.

She mutters a ‘Thank you’ and I simply nod.

Forty is asleep by the time we get there and Love has to shake him awake. He’ll be staying at her place for the remainder of the morning and whatever extra time is needed for him to detox from all of this.

Love really is selfless isn’t she? Instead of spending her day doing something for herself, she chooses to care for her brother. Sometimes I wish Forty was better behaved, if only to make her own life easier.

As soon as he’s ushered inside, Love turns around and waves to me. She makes her way to the car and peeps her head into my rolled down window.

“Thank you again, Will.”

Anything for you, Love.

“It’s no problem.” I smile reassuringly. “If you two need anything, shoot me a message.”

“I’ll talk to you later.” She leaves me with a smile as well and a gentle tap on the hood of my car before walking back into her home.

I watch her shut the door before rolling up my window and heading out.

#joe goldberg x reader #joe goldberg #love quinn #love quinn x reader #you #x reader #reader #forty quinn #yandere #yandere x reader

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gunmetal-magnus · 3 years

Text

And what if I can’t? What if I’m not worthy of my ideals?

As I stare out my apartment window and watch the drizzling sky, I’m drawn to the subtle gradient of yellow. Clouds coasting through the sky, gray yet without dismay. And the sun? The sun will live to break another day, that I am confident in. I only wish I were so confident in myself.

....

Life is strange. Mine in particular looks like it might be going in a good direction. I’ve been getting interviews for jobs and as someone who’s spent their fair share of time hopelessly unemployed and depressed, not knowing what to do with themselves (besides salsaing with suicide ideation), I should be elated about any progress. I wish I could say that I am or even that I was but that wouldn’t be accurate. The truth is that I’m a harrowing hailstorm of things - surprisedsleepybusycuriousthankfuloptimisticexposedhorrifiedcriticalnervousanxiousinsecurepressuredtired - it’s all a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?

Knocking on the looming doors of success, I find myself feeling the crushing weight of my expectations. The walls are a deafening white with not a texture or pattern in sight. If you try to touch them they ripple like water. There are no windows for me to peer through. Fog creeps around me like a cheetah stalking its prey. It’s so thick you could choke on it. Success is...scary.

I know I know, that sounds a ridiculous thing to say, shouldn’t I be more afraid of failing? Welllll...no. You see, the weight I mentioned earlier was not merely crushing, it was also comforting. Over time failure became familiar and eventually, my friend. I got used to failure as the status quo, smothered in its cosy embrace and the threat of change, of combing out of this embrace into the chilling embrace of uncertainty, of becoming someone worthy of their success - it’s unfamiliar, it’s scary. But just what is so comforting about not achieving your goals - about not getting what you really want? For me it’s because of one paralyzing question: And what if I can’t? What if I’m not worthy of my ideals?

“But…I’m…I’m just a soldier, I-I’m not worthy.”

It’s a terrifying prospect that I could give something my all and find that I just couldn’t do it. I don’t want to be saying “I did my best and it wasn’t good enough,” because what I may mean is “I wasn’t good enough. I don’t have the power.” But that’s exactly the point! I do have the power and if that is true then I have to come to terms with my responsibility to that power - that it’s up to me to use that power because when you can do the things that you can do...and then the bad things happen...they happen because of you. I don’t want that burden so it’s easier to cast it off and reinvent the narrative by claiming powerlessness. It’s easier to identify as a fraud and be done with it, to say to myself “men like me should’ve never dared to believe.”

Haha…paradoxically in our journey to discover our own power we discover just how little power we hold, that our only power is in ourselves. Time and how bound we are to what we know at present, our surrounding circumstances, and the fact that we’re only people who can only do people things - these serve to remind us that the power of what we control and free will are only so vast. It’s strange - you are responsible for how you use your power but not the outcome because you’re not omnipotent. Bad things don’t always happen because of you. Sometimes they just happen. Sometimes things in general...just happen.

Let’s say I achieve success, what then? The pressure to maintain is immense and to exceed - it’s even more so. Who perpetuates this pressure? For many of us it’s society but the greater threat lies within the darkness of our own hearts. The societal gaze is nothing without validation and that validation comes from our self-worth and how grossly entangely that is with achieving success. There is an expectation of linearity and escalation in progress, if you get good grades you’re expected to keep getting good grades and then some, so it’s shocking and disappointing when you don't. People wonder how that could’ve happened, you wonder how it could’ve happened, you start to doubt yourself...should you though? Writer and retired athlete Christopher Bergland challenges the expectation of linearity in success and explained in a conversation with his daughter, “I learned as an athlete that in order to succeed and become the best that I could be, I had to fail again and again—but always keep trying. Inevitably, every time I raised the bar, and took on a new athletic challenge, I would have to fail first in order to ultimately succeed and break a record." He embraced failure as part of the ebb and flow, it was part of success. To him, failure was no reason for doubt. So why should it be for me? I don’t know, because life’s not that simple I suppose? Identifying as unworthy and fraudulent, these are not easy to shake. Negative self-identity manifests itself in habitual self-sabotage. Worrying about how we align with our perceptions of ourselves, procrastination via instant gratification distractions like Instagram scrolling and going back on our promises such as taking that drink we know we shouldn’t become commonplace - habitual and they will take habitual work to undo them.

Even so, is this really just about the burden of ideals? Perhaps not. Susanne Babbel writes in her article “Fear of Success'' that the physiological reactions to trauma and excitement over success are similar - too similar. “When we experience a traumatic event — such as a car accident or a school bullying incident — our body associates the fear we experience with the same physiological feelings we get while excited.” Heart tensions, shortness of breath, quivering and more - they are triggered in me by both stimuli and my body cares not for the messenger, only the message and that message is “be afraid.”

if I’m responding to excitement as if it were trauma, the question is what is my trauma?

…

Babbel mentions that throughout our lives, we may be made to feel less than, “many of us — especially if we've been subject to verbal abuse — have been told we were losers our whole lives, in one way or another. We have internalized that feedback and feel that we don't deserve success.” I knew someone who made me feel like this, I called her my mum. I spent a lifetime being told by her in one way or another that I wasn’t good enough. I remember being dragged into the unlit attic by her for losing a crayon as a child, I remember being shouted at for getting some mediocre grades in junior high school - being told that I better do better, I remember being told that she had given up hope on me - I remember, all of it. We don’t talk anymore - except we do. I internalised her voice and I made it my own, I began to identify with failure. I have an excerpt from an old journal entry that illustrates this identity crisis all too well.

5.11.20

“Sometimes I really wonder

If it’s better

To be a

Fuckup

Than a Success

Without

The Interesting Mess.

...Why do I have to compromise the things that make me who I am to be happy?...Why can’t I have my misery?...I hate doing the right thing...Maybe I like being a failure, a mess, a no man’s man.”

By this time I had long since left home but you can’t outrun your demons, only challenge them. I have only begun to unravel this voice due the therapy I have recently completed and am fighting this battle every day. Sometimes I lose and they gain territory. Other times I manage to reclaim it and even add more. It’s an endless battle.

And yet, the voice of Failure clings to me like some foul smog. Since he doesn’t want to let me try and fall, he’ll say, “It’s comfortable here. Flounder into the fondue of failure, it’s what you know - it suits you. What precisely is so wrong with failure in the first place?”

…

It’s a good question. In an ideal world, the answer may be, “nothing in particular,” because I don’t need to succeed to be valid - do the people you love need to be successful for you to love them? I should hope not. However, it is not so simple for me to love myself. Failure will cost me something more than money and a career. The price of failure is stagnation, embracing the non-linearity of progress and I hate that. I’m grossly impatient and want to move forward with my life, not wallow in the depths of Misery Mires. I’ve been stuck here all my life and I’ve just begun the journey out of here. Failure, as far as I’m concerned, you don’t suit me as well as you think. I must change sometime because I don’t want to die in the claws of the demons from which I was born.

I can’t stay in my comfort zone. Yet I can - I’d even quite like to. Why? Because...because...deep down I’m still reconciling with the idea that I’m worthy, that I’m worthy of living a life worth living, that I can be what I say I am without fear that it’s all a lie and always will be. The only way for me to challenge such a belief is to fly in the face of it - to say that “I am worthy” and to act like I mean it, whatever that means - I don’t quite know yet. My therapist and I agreed that this would be a long road and that ideals are nothing without practice. I guess all I can do now is drive…

“If you aren’t worthy, you’ll keep trying until you are.” In order for me to be worthy of my ideals, I first need to believe that I even have a shot. Beyond that, I need to believe that I deserve to take it. Being worthy means recognising my power to change and the responsibility to act that comes with that. Simultaneously, my power is not all-controlling as I am only a person. Success isn’t linear and failure is a part of that. However the burden of trauma is heavy. The self-sabatory habits I picked up from that will require me to reinvent my self-identity and in turn deconstruct those habits. Lastly and perhaps most importantly, I need to be willing to give the process time. Can I? Haha! - s-sure, why not?

Perhaps one day I will find myself staring out into the sky - maybe it’s drizzling, maybe it’s not. Maybe through an apartment window, maybe in a lush field as the gentle breeze brushes by. The clouds are coasting by as they always have, slowly but surely. What colour are they? Who cares, I don’t even know what colour the sky will be. Maybe it’s illuminated with a lovely peach pink that reaches out and touches the heart of my inner romantic. Maybe it’s an apocalyptic red that leaves you weak in the knees - the possibilities are endless but it doesn’t matter - it doesn’t matter what may be. What matters is what will be and

I will be watching.

I’ll say I’m worthy and

I will mean it.

I don’t know yet know how

But I will

Because that’s what I’ve decided.

#self worth #fear of failure #fear of success #trauma

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taeyongdoyoung · 3 years

Photo

summary: the forest is your only escape from the everyday troubles with your family until you find danger lurking behind the trees. or rather, danger finds you. your fateful encounter with the vampire ravn leaves you wishing for a different life. you strike an unexpected deal with the stranger that will soon turn into something more…

pairing: vampire!ravn x reader

genre: vampire!au, ANGST, romance, horror

warnings: awkward period mentions, kinkshaming, trespassing, kidnapping, hints of possessiveness, the usual werewolf wants a mate business, manipulation, gaslighting, cleithrophobia, rip y/n

word count: 2.5k

author’s note: im...genuinely so sorry

part one 🌙 part two 🌙 part three 🌙 part four 🌙 part five 🌙 part six 🌙 part seven 🌙 part eight 🌙 part nine 🌙 part eleven 🌙 part twelve 🌙 epilogue

It was a full moon and coincidentally, your moon days had recently arrived. Which usually didn’t bother you that much. But ever since you had started living with Ravn, ever since you had become his girlfriend, your red visitors were not welcome at all. For two very important reasons. One, he refused to touch you like that, because he didn’t want to harm you accidentally. Two, he refused to drink from you, because, yet again, he was putting your safety first. But of course, you couldn’t ignore his needs. You could tell that he was starving.

“Ravn…you should probably go hunting,” you suggested. You had noticed how he flinched every time you got close to him and he didn’t even kiss you, because he was afraid he’d lose all self-control. He looked so damn hungry and devastated that it was breaking your heart. You wanted to take care of him the way he was looking after you, but you knew he would never allow that. So, you proposed the one thing you could think of.

“And leave you here alone? Not a chance,” Ravn shook his head, though you could see how difficult it was for him to restrain his primal urges to feed.

“I could come with you,” you murmured.

“And watch me feed from something else? Not happening,” he scoffed.

You rolled your eyes.

“Come on, it can’t be that different from watching you feed from me,” you pointed out, thinking you were so smart.

“Oh, please,” Ravn laughed. “You rarely watch. You just close your eyes and enjoy it like the depraved little girl you are.”

“Don’t mock me!” you scolded him.

“I’m not,” he smiled sweetly and despite his hunger, Ravn caressed your cheek. “I would never.”

“You should seriously go hunt,” you advised him. “I’ll be waiting for your return.”

“Really? You won’t disappear?”

“I would never,” you whispered softly, mimicking his words.

“Just promise me you’ll stay here. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

You gulped nervously, remembering the recent realization you’d had about your childhood friend turning out to be the very same werewolf who’d followed you a while ago.

“Everything will be okay, Ravn.”

He nodded, trying to reassure both you and himself.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he promised.

“Be careful out there, yeah?” you felt inclined to say.

Ravn gave you a quick kiss and hurried towards the door.

You looked outside and noticed the full moon emerging from behind a cloud. You remembered reading stories about werewolves being stronger, more dangerous during a full moon. You desperately hoped Ravn wouldn’t run into Leedo during his hunt. He had seen particularly anxious to leave you alone. And you wondered if there was any truth to that myth. Or was he worried for another reason? Whatever the case, something bothered you and you couldn’t fall asleep despite the late hour. As you were tossing and turning, you heard a strange sound coming from the corridor. You pulled the blankets closer to your chin and held the fabric tightly. Had Ravn returned so soon? You thought hunting would take him longer. You wondered if you should get out of bed to greet him. If it was him at all. No, what was happening to you? Such foolish thoughts would only needlessly scare you and you would have nightmares. You got up from bed anyways and walked slowly into the corridor.

“Ravn?” you asked the darkness. But the darkness didn’t reply. “Is that you?”

Your voice quivered helplessly at that last part. Who else could it be? No one knew the exact location of Ravn’s castle. Sure, it was pretty close to the forest but it was hidden away by strong spells that made it extremely difficult to find by mortals. It had taken you some time to get used to it. You could now find your way back home easily. But to a stranger, it would be almost impossible. Almost.

Suddenly, you heard the strange noise again. This time it was coming closer. But you could see nothing. Nobody.

“Hello?” you inquired pointlessly. But no reply came. Just the same old darkness. And then, as quickly as you had gotten out of bed, you noticed two very familiar glowing yellow eyes staring right back at you. No. This couldn’t be happening. It was just a bad dream. You would wake up soon. No. The eyes were now closer, brighter, angrier. And you could only do so much as take a hesitant step back when the werewolf jumped at you.

🌙🌙🌙

You opened your eyes to an unfamiliar setting. A cold, damp floor under your legs. And darkness all around. The only thing you could discern was those cursed yellow eyes. You needed a moment to process. You were not dead. You were still breathing. Which meant that the werewolf…Leedo (you had to remind yourself) had not intended to harm you. Then, what did he want? And how had you ended up here? You realized that you had probably passed out from the sudden shock. You touched your arms, your legs and your face, as if to check you were still intact. Everything was, in fact, in order. Leedo had not harmed you physically. He’d just taken you to an unfamiliar place against your will. If that was the case, you could figure something out, come to an agreement of sorts.

“What do you want from me?” you asked directly. But of course, the werewolf couldn’t respond to you. Not in his animal form, at least. So, he simply growled in what could only be defined as a vaguely threatening but not murderous manner. You didn’t know much about wolves but you had to guess his intentions from the fact that you were not dead (yet). What could you do? Other than wait for the full moon to be over and for the werewolf to return to his human form. To Leedo. Your friend. God, how had you ended up in such a predicament? Your boyfriend was a vampire and your childhood best friend was a werewolf. You would have passed out again if you hadn’t previously had some time to deal with this information. You were too terrified to sleep. You had just gotten kidnapped. So, you just intended to wait for the morning to arrive and save you from the unknown.

🌙🌙🌙

Ravn’s POV

She had been right. I had been too freaking hungry to think straight. I was glad I went hunting. I should have done so earlier instead of risking hurting her accidentally. It would have been fatal. I cared for her more deeply than any other being I’d met during my immortal existence. If anything happened to her, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself. So, when I returned to my home and didn’t find her peacefully sleeping in her bed, I started panicking rightaway. I checked the library, thinking she was probably there, reading something like the cute little book-lover she was. But no such luck. Then, I tried the kitchen, thinking she was just having a midnight snack. When I couldn’t find her in any of the rooms she would usually go to, I realized something must have gone terribly wrong. She wouldn’t go outside on her own. Not on a full moon. She had promised me. I returned to the first place I’d come looking for her – the bedroom. Then, back to the corridor...I sniffed the air and to my surprise, I caught an unfamiliar scent. A werewolf. No, it wasn’t possible. She would never invite him here, friends or not. Which could only mean one thing. He had taken her. Away from me. And he would pay for it.

🌙🌙🌙

I followed her scent, mixed with the werewolf’s, out of the castle. It was gradually becoming fainter. I couldn’t find her exact location and it was driving me insane. I needed to know where she was, whether she was safe. She wouldn’t do this to me, right? She wouldn’t leave without a word. Not after everything we’d been through. I had to trust her. I kept going after their trails down the road and near the river. But the minute my feet touched the cold water, the scent disappeared. Sneaky bastard. The werewolf had probably pushed them forward through the river on purpose so that I’d lose their track. I could go no further because I knew not where to go.

It suddenly hit me. Even though Seoho wanted to stay away from me for the time being, because he was fearful that Y/N would betray our secrets to the humans, he was the only one I could turn to. He was my best friend and I needed his help. He would know what to do. He could probably make a tracking spell. I’d give him an object of hers and he’d snap his magical fingers and we’d find them, right? That was the only way. I sighed and hurried out of the forest and towards the town where Seoho resided, a couple of miles from here. I could only pray that I would be fast enough. That I would get his help and that we’d manage to get to her before it was too late. If that damn werewolf hurt her…I would kill him and then, myself for letting it happen. Fuck. I shouldn’t have been so selfish. Leaving her alone to go hunting during a full moon. What was I thinking? She must have been so scared…My poor, brave girl. I would find her, I vowed to myself. No matter the consequences.

🌙🌙🌙

Reader’s POV

In the morning, you opened your eyes. Despite your terror, you had managed to get some sleep. Above you, you could faintly see a glimmer of light coming from a very strange hole on the roof of…whatever this was. But all around you, there were metal bars. And no key. Once the moon was no longer visible, you witnessed the impossible. Well, by now you were fairly convinced that the impossible was very much part of your reality. However, it was one thing suspecting that the werewolf who’d followed you was your best friend, Leedo. And it was another seeing his transformation for yourself. It was terrifying to look at and you couldn’t imagine how he felt actually experiencing it. You mentally scolded yourself. You weren’t supposed to pity him. He had kidnapped you. Taken you away from your boyfriend, from your home. Friend or not, Leedo no longer deserved your sympathy, you had to remind yourself. He was different from the kid you remembered and you had to make peace with that one way or another.

“Y/N, did I hurt you?” were Leedo’s first words once he had regained his human form.

Oh, great. He was concerned. How was that supposed to make you dislike him?

“Why am I here, Leedo?” you groaned, exasperated.

“You’re not surprised? That I am…well, you saw what I am.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I suspected it, to be honest,” you announced smugly. “Will you respond to my question?”

Leedo ran a hand through his sweaty hair.

“You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Try me,” you challenged him bravely.

“Listen…it wasn’t supposed to happen like that. But during the full moon, I have a hard time controlling my urges and…you’re already here so, I might as well…”

You blinked at him in confusion.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“I think you’re my mate.”

“Duh, we’ve been friends since kids,” you replied.

“No, that’s not what I meant…To werewolves, having a mate is different than having a friend. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Don’t underestimate my intelligence, Leedo,” you scoffed.

“Okay, then,” he laughed. “It means you’re my soulmate. That the moon destined us to be together. That…I want, no, I need to make you mine.”

Oh, God. He’d really lost his mind, huh?

“First of all, I don’t believe in destiny,” you snapped at him. “We choose who to be with. Second of all, do you really think kidnapping me is the right way to make me…I can’t even say it,” you hissed angrily. “I don’t belong to anyone but myself.”

Leedo nodded sadly.

“I know it’s a lot to process…”

“No, it’s not. You’re just delusional.”

“Listen…I don’t know what that boyfriend of yours brainwashed you but whatever lies he’s been feeding you, forget about it.”

Oh, you wished you could laugh at the irony, but it was impossible, because you couldn’t risk exposing your boyfriend’s secret. Leedo had it all wrong. Instead of lies, you had been feeding Ravn something else.

“You don’t even know him,” you said through clenched teeth.

“I know enough,” Leedo replied. “I could smell death all over that castle of his. He’s a vampire, isn’t he?”

You stood, completely wide-eyed and speechless. How had he figured it out so quickly? The same way Ravn had known Leedo was a werewolf, perhaps. Maybe supernatural creatures had a special way of spotting or sensing other beings, that was the only explanation. In any case, you could neither confirm it, nor deny it. If you lied, Leedo would see right through you, you were such a terrible liar. If you said the truth, you would be betraying your boyfriend’s secret. So, you just remained silent.

“I knew it,” Leedo continued. “Did he drink from you? Did you know that vampires’ fangs have a venom that’s capable of controlling humans? Whatever he made you do, it’s not real. He took away your free will, Y/N. And you accuse me of kidnapping you,” he shook his head as if it was funny.

You had not, in fact, known that. It wasn’t in any of the books you’d read on vampires. And Ravn had never mentioned it. Could you really believe Leedo? Whatever he said, you didn’t care. Ravn had never treated you with anything other than respect and utmost care. He wasn’t the villain in your story. He had never made you do anything against your will. And you loved him.

“He did no such thing!” you shouted passionately, completely forgetting about the fact Ravn’s secret was now exposed and transfixed by the idea to defend his virtue. “I stayed with him out of my own free will, because my parents were assholes who loved money more than they ever loved me!”

“You don’t have to stay with him anymore,” Leedo said. “You can stay with me.”

“In this cold, damp place in the middle of nowhere?” you spat out sarcastically. “I’d rather die!”

“Don’t say that,” Leedo grabbed your arms and you tried to push him away but he was too strong. “I can make you happy.”

You began shaking.

“Don’t you see you’re scaring me?” you whimpered. You were trapped. You were so far away from home and you couldn’t escape. You wanted out. You felt as if you were suffocating. “Please, Leedo, you have to let me go. If you ever cared for me, you’ll let me go…”

“I can’t,” he let go of your arms but took a step back, as if to remind you of the situation you were in. You were suddenly very aware of the metal bars surrounding you like a cage. You were the bird and your wings had been clipped.

“I will never love you the way you want me to,” you vowed, tears of frustration and fear falling down your cheeks.

“Give it time,” Leedo smirked. “You’ll change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

To be continued…

#oneus #ravn #ravn x reader #twilight #oneus fanfic #kim youngjo #leedo #ravn angst #romance #vampire au #vampires #writing

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 21)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Janus, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy, Roman & Remus & Janus

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Janus, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Meanwhile, everyone else is trying to find a missing 15 year old, all with different pieces of the puzzle about where he is. It really is too bad that no one is answering their phones.

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned, explosions, car crashes (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 My Master Post

Emile’s car, of course, did not have a built-in button that would let him into the base’s outer gates like Remy’s would have. Instead, Remy had to get out of the car and put his face in front of the security camera. He waved, and someone must have seen and recognized him, because the gate swung open to let them through.

Remy climbed back into the car and Emile drove up towards what appeared to be an abandoned factory.

“Since you’re not an agent they’ll want us to go inside the shell building instead of down to the parking garage for security,” Remy told him.

Emile had never actually been to the base. He usually met with Logan at another location or sometimes Emile’s office and he met any patients in his office as well. Thus, he had absolutely no idea what parking garage his brother was talking about or where on Earth it could be, but he could figure out where Remy must want him to go because there was only one building in sight.

He drove down the driveway towards what looked like the main entrance of the “factory”.

“Weird,” Remy said as Emile pulled up in front of it. “There’s another car here.” They exchanged a glance.

Remy mumbled something that sounded like “damned kid,” under his breath. They were both scrambling to get out of the car the next moment. Remy went ahead of Emile because he knew more about this place, and also Emile would not have been able to stop him.

The door had been left slightly ajar and Emile could hear voices as they approached.

Emile heard Virgil’s voice (and thank god Remy was right about where he’d been going) say, “You know my dad?”

An unfamiliar voice responded with a shocked. “Remy’s dead?” which was right when Remy made it to the door.

Without missing a beat, Remy threw open the door and said, “Quit telling everyone I’m dead!” Now Emile loved a good animated movie reference usually, but today he couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

There were a few seconds of silence before the one figure he didn’t recognize on sight finished the quote by saying, “Sometimes I can still hear his voice.”

“Dad?” Virgil asked sounding all types of vulnerable and confused.

“Kid,” Remy said, “you are the bane of my existence.” He put his hands on his hips. “I’m dead for 5 minutes and you skip town?”

Emile watched Virgil’s face as he quickly adjusted to the fact that his father was not in fact dead, but simply an emotionally constipated idiot with a flair for dramatics. He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, and where have you been, old man?”

“Running after you once the wrist tracker said you’d booked it 50 miles away by the time I knew you were missing! Which then stopped tracking!”

“Yeah, well, I threw it out a window because I thought you were dead, and I’m not stupid.”

“Well, your ‘lack’ of stupidity has made my life a living hell for the past few hours.”

“Right back at you not-dead dad!” Virgil shot back hands on his hips and very much mirroring his father with his sass.

Remy paused for a moment and then snorted a bit. “Come here pipsqueak. Your old man deserves a hug after you nearly gave him a heart attack.” Virgil still looked a bit sullen but went in for the hug anyway.

Virgil caught sight of Emile over Remy’s shoulder and drew back from the hug. “Uncle Emile,” he said, sounding relieved. “I tried to call you.”

Emile turned to glare at Remy.

“Oof,” Remy said. “Yeah, that one may have been my bad too.”

“I,” Logan interjected. By the look on his face, Emile could tell that his willingness to let Remy and Virgil have a moment was wearing thin, “also tried to call him.”

Remy just shrugged. “Yeah, well, Boss, someone drilled it into my head not to give out secret critical information on unsecured lines and I am definitely critical.”

Logan gave him an unimpressed look and Remy shrugged and winked at him after a moment. He dug the flash drive he’d stolen from Barbara out of his pocket and tossed it at Logan. “Oh, and also this.”

Logan caught it and raised an eyebrow at it. “What is this?”

“Enough information to want to kill me for it,” he paused. “Of course, that’s not a high bar considering she tried to kill me before I stole it.”

Logan put the flash drive in his chest pocket. “I’ll decide if I’m going to kill you after I look at what’s on this.”

“Fair enough,” Remy agreed.

“So, you’re a secret agent?” Virgil asked.

“Yep,” Remy confirmed. Virgil looked over at Emile.

“Don’t look at me,” Emile said. “I’m just a run of the mill psychiatrist.”

“Who gives therapy to secret agents,” Remy pointed out.

“Even secret agents need therapy sometimes,” Emile said, “and I already knew about the organization.”

Virgil turned back to his dad. “I’m mad at you,” he said.

“Ah,” Remy said. “Yeah…”

“Teach me to shoot a gun, and I’ll forgive you.”

“NO,” both Emile and the man he didn’t know said at once.

“Trust me,” the other man continued. Now that he looked closer, the man may have been slightly familiar, but Emile couldn’t quite place where he may have seen him before. “He doesn’t need to learn how to use a gun. He does just fine with a knife.”

Remy considered Virgil suspiciously for a few seconds at that odd comment. “What did you do, you little shit?”

“Remy,” the other man chastised.

“He’s heard a lot worse,” Remy waved him off. The other man frowned at him, but Remy just turned back to Virgil. “Now, what did you do?”

“I needed a ride,” said Virgil.

“What about a knife?”

“The knife… helped me get a ride.”

“Did you kidnap Patton at knife point?” Remy asked. Virgil just shrugged. “Kid!”

“And you allowed that to happen?” Logan asked the man Emile presumed was Patton.

“He wasn’t exactly scary,” Patton said.

Virgil looked almost affronted. “I was terrifying!”

“Sure, you were kiddo,” Patton said. Virgil pouted at him, undermining his own point.

“From what I understand, he also incapacitated one of Nelson’s men with pepper spray,” Logan interjected. He eyed Virgil. “We should have a conversation at some point in the future.”

“Logan,” Patton chided. “He’s 15.”

“I’m aware of his age,” Logan said.

Virgil looked at him. “Would you teach me how to use a gun?”

“Hey, if anyone is going to teach my child how to use a gun, it’s me,” Remy insisted.

“No one is teaching him how to use a gun,” Emile said. “He doesn’t even have his driver’s license yet.”

“If I agree to take drivers ed… then I can get a gun?” Virgil asked.

“Maybe,” Remy said.

“No!” Emile exclaimed.

“Okay,” Virgil said, completely ignoring Emile’s interjection, “but Janus is not allowed to teach me to drive after last time. He’s the one who told me the gas pedal was the break on that golf cart. I don’t want to crash another vehicle into a body of water.”

“Wow,” a new voice said from the door. Emile looked over to see a group of damp people walk into the building. Emile did not recognize four of them, but he did recognize the fifth. The speaker turned to Janus. “You must be cursed. Wish you would have told me before we used my car instead of Remus’s”

A woman in the group turned to Logan. “We found your kids,” she said.

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Part 22

#sanders sides #emile picani #remy sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #adriana writes #road trips and everything in between #road trips and missing persons #remus sanders #roman sanders #creativitwins #patton sanders #platonic moxiety #kidnapping #murder mentioned #guns #car crash

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