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songmingisthighs · 3 years

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[12.43] mafia!seonghwa × reader

⇀ convinced his partner is trying to steal him away from you, you tried conveying your feelings to him. But he didn't believe you, he thought you're just simply jealous.

⇁ tw : mafia life, jealousy, angst, death

⇁ disclaimer : the author does not support any and all criminal/illegal acts. the narrative written in this story is purely fiction out of the author’s imagination. the things written here does not portray real mafia life nor is the author aware of how the mafia life is like. the author is a hermit loser.

Clad in his couture suit, Seonghwa walked into the party venue with you in his arms. You were wearing a beautiful, glimmering Indigo dress that accentuates your curves, earrings that provide shine to your face, and heels that seem to heighten your class.

Despite all that, you had a forced smile on your face as you just had an argument with Seonghwa in his car merely minutes prior.

He is well aware of your apprehension towards his current partner in crime, a female that done the title of a seductress in the organization both for her role and her daily behaviour. You can't even lie and say that she looks like an inside-out, bloated cow because she's beyond perfect. To make things worse, you heard that the reason why she was partnered with Seonghwa was that she and he look good together.

At first, it was harmless observation over the two, wanting to see their chemistry and whether or not what people said was true. But when you see that even outside of their mission she'd flirt and cling onto him, you feel threatened. Naturally, you told Seonghwa about this but he only brushed your feelings off, convincing himself and you that it's merely childish jealousy.

The issue was never addressed and it accumulates to the point that it became the bane of most of your arguments. So he decided to just avoid talking about anything that relates to his partner in any way.

This is why when he accidentally let it slip that she'd be at the party back in the car, you were slightly furious at him for not giving you a heads up.

So here you are, standing by the champagne tower as Seonghwa made his rounds alone only to be joined by his 'partner' when he talked to their ally.

Your hand was clenching the flute so hard, it was threatening to break any second.

"Whoah, never seen you so tense," a voice called out, breaking your focus of glaring at Seonghwa and her. You look towards the source of the voice only to be greeted with Wooyoung's teasing smirk.

You rolled your eyes at him but smiled at his teasing jab, "hi Woo," you greeted, letting him pull you into a deep hug that lasted a while.

"Givenchy," he stated after taking a whiff at your neck, "man has taste," he pulled away to properly take your attire in, going as far as twirling you playfully which made you giggle. The people around looked at you two with a smile, probably thinking about how cute you two looked together. Which didn't go unnoticed by Seonghwa who is now zeroing his vision in on you and Wooyoung as the girl next to him clung on his arm tightly, seemingly pretending like they're together.

"Where's Seonghwa hyung?" Wooyoung asked after he stopped twirling you, grabbing a flute of champagne instead. You rolled your eyes at the reminder and simply nod your head towards where Seonghwa and his partner stood before sipping the champagne.

Wooyoung cringed at the sight of the girl throwing herself onto a taken man but what bothered him was the fact that Seonghwa seemed to not be affected by it.

"How stupid is your boyfriend to still insist that your intuition is nothing more than jealousy? I mean seriously! She's embarrassing herself!" he groaned, knowing full well what's going on between you and Seonghwa.

You were glad that you're not the only one who realized, despite the person who shared your sentiment is not your boyfriend.

But before you can answer, loud gunshots shocked everyone and suddenly chaos broke.

Wooyoung immediately pushed you behind him as he produces a gun from inside his suit. He turned to you briefly to hurry you out, "go out now, run and don't look back, take the stairs by the balcony and get out of here as quickly as you can and do not try to hide," he said before rushing towards the sound of the gunshot before you could say anything else.

People were pushing you left and right, trying to escape the hall and so were you. But you can't find it in yourself to run just yet, you look around the crowd of people, trying to find Seonghwa.

Soon enough, your eyes met his.

"Seonghwa!" you called out, pushing your way to get to him as he was trying to get to you. But then another voice calling his name broke his attention away from you.

Seonghwa looked towards the source of the voice only to find his partner by the tables, her dress stuck between two tables and for some reason she didn't seem to be able to pull herself out.

If you weren't in such a panicked state, you'd roll your eyes and call her out on her bullshit.

Your eyes flit between her and Seonghwa as Seonghwa's flit between you and her. You were hoping that he'd ignore her and run to you instead so you both could go to safety.

But your heart broke when he shot you an apologetic look, mouthing out 'sorry' before running to help his partner.

You can actually feel your heart shatter seeing that in a dire situation, he had chosen the girl that you had explicitly told him you don't trust, that you think she has it in her to steal him away from you. But he didn't seem to care.

Slowly, your feet began moving on their own. You couldn't even register where your feet are dragging you to. But as you reach the door towards the balcony, you look back to the sight of Seonghwa holding his partner closely before going where the other members of his organization are going.

And that was the last time you had seen each other for the night.

The shoot out went for quite a while. Apparently, a rival organization caught wind of the party and decided to use this opportunity to infiltrate the mansion to steal something. Their plans were foiled and that's when all hell broke loose.

When Seonghwa and the others managed to kill and capture their rivals, things began to finally wind down. Most people had already fled the scene, being part of the criminal world surely gave them the knowledge of what to do when a shoot out happens.

There were some guests left, those who hid behind tables or were unable to escape due to fear, and sadly, those who were caught in the crosshairs.

Seonghwa sighed at the sight in front of him, bodies lying on the ground, some belonging to their rival, some were members of his organization, and some were the unfortunate guests.

He looked around to see the lower-ranking workers carrying bodies on a stretcher with a white cloth covering everything. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight, no matter how long he's been involved in the mafia life, he couldn't seem to shake his sadness away when seeing innocent victims.

As he looked around, he saw Wooyoung walking back to the hall where the party was held merely an hour ago. "Wooyoung!" Seonghwa called, running towards the guy to catch up to him. Wooyoung stopped in his tracks and looked back, waiting for Seonghwa, "Hey, what's up?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Have you seen (Y/N)? The last time I saw her was when I went to help my partner a-" "you helped your partner instead of making sure (Y/N) was okay?" Wooyoung cut him off, an incredulous look on his face. Seonghwa was caught off-guard at the tone his friend used at him, "yeah? She was stuck and needed my help, I couldn't just-" "she's a member of a fucking mafia, she kills people for a living and on a daily basis, you really think she couldn't have gotten herself unstuck?" Wooyoung scoffed.

Seonghwa only stared at Wooyoung with a confused expression, not knowing how to answer him nor how to defend his choice in the predicament after Wooyoung explained the situation his way.

Rolling his eyes, Wooyoung nodded towards the door by the table that once had the champagne tower, "Last time I saw her, I told her to run and get the hell out of here," he said simply. Seonghwa muttered a small 'thanks' to him and was about to run to look for you when Wooyoung put a hand on his shoulder, "Just so you know, what you did will change things forever between you two, you got a heck load of making up to do," he said simply before continuing his previous path.

He realized that Wooyoung was right. So he immediately set off to find you, wherever you are.

His instinct told him that you're still around, considering his car is still in the parking lot and that you hadn't known anyone else in the party, he deducted that it wouldn't be possible for you to have gone back.

Even so, you were nowhere to be found. He tried looking everywhere inside the mansion and outside in the garden, but there were no signs of you, not even when he asked the other guests and members of the organization that were still around.

He stepped out to the grand front entrance and look around but only seeing people carrying the bodies of the deceased. He was starting to get worried.

"Seonghwa!" a feminine voice called.

He snaps his head, hoping to see you, but only to be greeted by the sight of his partner jogging towards him. For the first time ever, he rolled his eyes at her and went back to trying to locate you.

She, on the other hand, didn't seem to get the hint as she suddenly hugged one of his arms, "Hey, I was looking everywhere for you, I was worried," she said, pouting at him.

Seonghwa tried to pry his arm off of hers, but she held tight. Wooyoung was right, she's beyond capable of getting herself unstuck, so why did he went to help her instead of you?

"I don't have time for this, I'm looking for my girlfriend," he said gruffly, still trying to push her off as his eyes trail on the people around.

"Oh, come on, I'm sure she's perfectly fine somewhere, maybe even with Wooyoung," she said ignorantly.

At the insinuation that you'd be with Wooyoung, Seonghwa snap his head towards her and was about to say something when suddenly the sight of your dress caught his eyes.

He'd recognize the sparkly indigo dress that he had personally picked for you from miles away. For a second, he forgot about his partner and was about to run towards you.

But his steps halted at the scene in front of him.

Seonghwa hadn't processed that the piece of your dress that he saw was from underneath a cloth that covered your whole body that's rested on a stretcher.

He could feel his heart stopped, his head spinning, and his breath hitching. He was trying to convince himself that you're okay, that you're simply unconscious and is resting, waiting to be taken to the hospital to be treated.

When he realized that a couple of workers were about to carry you away, he sprinted and yelled for them to stop.

As soon as he arrived by your side, his trembling hands held on the piece of dress that peeked out. Again, he tried convincing himself that everything's okay, that maybe this is not you. Slowly, he pulled the cloth back a little to expose your hand. The ring that he had bought you to commemorate your 2nd anniversary brought dread to him for the first time ever. He used to love seeing it on your finger, showing people that you're taken, but not this time.

Bracing himself, he pulled the rest of the cloth off of you. "Oh no," he choked out and finally broke down when he saw your pale, lifeless face. The same face that greeted him every morning and accompanied him every night, the same face that would scrunch up whilst cleaning his wound when he came back home from a mission. The same face that dropped in disappointment when he decided to go after the other girl in her last moments.

He can't believe your last memory of him was him turning his back on you, his last conversation with you was when he called your feelings childish and uncalled for, that the last time he held your beating heart was when he pushed you away so he could talk to people he didn't even care for.

All he could do now is held onto you as he cried, hand going over the wound that ultimately ended your life. Several bullet holes littered your body, but he seems to be focused on the one that's directly on your heart. He thought about how much pain your heart must've born, how much the pain he inflicted on you must've hurt much more than the bullet that struck through. He thought about how he should've gone to you to ensure your safety.

Seonghwa, the usually reserved and collected man, didn't even care about the attention he drew. People around were looking at him with much pity, those who knew him wanted to comfort him but didn't know how to, even Wooyoung can't help but shed his pettiness over his older friend when seeing him wailing over his loss.

But Seonghwa didn't care.

How could he?

When the only important person in his life was ripped away from him before he could make amends.

Without thinking twice, he stood up and carried you off the stretcher. The workers that were supposed to take care of the deceased stood silent and unsure, yet they didn't stop Seonghwa even when he began to carry you towards his car.

"Don't worry, I'm taking you home so you can rest," he said with tears still streaming down his face. He looked down at your face, he could fool himself and say that you're only sleeping, that tomorrow things will be better. Yeah, for now, he can do that.

Once he put you on the front seat securely and went over to the driver's seat, he leaned down and press a kiss to your forehead lovingly, "I'm never gonna leave you anymore," he said before turning the car engine on and drove off.

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ecoamerica · 23 days

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tteokdoroki · 4 years

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what he lost | k.bakugou.

⇝ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

⇝ word count: 5.4K

⇝ rating: for everyone.

⇝ genre: pro hero!au, exes!au, angst.

⇝ summary: back then; he was young, dumb and a little too prideful, taking your love for granted. now, years down the line he wonders if he’ll ever stand a chance in getting you back or the one in which katsuki bakugou grew up a little too late.

⇝ warning(s): please read ! heavy angst, no happy ending, mentions of toxic relationships, emotional distress, mentions of violence ( explosions, fight scenes, knives, blood ) and cursing all around.

⇝ author’s note(s): greetings everyone!! i hope you’re all doing well, today’s one-shot is a request from @killakatsuki, i know you wanted a happy ending but i got a little ahead of myself eee !! anyways thank you all for 400+ followers, i love you all :(

⇝ masterlist | requests

“katsuki bakugou if you leave me right now, please... please don’t come back.”

bakugou had always hated that, he thought, casting his gaze elsewhere in the room. he always hated how you cried when you were angry, red hot tears stinging a pathway down the apples of your usually glowing cheeks.

he couldn’t quite place the reasoning as to why. maybe it was because you rarely ever found yourself angry or perhaps it was how pathetic you looked when your bottom lip wobbled and your harsh words were laced with watery sobs.

or maybe it was because he didn’t want to feel sorry for you, didn’t want to comfort you when he was too prideful to admit that you were right. “whatever, don’t tell me what the fuck to do.” he spits, eyes and voice full of a venom he barely ever uses against you. he watches with a scarlet gaze as you falter, as if a knife has dug deep into your heart and cut you all up but bakugou only scoffs and continues to pack his side kick costume into the duffle bag he’s got on your shared bed.

every fibre of his being is tell him to reach out for you and apologise, he knows that he’s wrong. keeping his late night shifts from you, working extra hours— of course you were going to worry but he needed you to understand that being a hero was his dream above all else. the last thing he needed was a distraction like you.

something in you changed that night, both of you. as the rain hit hard on the roof of your shared apartment, even as you took his things and threw them out into the hall and even as you gave him one last chance on the doorstep. “you can leave now and not comeback or you can stay and we’ll talk this through—“ your eyes spoke to him in a silent plead, asking him if he would really give up the life that you’d built for lies and a better job?

but you knew the answer already.

“like i said,” katsuki rolled his eyes as knowing sobs wracked your body. “i never needed you anyways.”

you slammed the door before he could walk away and forget the tears in your eyes.

six years later and katsuki is pissed.

he’d been irritable since this morning when his interns fucked up the paperwork at his agency— leaving him to clean it up and then when his assistant brought him the wrong coffee and forgot to notify him of the pro hero meeting he was currently attending right at this very minute.

of course heroes of all different calibers were present; including none other than the number two, shoto todoroki, who was in charge of directing this week’s patrol missions but something about that only grinds the explosive pro’s gears even more. although, he could see himself being even more pissed if the number one; deku had shown his face instead of being away on an overseas mission. the schedule for this week’s patrol sits heavily in bakugou’s hand and he almost wants to burn it to pieces just at the thought of working with his future partner.

‘yn ln.’

the sight of your name printed in block capitals next to his has the ash blonde reeling, glancing up to send a blazing scowl towards shoto. he feels set up, as if the half hot, half cold bastard is dangling you right in front of him— its not like todoroki doesn’t know the history that sits between bakugou and yourself, after all, he had been the friend you’d ran off to during the fight that ended your five year relationship.

it’s like todoroki had a sixth sense because by the time he’d finish announcing the pair ups, he’d tiredly caught wind of katsuki’s heated stare. “bakugou—“

“i wanna fuckin’ switch, icyhot.”

“you can’t.”

bakugou stands from his seat next to kirishima ( who only looks apologetically at his colleagues ), annoyance rippling through his veins as he approaches the taller male. “why the fuck not?” he growls, small explosions sparking in the palms of his sweaty hands ( he was undeniably nervous because of the impending patrol ) the group of heroes simultaneously sigh— having been used to the explosive pro’s usual outbursts.

todoroki sighs, running his cooler hand over his face. “because the pairs have been matched up by quirk and strength, on top of that they were done in advance so if you really have a problem with it then i suggest you take it up with the number one—“ the dual quirked hero falls silent, a triumphant smirk appearing on his lips as red riot pulls his friend away before it’s too late.

“dude, you can’t just go blowing people up!” the red head scolds beneath bakugou’s sailor mouth, wrestling him over to the couch.

katsuki feels defeated, there’s no way to get out of this situation. he’s done his best these last few years to avoid you like the plague. it was somewhat easy, considering you were lower in the ranks compared to him, so there wasn’t much time to interact anyway. but katsuki hated the fact that he had always thought you would fall below him.

nonetheless; he took to switching event time tables around, rejecting hang outs with his old high school friends... all to avoid you, and now that he had to see you face to face, he wasn’t sure how to react. would you still hate him? how did you feel about working with him?

there’s not much time to dwell on the thought for kirishima is already patting his back and guiding him out of the meeting as it ends, the promise of drinks at an ‘heroes only bar’ hanging in the air.

“you’re so handsome, ground zero ! thank you for protecting japan !”

bakugou can feel the bile rising in the back of his throat at the words from the sickly sweet fan, so he gives a nonchalant grunt in response as he finishes up his signature on her notebook before continuing his march to your hero agency. it’s been a few days since the meeting between the pro heroes and all the number three wants is to make it to your agency without being fawned over by more obsessive fans.

he gives the fan a casual wave, ignoring the look of disappointment on her face— either she was expecting his number or for him to grow bashful under her flurry of compliments but katsuki was never one for fan service.

he hated fans that expected something from him, ones who wanted more than a casual chat with their favourite pro hero but he wouldn’t let them in. they didn’t want the intimate, vulnerable sides of katsuki bakugou like you had— maybe that made the ash blonde stuck on you.

yn ln was the only girl in his life who had tried to understand the many layers of the hot headed hero, you saw past his aggressive nature and touched the deepest parts of his soul…parts that you longed to love and keep safe.

you’d loved him for who he was below the surface, not for the money and fame he had come to amass as number three in the ranks.

behind scarlet eyes are the best moments of the hero’s life, each shared with you. katsuki had took for granted the seconds you had been with him, even from the very start— he didn’t care for the way that you held him after he’d been kidnapped, clinging onto him like he’d disappear or would never return to your arms, he should have cherished the tears of worry you shed for him too but katsuki was too prideful at the time.

too full of himself even with his raging nightmares that you had managed to soothe.

you’d comforted him after he’d failed the licensing exams, promised him he’d still get to be the greatest hero of all time and still, bakugou had cared for none of this. now that he’d thought about it, he hadn’t been good to you, he didn’t know how you’d dealt with they way he undermined your quirk and doubted your ability to protect him when he should have been the one to protect you.

your love was wasted on him, and for that bakugou needed to apologise.

hands in his pockets, katsuki’s mind could have been said to be away with the fairies, haunted by the night he came home with a half hearted apology on his lips to an empty apartment and a note from you. something about staying with the icyhot bastard and not to contact you.

that is until he collided with the back of someone in the crowd. “hey!” he’s quick to growl out to the figure, a slight snarl to the words leaving his mouth. “watch where you’re going, shitty extra—“

“ah, katsuki! nice to see you haven’t changed,” your voice sends shivers down the blonde’s spine, bright red eyes focusing on you and only you. your smile is bright, dazzling under the hot japan sun and even if katsuki hadn’t changed, you certainly had— your pretty eyes he used to get lost in, he used to watch glimmer with tears now hold a different kind of light, they greyish hue that dulled you over your time with him had finally cleared.

you looked healthy, happier and bakugou realises how much your relationship must’ve wore you down.

he feels like he doesn’t deserve the grin that you give him; the one you would save just for him in the early mornings you’d spent together back when you were dating. maybe that makes his heart jumps out of his chest.

“y-yn— “

he hadn’t prepared himself for your sweet, airy giggle that fills the space between you. “ground zero getting shy on me now? don’t tell me you forgot about our shift today, did’ya?”

“n-no, ‘course not, dumbass.” fuck, katsuki’s heart thumps against his ribcage so loud that he’s afraid you might hear it with the little distance between you. since when did you make him nervous? despite the pet name, you still give him a laugh as a flicker of fondness twinges in your bright eyes.

it’s quickly replaced when you blink it away, beckoning ground zero into your hero offices. “nice to see that sailor’s mouth hasn’t changed either ,” you mumble more so to yourself than him. bakugou walks a few paces behind you while you explain to him that you have to finish assigning your sidekicks and interns a few low level missions before you can head off for the day.

the group of young heroes are excitable, seemingly loving the opportunity to work with you— their chatter is loud but it gives katsuki time to drink you in.

crimson eyes travel over your form while you talk— your hero costume has changed a lot since your U.A and sidekick days.

you’d interned under the number two at the time, hawks, thus leading you to have become one of his most trusted sidekicks. no doubt; his skill level had not only improved your abilities, how you controlled your quirk but your costume as well.

your quirk was known as lullaby, if you could sing a tune in the right pitch to certain groups of people, it allowed you control over the abilities and to put them to sleep. this obviously however meant you were poor at short distance attacks— something bakugou always teased you for, so he was excited to see how you’d improved.

your suit had a visor that allowed you to amplify your quirk, while patterns of the night sky dressed your body— paying homage to your hero name ‘nightsky’.

katsuki felt bad to imprinting the image of your skin tight, midnight blue suit into his mind but back when he had known you like you were his, your costume hadn’t been nearly as advanced as this.

snapping fingers pull him from his thoughts before they can get too hazy.

“eyes are up here, explosion boy.”

katsuki’s gaze snaps up to meet yours, an angry red to rival his gemstone eyes spreading like wildfire across his cheeks. “i wasn’t staring.” he tries his best to defend himself, but your knowing look tells him that you’ve caught him red handed.

“of course you weren’t, sidekicks left about ten minutes ago so we can head out now—unless you want to keep glaring daggers at my boobs, katsu.” you’re teasing him, voice dripping like honey off of a spoon as you waltz back out onto the streets of japan and leave a bewildered ground zero behind you.

you’ve changed so much since your relationship ended with bakugou, you’re stronger, a vixen and more confident in yourself.

and he hates knowing that he’s the one that kept you down all this time.

patrol remains uneventful even as the afternoon goes on and the stress of japan begin to fill with citizens for the oncoming rush hour.

the lack of action has lead your conversation to die within the wind and leaves katsuki alone with his thoughts for the time being— you only really speak when you catch the blonde staring you down or when he accidentally walks into something ( highly unusual for him ) but he enjoys the seconds where your teasing voice tickles the tips of his ears and you smile so wide his own lips pull into somewhat of a grin.

bakugou doesn’t know why he’s so quiet, not when the storm in his mind brews all the words he should have said to you years ago. the apologies, the grateful thanks that you deserved; none of these could fall from his tongue.

he liked to say he never had the opportunity, which was partly true you were both up and coming herores yes, but you had damn well made sure you’d never have to encounter bakugou unless the situation required it. and it seemed, that years down the line, he was still doing the same.

the thought alone cause nerves to choke him from the inside out, building up in his throat until all he can do is grunt in frustration— kicking an empty can along the road you’re currently walking down.

“that’s unlike you,” your chuckle cuts through the thick fog of katsuki’s mind, drawing deep red eyes towards your frame. you walk in front of him now, arms folded behind your head while you step backwards— the sight almost comical to anyone passing by. bakugou must look just as shocked because some how he manages to pull the cutest snort from you, even as his face morphs into a snarl and he marches forward to fall into pace with your steps. your eyes dazzle with your next words. “the great katsuki bakugou, quiet? never thought i’d see the day.”

you’ve always been able to read him like an open book, seeing right through the front he puts on. “i haven’t changed.” he grunts through his teeth.

katsuki stops walking when you do, now standing a breaths width away from you. electricity jumps between you both, static forming in the finger tips that just barely brush against bakugou’s arm.

your eyes spell it out for him, clear as day, as you finally reach out to touch him. His own close at the brief gesture, the pain from having lost you blooming across his chest.

“you did.” you breathe out, the warmth of your soft voice making katsuki’s eyes screw shut.

he could never get a lie past you.

“we both did.”

vermillion eyes open, trying to seek you out in the light of the day as bakugou wills and prays that he can say what he needs to right now, to get you back but he doesn’t have the chance as an explosion cuts through the building on your left.

bakugou manages to wrap his arms around you, shielding you from the blast before you hit the ground. the impulse sends you both rolling down the street, small grunts escaping you until you roll to a halt and end up on top of katsuki— straddling him.

dust and debris surrounds the pair of you, creating a thick smog in the air as sirens and screams sound off in the distance. the explosive hero groans in pain— no doubt with a litter of bruises forming under his suit but he has no time to register the sting properly before he’s noticing you on top of him, smirk on your face, devilish glint to your eye.

you’ve been waiting for some action all day.

you’re gone in the blink of an eye, so you must have a plan. katsuki remembers from high school that you made up for strategy where you once lacked in strength, so it’s no surprise to him that you’re already on the move. meanwhile; you manage to slide undetected through the smoke, moving fast to take out the low level criminals.

it’s only a robbery, but the explosion could have caused more casualties than you would have liked. you trust that bakugou can take care of the civilians and bring them out of harms way as you do your best o sus out the ringleader.

the grey tinted fog that sweeps over the area allows you both to work quickly; neither of you need to say anything, for one it would give away your position and secondly— there’s an underlying trust in one another that the two of you had built up when you worked together while dating.

bakugou, through his end, tackles down the small group of criminals after clearing the area and making sure no one was hurt. emergency services had been alerted and were already on their way, all there was now, was to predict your next movements and follow your lead. he’d never liked being bossed about, but the look in your eye made him believe you knew what you were doing.

you were right, you’d both changed. you might as well have been a better hero than him.

the ash blonde follows the trail of unconscious wannabe villains to your whereabouts, he only knows that they’re unconscious because of your ability to put people to sleep with your quirk— all you had to do was get close to them, which wouldn’t have been hard as katsuki knew first hand that these guys’ quirks weren’t shit.

“it’s almost funny, how you thought you could pull a stunt like this on a day when all of japan’s biggest heroes are in one place,” bakugou’s ears pick up on you teasing the criminal leader with that smooth chocolate voice and he follows it deeper into the air that’s heavy with debris— glad you were able to find him before the smoke cleared. “even with the number one out of town, tsk, you should have known better…”

the hot headed pro spots you, holding the hooded ringleader in a choke hold with only your thighs as you sit on his shoulders— eyes wide with victory.

he recognises the dip in your voice as you adjust your tone to put the guy to sleep and call it a day. you’re powerful, a great pro and bakugou watches with awe while you get ready to take this guy down once and for all.

“so cocky, nightsky— why do you think we chose attack the street you were on?” the guy spits through clenched teeth, resisting the urge to succumb to your lullaby of a voice.

brows furrowing, you decide not to dwell on the criminal’s words before leaning down to whisper. “sleep...” but katsuki’s body comes alive with fear as the villain wannabe jams a blade into your thigh, causing your grip on him to loosen enough for him to throw you to the floor and put a boot to your throat. “oh miss nightsky, you really rely too much on your quirk and not enough on your senses. hmm, i think it’s time we say goodnight, don’t you?” the guy chuckles while you squirm under his foot— the need for air burning sharply at your lungs.

bakugou, who’s remained hidden this entire time feels himself snap— a heavy explosion loading up behind his gauntlets while he launches himself right into the scene. he won’t let you struggle for your life, not on his watch. “GET YOUR FILTHY FUCKIN’ HANDS OFF OF HER!”

he reaches the criminal just before your eyes roll back into your head, an explosive right hook colliding with their cheek and sending them flying down the street.

the ash blonde reaches down to pull you up into his chest, that very same one heaving with laboured breaths; you’re shaking but it’s nothing you can’t handle even with the red lines at your throat.

“you good?”

“better, thanks to you.”

there’s a look that you wear right now, one that katsuki recognises from years of training and running into fights with you— you want to do the move. he nods at you, vermillion eyes lighting up with a bright fire while you grip onto ground zero’s wrists.

just as the villain stands, you kick your feet off the ground and in the meantime bakugou begins to twirl you in circular motions until you’ve built up enough momentum for him to throw you towards the criminal.

you collide with his back foot first, knocking him to the ground as your eyes glow a bright white. “i said, go the fuck to sleep.”

the criminal drops to sleep and you roll to the ground after taking him out. you smile to yourself at the familiar wail of sirens in the background but don’t bother to make an effort to stand up, letting the exhaustion, pain from the wound in your thigh and bruises at your neck finally flood your body.

sitting beside you, bakugou smirks and holds a fist out to you. “still got it,” he gestures between the pair of you, the same signature move you’ve been doing since high school having worked successfully once again.

“still got it.” you look up to the now clear sky, fist bumping bakugou right back.

he’s going to do it, he thinks, he’s going to apologise.

after everything you and bakugou had been through, something in his chest was relieved to know that you didn’t hate him, something in him is lead to believe that you’re going to give him another chance.

katsuki watches you now, an attendant from the paramedics that you called working on patching up the gash in your thigh while you rub a salve into your neck.

despite the pain you must be in; you’re still glowing, still smiling even when fans ask you for autographs or tell you how brave you were during the fight. you’re so genuine, such a ray of sunshine in the world and bakugou can feel himself falling for you all over again.

“Is that all mr. ground zero, sir?” an officer asks, taking down notes for the report about the incident. the hero nods, waving the kid off after giving them all of the details from today. they thank him and he finds himself marching over to you almost immediately, now that you’re all bandaged up.

“walking already, ln? are you sure it doesn’t hurt?”

you beam up at the ash blonde, hopping out of the back of the ambulance and rubbing at the tear in your hero costume where the cut is. “it’s good, stings a little but i’ve seen worse on you,” you comment to him, beginning your stride back to your agency.

“and who’s fault is that, dumbass?” a genuine laughter bubbles in bakugou’s throat, albeit raspy, its not a foreign sound to your ears and it makes you laugh along with him.

he knows you’re referencing the many times you’d kicked hiss ass when sparring from high school to your side kick days. back then you‘d have traced every scar that littered his pretty body and told him how much you loved him.

katsuki aids you while you head back to the nightsky agency, you insist that you don’t need help to walk but you’re limping and the explosive pro hero is stubborn as hell— he’s not about to let you get hurt again, even if its physically and not mentally like he had done to you before.

with the lighter mood, memories flitter between you both— you mention how katsuki used to love his food so spicy you would cry and he brings up the time you had given him and kirishima a bout of food poisoning when you’d come up with an alternative to the latter’s cooking. the stories don’t seem to end even as you lean into him more; trusting him again.

“about what i said earlier…” you begin after finally coming to a halt outside your agency building, a scarlet gaze full of fondness lands on you. you turn to face him with the softest of smiles, half chewing on your bottom lip— something he knew you did when you were nervous. “you’re different, to how…how you were back then and it’s good, katsuki you’re so good…”

there’s a breath of silence, only filled by the quiet hum of city traffic where people are travelling to and from home. “i’m glad i had time to become good,” bakugou offers, forgoing the words ‘for you’ and pausing instead. “i regret who i was back then, with you… thought it made you hate me and that you wouldn’t fuckin’ work with me today.”

you shake your head, breaking contact with bakugou to paw at the stupid tears preparing to make their way down your cheeks. “i-i did hate you for a while, after everything…but we were young and dumb and—“ you freeze as the ash blonde wipes a stray tear from your cheek, you not having realised that it’d escaped. “and i’m so thankful to have met you, to have shared a love with you, you taught me so much and that i could never hate you for.”

“yn...i—“ i love you. i’m sorry. i should have loved you better. the words are there, the ones that katsuki always told himself he would say to you if he had the chance but he finds himself frozen and unable to speak. why? why now? when the perfect chance sat right in front of him, the perfect time for him to make it up to you.

to start over.

“yes, katsuki?”

to get you back.

“yn i’m sorry—“

“—guess who?”

a sing song voice full of positivity bursts through the moment while a pair of hands clasp their way over your pretty eyes and hide them away from the world.

bakugou instantly recognises the voice as belonging to none other than his childhood rival and number one pro hero, deku. he seems to have changed— grown taller, green hair shaved at the sides for an undercut.

the ash blonde isn’t very sure what else has changed, but then again they hadn’t seen much of each other as sidekicks, working under different agencies with different missions.

it was only as they started competing for the top ranks that they started to run the same circles— but bakugou had no idea how you would’ve come to know deku since the blonde hated him and you were dating each other for most of that time.

katsuki is just about to tell the green haired idiot to ‘fuck the fuck off’ for ruining his moment when you do the unexpected.

you clasp your hands over midoriya’s, cheeky smile gracing your lips as you attempt to pull them away from your face. “let me think, could it be? izuku midoriya?” relenting to your cheery voice— deku pulls away from you, hands falling to grip your waist sweetly. possesively. horror flashes behind bakugou’s raging red eyes. you turn in his rival’s strong arms, smiling so hard that it delves deep into the apples of your cheeks. “izu ! when did you get back? i thought you wouldn’t make it in time for today…”

“flew in this morning doll, i wanted to surprise you—“ the number one beams down at you and bakugou’s world crumbles when you cut him off while pressing a chaste kiss to deku’s lips right in front of his eyes.

this couldn’t be happening...since when were you and the damn nerd a thing? why didn’t he realise? why didn’t he grow up and try and get you back sooner?

he has no choice but to sit and stare, a dark cloud now sitting over his shattered heart.

all the while, you’re giggling into deku’s lips, fumbling over his hands that pinch at your sides just to get you to gasp enough for him to kiss you more. the painful ( well, only for the explosive pro ) lip lock ends when you both come up for air and your eyes land on your ex boyfriend.

“ah, katsuki ! you remember deku right? wait that’s a dumb question you were literally childhood friends—“ you start to ramble, mind getting away from you and katsuki barely registers anything that leaves your lips. his crimson eyes lock with the emerald ones that stare right back at him and hurt swells in his chest.

to deku, he must look like a kicked puppy. a weakling. a loser.

all the things he had labelled izuku midoriya when they were kids.

when bakugou tunes back into your excited rambling, his heart cracks even more in his chest. “this green giant flew all the way in from overseas to come home for wedding planning ! can you believe it?” the answer to your question is an obvious no.

he had no idea that you had been seeing the number one, let alone being engaged to him. the hot headed hero freezes in his spot when you reach down the chest of your hero costume to pull out a silver necklace.

on the end of it, an engagement ring with a tiny emerald in it’s centre.

katsuki bakugou feels sick, bile rising up in his throat. he’d really lost you. really. “...pretty thing that is, congratulations.” he mentions blankly, eyes trained on midoriya once again. you don’t notice, but deku does and bakugou hates the sympathetic, apologetic look that the fucking nerd gives him.

“mhm ! izu put it on a necklace for me because, well you know, i’m clumsy and didn’t want to lose the thing,”

you’re so clueless that it hurts, burning katsuki from the inside out. that should be him. it should be his arms around you, his lips on yours, his engagement ring on that fucking necklace. not deku’s, not anyone’s. the green headed hero beside you seems to notice the distress ebbing away at your ex and tilts your head up to look at him. “doll, why don’t you head inside and change into something more comfy real quick? we’ve got cake tasting in an hour…”

the tail end of deku’s words are drowned out by your happily animated squeal and with a quick nod you press a kiss to his freckled cheek and bounce inside— missing the way bakugou winces at your display of affection.

it’s quiet despite the bustling sounds of the city but neither if them know what to say, even as the minutes pass.

bakugou knows that you’d be better off with deku, he would treat you right and give you the love that you deserved all along. but that didn’t make it any less painful.

“kacchan, look...“ the number one says eventually, green eyes swirling with guilt. “i’m sorry—“

the blonde shakes his head, spitting his words out through gritted teeth. “don’t...just,” fuck, it hurts to breathe. “just…take care of her for me, you got that deku?”

“yeah, of course…”

the pair of childhood rivals don’t have much time to speak after that, for you’re already bounding out of your agency wearing a comfortable mint green summer dress and pair of red sneakers to rival deku’s, despite the thick bandage to your thigh.

“ready to go?” you ask your fiancé, face as warm and as bright as it had once been when you used to look at bakugou. izuku nods, delight dancing in his eyes despite the nervous chew to his bottom lip, before letting you turn to your ex lover. “great ! well, see you around kasuki, don’t be a stranger ! we’ve got to catch up again sometime, alright?”

you link arms with izuku midoriya, your fiancé, after that—walking away and leaving ground zero in the dust.

he doesn’t know how long he stands there for, heart in his hands even while he comes to the realisation that you hadn’t gone to todoroki that night when you’d left. no, you’d only told him that so it hurt a little less when he found out midoriya had been the one to look after you. you’d lied because you’d loved him.

you lie because you love him.

and it was only now that katsuki bakugou had realised what he’d lost.

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sunnysviolin · 3 years

Text

Omotober Day Six

“Bran thought about it. 'Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?'

'That is the only time a man can be brave,' his father told him.”

― George R.R. Martin

The walk home had become much more fun since they had met Aubrey. Before they met her it was just him and Kel. That wasn’t to say Sunny hadn’t had fun on those walks. Kel was his best friend, and he never pressed Sunny out of his comfort zones. He did pretty much all of the talking between the two of them and only stopped periodically to check in with Sunny or get an encouraging nod. Sunny loved to listen to Kel’s ranting and wild made up stories, and he usually ended up drawing them once they got back home. But now that Aubrey was there too, it wasn’t just a walk. It was a performance.

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

They continued back and forth, practically tripping over each other in their haste to respond. They had seemingly forgotten anything was around them but their ranting, facing one another as they walked and expertly avoiding obstacles with the practiced ease of those who were used to doing two things at once.

Aubrey had only joined their friend group a week or two ago, but she fit so seamlessly in with them it was hard to remember she hadn’t always been there. Kel had found a sparring partner in her, Mari finally had a little sister to spoil and do girly things with, and Hero could have made friends with a brick.

As for Sunny? Well he wasn’t too sure exactly what he thought of the girl, but he enjoyed having her around. He had never been a fan of loud noises or anger, but somehow with Aubrey it was different. She never stayed angry for long, and even when she was mad, she had never been scary.

“Did too times a million!” Aubrey declared, and Kel gave a disgusted growl, throwing his hands up in the air. She smiled smugly and stuck her tongue out at him, which only started their argument anew as Kel’s fire was rekindled by her slight.

Sunny smiled to himself as their back and forth sped up even more, and he continued to walk innocently at their side. As long as he didn’t call any attention to himself, they wouldn’t remember to drag him into it and try to get him to pick a side. Sunny couldn’t exactly remember what started their argument, or why they were still going at it after being at each other's throats since they had all gotten on the bus, but their shouting was funny.

An unexpected bark broke through his happy haze, and Sunny froze. His good mood evaporated and in its place was cold fear, dripping down his back and gluing his feet to the sidewalk. Hector bounded closer, tongue waving in the wind as he ran towards them. Kel cut off his argument with Aubrey and called for his brother. He intercepted the dog as it got to him, holding his collar fast and keeping him back from Sunny.

Aubrey gasped and clasped her hands together, squealing at the arrival of the furry terror. She skipped over, elated by the new arrival.

“Oh my gosh, who is this?” She asked, holding out her hand towards him. Hector was distracted from his mission to squirm out of Kel’s grasp and sniffed her hand with a laser focus. Once he had determined she was friend and not foe, Hector refocused his efforts to escape.

“This is Hector. He’s my dog,” Kel said, his words punctuated by pauses as Hector jerked them back and forth trying to get his freedom. Hector was only a dog, but Kel was also only a nine year old boy, and trying to hold onto an energetic ball of fur was quite the exercise.

Sunny tried to remember the steps Mari had given him for when he felt like this. Calm down.. Focus. No, he had to focus first, right? He couldn’t remember, and if he couldn’t remember the order, then it wouldn’t work. Sunny shut his eyes tight, letting black starbursts try to distract him from the pain in his chest. It didn’t work, then he was just scared he wouldn’t see if the dog came near him. He opened his eyes again. Kel was watching him with a worried look, and shame colored Sunny’s cheeks. It was bad enough to have such an overreaction to something completely normal, but Kel’s eyes on him somehow made it even worse.

“So cute!” Aubrey shrieked, not noticing what was going on between the boys. She squatted down and let Hector lick at her face, giggling in joy and scratching behind the dog’s ears. She took his face in her hands, speaking to him in a sweet baby voice, “You’re just a little lovebug, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Kel said, trailing off. He was clearly distracted by trying to manage everything around him, “Where is Hero?”

Said boy was hurrying up the street, an electric blue leash in his grasp. He was panting from exertion, the same way he always did when what they were doing required any exercise, and Sunny vaguely wondered if Hero had his inhaler with him. It was just running up the street, it shouldn’t trigger an asthma attack, but Sunny also knew that stress sometimes made them worse and could make just breathlessness pull into a full attack. On top of the fear and on top of the shame, now he also had to deal with guilt wrapping around his shoulders for causing Hero to have to run out and help him.

“I’m so sorry guys, Mari and I left the door open to get a breeze and I wasn’t paying attention to where he was,” Hero explained as he clipped the leash to Hector’s collar and pulled him into a heel. Hector walked in circles around Hero and tugged to try and get closer to the group of kids. The second Hero had him, Kel was back by Sunny’s side, blocking him and Hector with his body and quietly checking over his best friend. From around Kel Sunny spotted Mari walking over at a much slower pace, and the steel in his spine began to melt. Mari meant safety.

“Why are you sorry?” Aubrey asked, cocking her head to one side and looking around. She finally saw Sunny hiding behind Kel and she seemed even more confused.

Mari arrived with a gentle smile, walking around Kel and hugging Sunny close without words. He wrapped his arms around her automatically, breathing out a sigh and letting the tension fall out of his shoulders and onto the ground. He had felt better when Hero had intervened, but Mari was the one that made him feel safe again. If she was here, nothing bad would happen.

“Calm down. Focus,” She whispered, and the order clicked into place in Sunny’s mind. Once he knew that, he took an experimental breath. It was easier. He could do it.

“Sunny’s afraid of dogs,” Kel explained as the sibling had their moment, “We always keep Hector in our parents room when he’s around,”

“I completely lost track of time,” Hero said apologetically, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. Now that Sunny was taken care of, Kel knelt down by Hector and shushed the still whining dog, scratching underneath his chin the way he liked. Hector’s leg began to shake erratically and he held his head high to give Kel better access.

“It was an accident,” Mari replied, keeping Sunny close to her. When she worried she liked to have him right beside her, and he never minded. Beside her was the best place for him.

Aubrey hummed to herself, clearly taking in all of the information. She pulled her mouth into a thoughtful frown surveying the scene around her. The young girl walked away from where the brothers were and over to Sunny and Mari. She stood in front of him with her hands behind her back rocking back and forth on her heels.

“He’s a nice dog,” Aubrey stated, shooting Sunny an encouraging smile. She kept her voice sweet and light, the way she always talked to him. He bit the inside of his cheeks, avoiding eye contact with the girl. The shame sitting in his belly got worse.

He knew that Hector was a nice dog. Hector was the only dog that Sunny could even get relatively close to, but that didn’t change the fact that he was a dog. He was loud, and he jumped, and he licked, and the energy was just...too much. Sunny didn’t even have a good reason for being afraid of dogs, he just was. He had always been, and he always would be. It was frustrating. It was humiliating.

“It’s okay, Sunny,” Mari soothed, as if she knew what route Sunny’s mind was bringing him down. She patted his shoulder and turned to Aubrey, “It’s just something that he’s uncomfortable with, it’s not something that has to change.”

Aubrey loved Mari. She liked all of them, but Sunny knew that it was more with Mari. Aubrey looked at her like she hung the moon and the stars, and her word was law. They had only known Aubrey for a short time, but he already knew that she would never disagree with his sister.

That’s what made her next words so shocking.

“My mom says that fears should always be confronted. You can never bring light into the dark unless you open the door.” Aubrey stated, the words clearly rehearsed from hearing them over and over. She ended by holding out her hand towards Sunny, her smile never wavering.

“Aubrey...” Mari started with a sigh, her voice kind but delicately firm. Sunny knew what would come next from that tone.

Mari would gently put Aubrey down from the idea and bring Sunny back to the shelter of their house before anything else could happen. She would wrap him in blankets and hot chocolate and love and he would never have to confront what scared him so badly. It was the option he knew, the one that he should take. It made sense and it was safe, responsible even. It would be foolish to break out of what he knew and go beyond into the unknown.

But Aubrey was still holding her hand out. She still believed in him.

Sunny took her hand before Mari could finish her thought, letting himself be pulled out of his sister’s arms. Aubrey hummed a happy tune as she walked them away from Mari and back towards the boys. They were staring at Aubrey in silenced shock, Kel managing to keep a tight grip on Hector’s collar in spite of being clearly lost for words.

Aubrey, unphased and unafraid, changed her grip on Sunny’s hand and turned it so the back of his hand was facing Hector.

“So what you do is let him smell you. That way he knows you’re a friend, and you know that he’s okay with you being close to him.” Kel and Hero had taught this to him over a dozen times, but trying now wasn’t quite so stressful.

It had to be the way Aubrey held no fear or concern. Every time he had tried this before, his sister and friends had reassured him they were holding Hector tightly and that should anything go wrong, they would be here. The possibility of going wrong was what scared Sunny so badly, but that possibility wasn’t present now.

Hot puffs of air hit the back of Sunny’s hand as Hector eagerly sniffed the offered appendage. Kel still had his arms looped around Hector’s neck and Hero was holding the leash, and nothing had gone wrong yet. A pink tongue darted out and licked at his fingers, and Sunny pulled away. It wasn’t the normal jerky motion that was usually accompanied by a sudden breathless panic, he just didn’t like that feeling. Aubrey giggled and reached her own hand out to pat Hector on the top of his head.

“If you pet him, he won’t be able to lick at you,” She commented, and Kel took the silent direction to turn Hector close to him so Sunny could reach his body, “He’s really soft!”

She was right, Hector was soft. His fur was thick and glossy, clearly cared for and brushed thoroughly to keep it this nice. Sunny had seen Kel brushing Hector in the backyard plenty of times before, but now he could see the appeal of putting in all that work. Experimentally he scratched his fingernails against the dog’s body and he was rewarded by Hector giving a full body shake, turning so Sunny could get to his other side.

This was nice, unexpected, but nice. Mari was coming over now, putting a hand on Aubrey’s shoulder and beaming. Sunny turned around to look at the two of them and awarded the girl’s with one of his rare smiles, both of them lighting up at the unexpected happiness on Sunny’s face. Aubrey let go of his hand and turned all of her attention onto Hector, distracting the pooch with her baby talk.

“Are you fwiends now wiv Sunny? Yes you are, yes you are you sweet little baby,”

Sunny pulled his hand back, but he didn’t retreat. He was focused on watching Aubrey. Strong, confidant, idealistic Aubrey. Sunny finally figured out what he thought of her.

#omotober #omori #omori fic #omori aubrey #omori kel #omori hero #omori mari #heromari #sunburn #omori sunburn #omori hector

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15-dogs · 3 years

Text

hey lover |s.r.|

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer wants to ask you on a date but his fear of rejection causes him to write you a letter. however, he’s made the miniscule and idiotic mistake of forgetting to sign it. (fluff, mutual pining, and miscommunication!!)

warnings: very light swearing, description of murders/crime scenes (criminal minds level gore/description), food mention

guide: (Y/N) = your name, (Y/L/N) = your last name, (Y/N/N) = your nickname, italics = letter

word count: 3.2K

a/n: asjkdfhkj this is my first spencer fic i hope it turned out ok!!

***

It seemed like a good idea at first. Derek’s ideas always seem good at first. Spencer wasn’t sure why he trusted things would work out without error. Yet there he was, letter in hand and eyes wide at the stupid, miniscule mistake he made while you awaited his answer.

***

You had just begun working at the BAU no more than 3 months ago as the new communications liaison, replacing JJ while she was absent on maternity leave. You were quickly integrated into the carefully woven quilt that was the BAU and, in turn, you had built some very close relationships with your coworkers.

However, there was one person who you had grown extraordinarily fond of: Spencer Reid. You didn’t want to admit how smitten you were with the doctor, seeing as you were only working at the BAU for so long, but it was an indisputable fact you had fallen for him.

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer felt the exact same way. Your courageous and selfless demeanor struck him as something he hadn’t seen in anyone in quite some time. Not to mention how incredibly beautiful you were. Spencer knew it was impossible for anyone to be perfect but, when you made him feel the way he did, he began to question his thinking.

Spencer was quite terrible at hiding his feelings, finding himself staring at you a second too long when you walked to your office in the morning or bringing you extra breakfast and coffee because the store just happened to have an extra muffin they wanted to get rid of. It was so obvious yet you couldn’t pick it up for the life of you and Spencer really thought he was flirting to the fullest extent of his ability.

One morning you were running late. You had yet to arrive but you called Hotch to let him know you’d be at the office in no more than 30 minutes because the train was down for the time being. You also had texted Spencer, asking him if he wanted something at the small coffee shop around the corner while you waited. So as Spencer gave you his order with one hand, he downed the coffees he had made for you and himself in the other.

“Whoa, kid,” Morgan chuckled, prying the cup from his hand, “slow down. Your toothpick-body can’t take all that caffeine.”

Spencer swatted at Derek in an attempt to get the cup back only to see him lift it to his lips. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Morgan started with mock innocence, “was this for a certain communications liaison that a certain doctor has a crush on?”

Spencer rolled his eyes but felt the back of his neck heat up. “I don’t have a crush on her.” He made his way back to his desk, ignoring Morgan’s eyes boring into him.

“Oh, really? That’s a shame,” he could practically hear the teasing grin in Morgan’s words, “because she likes you.”

Spencer went rigid. He spun slowly on his heel until he saw Morgan’s smirking face, feeling his stomach drop again. He couldn’t believe he fell for that. Spencer retreated to his desk with Derek chasing after him.

“Kid, kid, listen! I know you like her! I was just-”

“Be quiet!” hissed Spencer, his cheeks now coated in a healthy flush.

However, Morgan wasn’t quiet enough. Emily perked up from her desk, rolling her chair over to join the conversation. “What are we talking about?”

Spencer tensed his hands and shook his head, turning to face his work again when Morgan explained, “How pretty boy’s got it bad for (Y/L/N) and won’t do a damn thing about it.”

“What?!” Spencer whipped around, his jaw slack from panic. Morgan and Emily were cackling to themselves at his shock, not even bothering to silence themselves.

“Reid,” Emily began, clutching her stomach from laughter, “it’s okay, I know you like her-”

“What?!”

Spencer’s increasing panic only furthered the pair to laugh even harder. Was he that easy to read? Did everyone know how he felt towards you? Dread began to set into his stomach at the thought of you knowing. His overthinking mind started to wander, assuming you knew how he felt and had led him on to get free breakfast every morning. He quickly scolded himself for thinking that— he’d been hurt too many times before, making that line of thinking second nature. But you weren’t someone who wanted to see people hurt; you were too kind, too caring to do that to anyone.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Emily asked. “She obviously likes you, too.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up for a second at the thought of you feeling the same but he caught himself. A moment too late, however. Emily and Morgan teased him, batting their lashes and making kissy faces at him, leading to Spencer throwing his head in hands to hide from their stares.

The two were no later interrupted as Hotch called Emily up to his office to go over a report she had put in, leaving Spencer and Morgan alone. Derek nudged Spencer’s leg, Spencer frowning at him as he met his eyes.

“Listen, kid, Prentiss was right. Why don’t you ask her out?”

If what Derek and Emily had said was true, why couldn’t he? He imagined himself walking up to you and asking you on a date, his heart fluttering at the thought. His fantasy soon turned sour as you snorted at his question, shaking your head vigorously and pushing him out of your office.

“I don’t think I could look her in the eyes if she rejects me.” Spencer’s voice was no more than a whisper as he announced his realization.

Morgan laid a hand on his shoulder, the other reaching around Spencer’s desk to hand him a piece of paper and a pen. “Then we’re going to do this the old fashioned way. Women love it when they get love letters, so write her one.” Spencer’s eyes bulged at Morgan’s words. “Love might be a bit strong, I get it, but you get the sentiment, right? Write her a letter about why you like her, ask her out at the end of the letter, and then slip it under her door.”

Spencer nodded slowly before shooing Morgan away, already hunched over the first draft of the letter. He worked it over and over again, feeling like each copy wasn’t good enough for you until he saw his phone buzz. It was a text from you. You were heading up. Spencer panicked, folding his latest draft and slipping it under the door to your office before settling back at his desk.

You waddled in from the elevators, attempting to balance a carry-out tray of coffees and a bag of croissants in one hand and your work bag in the other. Spencer jumped up from his seat, relieving you of the items belonging to him in an instant.

“Thank you so much, Spence. I was seconds away from dropping my breakfast.” You shouldered him gently in place of a grateful gesture. He nodded, ducking his head in hopes you hadn’t noticed the blush creeping up his cheeks.

Before Spencer could say anything, your phone rang. Sending him an apologetic smile, you managed to slip it out of your pocket and place it on your shoulder, shrugging it up to your ear as you answered. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

Spencer watched you walk off towards your office, taking a short sip from the coffee he definitely didn’t need. You stepped in and flicked the lights on with your elbow before tossing your bag onto your desk, freeing a hand to hold your cell phone. You took another step in before stumbling, your shoes caught on a loose paper by your door.

It was go time.

Spencer hurried back to his desk and pretended he wasn’t looking at you, even though it was extremely obvious he was. You set your breakfast on your desk and bent over to pick up the note, skimming it as you spoke. Your head snapped up and you turned to face the window that exposed the bullpen, Spencer ducking his head down and innocently reading the newspaper on his desk. He chanced a look up only to see you frown and hurriedly shut the blinds.

Spencer thought he was going to be sick. He paled and ran his hands over his face before digging the heel of his palms into his temples, massaging them roughly. You looked upset— disgusted. Why did he think you’d ever like him?

Before he could indulge in his own pity party, you stormed out of your office with a large file in hand. You raised it in the air to gather the attention of the team as you announced, “We have a case!”

The team scurried in after you, everyone finding their places in the conference room as you clicked on your presentation. The pictures of two young couples appeared on the screen as you passed the files around.

“Four victims from Atlantic City have been found dead in their homes.” You clicked to the crime scene photos, wincing at the sight. “The husbands’ C.O.D. being a slice through the carotid and the wives’ a shot through the head execution style. The husbands have also had their...hands removed.”

Hotch looked up from the file, brows furrowed. “This all happened in the span of 3 days so we need to be vigilant. He could be planning his next attack right now. Wheels up in 20.”

***

On the plane ride to New Jersey, the team had finished being briefed by Garcia’s intel quicker than usual and were left to ponder their own thoughts. You sat off by yourself at a table in the back of the jet, opening your bag to sneak out the letter left at your office earlier. You scanned the words and frowned again before being hit with a genius idea.

You stood from your seat and settled next to Spencer on the couch. Oddly, he went rigid at your presence, sitting up straight and avoiding eye contact. You shook it off and continued on with your plan.

“Spence, hey, can I ask you something?” you whispered.

Spencer’s mouth went dry. He knew what you were going to ask about. What else could you be asking about? “S-sure.”

“You’re the guy who’s good at identifying handwriting, right? Like matching it and stuff?”

His eyes flickered up, mouth opening and closing a few times before he settled on a nod. His mind swarmed with questions but none of them came out. He decided it might be best if he were silent, anyway.

“Great. Then can you help me out with” —you pulled the letter from your bag and handed it to Spencer— “this? I think I might have a secret admirer or something. Whoever it was either wanted to stay anonymous on purpose or forgot to sign their name. Either way, could you help me out?”

And that’s when Spencer started to blame Morgan for his terrible idea. Well, it wasn’t exactly his fault but Spencer couldn’t take the blame for something so embarrassing. There his letter was, his handwriting, his words, his admission, and he forgot to sign his name.

Spencer debated the logistics of admitting to his error; he wouldn’t have you pining over a mystery man, but then again he would be asking you out in real time. The whole point of the letter writing was to not see your face and if he told you he wrote it you could reject him straight to his face. He couldn’t deal with the thought of that. So Spencer, fear consuming him, shoved the letter back in your hands with a nonchalant shrug.

“Sorry, (Y/N/N), I don’t recognize the handwriting.”

“Oh,” you muttered, standing up. “That’s okay. Thanks for looking.”

And as you returned to your seat on the other end of the plane, a pit formed in your stomach. You were no profiler but you hoped you could have read Spencer better, seeing if he let on any signs the letter was his, that he liked you. But at that moment you had to push it aside. There was work to be done.

***

After a few days in the case, the team had a breakthrough. They had discovered all the women had been drugged and used a bargaining chip to lead the men back to their homes before getting killed. The unsub had been targeting wealthy couples at casinos and the only way the team could catch him is if he was drawn out of hiding. The whole explanation was a long winded way of Hotch telling you you needed to go undercover as Spencer’s wife.

You begged him to let Emily take your place but Hotch assured she would be better as a lone guest to cover your perimeter. Frowning, you explained you didn’t have any undercover experience but Hotch assured you you’d be fine, that the unsub would fall easily for your charade because of your close identification with the victim pool.

So there you were, in your hotel room sitting in a dress you didn’t care for with a wire far too uncomfortable running up the length of your sleeve. Your body thrummed with nerves so, in an attempt to calm down, you reached for the letter and reread it, practically having it memorized by now.

(Y/N),

I don’t normally do these sorts of things but you deserve these sorts of things— nice things. You deserve the best things. You deserve the things that make you happy, that make you smile, that make you laugh. You deserve all of that and more.

I’ve only known you for some time but I can safely say I’ve completely fallen for you. To be entirely honest, I don’t know how everyone here hasn’t as well. You have this gorgeous smile that makes everyone light up around you. Not to mention your laugh; it’s harmonic and encapsulating, like good music you never want to turn off.

I like you. A lot. And I know you’re too good for me but I can’t help but try. I get scared because people might see right through us— through me— and you’ll realize it, too, that you’re too good for me.

But now isn’t the time to worry about the future (even though I may have a tendency to do so). I’m sorry for not being the best at words. And I’m sorry for not being able to say this to your face but I like you, (Y/N), and I want to go on a date with you.

You were sure you had the confidence to spur forward with the night.

You left your room, ready to knock on Spencer’s door when you heard hushed whispers coming from inside. From the sound of it, Spencer was trying to opt out of the night while Hotch was trying to convince him to stay.

“You’re the only one on this team that can play some convincing poker, Reid-”

“That’s not the point!” Spencer huffed. “It’s...it’s (Y/N). People might see right through us— through me— and they’ll realize she’s too good for me. They won’t buy it. Not when she looks like herself and I look like, well, me.”

Something about his words hung around in your head. It was disquieting. His words weren’t true, of course. He was everything you could’ve wanted and the sheer fact he didn’t see himself that way broke your heart. But it wasn’t just that, there was something else. Something hidden in his words triggering a memory in you.

You were pulled from your thoughts as Spencer and Hotch walked out of Spencer’s room, giving you curt smiles before leaving towards the undercover van outside.

***

Fortunately, the night went as planned. The unsub was apprehended and you managed to stay cool undercover. Mostly cool. Your head was up in the air for a bit as you tried to recall what exactly Spencer had said that reminded you of something. Spencer had to focus you back in a few times but didn’t think anything of your lack of focus. Or, at least, he didn’t say it.

The jet couldn’t leave until the next morning so the team was stuck overnight at the trashy little motel the bureau had paid for. You tossed and turned in your bed, unease settling in your stomach. You decided it might be best for you to read the letter again, seeing as how it brought you such comfort earlier. But the second you scanned the words, the realization hit you squarely in the face.

Disregarding the late hour and the fact you were in pajamas, you ran out of your room and up to Spencer’s knocking on the door with haste. Spencer also seemed to be awake, answering just as quickly as you knocked.

“(Y/N)?” His voice was gravelly and low, like he had been in and out of sleep. You bit back a grin at the adorable pajamas he wore: plaid flannel bottoms and a t-shirt reading “I LOVE LAS VEGAS!” in bright gold lettering. Spencer tracked your eyes roving over his body before clearing his throat to get your attention again. “What’re you doing up at 3:00-”

“I know you wrote the letter.”

You didn’t mean to blurt it out but you just...did. Spencer coughed awkwardly and avoided your stare, shaking his head.

“I don’t...I don’t know what you’re…”

“Spence,” you began, taking his hand in yours, “I overheard you and Hotch talking earlier, about how people would see right through us. It’s the same thing in the letter— nearly identical.”

Spencer, positive he was completely red in the face, muttered, “Must’ve been a coincidence.”

“But it wasn’t, because I know you, Spencer.” You sucked in a sharp breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “Because I like you, Spencer.”

Spencer cocked his head, a smile tugging at his lips like he didn’t want to believe what you said. “You...you like me?”

You took a step towards the doctor, locking your hands around the back of his neck with a chuckle. “Yeah, Spencer, I like you.”

Spencer reached a careful hand up, brushing your hair out of your eyes and running his knuckles down your cheek with an adoring smile before connecting your lips. The kiss was soft and unsure but worth exploring. As you began to deepen it, you heard a door click open from behind you.

“Nice pajamas, you two,” Rossi teased. Spencer glared at him over your shoulder for disrupting what was the most perfect kiss he ever had. Rossi chuckled, holding his hands up in defense. “I saw nothing!”

Rossi slipped back into his room, laughing to himself about the interruption. You tucked your head against Spencer’s chest, feeling him place a soft kiss against the top of your head while his arms looped around your back, pulling you impossibly tighter towards him.

“You know,” he began, his chest rumbling against your ear in the most comforting way, “I’m beginning to think I should be writing you more letters.”

“A few more couldn’t hurt.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #david rossi #derek morgan #emily prentiss #cm fanfic #cm oneshot

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heliads · 3 years

Text

The Gala

Based on this request: “a Buck imagine where Nat drags you to Tony’s Party cause she knows you have a crush on him. Then you see him talking to some woman and you decide to get drunk. Later at night Buck is with you, helping you and trying to take care of you (he also has a crush on you). Then he carries you to his Apartment & you blurt out your Feelings for him. In the morning he tells you he feels the same :)”

masterlist

You fold your arms across your chest, staring at your best friend. She’s got many talents, that Natasha Romanoff; master spy, agent, killer, and most recently, a confidant dragging you to a party so you can embarrass yourself in front of the man you like.

Natasha looks cajolingly at you. “Come on, Y/N! It’ll be fun, and Bucky will be there. You have to go.” “That’s exactly why I shouldn’t go. I’ll just end up making a fool of myself,” you argue, “There’s literally no good reason why I should be there at all.” Natasha rolls her eyes. “That’s nonsense, and you know that. I mean, how long have we been friends- five years? Six? And you’ve been working at S.H.I.E.L.D. for even longer. Y/N, you couldn’t embarrass yourself in public if you tried, you’re too well trained. No matter what you do, Bucky will end up smitten.”

You eye her hesitantly. So what if you’ve been trained in de-escalation and maintaining a cool face no matter what? That was in matters of pressing government business, not when you’re face to face with the man you’ve had a crush on for what feels like forever, the two of you packed close together by a room crowded with people, the slight flush of a drink on your cheeks and the sway of your hips as you dance. There’s no way you’re going to Stark’s latest gala, especially if Bucky is there. You have to maintain your proper agent decorum, no matter what it costs.

Natasha looks at you expectantly. “You’ll have me, and you’ll have your position as an agent guarding the place. You show up wearing a gorgeous outfit, look amazing as always, and he’ll be head over heels for you in a matter of seconds, if he wasn’t already. And I’m fairly sure he already is, he asks about you all the time. There’s no way this could go south.”

You sigh, feeling some part of yourself start to give in. “Even if I wanted to go, I still wouldn’t be able to. I’m not an Avenger or some important government official that Tony wants to wine and dine, I don’t have an invite.” Natasha grins at you, pulling out a creamy white envelope from behind her back. “About that… Well, Tony insisted that I give this to you myself. You’re one of the only agents he trusts as well as being someone he considers a friend. He insisted that you show up.”

You laugh in spite of yourself, reaching out to take the invitation from your friend. Sure enough, your name is printed in swirling black letters right in the center. You groan quietly. “Fine, I’ll go. Know that you owe me for forever if this doesn’t work out.” Natasha cheers. “Consider it done. We’re going to have such a good time!”

It’s nine o’clock, the shadows of night disappearing where they’re combated by the lights shining out from Avengers Tower. You arrive with Natasha, and the two of you are enveloped by the flashing lights of cameras as you walk up to the building. Once inside, you can’t help but smile. Tony certainly spares no expense when it comes to his parties, and this gala is no exception. There are chandeliers strung from the ceiling, casting a golden glow onto the throngs of people all dressed in the most expensive and dramatic of fashions. Waiters bustle around, offering beverages and appetizers that look like they cost about half of your rent.

Natasha flashes you a grin, yelling to be heard over the din of the chatter and music. “Glad you came?” You smile back. “Absolutely!” Natasha is soon pulled away to discuss Avengers matters with Fury and a few other S.H.I.E.L.D. higher-ups, and you greet Tony before finally allowing yourself to circulate into the crowd of partygoers. You dance for a while, looking around in vain to see the metal-armed man you’d been hoping to meet. You see him in snatches and glimpses, just leaving the room or across that crowd of people. He makes eye contact with you a few times, looking like he’s just about to come talk to you when he gets dragged away by some important figure, glancing back at you with an apologetic smile every time.

Finally, you see him alone, walking out of the main room and down one of the hallways. You can hardly blame him- the noise of the party has reached a fever pitch and it’s hard to concentrate. You slip out of the multitude of gatherers, heading down that same hallway in the hopes of finally talking to Bucky. You’re not afraid of how this looks, you joining up with him with no one around- the two of you are actually quite good friends and work together frequently on missions for S.H.I.E.L.D.

You walk down the hallway for a while, peering into rooms but unable to spot him. You’re about to give up and turn around when you see a flicker of movement in one of the rooms at the very end of the hall. Assuming that must be him, you gather up your skirts and follow the sight. You are about to walk headlong into the room when you see something you weren’t expecting, and freeze in place.

Yes, Bucky is in the room. Yes, he was waiting for someone. No, that someone is not you. Bucky is wrapped around some woman, his hands on her hips and his lips on hers. He’s smiling into the kiss, leaning in further and eliciting a gasp from the woman. You find you have to stand there for a second, unable to move, then your senses finally return and you quickly turn around and leave. You’re grateful to your S.H.I.E.L.D. abilities in this moment, grateful that you can make a fast getaway and never be seen by any of the occupants of that room. Your heels don’t make a sound as you walk back down the hallway, the rustles of your skirts are quiet enough that they will go unnoticed, and the sound of your breaking hurt is muffled enough by your forever calm exterior that no one will ever notice that you’ve been damaged beyond repair.

When you find yourself back in the main room, you almost feel dizzy at the sudden onslaught of noise. Nothing’s changed here, even though everything has changed for you. Why did you ever think you had a chance with Bucky? Why would you ever be good enough for him?

You slowly blend in with the other partygoers, watching the scenes around you with something that borders on apathy. Every man seems like he has the same shoulder length dark hair and charming smile, every woman that bloodred smirk of lipstick that was never quite your shade. Every pair just looks like them, a sick and twisted version that whispers in your ear, finding glee in saying that you will never be enough. They are here, everywhere. It’s all in your head, but that doesn’t make it any worse to bear.

You manage to make your way over to the bar, quietly asking for a drink. Once that one’s gone, you request another. Then another. This isn’t right, this isn’t what you’re supposed to be doing, but does it matter? Nobody’s looking for you. Nobody’s searching or pretending that you were ever their first choice. One more than slightly intoxicated woman in a sea of drunken revelers will always go unnoticed. You will go unnoticed. That is how it will always be.

Your drinks catch up with you about half an hour later, and you feel yourself stumble slightly when you walk. You grimace to yourself, deciding it’s time to head out. You’ve got a pretty good head when it comes to handling your liquor, and can put on a show so real it can seem like you never had a drop in the first place.

So, you walk over to Natasha, smiling at her and telling her that you’re tired, that you’re just going to head out and no, there’s nothing wrong, no need to worry. She smiles at you, and despite all of her spy training she can’t read you this one time and assumes everything is fine, even if it most certainly is not. You wave a goodbye to Tony, then turn and walk out of Avengers Tower, leaving behind the party and the dancers and the hopes you had that now lie crushed on the floor of that hallway near the back.

Once you’re out of sight from the cameras and the onlookers, you finally let your guard down, just a little. You stumble once, twice, then grab onto the rusted metal of a sign to stop your fall. The metal is sharp, and cuts into your hand. You wince, watching as scarlet drops bead up in a thin line on your palm and then fall silently to the ground. You stand there for a long time, staring, so long that you almost think you’re imagining the voice shouting your name behind you until it finally manifests into someone a few feet away.

“Y/N! There you are!” You turn around, ready to tell Nat that you’re honestly fine and that she doesn’t need to leave, but your words die on your tongue when you realize the identity of the man behind you. “Bucky.” The name feels thick in your throat, barely making it past your lips before hanging there in the silence of the night.

Bucky nods. “I never got a chance to talk to you. You look amazing, by the way. I just kept getting stuck in never-ending conversations. I looked for you everywhere, then Nat told me you left.” He frowns at your hand. “Are you bleeding?” You glance back at your hand, dimly remembering the cut. You quickly close your hand, casually moving it to rest behind your back and out of sight. “No, no. It’s fine. Don’t worry.”

But Bucky refuses to believe you. “No, that was definitely blood.” He steps closer, taking your hand and forcing you to open it and reveal the cut slicing open your palm. He grabs a clean white cloth from his pocket, gently wrapping it around the wound. A small dot of blood starts to flower through the thin makeshift bandage, but other than that, it appears that the bleeding has stopped.

You mumble a thank you, and he just shakes his head dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Are you coming back to the party, or-” You cut him off. “I had too much to drink, and it’s catching up with me now. I figured it would be better to recover in my own apartment rather than in front of everyone and all their cameras.” Bucky grins. “I can understand that. Here, I’ll walk you back.”

You shake your head. “You don’t need to do that. They’re probably still expecting you back at the gala. I don’t want to waste your time.” Bucky just tilts his head at you, starting to walk in the same direction you had. “Trust me, the last thing I want to do right now is go back to that party. I felt like I was going to suffocate in there from all the false charity. And besides, any moment with you is never a waste of time.”

You feel a blush start to rise in your cheeks at his words, but you manage to suppress it when you remember the sight of him entangled with that woman earlier that night. He’s just being a friend. That’s all there is to it, and all there will ever be. Don’t make more out of this just because he’s being cordial to a coworker.

By the time you make it back to your apartment, you’re fully, unadulteratedly drunk. Your words have started to slur, and your footsteps don’t seem nearly as even as the perfectly unaffected Bucky next to you. You reach the door of your apartment, fishing around for your key, and turn to him. “This is where it ends, I guess. Thanks for walking me. Sorry about all this.” You say, gesturing languidly at yourself.

Bucky frowns. “You mean getting drunk? Trust me, if I could I’d be even worse than you. Tony hates Steve and me because we try to get drunk at every one of his parties to stomach the politicians and end up drinking half his supply of alcohol.” You laugh, glancing away to turn the key in the lock. “I was talking about myself. You didn’t have to walk me home or go out of your way to help some coworker.” You open the door, ready to put the night behind you, but Bucky follows you in.

“What are you talking about? Y/N, you’re one of the kindest, funniest, and most clever women I’ve ever met. Spending time with you is nothing to apologize for, never has and never will be.” You let out a small laugh at that, quiet as it is acidic in its bittersweet edge. “I was never your first choice. Not for friendship, not for time spent on late nights when you could be at parties, not for-”

You cut yourself off, clapping a hand to your mouth like a child caught saying more than they should have. You shake your head tiredly. “I think I need to go to bed.” You grin, starting to walk away again. Bucky just stretches an arm out to block your path. “Y/N, where is this coming from?” He rakes a hand through his hair, mussing up what had previously been a perfectly gelled style. You like it better like that, you think, not quite perfect. Just like you.

Your words feel like they’re stuck in your throat. “Why do you think I got this drunk, Bucky? Because I felt like it? Because I was bored? No, I saw you talking to-” Bucky holds up his hands. “Wait, what? I was talking to someone and that’s why you started on this cycle of self-destruction?”

You laugh bitterly. “You’re always the reason, the motivator for why I show up or why I don’t. I just didn’t think you would ever know that because I would never let you know.” Bucky’s staring at you, and you feel a tidal wave of words starting to rush out of you. Not now, not here. Not in front of him. But it’s too late, and it’s already crossed your lips. “I love you, Bucky. I know you would never feel the same, and that’s why this whole thing hurts so much.”

Bucky’s silent, silent for far too long. You’ve done it now, really and truly messed things up. Then Bucky leans over, and kisses you softly. You gasp quietly, and he pulls away. “I love you too. You’ve always been the most important person to me. Now and forever.” He lets out a little laugh. “That’s why Steve convinced me to go to Stark’s stupid gala in the first place. God knows I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I wanted to see you.” You feel frozen in place. “Then why did you- why did you kiss that woman?”

Bucky’s head flies up. “You saw that?” You nod silently. “That’s why I got myself this drunk. I couldn’t take the sight of you with her, not when you looked so happy with her. I knew in that moment that there would never be a chance of you loving me back.” Bucky raises a hand to his head. “I didn’t feel a thing for her. I left the room because it was insufferably loud and I couldn’t stand it. She followed me out and into that room. I thought she was you, and I let her kiss me. After about a second, I realized my mistake and I left as soon as I could.”

You look at him with hopeful eyes. “So you actually love me?” Bucky grins. “Have loved you for a while now, but I’m glad you feel the same way.” You breath out quietly, feeling a smile break out across your face. This is what you’d always hoped for, this moment that’s finally happening. Bucky glances at the clock across the room, and curses softly.

“It’s getting late. I think we both need to head to bed, and you especially.” You groan, turning to walk towards your room. “My head’s going to kill me tomorrow, isn’t it?” Bucky walks with you to your room, pausing at the door. You turn back to face him, pulling softly at his hand. “Stay. Please. Just this one night. I don’t want to be alone.”

He hesitates for a moment, then lets a slow smile cross his lips. “Anything for you, love.” You fall asleep that night in his arms, head tucked just so under his. When you wake up that next morning, your first sight is of his eyes, and the way he smiles when he tells you he loves you one more time.

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selfignitingimagines · 3 years

Text

Stiles- If I Can’t Have You, No One Can (Obsessed Part 4)

A/N: When I was initally writing this series I had a set plan for where I wanted it to end and how. I was recently rewatching the last few episodes of season 2 and I got struck with some inspiration. Let me know down below if you guys want a part 5 so I can continue the series!

TRIGGER WARNING: Stalking, kidnapping

Here are the links for Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.

“Right there!” Stiles cried, frantically gesturing toward the computer screen on his dad’s desk. “Stop! Stop! See? There he is again.”

They were scrolling through hours of security footage recorded at the hospital the night one of Matt’s victims was killed. So far, all they had managed to capture were shots of him with his back turned. This tape was no different.

“You mean there’s the back of his head again,” the Sheriff told him.

“Okay, but look. He’s talking to someone!”

Scott followed Stiles’ gaze. His eyes widened. “He’s talking to my mom.”

He hastily pulled out his phone out of his jeans and called his mom, hoping she would be able to confirm that it was Matt. Stiles tapped his foot nervously as they talked. His shoulders slumped in relief when he heard her say that Matt was the one she had seen.

“Alright,” the Sheriff said when she hung up. He picked up a manila evidence folder from his desk.

“We’ve got shoe prints alongside the tire tracks at the trailer site...”

“And if they match, that puts Matt at the scene of three murders,” Stiles said. “The trailer, the hospital, and the rave.”

“Actually four,” the Sheriff told him, flipping through the documents in the folder. “A credit card receipt for an oil change was signed by Matt a few hours before the murder.”

Stiles let out a sigh of relief. “Alright, Dad, if one’s an incident, two’s a coincidence, and three’s a pattern, what’s four?”

“Four’s enough for a warrant.”

Stiles curled his fist in triumph. “We can find Y/n.”

“Scott, call your mom back. See how quickly she can get here. If I can get an official ID, I can get a search warrant. Stiles, go to the front desk. Tell them to let Scott’s mom in when she gets here.”

“On it.” Stiles nodded hastily and turned down the hall.

His whole body was humming with adrenaline now. He had spent the whole night terrified, wondering what Matt was doing to you. Stiles knew you were probably betting on the fact that they would find you. After all, it was what he would have done in your situation.

You have saved each other plenty of times before, and now it was his turn again. He knew he could do it, he just wasn’t sure what Matt would do to you in the meantime.

Stiles had tried his best to protect you, but he knew it hadn’t been enough. He should have pushed harder when he suggested you go to the police the other night. He should have kept a closer eye on you at the party, but he had been too caught up in his own issues.

He tried to shake off those thoughts as he walked down the halls of the station, telling himself that he still had time to make up for it. He had told you the other night that everything he did was to keep you safe, and that was still true.

As he rounded the corner of the hall, Stiles realized that the officer on duty was no longer standing at the front desk.

“Hello?” he called, looking around for her.

That was when he noticed her black combat boot sticking out from behind the corner of the desk. He felt a shiver run down his spine, and he realized she was lying on the floor among a mess of fallen papers. Her eyes were wide open, but they weren’t moving, and her tan uniform was stained dark red with blood.

She was dead, but as Stiles took in the horrific sight, he also noticed another chilling detail. The holster on her hip was empty. Someone had taken her gun.

Stiles stumbled back, turning around, only to come face to face with you.“Y/n?”

Tears were slipping from your eyes, and your lip was trembling. You looked terrified, standing there in your disheveled dress. It was the same one you had been wearing at the party last night.

Matt was standing behind you, one hand one your shoulder as he pressed the dead officer’s gun into your back.

“If you make one move I’ll shoot her,” he told Stiles.

Stiles reluctantly held up his hands. “Okay. Okay, fine.”

“I’m sorry,” you mouthed, but he shook his head. You had to know this wasn’t your fault.

Matt kept the barrel of the gun pressed against your back as Stiles led you further into the station. He turned into his dad’s office, and you realized that the Sheriff and your brother were also there.

“Y/n!” Scott cried.

He started forward, but Matt ordered him to stop, waving the gun so he and the others could see it.

“Matt,” the Sheriff said slowly. He held up his hands.

“It’s Matt, right? Matt, whatever’s going on, I guarantee there’s a solution that doesn’t involve a gun.”

Matt’s lips curled into a sick grin. “You know it’s funny you say that, because I don’t think you’re aware of just how right you are.”

“I know you don’t wanna hurt people-”

“Actually, I wanna hurt a lot of people. You four weren’t on my list, but I could be persuaded...and one way is to try calling somebody on your cell phone like McCall is doing.”

Scott ripped his hand out of his pocket, looking between you and Stiles apologetically.

“That...that could definitely get someone hurt.”

“Everyone?” Matt gestured with the gun, and you knew he was telling them to give up their phones. “Now!”

“Come on,” the Sheriff told the boys calmly.

Stiles looked back at you.

“Pretty sure he tossed mine out the window last night,” you muttered.

Matt led the four of you to the tiny jail at the back of the station. There, he made Stiles handcuff his dad to a bench. You felt your stomach drop. Now the three of you were completely on your own with Matt.

He waved the three of you in front of him and forced you to walk up to the front of the station. As you passed by another hallway, you gasped.

Three other officers were lying in the hallway and all of them appeared to be dead. Their chests had been ripped open so forcefully that every wall around them was splattered with blood.

You looked away, fighting the urge to vomit.

“What, are you gonna kill everyone in here?” Scott demanded.

“No,” Matt said with a scoff. “That’s what Jackson’s for. I just think about killing them...and he does it.”

He forced you back into Stilinski’s office, where he made Stiles log into his dad’s computer. Matt had him delete every bit of evidence, including the video footage of him at the hospital. Scott was destroying the paper evidence in the shredder, including the shoe prints that would have matched Matt’s boots.

Stiles glared at Matt from behind the desk, wanting to rip him apart as he stroked his fingers down your hair. He had forced you to sit next to him on the couch, and you were currently staring intently at the tiled floor.

Stiles had already seen the bruises Matt had left on your throat. The only thing keeping him from jumping across that desk was the knowledge that Matt would have Jackson rip all of you to pieces at a moment’s notice.

“Deleted,” he told Matt bitterly, gesturing toward the computer. “And we’re done. So, Matt, since all the people you brutally murdered deserved it, because they killed you first-whatever that means-we’re good here, right? I’ll just get my dad and we’ll go. You know, you continue on the whole vengeance thing, enjoy the Kanima.”

Before he could respond, the glow of headlights swept through the windows. You could hear tires crunching on the gravel of the parking lot outside.

“Sounds like your mom’s here,” Matt told you and Scott.

“Matt, don’t do this,” you begged.

“When she comes to the door, we’ll just tell her to leave,” Scott added. “I’ll tell her we didn’t find anything! Please, Matt.”

The sound of the metal door creaking open echoed through the station, and Matt grinned. “If you don’t move now, I’m gonna kill Y/n first, and then your mom.”

He pressed the gun up against your back, and Scott glared at him. Matt pulled you up by the back of your dress and gestured for Scott and Stiles to go first.

“Open it,” he ordered Scott, when you had made your way back to the front lobby.

“Please,” Scott begged one more time.

“Open. The. Door,” Matt told him, enunciating each word carefully.

Scott reached out, shaking his head regretfully. When he turned the knob, the door slowly creaked open to reveal the person standing there. It wasn’t your mom, but Derek Hale.

“Oh thank god,” Scott breathed.

But Derek simply stared at him. Then, he pitched forward and slammed straight onto the floor below. Jackson was standing behind him, half transformed. He held up one scaly hand, still dripping with clear venom, and stalked into the lobby.

Matt walked over and knelt in front of Derek, flipping him on his back. He was now completely paralyzed.

“This is the one controlling him?” Derek asked from the floor. “This kid?”

“Well, Derek, not everyone’s lucky enough to be a big, bad werewolf.”

Matt straightened up, glancing between you, Scott, and Stiles. “That’s right! I’ve learned a few things lately. Werewolves, hunters, kanimas...it’s like a freakin’ halloween party every full moon.”

He smirked. “Except for you Stiles. What do you turn into?”

Stiles glared at him.

“Abominable snowman,” he snarked. “But it’s more of, like, a wintertime thing. You know...seasonal.”

Matt rolled his eyes, and in seconds, Jackson was swiping his claws across the back of Stiles neck.

“Hey!” you cried.

“Bitch,” Stiles swore at Matt, before his knees went out from under him. He crashed onto the ground, right on top of Derek’s chest.

“Get him off of me,” Derek growled.

Matt laughed. “Oh, I don’t know, Derek. I think you two make a pretty good pair. It must suck though, having all that power taken away from you with just a little cut to the back of the neck. I bet you’re not used to feeling this helpless.”

Derek glared up at him from the floor. “Still got some teeth. Scoot down here a little closer, huh? We’ll see how helpless I am.”

“Yeah, bitch.”

Stiles’ voice was muffled from being facedown against Derek’s chest, but you couldn’t help but smile.

For the second time that night, headlights flashed through the windows of the sheriff’s station. You could hear another car pulling to a stop outside.

“Is that your mom?” Matt asked. “Do what I tell you to, and I won’t hurt her. I won’t even let Jackson near her.

“Scott, don’t trust him,” Stiles mumbled into Derek’s shirt.

Scott remained frozen in front of the door, but Matt was impatient. He reached forward, snatching you by your hair and tugging you back against him. He wrapped his arm around your neck, squeezing against your windpipe and cutting off your breath.

“This work better for you?” he asked Scott.

You reached up, scratching at his arms, but he didn’t even flinch.

“Okay, stop, just stop,” your brother begged.

“Then do what I tell you to!” Matt spat.

“Okay, alright, stop!”

Matt finally let you go, right as you were on the verge of blacking out. You hit the floor on your hands and knees, gasping and dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

“You,” Matt said, gesturing to Jackson. “Take them in there. You two, with me.”

He yanked you up off the ground by your arm, and gestured for Scott to open the door as Jackson hauled Derek and Stiles out of the lobby.

When the door finally opened, Matt pulled you behind the corner of the hallway. You could hear the door squeaking open, and your mom asking “Scott?”

You were trembling as Matt held you back against his chest. What would he do to your mom?”

“You scared me,” you heard her say. “Where is everyone?”

That was when Matt shoved you out in front of him. Your mom gasped your name. As far as she had known, you were still missing.

When she saw Matt come out behind you and press the gun against your back, she froze.

“Mom,” Scott told her nervously. “Just do what he says. He promised he wouldn’t hurt you.”

“He’s right,” Matt agreed.

Then, he raised the gun, and shot Scott in the stomach. You and your mom both screamed, but as she rushed forward, Matt pointed the gun at you.

“But I didn’t say I wouldn’t hurt him.”

Scott was holding himself up using the wall, just barely managing to not fall to his knees. He had one hand pressed against his side, and blood was beginning to pool through his shirt. You knew he would heal from the gunshot wound, but your mom didn’t.

She tried to step forward, but Matt waved the gun.

“Back! Back!” he ordered.

“Mom,” Scott choked. “Mom, do it. Please mom.”

You could hear Stiles' dad from all the way at the back of the station. He had undoubtedly heard the gunshot.

“Matt! Matt, listen to me-!”

“Shut up!” Matt roared. “Shut up! Everybody shut the hell up!”

He gestured to Scott before training the gun back on you. “Get up, or I shoot your sister next.”

“Please,” your mom begged. Tears were running down her cheeks. “He needs to see a doctor.”

Matt tilted his head. “You think so?”

“It’s alright,” Scott insisted. “I’m okay.”

“No, sweetie, you’re not,” your mom insisted.

She began to babble about how he was just feeling the adrenaline, how he needed to get to the hospital. You looked over at your brother, and he met your eyes. There was no way he was going to be able to keep his secret after this, provided you all made it out alive.

“They have no idea, do they?” Matt asked you.

You didn’t answer him. Your mom was still trying to convince Matt to let her take Scott to the hospital.

“Lady, if you keep talking, I’m going to put the next bullet in her head.”

He raised the gun to your skull. Your breath caught in your throat when you felt the barrel of the gun against your skin.

Your mom took a deep breath, and held up her hands. Tears were streaming down her face, leaving wet lines of black mascara. “Okay...okay.”

Matt shoved you in front of him, pushing you down the hall. He paraded you back through the station, and locked your mom into the cell next to the bench Stilinski was cuffed to.

When Matt shut the cell door, your mom reached out through the bars, grasping your hand tightly. “You’re okay?”

You nodded, tears slipping from your own eyes. “I’m okay. Stiles and Scott made sure I was safe.”

“Back to the front McCall!” Matt barked. “Both of you!”

You glanced back at your mom reluctantly as Matt shoved you in front of him. He walked behind you and your brother as you headed out into the hallway. Then, he herded you into the station breakroom.

There were a few tables and some chairs, but even though you were exhausted, you were too afraid to sit down. Scott leaned against one of the tables, still grasping his bloody side. You guessed the wound wasn’t fully healed yet. If the bullet hadn’t exited, it wouldn’t be able to close unless someone pulled it out.

“The evidence is gone,” Scott told him. “Why don’t you just go?” Matt raised his eyebrows. “You really think the evidence mattered that much? No. No, I want the book.”

“What book?” Scott asked him,

“The bestiary!” Matt snarled. “And not just a few pages. I want the entire thing.”

“I don’t have it. It’s Gerard’s. You told him that, didn’t you?” He was looking at you now. You shrugged. “I tried.”

Scott glanced back over at Matt. “What do you need it for, anyway?”

“I need answers.”

“Answers to what?”

Frustrated, Matt yanked up the edge of his shirt, revealing his scale-covered side. “To this!”

Scott’s eyes went wide. If Matt was turning into another kanima, there was nothing stopping him from killing whoever he wanted. When you looked at your brother’s face, you had the sneaking suspicion that you two would be next on his list.

------

Stiles laid on the floor of the station, staring up at the ceiling. The tiled floor was cold against his back, which was a welcome relief considering sweat was dripping down his neck. He wasn’t sure whether it was just hot in the station, or if he was nervous. If he was being honest, it was both.

He and Derek had been lying there for what felt like hours, but Stiles knew it was probably only thirty minutes.

“Hey,” he said, breaking the silence. “Do you know what’s happening to Matt?”

“I know the book’s not gonna help him,” Derek said grimly. “You can’t just break the rules. Not like this.”

Stiles tried to look over at him from the corner of his eye.

“What do you mean?”

“The universe balances things out. It always does.”

“Is it because he’s using Jackson to kill people who don’t deserve it?”

“And killing people himself,” Derek added.

Stiles thought for a moment. “So if he breaks the rules of the Kanima, he becomes the Kanima?”

“Balance,” Derek agreed.

“Will he believe us if we tell him that?”

“Probably not.”

Stiles sighed. “Okay, he’s gonna kill all of us once he gets that book, isn’t he?”

“Yep...except for maybe Scott’s sister.”

Stiles gritted his teeth. “I’m gonna kick his ass the second I can move again.”

“That’s a great way to get her throat ripped out too.”

Stiles didn’t respond. He knew Derek was right, but a part of him wanted to go after Matt without thinking about the consequences. He knew he had left those bruises on your neck. He knew that the minute you shattered Matt’s fantasy, he would kill you too. He had to do something before that happened.

“I know you’re in love with her.”

Stiles swallowed at Derek’s words. “Maybe.”

“I can tell. I know you’d do anything to save her, but right now, we need to be smarter.”

“Alright,” Stiles relented. “So what do we do? Do we just sit here and wait to die?”

“Unless I can figure out a way to push the toxin out of my body faster, like triggering the healing process.”

“Wha-”

He glanced down, only to realize that Derek’s claws were now protruding from his fingers. They had grown into his jeans, right into his skin, where blood was beginning to ooze.

Stiles gagged. “Oh, gross.”

-----

Back in the breakroom of the station, Matt shook his head, letting his shirt fall back down. He glanced between you and Scott.

“You know, I feel sorry for you guys. Cause right now you’re probably thinking ‘How am I gonna explain this when it heals?’. And the sad part is, you don’t even realize how incredible it is that you are healing. Cause you know what happens to anyone else when they get shot? They die!”

You and Scott exchanged uneasy glances.

“Is that what happened to you?” your brother asked.

Matt was silent. He was staring at the ground, but he didn’t look as vicious as he had earlier. He actually seemed kind of tired. Scott seemed to notice this too, so he continued to press.

“You drowned, didn’t you?”

“He shouldn’t have let them drink,” Matt muttered, still staring at the floor.

“What?” you asked. “Who? Matt, what do you mean?”

“Lahey!” He suddenly exploded. “He shouldn’t have let them drink.”

You flinched back, closer to your brother.

“What?” Scott asked. “Who was drinking?”

“The swim team, you idiot! I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know they had just won State…”

You and Scott listened to Matt as he went on and on. He explained how, when he was in eighth grade, he had been heading over to Isaac’s to trade comics. Mr. Lahey was throwing a party for his swim team and letting them drink around the pool. All of Matt’s victims had been there. Tucker, Cara, Bennett, even Jessica and Shawn, the married couple.

They were joking around when Matt came into the backyard, tossing each other into the pool. Isaac’s brother Camden decided to throw Matt in too. They didn’t know he couldn’t swim.

“And the next thing I know, I’m lying by the pool,” Matt explained. “And Lahey’s standing over me, and he’s saying ‘You don’t know how to swim? What little bastard doesn’t know how to swim? You say nothing. You tell no one.’ And I didn’t.”

He let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “I would wake up every night, gasping for breath. My parents thought I was an asthamatic. They even got me and inhaler. They didn’t know that everytime I closed my eyes, I…I was drowning.”

He was silent for a few moments, and then he looked back at you and Scott. “And then came Kate Argent’s funeral.”

His lips began to curl into a smile as he explained how he had realized he and Jackson were bonded.

“I was taking some photos, and then, purely by accident, Lahey gets in one of them. I looked down at my camera, and I just had this unbelievable rage that filled up inside of me. I looked at him and I just...I wanted to see him dead.”

Matt let out a disbelieving laugh. “And the next day, he actually was! You know, Einstein was right. Imagination is more important than knowledge. It was like something out of Greek mythology, like...like the Furies coming down to punish Orestes.”

He looked over at Scott, who was staring at him, dumbfounded. Matt rolled his eyes. “You have no idea what I’m talking about do you?”

Scott swallowed. “Was that...was that the guy that stabbed out his eyes.”

“That’s Oedipus, you dumbass!” Matt barked.

His gaze snapped over at you. “You know what I’m talking about don’t you?”

You nodded carefully. “The furies were deities of vengeance, weren’t they?”

Matt nodded. “Their tears ran of blood and they had snakes for hair. If there was a crime that had gone unpunished, the Furies would do the punishing. Jackson is my Fury. You know, when I saw him the next night, I knew he had killed Lahey for me, and I knew he would do it again.”

Matt began to smile to himself again. “So I went to Tucker’s garage. I even paid for an oil change, and guess what? He didn’t even recognize me! So when he wasn’t looking, I took a shot of him with my camera...and in a few hours, he was dead. So I took more pictures. All I had to do was take their picture, and Jackson would take their life.”

You glanced over at Scott, who looked just as concerned as you were. Matt was giving no indication that he would stop the killings. You were pretty sure that he and Stiles were next on his list.

Scott opened his mouth, maybe to try and convince Matt to let you all go, but he never got the chance to speak. The thick, acrid smell of smoke filled the air, and suddenly the room was engulfed in a white cloud.

Sirens began to wail, echoing through the halls of the station. They let out a sharp, bleating sound that hurt your ears.

“What is this?!” Matt demanded. “What’s happening? What’s going on?!”

He suddenly reached out, snatching you by the arm.

“I don’t know!” Scott cried. “Y/n, where are you?”

“I’m right here!”

He reached out, trying to see if he could grab you, but Matt yanked you backward against him. He pressed his gun against your side and forced you out the nearest exit.

Bright yellow emergency lights began to flicker, illuminating the breakroom. Jackson passed you and Matt as you left the room. He was headed right toward Scott. You tried to pull out of his grasp, but he dug his nails into your arm.

“Scott!” you screamed.

“I’ll have Jackson rip your mom apart next,” he snarled.

He dragged you through the halls of the station, keeping the gun pressed tightly against your side. The smoke was starting to dissipate now, and the flashing lights ensured that Matt knew where he was going.

He shoved open a door and hauled you into a darkened garage. The long room was bordered by bay doors on one side. A few desks littered the room, but it was mostly filled with police squad cars or transport vans.

Matt dragged you past tool carts and spare tires, and you struggled not to trip.

“Please, Matt,” you begged. “Just let me go.”

“Shut up!” Matt snapped. He looked around frantically until he spotted a door with a glowing, red exit sign. He pushed you toward it and forced you outside.

Cool air hit your face as you stepped out into the night, but you didn’t have time to appreciate it. He broke into a run, keeping one hand on your arm as he pulled you further from the building. Panic began to build in your chest.

A couple hundred yards ahead, the clearing you and Matt were running through ended with a line of trees. There was a small creek running at the edge of it. Farther downstream, a bridge crossed over the water. Matt began to pull you in the opposite direction.

Suddenly, you stumbled, falling onto your knees in the grass. Matt reached down to haul you up, but when his guard was down, you knocked the gun out of his hand. It landed somewhere in the grass, and he was unable to see where it went in the dark.

You scrambled onto your feet as Matt felt for the gun in the grass, but when he realized you were running, he abandoned it.

“No!”

He tackled you to the ground before you could even make it five feet away, and the impact knocked the wind out of you.

You squirmed, but he quickly pinned you down into the grass.

“Get off me!” you gasped, but his hands were pressing your wrists into the grass.

He smiled down at you, but there was an empty look in his eyes. Your heart began to pound even harder against your chest.

“Do you remember when I said that I’m not the type of guy that’s gonna say something like ‘If I can’t have her, no one can.’?”

You writhed under him, but your exhaustion had caught up with you. He was much stronger, and now that he was turning into another kanima, you didn’t have a chance of fighting him off.

Matt didn’t wait for you to respond to him. He just kept talking and grinning down at you with that sick look in his eyes.

“See, that’s not entirely true,” he mused. “Because, Y/n, if I can’t have you. No one can.”

Then his hands were on your neck, squeezing. You fought him, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. He was going to kill you.

You reached up, scratching at his hands and wrists. You could feel his skin peeling away under your nails and the warm, wet blood you were drawing. Still, it wasn’t enough.

Your vision was beginning to cloud. Your attempts to fight him off were growing weaker by the second. All you could think of was Stiles.

The two of you always seemed to be saving each other in one way or another. This time, you had hoped he would be able to rescue you, but it looked like that wasn’t going to happen. You knew there was no use in hoping for anything else.

Instead, you tried to think about something good. As your mind wandered, you thought of Stiles’ honey brown eyes. You thought of the surprise and delight on his face when you said something funny that he hadn’t expected. You remembered the way he had kissed you the night at the rave, his hands warm on your cheeks.

Everything was beginning to go dark, but you were content. You swore you could hear Stiles’ voice, warm and soothing...and then it was gone.

You opened your eyes, taking one painful, gasping breath. Matt’s weight was no longer on top of you. You rolled over onto your side, desperately sucking in air as you struggled to lift yourself up into a sitting position in the grass.

You looked around, wondering what had happened. That was when you saw Matt being dragged down the hill by Gerard Argent, of all people. You didn’t understand what was happening at first, but then, Gerard threw him down into the bed of the creek.

Gerard waded out until he was knee-deep in the water. Then he grabbed Matt by his t-shirt and thrust his head under water. You watched, horrified, as he drowned him in the creek.

That was when you ran, occasionally glancing over your shoulder to make sure Gerard wouldn’t follow you. He didn’t even look up. Either he would come after you later, or he just didn’t care.

You sprinted past the bridge, only to have a pair of arms reach out and snatch you back. You opened your mouth to scream, but a hand clamped down over your lips, muffling the sound.

You were pushed up against the side of the bridge, the rough stone scraping against your back. When you saw who had grabbed you, your eyes went wide. It was Peter Hale.

It suddenly crossed your mind that maybe you hadn’t escaped Matt in the clearing. Maybe you were dead. Maybe that was why you were face to face with Peter, whose throat Derek had slashed open last month.

He held one finger to his lips as he stared down at you, and while you should have been terrified, you had the odd feeling that he wouldn’t hurt you.

“Watch,” he said quietly.

He grabbed you by the shoulders and spun you around, forcing you to look back at Matt and Gerard. You could see Matt’s motionless body floating in the water. Gerard was now standing up on the bank of the creek, his clothes still dripping wet. His lips were moving, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. It didn’t seem to matter, because what you saw next told you everything you needed to know.

The Kanima was creeping out from the shadows, wandering toward Gerard on its hands and feet. Instead of running, Gerard lifted one arm and raised his palm. The Kanima moved closer, hesitantly. Then it lifted up one scaly, clawed hand, and touched its palm to Gerard’s.

He was now its master.

“Go,” Peter urged in your ear. “Tell your brother what you saw.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “Why?”

A smile played at the edge of Peter’s lips. “I have a feeling we’re all on the same team now.”

He let go of your shoulders and you slowly backed away from him, keeping your eyes trained on his shadowy form the entire time. When you were a few yards away, you turned your back and took off running toward the station.

Your chest was burning as you raced back toward Scott and the others. When you pushed open the doors of the station, several officers whirled around and trained their guns on you. You guessed Stiles’ dad had called for backup at some point.

As you threw up your hands, you were able to see the Sheriff, your mom, and Stiles all standing in the lobby.

“Y/n!” Stiles cried. “Oh thank god.”

The officers lowered their guns, and Stiles rushed over. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. You froze in his arms, not quite sure how to handle his touch. The feeling of being caged against him made your skin crawl. Though you hated to admit it, it reminded you of Matt.

He pulled away suddenly, realizing you weren’t reciprocating.

“Hey...are-are you okay?”

You shook your head, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. The lights of the station were too bright, and the sound of the deputies’ boots thumping on the floor caused you to flinch. You didn’t even know where to start.

Stiles watched in shock as you suddenly burst into tears. He wanted to reach out and hold you, but by the way you had just reacted, he was afraid to touch you.

“Oh, uh…”

Before he could think of anything to say, your mom rushed over and put a hand on your back. “Let’s get you somewhere quiet, Sweetheart.”

She cast a sympathetic glance in Stiles’ direction and led you down the hall. The Sheriff followed after the two of you, no doubt planning to take your statement. Matt was nowhere to be found, and Stiles was willing to bet you knew what happened to him.

He wanted to follow, but he knew if he did, his dad would just kick him out of the room. You were a witness now, and they would need an official statement from you.

Scott came jogging down the hallway. Stiles realized he must have heard you come back.

By then, the door to the office you had disappeared into was shut.

Scott headed over to Stiles. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles admitted. “But I don’t think your sister’s okay.”

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #selfignitingimagines #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagines #@screamxqueenx94 #tw kidnapping #tw stalking

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madswonders · 3 years

Text

A Lesson In Romance #10: Thoughts

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Implied anxiety, Mentions of canon-typical violence

Word Count: 2.5k

Plot: Reader keeps getting caught in rom-com situations with Spencer Reid. This time, they're paired together on a case.

A/N: I know that the BAU's conference room has big-ass glass windows but just imagine that the blinds are closed for the entirety of this chapter aha. Also this chapter is a doozy... like 1k words longer than usual, so enjoy!

Masterlist | All chapters here!

---------

As Peter Gizzi once described the phenomena of love, "About you there is nothing I wouldn’t want to know / With you nothing is simple yet nothing is simpler."

In high school, your reputation always preceded you. The cynic that never had a boyfriend, much less a drunken one-night stand; a prude who waited over ten dates to have her first kiss; or the "ice queen" who kept her emotions locked up and threw away the key.

If they saw you now, you wondered if they would laugh at how you've changed; because these days, you looked like you were keeping the best secret in the world, one that threatened to burst from your lips every time you smiled.

What you didn’t know, is that you didn't need to be a profiler to see it. From the bubbling laughter and whispered conversations, to the not-so-secret longing glances. You and Spencer disappeared into your own world when you were together, and everybody knew it.

And for the first few weeks, that was enough. You found it easier than usual to ignore the thoughts that lurked in the back of your mind. That is, until you couldn't.

"... I want you and Spencer to work on the geographic profile." Hotch had announced, and you remembered the feeling of your blood running cold.

There were two reasons for this. First was the fact that this case linked twenty homicides across three years to a single unsub. If there was any case that required the two nerdiest members of the BAU to team up, this was it.

Unfortunately, that fact was closely followed by an overwhelming fear — and you wanted to preface this by saying that you were usually a woman of logic and science — but, somehow, you couldn't shake the thought that something bad was going to happen to you and Spencer, and you weren't ready for it.

Leaning against the cool conference room wall, you tapped your toes in an impatient rhythm against the carpeted floor. You were trying to recite what you learned from your PhD; that your mind was jumping to conclusions and that it was normal to be nervous. It was normal to feel this way. You were normal.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked, jolting you out of your mantra.

You realised your boyfriend had been talking to you for awhile now, but clearly, you weren't listening. You shook your head apologetically.

"Sorry, I was just thinking. Could you say that again?"

"I was just saying, you can start by pinning the names and locations of the victims, and I'll put up the crime scene photos... but are you sure you're okay?" He asked again, this time shooting you those puppy dog eyes that made you weak.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Let's get to work." You said firmly, grabbing the box of push pins. You felt his gaze linger on you for a second, before he began picking up his own stack of pictures.

The first hour sped by quickly as you and Spencer listed out all of the unsub’s possible motives and next victims. At the half hour mark, Hotch dropped in to check on your progress, bringing takeaway coffee and leaving with a rare smile.

At the second hour, the rest of the team returned with some new leads, and unfortunately, new bodies, but nothing that helped solidify the profile any further than what you already had.

At the fifth hour, there was no denying it. The team had hit a wall. While the rest of them were back in the field investigating more leads, you sipped on your second cup of coffee while staring at the evidence board. Spencer paced the room behind you.

"The messy dump sites. The carvings onto the victims' chests. One points to the unsub being disorganised and inexperienced, but the other is a clear, almost narcissistic ritual." The doctor thought aloud.

"Usually that means the unsub is trying to make a statement, but he killed his first ten victims before the police found out, then killed another seven and three right under their noses before going dormant. If he wanted to make a statement, why wouldn't he tip off the police or media sooner?" He grumbled.

"Are we sure it's not a taunt to the local police’s competency? Many of his first victims were found in secluded areas with limited police support." You pointed out, tapping the edge of your cup in thought.

"No, the victimology and locations are too wide spread. A taunt would present a clearer message." He said.

You turned around suddenly, causing him to halt in his steps. "Here's something completely off the wall — but what if the unsub was trying to achieve a specific pattern with his kills?" You said, gesturing with your cup.

Tap, tap-tap, tap, you created the rhythm with your finger.

"That would explain why he isn't acting like a narcissist. Maybe he's suffering a mental condition that compels him to complete a certain pattern, and subsequently, ritual with his kills. Could be rhythmical, musical, numerical..." You explained.

"Numerical. That's it!" Spencer squeaked, rushing to the board with a marker. "I thought these numbers seemed familiar earlier, that's because they make up prime numbers!"

He backed away from the board to reveal what he wrote. The numbers 2, 3, 5, 7, and 11. A lightbulb turned on in your head.

"2, 3 and 5 make up the first ten kills. 7 is the next, which he managed to complete perfectly, but something happened to the unsub at 11." Spencer voiced your thoughts.

"He might have been incarcerated, or injured. But we can't rule out the possibility that he might have moved out of town and resumed the pattern elsewhere. So either we can expect 8 more victims here, or the unsub has already moved onto the next number: 13." You quickly finished the train of thought.

"Love, you're a genius!" Spencer rushed over to pick you up by the waist, twirling you as you laughed in relief. But the relief turned to surprise when he kissed you deeply.

God, he was good at this. Even when your feet touched the ground, it felt like you were seeing stars. Though it was only when your lips parted that he had the decency to blush.

"Love?" You breathed.

Spencer's cheeks turned crimson in embarrassment, but he didn't back away. Instead, he leaned forward, bumping your foreheads together gently.

"I didn't know you had that in you, doctor." You teased.

"Well, my mother did school me in classic romance literature from a young age. Not to mention, I happen to be a genius at most things..." You could hear the smile in his voice, and you giggled.

The doctor pulled away then, an adoring smile still plastered across his face. "Are you fee—" He began, but his voice died in his throat as his gaze fixated on something behind you.

"Ooooh, am I interrupting something?" You turned around to see none other than Penelope smiling coyly from the doorway, and the two of you jumped apart.

"N-no, nothing!" Spencer blurted out.

"All fine and dandy here." You added on, blushing furiously.

The tech analyst smiled deviously. "Well, I thought I'd come and check on my two favourite lovebirds. Anything else from the case for me to chew on? Except whatever that was earlier." She teased.

"Actually, there is." You cleared your throat awkwardly, while the good doctor looked like he wanted to melt into the carpet.

"We need you to search up murders in neighbouring cities that match the mutilation by our unsub, then cross-reference the time frame with any new residents. We suspect he might be trying to complete a pattern, and that he may have done it somewhere other than here." You said.

"On it, future-Mrs-Genius. I will get back to you so fast that you won't even have time to get down and dirty." She half-yelled that last bit, heels clicking as she walked back to her office. Before you could even formulate a response, she was gone.

You felt your boyfriend wrap his arms around you from the back. "Now, where were we?" He whispered.

You giggled, leaning back into the doctor's chest while he rocked your bodies side to side. "Are you feeling better now?" He asked.

"Next time someone says it's not as intense in here as it is out there, I'm going to give them a stern talking to." You joked.

"You know what I mean, love." Spencer reiterated gently, the pet name falling from his lips like it was the most natural thing in the world. "If you tell me about it, I can help you. You know I'm always here for you."

You sighed softly, blinking back tears that threatened to spill.

"It's something stupid. I-I'm fine."

He turned you around, brows furrowing in concern when a tear rolled down your cheek. "What's wrong?" He asked, wiping it away tenderly.

"I— I was worried about us working together." You admitted. "And it's not because I don't like working with you, but I just— I just couldn't—"

"Take a deep breath, love. Slowly." He held your shoulders as you breathed in and out, once, twice.

"I've been afraid this whole day — no, for awhile now — that something was going to happen to our relationship." You confessed shakily. "And it's not about our jobs — although I worry about that too — but I'm scared that one day you'll wake up and realise that I'm not worth the trouble."

You looked up at the ceiling, trying to stop the next wave of tears.

"A-and it's only gotten worse because I've never been so h-happy with another person before. Only you've made me feel this way, and I'm t-terrified that I'll lose what we have."

There was a brief silence as Spencer pulled you close to his chest, one hand stroking your hair carefully. You could hear his heart beating fast.

"Do you remember when the team tricked us into sharing a bed?" He whispered, a hint of a smile trickling into his voice. "I think about it every single time we're about to go into the field. Because you said you'd never leave me, and now, whenever we're out there, I know I'm not alone."

He breathed in deeply, your head gently rising and falling together with his chest.

"You've given me someone to come home to, love. What we have, you'll never lose it, okay?" He whispered.

"Baby, I—" Your voice halted. Crap.

"Wait. Baby?" Spencer repeated back to you, a teasing lilt in his voice. Your face flushed, and you unwinded your arms from your boyfriend to cover your face.

"Oh god, can we pretend that didn't just happen?"

"I have an eidetic memory." He pointed out. You let out a watery laugh, knowing when you had lost.

"Alright, alright. But I do have another ide—"

Then, the conference room phone rang. It was Emily. "Hey guys, Garcia managed to narrow down the unsub and we're 10 out, but we'll need some back-up."

"Be there in 15." You replied, while Spencer shot you an amused look, Luckily, he waited for the call to end before saying the next words.

"Let's go, baby." He wiggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes and laughed, already strapping on your kevlar. "That's it. You're not driving."

"Aww!"

---------

After the major breakthrough in the case — all thanks to Nerd 1 and Nerd 2, as Derek fondly called the two of you — the case managed to wrap up neatly and the BAU found themselves in a rare position. Ready to end the work day, on time.

Not that anybody was packing up to leave just yet, although you wished they would, because Penelope had decided to start enthusiastically retelling how she found the BAU's resident lovebirds in the conference room, unable to keep their hands off each other.

"Last I heard, pet names aren't a crime — and how long were you standing there anyway?" You accused, blushing.

"Firstly, they are. Criminally cute, that is!" Penelope squealed, while the rest were in fits of laughter. "And secondly, you should never underestimate my awesome ninja abilities, because I heard everything that I needed to hear."

"Do I even want to know?" Spencers winced.

"I don't think you do, pretty boy." Derek laughed, clapping the genius on the back.

"Wait, wait, wait. Can we go back to how Spencer's pet name of choice is love?" Emily gasped in laughter.

"You've got to admit it's kind of cute, Emily." JJ smiled.

"Sure. If you're courting Mr. Darcy and attending cotillions."

"C'mon, Prentiss. All that means is that our boy's got style." Derek added to laughter, while Spencer whined in protest.

The door to Hotch's office opened suddenly, both him and Rossi stepping out with expressions of urgency on their faces.

“Sorry to break up the fun, kiddos. But there's been an update to the case.” Rossi announced, following right behind Hotch to the conference room.

The laughs were wiped off everybody's faces as you traded concerned looks. As you filed into the room, Hotch had already begun speaking.

“Another body was found half an hour ago. Same MO, same random victimology, and same kind of dumpsite. And the unsub just told us where to find his copycat.”

“Wait, we never profiled a second unsub.” Derek interjected.

"It doesn't makes sense — the first unsub is a control freak. He didn't like the idea of anybody messing with his sequence. Wouldn't he have done something if he knew somebody else was copying his pattern?" You asked.

"We profiled that he wouldn't be able to deviate from his pattern. What if he had to continue, even when somebody else was committing some of the crimes for him?" Spencer countered.

“Hold on, you said the unsub gave us a location?” Emily asked.

"And a time." Rossi voiced up. “8pm tonight at The Basil. The first unsub claims that's where the copycat finds his next targets."

"How do we know if we can trust him?" Derek asked.

"We don't. But he didn't display any telltale signs of doubt when he told us, and this is the only lead we have." Hotch's frown deepened. You had a feeling he didn't like the idea of this either, but the team didn't have a choice.

"Okay, if we're doing this, he can't know we're onto him," Emily thought aloud, "and we'll need precautions in case it's a trap. That means..."

"Undercover agents... and the bait." Hotch said with finality.

“And who did you have in mind for that?” You piped up, and everyone turned their eyes to you.

“You and Reid.” He stated the obvious.

“B-b-but, I’ve never gone—"

“You’ve more than proven your abilities in the field since you joined us, and having natural chemistry will make it less suspicious to the unsub.”

You opened your mouth, but no words fell from it. Hotch was right. Of course he was right.

As if hearing your thoughts, Spencer took your hand in his and squeezed, and you felt a little calmer already. “Ok, I’ll do it.” You said determinedly, while the doctor echoed your sentiment.

Hotch nodded, beginning to assign roles to the rest of the team while you squeezed your boyfriend's hand tighter, a new mantra forming in your head.

Everything is going to be okay. Everything will be okay.

----------

Tag List:

@blue-space-porgs @nobutalsoyes @lady-loves-a-lot @queen-flower @agentcarterisgay @totalmess191 @sapphic-prentiss @oops-all-ajs @spottedzebrasinpartyhats @mellowalieneggsknight @kenny-0909 || @averyhotchner @amesandpineapples @willowrose99

#mads fics #spencer reid x reader: a lesson in romance #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #cm fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm fic #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid x reader hurt/comfort

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hanatiny · 3 years

Text

Back For Seconds

a/n: been working on this one for longer than I’d like to admit but here it is, finally - happy birthday to my favorite Gemini boy, Yeosang <3 (and to @yunhoiseyecandy, since she happens to share a bday with him c:)

pairing: Yunho x genderneutral!reader x Yeosang

genre: fluff, smut

word count: 2816

warnings: established poly relationship, mentions of food, threesome, sub Yeosang, switch reader, soft dom Yunho, first time, praise, making out, pet names, slight corruption kink, oral (m receiving) swearing, voyeurism, master kink (only mentioned twice), masturbation, orgasm denial, consensual sex taping, implications of unprotected sex, implications of overstimulation

-----

To put it simply, the surprise you and Yunho had been planning for Yeosang’s birthday hasn’t been going quite according to how it should have.

Most if not all of your friends hung up on you when you asked them for help, making up some nonsensical excuse for you to believe while you made a mental note to go and get yourself some new, more reliable friends.

You huffed in annoyance, dropping your phone on the pillow as your bottom lip jutted out in a small pout.

Although understanding of your frustration, your tall puppy-like boyfriend couldn’t resist the urge to peck your cheek lovingly before sitting down next to you on the bed.

“Wanna talk about it?” Yunho asked gently, worried about how agitated you had become within the past approximately 20 minutes.

“I just want to make everything nice and pretty for Sangie’s surprise, and apparently no one I know is available to help. Woo can only keep him occupied for so long...”

“I understand, bun~” You smiled affectionately at the pet name Yunho used as he spoke, “But you know that our Sangie will love having even just us around, right? He’s never been much of a party person.”

“I do know, I just wanna make it extra special since it’s the first birthday he’s celebrating where we’re all together... I want it to be memorable for him, Yunnie.”

“Y/n, look at me.” When you refused the request, Yunho pouted and gently pulled you to sit on his lap, “Sangie will be happy either way because we love him and he loves us. Okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded in response, wrapping your arms around his shoulders in a warm embrace to assure him.

It was then that you perked up, a light knock against the wooden door frame catching your attention followed by a quiet voice, “You guys... can I ask why there’s these little bottles of flavored milk,” Yeosang held up one of the bottles in question for clarification as you and Yunho blinked at him sheepishly, “all over the living room? I enjoy them and I know you do too, but...”

He trailed off, and you understood that he wanted an explanation.

“We- mostly I, admittedly- wanted to make your special day actually, well, special, so I was planning a mini party but no one other than Yun was available to help so it wasn’t done in time.” You confessed with a pout, looking over at the slightly younger of your two boyfriends while his own eyes flickered between you and Yunho.

Yeosang pondered his answer for a moment before walking over to you and crouching in front of you, his hand reaching to tuck some of your hair behind your ear after you had turned to face him.

“Honey,” it was ironic of him to use that pet name, you mused, considering that it was exactly what his soft voice sounded like, “you know as well as our sweet Yunho does that I’m not exactly a party person. So it’s okay, I truthfully didn’t expect you to even have anything planned. I’m just happy to have you both here with me...~”

Yeosang beamed sincerely at you, and you couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sight as well before pouting when Yunho poked your cheek.

“I’m not saying ‘I told you so’ or anything but... I kinda did, baby.”

Yeosang raised a questioning eyebrow at the two of you, merely chuckling when you huffed playfully at the older.

“Well,” he started as he stood, “these aren’t gonna drrink themselves, are they? First one on the couch gets to pick the movie, last one needs to take care of snacks~”

He giggled, the sound a melodious one that you could never quite get enough of, as he turned on his heel and swiftly made his way to the living room of your shared apartment.

It took you a moment to process the situation before you jumped to your feet and rushed to follow Yeosang, all while calling out to him with a pout, “No fair~ You had a headstart!”

"Not my fault, is it~?" Came the soft chuckle in response as Yunho merely shook his head in amusement, taking his time in getting up and making his way to the kitchen to take care of your guys' snacks.

That was how it usually ended up going on your movie nights together, with either you or Yeosang choosing the movies you would all watch while Yunho tended to be in charge of what you’d eat.

With the cake he had bought for the younger's birthday in his hands, he couldn't but smile when he found the two of you curled up next to each other with you threading your hand through Yeosang’s hair.

“Hey now,” Yunho cooed lowly so he wouldn’t scare either of you, “don’t hog all of the blankets, you two. I want some too, y’know~”

“You have no room to talk Yunnie, you’re a literal human teddybear and a walking heater~!” You whined in protest, letting out flustered giggles when he hummed in response and leaned in to peck both yours and Yeosang’s noses, the latter flushing a deep red out of shyness from the contact.

Satisfied, Yunho smiled and seated himself next to you before handing out slices of cake to you and the younger male, watching how his eyes lit up at the realization of what it was he was given.

“I admit that I had a little bit of help but,” Yunho confessed, and you couldn’t keep yourself from hoping that the one who helped him was not Wooyoung, based on a few past experiences, “I figured you’d enjoy this, considering that we all know how much you love sweet things...~”

“That’s why I love you and our precious Y/n so much~” It was Yunho’s turn to blush now, a cheeky grin playing on Yeosang’s lips, “In all seriousness - I love all of this, the balloons, the fairy lights, the sweets that I’m sure are delicious... You did so much to make sure I would have a good birthday~ Your efforts and Y/n’s are both incredibly appreciated....~”

You smiled brightly at his words, snuggling into his side while Yunho wrapped his arm around both of you to keep you close to himself.

You ended up watching some kind of romcom that recently came out and Yeosang shyly admitted to being interested in, and you admittedly found more joy in feeding your boyfriends the cake the older had prepared than in the movie.

Halfway through, you weren’t even sure how it happened, you were sprawled out across both of their laps with the blanket draped rather awkwardly over all three of you. You weren’t paying much attention to the movie playing on the tv anymore, more interested in playing with the strands of Yeosang’s hair you could reach without obstructing his field of vision with your hands.

You heard his breath hitch, however, so you paused mid stroke to turn your head to face the tv with your now undivided attention, and you understood immediately why Yunho scrambled to reach for the remote to pause it.

There was a sex scene presently playing on the screen, and neither of you were prepared to see it.

“It’s not even rated R, I don’t understand...” Yeosang mumbled lowly, his face flushed a bright shade of red.

“We can watch something else if you want Sangie, we don’t have to-” Yunho attempted to reassure him before being cut off and shushed with a finger placed on his lips.

Yeosang shook his head slightly, “No, I just- I didn’t expect that. But...”

“But?” You echoed questioningly, sitting up straight again between him and Yunho and looking at the former inquisitively, “I’ve been wondering if you guys c-could maybe teach me how to do things like that...”

You shared a look with Yunho, the tall male quirking a curious eyebrow at your boyfriend’s request. You were both aware that Yeosang had no sexual experience whatsoever beyond jerking himself off a handful of times in the shower, while you and the older of the two males had fooled around on multiple occasions.

“I mean, only if you want t-” Yeosang fell silent mid-sentence when you suddenly kicked the blanket away and off of the couch before climbing onto his lap and facing him.

“We want to, Sangie. We wanna make you feel good~”

An unintelligible whine left him at your words, followed by a shy look on his still reddened face. “Are you sure-”

Understanding of Yeosang’s hesitance, you shut him up with a gentle peck to his soft lips before giving him a cheeky smile, “Yes, we’re sure. I wanna suck you off, Sangie... please~?”

It was your pleading tone that made him give in, spreading his legs a little as you let your body slide off of his lap and down onto the carpet.

“Last chance to chicken out, Sangie. Are you one hundred percent sure you want this? I’ll stop and forget all about this if you ask me to but if you don’t, I’m about to give you the best goddamn blowjob of your life.”

Yeosang had to admit to himself that the dominance bleeding through the mischief of your tone had him twitching in his jeans, nodding eagerly as Yunho hummed next to him and took his own half-hard length out of his sweatpants.

“Mh don’t mind me, just gonna enjoy the show~”

A grin painting the older’s features while he leisurely stroked himself, he watched you fumble with Yeosang’s belt, your brows furrowed.

“Need some help there, sweetheart~?” You heard Yunho coo cheekily from across the couch, huffing softly in response, “No I don’t. If I can manage during all our practice room quickies, I can definitely manage now, thank you.”

You regretted your cocky choice of tone when you saw the look that flashed in Yunho’s eyes, an apologetic pout forming on your face in reaction, “S-sorry master, wasn’t thinking before speaking...”

“It’s alright as long as you admit your mistake, my dear. Now go ahead and do what you do best~” The older male purred, fishing his phone out of his pocket before pointing the camera at you and Yeosang, “Surely you won’t mind if I record this for when we’re on tour and missing our sweet darling...~?”

His tone was suggestive - it sounded like you had a choice, but you knew from experience there was no room whatsoever for debate, “It’s up to Sangie, I’m more than okay with that~”

Yeosang swallowed heavily when both your and Yunho’s attention shifted to him, his face flushed and eyebrows slightly raised from the surprise of hearing you call the older male by the title of ‘master’ instead of his name.

He simply nodded dumbly when he remembered that an answer was expected of him, too focused on the anticipation he felt towards the idea of having the warmth of your mouth enveloping his cock.

Yeosang breathed out a sigh of relief he wasn’t aware he was holding when you finally freed his dick from where it strained against the fabric of his jeans, shuddering lightly when it instead came into contact with the cool air in the room.

He had a pretty decent size, you mused; his cock was a little thicker than Yunho’s, although shorter in return and curved slightly to the left.

“Y/n p-please, I- oh!” Yeosang’s plea got cut short when your lips finally wrapped around his sensitive tip, a small whimper of surprise sounding in his throat in reaction.

“Our darling’s a natural, eh Sangie~?” Yunho purred cockily, still stroking himself with the camera pointed to you and Yeosang.

It wasn’t that the latter didn’t want to retort, but he found himself choking on air when you suddenly took the entirety of his length into your mouth and down your throat. He would’ve been impressed by what appeared to be what Yunho had taught you, if he wasn’t currently sobbing out moans instead and throwing his head back to restrain himself from bucking his hips into you.

You hummed in satisfaction around him, pleased that you could reduce him to a moaning mess so easily and wanting to see what other kinds of sounds you’d be able to draw out of him while you boldly swirled your tongue around the head of his cock.

You heard Yunho groan from where he sat, his previous question forgotten with his thumb brushing over his own bulbous leaking tip.

A broken whine sounding in Yeosang’s throat was what made your attention snap back to the younger, your eyes hooded as you met his gaze, his pupils blown wide from lust.

Meanwhile, Yeosang was struggling to keep his composure and squeezed his eyes shut to keep from bucking his hips into your mouth and choking you with his length in the process.

You noticed him twitch in your mouth, the feeling encouraging you to give his cock suction as best as you could given his size.

“Ahh~ F-fuck...~” His heavenly voice reached yours and Yunho’s ears in the form of a breathless lewd moan, the latter humming in sadistic interest, “Mmh~ Are you gonna cum, Yeoangie~?”

It took Yeosang an almost embarrassingly long moment to process his boyfriend’s question in his head, giving a nod and a throaty groan in response, “Yeah, ‘m so f-fucking close I feel like I’m gonna burst...”

It seemed like a miracle to himself that he was able to formulate such a coherent answer, Yunho offering a soft thoughtful hum in reply before his voice boomed through the living room while he slowed his own strokes.

“Y/n, off.” You nodded and obeyed the simple order immediately, removing your mouth from Yeosang’s dick as quickly as possible before watching the string of saliva between his tip and your lips cut in front of your very eyes while awaiting the next command.

Yeosang promptly whimpered at having been denied his orgasm, glancing back and forth between your bright eyed smiling form and Yunho’s next to him. Even through his haze of pleasure, he was able to deduce what kind of man the latter was in the bedroom - he didn’t seem to be a particularly stern or demanding dom, but he was still firm and clear about what he wanted.

As someone naturally leaning to be rather reserved and laid back, Yeosang had to admit that he found this kind of control oddly attractive.

“W-why...” He whispered eventually after catching his breath, his eyes meeting Yunho’s darkened ones as the older smiled a little too sweetly to not be suspicious.

“You said you wanted to learn ‘how to do those things,’ no? It’s exactly what we’re doing... Y/n giving you head was just warming you up for what’s to come, and I’ll warn you now that we always come back for seconds~”

Yeosang found himself shuddering in anticipation of the sultry tone’s implications while you tilted your head in curious interest, still kneeling on the floor beside him.

“Lie back darling, and let us do what we do best.”

Yeosang understood that the request was for him and, too desperate to cum to allow himself to complain about being given orders, did as told. Removing his pants and boxers entirely, he gave Yunho time to stand and place the phone on the coffee table to continue filming all three of you before making himself comfortable on the couch - as comfortable as he could be with a hard and throbbing cock, anyway.

He turned his head to the side to face the older, his cheeks flushed a bright crimson when he felt Yunho gently nudge his tip against his lips. At the same time, he found himself jolting the tiniest bit, his self-restraint almost cracking when he realized that you had undressed as well and positioned yourself in such a way that had you hovering right above him with your entrance close enough for him to easily slip inside if he really wished to.

Yeosang knew much better than to do anything rash though, and shook off the idea. He was the one who had asked for ‘lessons’ in terms of how sex felt, he mentally chastised himself, so he opted to let the two of you do as you pleased and lead him instead. Because this was the best birthday present he could’ve ever dreamt of.

“I can already tell it’ll be fun to teach our sweet Sangie all about how good it is to not have to rely on some toy or his hand just to cum~” You chirped from where you were above him, leaving the younger conflicted about where to look before his lustfilled eyes settled on Yunho’s own darkened gaze.

“I agree, baby~ I look forward to seeing how many ‘seconds’ he’ll be able to handle...~”

----- Taglist:

@atinykitty @cometoceantrenches @ddeonghwva @galaxteez @gummygowon @latte-fairytaekwoon @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @nightqueennyx @serialee @twancingyunhoe @vocalyunho

Network tag:

@8makes1teamnet

#8makes1teamnet #ateez smut #yunho smut #yeosang smut #ateez yunho smut #ateez yeosang smut #hanatiny writes

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capsironunderoos · 3 years

Text

Snow

DINCEMBER - November 30 - Snow

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) X Female!Reader

Summary: After the Razor Crest makes a crash landing on a snowy planet, Din finds you and the child making the best of a not-so-great situation.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Possible season two spoilers, but nothing significant.

Author’s Note: This is for @dindjarindiaries 12 Days of Dincember! The first prompt is “snow,” so I wrote this up in response! I’m going to try to do each of these, since the posting schedule is spaced out. So! Keep a look out for some more Dincember goodness from me and a bunch of other awesome content creators! Also, don’t hesitate to join in on the fun! I hope you enjoy!

Here’s the link to my masterlist: capsironunderoos masterlist

Din vaguely hears the ship creak, but the sound is distant and strange, as if it’s echoing off of the dome of his helmet.

He can feel the cold too, can feel how it’s seeped underneath his beskar and into his boots.

It’s quiet, save for the creak of the ship in the unforgiving cold, and he groans softly as he sits up. His vision is a little cloudy, and his head aches from being slammed against the console of the Crest.

He pushes himself off of a few blinking buttons and the room begins to spin ever so slightly.

Din leans back against his seat and his vision starts to clear, allowing him to see more of the mess he’s managed to get himself into. It doesn’t take him long to realize that he’s managed to crash the Razor Crest, and that it’s going to take a bit to get it operational again.

He hits a few buttons on the console in front of him before cursing under his breath.

A spontaneous service session for the Crest had not been on his to-do list for the day.

He slowly stands up, testing his legs and ensuring that his head has stopped spinning before stepping around his seat.

Din stops abruptly, which does not help with the headache, when he sees a small frog lady lying on the ground, sleeping and shivering.

He is stunned for a moment.

Is this the bounty he’d been sent to collect?

He glances to his right now, hoping to find clues that will piece together exactly what he’s doing in an isolated cave on a frozen plant.

He sees an abandoned scarf, and one glove, and he instantly remembers.

The frog lady isn’t a bounty, she’s a passenger, and last he’d checked, he was short a few of those.

Din bends down to gently wake up the creature sleeping on the floor, and she is startled but quickly calms when she sees Din.

“I have a few blankets down below, and I’ll grab you one and hand it back up. I can find your kids too, but I need to find the woman and the child that were with me. Have you seen them?”

She looks at Din with large eyes, seemingly apologetic that she cannot be of greater help to him.

He sighs and nods slightly, pardoning her before making his way down the ladder.

As his feet hit the floor, a gust of cold wind wraps around him, and he turns to see a giant hole in the side of the Crest. He stands in disbelief for a moment until he hears the frog lady croaking above him.

“One second,” he calls up in response, and she grows quiet again.

Din sees the glowing container with her eggs and makes his way to it, throwing the strap of it over his shoulder.

He quickly finds the container full of extra capes and blankets and pulls a few out before making his way back up the ladder.

“Here,” he states as he hands the lady her eggs.

She takes them from him quickly, relieved yet worried about their state in the harsh cold.

He hands her the pile of blankets and she places her hand on top of his, patting it in thanks. He nods and stands, making sure she is okay before grabbing the glove and scarf from the seat beside him.

He makes his way back down the ladder, and dread fills his stomach.

He hasn’t seen any sign of you or the kid, and because he’s unfamiliar with this planet, he just assumes that losing the two of you in a frozen cave isn’t a good thing.

Din walks over to the small closet where the three of you take turns sleeping and looks inside, but neither you nor the child are there.

For a moment he thinks about calling your name, but again, he isn’t sure what else is in this cave with the four of you.

He glances around the Crest, trying to think of any hiding places the kid may be in, or if you had managed to huddle behind a few spilled containers when he hears an echoing screech.

He grabs the blaster from his waist and barrels out of the crest, feet falling quietly onto the snow as he scans the area.

Din hears the screech again and begins following it to the other side of the Crest.

He thinks he sees your shadow now, and he can feel the tightness of his chest beginning to recede.

He finally rounds the Crest and stops immediately, taking in the scene before him.

You’re sat on the ground, regardless of the snow, as the child is wandering around in front of you, screeching as you softly toss small snowballs in his direction.

The child tries his best to form snowballs of his own, but fails each time. It doesn’t matter though, because he is content with watching you pack the snow between your bare hands, which Din notes are beginning to turn red from the exposure.

Din is taken aback by the warm smile on your face, and the way the light bouncing off of the walls of the cave seems to light the snow resting atop your head into a crown. He hears you giggle at the child’s failed attempts to make snowballs and his heart picks up speed.

He finds himself wishing the Crest didn’t need to be repaired, and that he wasn’t on a quest. He wants to stay in this moment for just a bit longer, watching you and the child enjoy something so simple.

Din realizes then that he likes seeing the joy on your faces, and his chest grows tight once more.

Din shifts his weight from his right foot to his left, interrupting his thoughts as the kid senses the movement, quickly turning to face him as a large smile spreads across his face.

You notice the child has shifted his attention away from you, and you follow his gaze to see Din standing there, blaster in one hand and your glove and scarf in the other.

“Everything okay?” You question, nodding towards his blaster and he slowly nods, seemingly pulled from a trance.

You smile at him, brows furrowed in question as you watch him return his blaster to its holster against his hip.

“You left these on the Crest,” he starts, and extends his arm to reveal your scarf and missing glove.

You smile widely at him now, standing and doing your best to brush the wet snow off of your pants as you make your way over to him.

“I woke up and couldn’t find the kid, so I panicked and must have left those behind.”

You end your sentence with a sniffle, and Din places his free hand on yours as it reaches out to grab your items from him.

“You’re freezing,” he states, and you nod.

“Let me.” He finishes, and you’re unsure of what he means but you don’t argue.

The emotions coming off of him in waves tell you to just let him do whatever he is about to do.

It is then that Din shoves your glove into his belt, so that it sits still within reach, and begins to lift the scarf over your head.

He brings it to rest against your shoulders, his hands working to gently wrap it around your neck.

The release from the cold wind against your neck is almost instant, and you sigh contently.

You notice Din’s helmet tilt ever so slightly at the sound, and you glance to the visor.

You wonder what he looks like under there, and what he’s thinking.

You wonder if there’s a chance you’re looking directly into his eyes and he’s feeling the same things you are.

The moment only lasts for a second longer as Din seems to suddenly realize that he still has your glove.

He pulls it from his belt and gently grabs your right hand, his visor moving from your face to your hands.

You suddenly hate the cold.

You’ve wanted nothing more than the opportunity to know what his touch feels like, even through the gloves he wears, but your time spent in the snow has turned your fingers red and numb.

Din seems to sense this, and he tenderly pulls the glove onto your hand before holding his out to you.

You fumble for the glove in the pocket of your jacket, fingers struggling to grasp it and offer it to him. He doesn’t seem to mind waiting, the silence of the cave wrapping around the two of you, save for each of you breathing quietly.

When you finally extend the glove to him, he takes it from your grasp and holds your left hand in the same manner as earlier.

His touch is so soft and your heart aches in a way it never has before.

The action of him sliding your gloves into place is suddenly not enough for you, and you want to know what his touch is like when he isn’t wearing gloves, and when your hands aren’t numb from playing in the snow.

You want to know what his touch would be like if his fingers were to trace patterns against your spine, or what his palms would feel like cradling your cheek.

Would his hands be scarred and callused? A testimony to the life he has lived and the battles he has survived?

Or would they be surprisingly soft?

An involuntary movement of your hands pulls you from your thoughts, and you find yourself grasping onto his fingers with yours.

It seems as if neither of you are breathing, each of you waiting to see what the other will do, how you will react to something so changing.

Din breaks first, moving his hands to fully engulf yours, and you almost melt at the warmth that exudes from them.

You suddenly feel as if you owe him an explanation for wandering into the snow with the kid, as if you need to apologize for almost giving yourself hypothermia.

“I found him eating the eggs,” you whisper, the sudden warmth of your breath creating a cloud of steam between the two of you.

“I figured the best thing to do would be to distract him, so I brought him out here.”

The two of you glance over your shoulder to see him still trying to form the perfect snowball.

“I think it worked,” Din responds, and the crackle of his voice through the modulator brings even more warmth to your thawing body.

“Next time though, will you promise me that you’ll put all your gear on? Promise me, cyare,” he pauses then, as if catching his breath, or taking a moment to truly think about his words, “that you’ll take care of yourself the way you take care of the kid.”

He whispers, and you have to strain to hear the last part.

As much as you try to, you can’t help the blush that creeps onto your cheeks, although it is a welcomed contrast from the cold.

A loud giggle from the child cues you to turn and look at him, and you see that he is finally holding a rounded snowball.

A smile breaks out across your face and you turn back to Din.

Your eyes search the visor again, and you yearn now more than ever to see his face, even though you know you cannot.

You nod gently, and squeeze his hands as they still hold yours, trapping them in warmth and safety.

“I promise.”

Here’s the next prompt for Dincember:

DINCEMBER - December 2 - December (Ariana Grande Version)

#underooswrites #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x y/n #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the child #baby yoda #grogu #star wars #star wars x reader #dincember #din djarin x y/n

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disgruntledspacedad · 3 years

Text

Aftershocks (2/5)

The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader (Ears). Part of the Better Love ‘verse.

summary: That bomb fucked you up a little more than you thought. h/c, fluff.

words: 2.5k

warnings: 18+ - canon typical violence, lots of medical stuff in this one.

a/n: unbeta’d. I had a surprise day off, so enjoy the second installment of Aftershocks much sooner than I had anticipated. More notes to follow!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

You’re escorted beyond the heavy double doors of the emergency department in a hurry. It probably has a lot to do with Javi busting into the waiting area with you in his arms, flashing his DEA badge and barking out orders in irate Spanish.

Honestly, you wish he wouldn’t make such a scene. Sitting still in the car had allowed you to catch your breath a little. You feel like shit, sure, but you’re pretty sure you aren’t actively dying.

Try telling him that, though.

The triage room is little more than a curtain masking a dimly lit corner. You’re answering what questions you can in halting Spanish, but Javi can see that you’re overwhelmed.

“Ella habla ingles.” His tone earns him a dirty look, but the nurse nods, placing an oxygen probe on your finger and frowning up at the monitor. Both of you follow her gaze, noticing that the number reads 87.

“The doctor will see you soon,” she says carefully. Her English is heavily accented, and suddenly, you’re grateful beyond words that you have Javi here to translate. “Here. You’ll wear this.” She winds the oxygen tubing beneath your chin and around your ears. The oxygen is dry, burning your nose and making your face twitch in annoyance, but you can’t deny that you feel better with it on.

The nurse leaves you then, pulling the curtain closed behind her. Javi continues to stare at the monitor with his arms folded across his chest as the number on the screen climbs to 89, then to 92, the soft tone of the blips rising in pitch with each subtle improvement.

He’s thinking again, you can tell.

“Javi?” You reach for his hand, tugging at his fingers. Instinctively, you know that leaving him alone to stew right now cannot be a good thing.

He glances down at you, all dark, glittering eyes and terse expression, and worry clinches in your gut. “You okay?”

Javi snorts. “Really, Ears.” You can just see him fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s a hell of a question, coming from you.”

You decide to shoot for levity. “I’m great, thanks for asking.”

That earns you a pathetic, lopsided lip twitch. You count it as a win anyway.

The doctor never shows. Javi grumbles and broods. A little while later, somebody comes with a wheelchair to whisk you away for an x-ray, and no matter how much blustering and badge-flashing and protesting he does, Javi is told firmly to stay put.

He’s pacing agitatedly in the hallway when return. Apparently, it had felt like an eternity for him.

In reality, you’d been gone less than twenty minutes.

It seems that your x-ray has earned you some attention, because things start happening a little faster now. People are in and out, one nurse bustling in to wordlessly draw an entire fistful of little color coded tubes of your blood, another working on IV access in your opposite arm. You take it all stoically, caught between watching in fascination as the nurse tapes the catheter in place with practiced efficiency and wondering why all of this can’t just happen in one stick.

A little while later, the same nurse returns with a bag of fluid. “Seca,” she informs you as she stretches to hang it on the hook in the wall.

“She says you’re dehydrated,” Javi translates. His face is a stone wall, the subtle clench of his jaw the only hint of the emotion that churns beneath. You can just imagine him kicking himself for not making you eat or drink.

You bite back a shiver. The saline is cold in your arm.

They move you to a real room not long after that. It’s only marginally bigger than your corner in the emergency department, crammed with two rickey, uncomfortable beds separated by another dingy curtain. Thankfully, you don’t have a roommate for the moment.

You let Javi handle the paperwork as you change out of his sweats and into the itchy, open-backed gown that you’ve been provided with. Even with the oxygen, moving around still requires that you pause to catch your breath, and you’re grateful for the opportunity to sit when you’re done, even if the hospital bed you’re on is squeaky and uncomfortable.

Once the documents are signed and the nurses are gone, silence settles thickly between you. Javi is standing with his fingers fisted into his hips, glaring daggers at the clock on the wall. He hasn’t spoken in a long time.

Again, you feel that burning need to pull him out of his head. “Not really set up for visitors, is it?” you ask wryly. It’s a stupid, pointless thing to say, but you’re just trying to fill the void.

Javi glances around the room, raising his brows at what he observes. There’s no chair and no free space, nowhere for him to sit. Sighing deeply, he yanks back the curtain that divides the room and eases carefully onto the bed opposite of you, leaning forward with his arms folded on his knees.

You grit your teeth. Really, you wouldn’t have minded him settling down on your bed, but the more time you spend with Javi, the more you’re starting to realize that he withdraws when he’s feeling wrong-footed. As annoying as it is, the distance he’s putting between you is just par for the course, and it’s just not worth addressing right now.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly, pinning you with a sharp, assessing stare.

“Better,” you answer automatically, forcing some cheerfulness into your tone. Honestly, you’re far more worried about him than you are about you.

Javi raises a skeptical brow, clearly doubting you.

“No, really!”

Your protest makes him shake his head in dark amusement. “What am I gonna do with you, Ears?” he wonders aloud.

You’re ready to supply several very detailed answers to that question, all of them interrupted as your doctor finally breezes into the room.

“About fucking time,” Javi mutters under his breath as he rises to his feet.

“Hola, hola. I’m Dr. Perez.” Dr. Perez says, actually managing to sound a tiny bit apologetic. “Forgive the delay, por favor. I know it must seem that emergencies are the most non-emergent situation in the hospital, but, I promise you, we are working hard behind the scenes.”

You decide immediately that you like Dr. Perez. He’s not a big man, compact and clean cut, with just the faintest dusting of silver at his temples and a warm, genuine smile.

Javi must be thinking along similar lines, because he comes to stand just at the edge of your shoulder, looming dark and foreboding at your side as Dr. Perez approaches your bedside.

Oh, now you’ll stick close, you think fondly, trying to find a little amusement in Javi’s behavior. Everything about this situation is entirely new, totally incongruous with the cool, suave Javier Peña that you thought you’d known, and a malicious, possessive part of your brain is just eating up the implications.

“I understand you were involved in the bombing in downtown Bogotá, correct?” Dr. Perez’s grip is firm and cool as he shakes your hand.

“Yes, that’s correct.” You’re acutely aware of Javi standing stiffly beside you, watching your every move.

“Most unfortunate,” Perez shakes his head in a show of sympathy, and you manage to believe him. “And the breathing problems, they began later, no?”

“Yes,” you answer, surprised that he would guess with such accuracy. “I was okay afterward. Maybe a little bit sore. But not hurt.”

“Ella ha estado tosiendo sangre,” Javi interjects quickly. You’re not sure what he’s saying, but Dr. Perez’s eyes flicker in his direction, a swift, meaningful look passing between them.

“Veo.” Dr. Perez says smoothly. He frowns down at you. “And how for were you from the blast zone?”

You think back, willing yourself to relive the memory of the morning in clinical detail. “I was crossing the street,” you say slowly. “Headed home.” You do some quick mental math in your head, analyzing the width of Circular against the image of Emilio, waving. You’d been close enough to shout a greeting. “Forty feet. Maybe a little less.”

Beside you, Javi sucks in a sharp breath.

Perez purses his lips. “Sí, eso lo haría.” He crosses the room, flicking a switch to illuminate a bright white panel built into the wall that you hadn’t noticed before. He shuffles through your chart, pulling out a dark film and pinning it to the light.

It’s your chest x-ray. You can clearly see the curve of your ribs, stark white against the darker background of your lungs. In the middle of the film lies the dusky outline of what you assume is your heart. To the lower left, a patch of hazy, white blur mars the image.

“This is the problem.” Perez points to the blur. “Pulmones magullados. Your lungs are bruised, see? This is common in blast zone survivors. The change in air pressure when the bomb ignites causes an injury to the lung tissue. You are bleeding just a little bit internally.”

You can damn near feel Javi gritting his teeth at that.

“But I felt fine,” you protest weakly, looking assentingly at the blob on the x-ray. It’s a pretty good size.

“Sí, you were fine.” Perez is nodding along with you, like he’d expected the argument. “That’s normal with this type of injury. You felt good immediately afterward because the bruise was new, the bleeding slight. But the bruise has gotten bigger, and you have gotten worse.” He indicates the oxygen that you are wearing with a grim nod. “You are a very lucky, mi amiga, to have walked away from that. Muy afortunada. Had you been closer…” Perez trails off, shaking his head somberly. “It does not bear thinking.”

He claps his hands, startling you away from the grisly images stirring in your mind. “There is good news, though!” Perez gestures toward the x-ray as a whole, circling over it with his index finger. “I see no rib fractures, nothing collapsed. Your breathing might get worse before it gets better, but it will get better. We will keep you under close watch until then.”

“Keep me?”

“Sí, you will be here.” Perez pins you with a no-nonsense stare, as if to curtail any protests before they come. “There’s another matter. You have a small concussion as well. To this area, here.” He taps the back of his own head with his hand. “From falling down, yes?”

You nod. The area he’s pointing to is right where your head hurts most, where you’d fallen backward after the blast. “Yes. It did knock me off my feet.” Apparently a with a little more force than you’d initially assumed.

Perez hums. “We will monitor that as well. You do not take blood thinners?”

“No, sir. No medications.”

“Bueno.” Dr. Perez seems genuinely pleased by this. “You’ve made my job very easy.” He gathers the film and shuffles it back into your chart, flopping it shut with a flourish. “Rest for you, Orejas. Time and sleep will do the best healing.”

“Orejas?” you can’t help but ask. It’s the name that Emilio had used for you, but you’re shocked that Perez knows it.

Perez smiles. “I listen to my nurses. That is what they call you.”

“How much time?” Javi interrupts before you can respond. You’d nearly forgotten about him, as quiet as he’s been.

Perez turns to address him for the first time. “It depends largely on her body. The concussion is small, and won’t require anything in the way of treatment. Her lungs, though…” Perez frowns down at the closed chart with a furrowed brow. “The contusion is still developing. A few days, a week, perhaps? I can say more tomorrow.” He turns back to you, sighing in sympathy. “I’m afraid you’re in for a stay, mi amiga.”

Well, fuck.

With that, Perez disappears just as quickly as he’d arrived, soft, quick footsteps echoing down the hallway, and silence falls once again over the room.

Javi doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. He’s standing very still, arms folded tightly across his chest with his thumbs digging into his armpits. The expression on his face is downright chilling.

Your blood turns to ice.

“What the fuck, Ears?” he says very slowly, enunciating each syllable with deadly precision.

You glance up, suddenly hesitant to speak. The little movement must be enough to spur him on, though, because Javi fucking explodes.

“Forty fucking feet!” he bites out, clawing angrily at his hair. He paces the tiny room, whirling as he runs out of space and pointing an accusing finger at you. “You told me you were across the street, Ears, not crossing it. There’s a big fucking difference.”

You blink at him, recalling the conversation you’d had in the embassy parking lot.

Shit, he’s right.

“Why the hell did you lie to me?” There’s a subtle warble in his tone, a flicker of devastation in his eyes that’s quickly masked.

Discomfort that has nothing to do with your injured lungs twinges in your chest. “I don’t know,” you answer miserably. You hadn’t thought of it as lying. At the time, you’d been overwhelmed by the situation and thoroughly confused by Javi’s erratic behavior, just desperate to get home and sleep off the worst morning of your life. “I didn’t want to upset you, I guess.”

Javi laughs sarcastically. “Well, you’ve done a fucking fantastic job of that, haven’t you?” He throws his hands in the air, like he’s had it up to here with your shit. “Coughing up blood all over my kitchen floor. Christ, I should have known.”

Okay, now he’s being a little dramatic - the only blood you’d coughed up had been into your fingers, after all, but the protest is lost on you as you look him in the face. Javi’s eyes are deeply shadowed, his expression pained, his hair standing wildly from where he’s run his fingers through it.

He looks thoroughly exhausted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, dropping your gaze to the floor.

Javi huffs and looks away, clearly not ready to accept any apologies from you.

You don’t blame him. Throughout this entire screwed up relationship, you’ve done an absolutely piss poor job of putting yourself in Javi’s shoes, and it’s coming back to bite you in the ass.

You deserve his irritation, and more.

Javi’s pager beeps, the shrill sound of it slicing through the tension. He snatches it roughly off of his belt, frowning down at the display with squinted eyes.

You glance up at the clock on the wall. It’s pretty late, but given the day Javi’s had, it’s not outrageous to assume that somebody would need to be in touch with him at this hour.

“I’ve got to take this,” Javi says tonelessly, hardly glancing up at you. If there’s any regret there, it’s buried very deeply. “I’ll see you later, Ears.”

He’s gone before you can get a word in edgewise.

♠

confessions/notes:

I speak one language poorly, and I’ve never extensively written a character who is not a primary English speaker (I’m not counting Javi here). Any critiques or corrections to my Spanish are very welcomed!

Up next: a look at things from Javi’s POV.

Spanish translations:

She speaks English.

Dry

She’s been coughing up blood.

I see.

Yeah, that’ll do it.

ears

tags:@jedi-mando, @perropascal, @aerolanya, @pikemoreno, @bitchin-beskar, @mostly-megan, @huliabitch, @starsandmando, @starlight-starwrites, @thirstworldproblemss, @knittingqueen13, @yespolkadotkitty

Javier Peña tags: @magpie-to-the-morning, @tiffdawg, @danniburgh, @1800-fight-me

To my taglist peeps, I’m sorry for tagging you guys three times in 24 hours. Again, chaotic jay cannot plan anything, like ever.

#Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña #narcos #pedro pascal #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña fanfic #reader insert #hurt/comfort #fluff #narcos netflix #narcos fanficiton #narcos fanfic #better love #aftershocks

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blu-joons · 3 years

Text

Familiar Face ~ Kim Namjoon

“Why did you never tell me who you were?” You snapped across at him as he pulled you to one side of the corridor. “Has all this time really been a lie?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m so sorry,” a voice yelled, a pair of hands grabbing at your arms to pull you up as you stumbled into the shelf of books. “Are you alright?”

You quickly pulled yourself together, straightening your dress out, looking up at the owner of the arms who had saved you from a fall. “I’m alright, are you? I really should pay more attention to where I’m going.”

He chuckled gently, passing you the book that you’d spilt as you toppled, pushing you carefully to one side as a few people tried to pass you both. Your cheeks were red as you smiled apologetically at the passers by before looking back up at your saviour.

Their eyes rolled as you silently apologised for causing a bit of scene, scoffing at the two of you as his hand continued to hold onto you as he made sure you were steady. “I’m Namjoon,” he finally spoke, introducing himself.

“Y/N.”

His brows knitted together as he heard your name, tilting his head as he tried to figure you out. “That’s not a Korean name?”

Your head nodded, although that was a pretty obvious statement about yourself. In just a short time in Seoul, you’d noticed a lot of attention from the locals as they noticed you walking around in different places.

“I’m foreign, but I’m here on a bit of gap year,” you informed him, quickly finding yourself feeling quite comfortable around him, “essentially, I’m a student who has no direction or plan of what they want to do with their life.”

A light giggle came from him as he finally dropped his arm back to his side, “I know plenty of students who have no idea what to do. Seoul’s a pretty cool place to come though to travel, how are you finding it?”

“Well,” you began, brushing a nervous hand through your hair, “it’s fair to say I have not mastered Korean at all, to be honest most of my days are a bit of a mess. I’m getting by, but it’s a struggle.”

Before you knew it, Namjoon had invited you for coffee in the café of the bookstore to try and get to know each other better. He’d convinced you he had plenty of tips on surviving life in Korea which seemed far too good to turn down, and after nearly crashing into him earlier, buying him a coffee was the least you could do. On a spare piece of paper, he wrote down several phrases that would help you in day-to-day life, answering the questions that you had about the culture and the way of life.

“What about you?” You suddenly asked once he’d finished lecturing on you on what you’d need to know. “Seeing as you know so much about me, can I get to find out about you? There must be something interesting about you with such a proficiency of English.”

His shoulders calmly shrugged, but on the inside his heart pounded. He looked around the room, spotting a group of students rushing in to grab a drink during their lunch break, pushing past each other to reach the front of the queue.

“I teach English,” he informed you, gulping as your eyes lit up. “I guess you need to have pretty good proficiency to be able to teach the language. It’s probably where my love of a good book comes from too.”

You nodded, listening intently as he began to tell you all about his day as a teacher and the students that he taught. You were very intrigued as you learnt more and more about him, as soon as you looked at him you definitely had an impression that he could be a teacher, he dressed himself well, and had a very approachable look about him.

The two of you sat and talked for a little while longer before being interrupted by the vibrations of his phone. He quickly placed his hand over it before you had the chance to look down at him, hanging up on the call and sliding his phone into the pocket of his jacket.

“Do you not need to get that?” You quizzed.

His head shook, finishing off the mug of coffee in front of him. “It’s a friend, he’s been having a bit of a crisis recently, rings me constantly. We have five other friends but for some reason he just seems a bit dependent on me.”

“I imagine as a teacher you tend to do a good job leading and guiding people,” you spoke, watching as his eyes darted to look across at you.

As soon as he realised how he’d reacted, he relaxed back in his seat, grabbing his jacket that was wrapped around the chair and slipping it on. You took that as a sign that he was heading off, finishing your drink too, picking up your pile of books.

“I should probably go and check on him, but maybe I could give you my number and we could meet up again some time,” he suggested, holding his hand out to take your phone so he could put his number into it.

You took your phone from your pocket and passed it across to him, offering your hand out for his once he’d put his number into your phone. A heavy breath came from him as he scrambled his brain quickly, knowing his phone and all the contacts he had would give his game away.

“I’ll text you from my phone, save my number that way.”

“Alright,” you chimed, unassuming of the wave of panic that rushed over him, as you led the way down to the tills so you could buy your books and head out of the store.

“Start talking,” you snapped, without a care for how loud your voice had gotten. “I can’t believe that you’d do something like this to me,” you stuttered, quickly wiping underneath your eyes as tears streamed down your cheeks.

Your body pressed against the wall, sinking to the floor as Namjoon lowered himself to your height, trying to take a hold of your hands, which you quickly pulled away.

For months, the two of you had spoken since you met at the bookstore, most days you texted and called each other, telling each other about your days. For months you’d sat and listened to him tell you about his days in the classroom and the troubles he was having with coming up with work when all along he was a global superstar travelling the world.

When your friend offered you the spare ticket, she had for a band performing that night, you jumped at the chance to head to a concert and enjoy some live music. You were clueless to who the band she loved was, deciding not to do any research beforehand and enjoy them at face value at the concert. You knew they must have been something special having sold out the biggest arena in your city, as soon as you got within a couple of miles of the stadium, every street was full of fans piling towards the arena.

Even when you’d told him that night that you were heading to a concert, he remained quiet. Instead, he chose to tell you all about a school trip him and his students had been on to a local museum to look at the history of the Korean War. Whilst you told him how excited you were to try out a new band, you were clueless to the fact that he was actually just a matter of minutes away from you, and worst of all, a member of that band.

He thought he could get away with it, the arena was huge, and the chances of you being able to recognise his face from far away were slim. Having already asked the cameramen to not focus on him for the night, lying through his teeth that his face was bloated and breaking out, he thought he’d be able to win. Little was he to know that your friend had purchased tickets in the fourth row, a spot where every single face on the stage was clear as day.

As soon as his eyes landed on you, his stomach dropped. The lyrics he was supposed to sing were abandoned, his hand came down, his whole heart turned numb to your eyes staring back at him. You were conscious of your friend beside you, simply shaking your head whilst trying to stop your tears from falling.

Namjoon persevered with the concert as best as he could, aware of your quizzical eyes watching his every move as you tried to figure out what was going on. You hoped and prayed there was a mix up somewhere, maybe he had a doppelganger or a twin that coincidentally shared the same name, every possible idea that tried to make sense of the situation came to mind.

Once the concert ended, you saw a text from him on your phone asking you to head into one of the wings. You told your friend to go, making up an excuse that you had spotted another friend in the crowd that you were going to meet up, but instead you were heading backstage to confront the man that had stolen your heart, and lied his way to it.

“I was scared to tell you the truth,” he whispered, allowing you to move your hands away from him, “I know this probably makes no sense right now, but you have to understand Y/N.”

You scoffed as he tried to reason with you, struggling still to process exactly what was going on. “Why would you be scared to tell me who you were? How did you even manage to keep up this lie for so many months?”

“I don’t know.”

“When,” you stated, taking him by surprise. “When did you plan on telling me the truth, when you proposed, when we got married? You told me that you were falling in love with me Namjoon, I told you I was falling in love with you too.”

“None of this changes the way I feel about you,” he sighed, brushing his hand against the top of your head, “you’re right, I am falling in love with you.”

“But you’re falling in love with the person I said I was,” you challenged, looking across at him for the first time. “In reality, I don’t know the first thing about you right now. The man I fell in love with was a lie.”

His head quickly shook, the person he’d shown you really was him. The kind, caring, considerate guy was never a lie, he was still Namjoon, just a little bit more of a fabricated version that he hoped you’d fall in love with. The second he didn’t tell you who he was at the bookstore he regretted, there had been several times where he wanted to give up the lie and tell you who he was, but he just couldn’t.

He was in too deep.

He hated lying to you, especially when he really caught feelings for you, the more the lie tangled, the harder it was going to be to eventually untie it again. He thought he had time to piece together a way out of it, to try and soften the shock and not frighten you away.

“Don’t say that,” he whispered, moving his hand down the side of your face so that it rested against your shoulder.

You were too exhausted and emotional to fight him away, moving your hands to cover your face yet again when you felt more tears spill. “Why did you do it Namjoon?”

“Because too many people have judged me for being Namjoon the singer rather than Namjoon the man. The moment I introduced myself to you, I knew I found myself liking you, it was a moment of panic. Do you remember the students that walked in?” He asked, as your head slowly nodded. “I took one look at them and then the next thing I knew, you were under the impression I was an English teacher. It felt nice that you valued me as a person, not for my name or my career, or even my money. I liked the feeling of being appreciated for being me, it meant the world to me that you fell in love with my personality rather than the materialistic things I own.”

“Now it makes sense,” you whispered with a shaky breath, “you never wanted to show me around your house, but that’s because there’s no teacher in the world that would be able to afford your house. Or every time when I told you to send me some work to see if I could help, you didn’t, because what you actually were working on was song lyrics.”

Several people passed you both by as Namjoon tried to calm you down, shielding your body as best as he could with yours. Each time he touched you, your body tensed up, refusing to let him in fully as you slowly began to learn about who he really was.

“Sorry will never be enough to make this right,” Namjoon whispered, squeezing your shoulder gently, “I can’t begin to imagine how you’re feeling right now or how this looks to you. If you want to cut everything off tonight, I’d understand. But you have to believe me Y/N when I tell you the Namjoon you fell in love with, really is me. Nothing about who I am as a person in your eyes is different in real life.”

Your head slowly shook, with your head and your heart telling you two different things, you didn’t know where to look or where to go. It was safe to say you’d fallen for Namjoon, you’d spent months with him, even from afar, he’d supported you in getting yourself sorted at the end of your travelling, he’d encouraged you as you searched for a job, even helping you write your application to get into somewhere.

“Where do we go from here?” He questioned, feeling a hot tear roll down his cheek. “I don’t want to lose you Y/N.”

You moved your hands away from your face, shuffling along the wall to make room for him to sit beside you. You didn’t even need to invite him before he filled the space, resting a cautious hand against your leg as finally your tears began to settle. You couldn’t bring yourself to hold onto him or lean into him, instead you sat motionlessly, staring against the wall of the corridor.

“Is there anything else you need to admit to, other than the fact you’re not a teacher?”

“No, that’s everything.”

“I don’t want to be lied to anymore Namjoon, if there’s something more to you, either you tell me now, or I’m gone,” you warned him.

He nodded, puffing his cheeks out, “that’s it, I promise. And I mean that promise this time, I’m not saying it just to protect you.”

You sat and listened as he vowed to be honest with you, about every single detail about his life. You were overwhelmed by the situation you found yourself in, never had you imagined seeing yourself falling in love with a global superstar, a man adored by millions of fans around the world.

“Why don’t you tell me about what you really do? Seeing as I’ve never actually heard of your group before,” you suggested. You slowly turned your body inwards so that you were facing him, choosing to keep your eyes away from his, staring down at the marbled floor as he spoke.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” he giggled, “for years now we’ve been as a group, obviously we started off in Korea, and then our music travelled, the group grew, and now we’re selling out arenas around the world. That’s the simplest way to put it.”

“And why did you actually learn English?”

“Because my family and I thought it would be a good skill to have in the future,” he informed you, “you’ll probably think it’s stupid, but I learnt it by watching Friends?”

“Really?” You exclaimed.

He nodded back at you, “I used to sit and listen to everything they said, and then eventually I could recite a few lines. It’s been useful for my job too, I can communicate with so many of our international fans, it’s probably helped us grow as we’re not just seen as another Korean music group, we’re seen as a band who can also hold an English conversation too.”

Your eyes began to search for his as he continued to give you a bit of background on him and his group. You could see the passion in his eyes and the love he had for what he did. But you could also see how difficult and terrifying his world was too, appreciating why he made the decision to keep you safe from it all. The more he spoke and opened up to you, the more you could see how hurt he was to have lied to you. It didn’t matter what he said, Namjoon was aware that nothing could justify the situation that he’d put you in, it was a place he never wanted you to be.

“If you’d have told me all of this from the start, it wouldn’t have changed things,” you pointed out to him when he finally finished talking. “I don’t judge someone on what they do or how many noughts are in their bank account.”

“I’ve heard that before,” he sighed.

“But you wouldn’t have heard it from me,” you quickly reiterated. “I’m not going to lie to you Namjoon, I’m better than that.”

It was a low blow, but one he knew he fully deserved. He’d treated you terribly, betrayed the trust that you’d put in him, and yet somehow, you were still sat and willing to listen to him talk. He began to wonder if maybe there really was a way of salvaging the mess he’d made, if perhaps you were willing to take on the real Namjoon he’d tried so hard to save you from.

“What do you want to happen to us?” He asked as his own thoughts began to run away from him. “Do you want me to go?”

Your head shook, dabbing gently underneath your cheeks. “Right now, I don’t know what I want really, but when I’ve spent six months falling for you, I can’t just see you walk away. I trust that your feelings for me were real, and I trust that now you’re starting to be honest with me.”

“I made a mistake, an enormous mistake that you’ll probably never forgive me for, but that won’t ever change the way I feel about you. I don’t want to live a lie to you anymore, and whilst I’m scared to really introduce you to my life, I promise that I’ll still love and protect you always.”

“You think I’m going to stay with you?”

“Well…I’d hoped.”

You sighed gently, “you broke me tonight Namjoon when I saw you stood on the stage. You knew I was going to be here, and I can guarantee you tried to find every way possible to make sure I didn’t find out. What hurts the most is when I needed you over the past few days, you were just down the road, within walking distance to be able to comfort and support me.”

“I couldn’t risk it, I didn’t want to break your heart by doing this, but instead that’s exactly what I’ve done.”

“I need time,” you sighed, smiling softly across at him, “I don’t want to give up on us, and I want to be able to trust in you, but that can’t happen overnight. I’ve gone from thinking I’m dating an English teacher in a Korean cram school to finding out I’m dating a Billboard winner with millions of screaming fans who chant his name night after night.”

His hand slowly reached out, intertwining his fingers in with yours. He brought your hand up to press a kiss against the back of it, wiping away the droplets of tears that had landed from your cheeks throughout the night. Your hand slowly squeezed against his as you rested your head down onto his shoulders, snuffling gently as you fought back the tears once again.

“I’ll never hurt you again,” he whispered down to you, “I promise I won’t be the guy you think I might be.”

“You’ve got one chance Namjoon, I want to learn to love the real you, no secrets, no lies, just honesty. That’s all I ever want from you.”

“There’s no more secrets, and definitely no more lies. You’ve stolen my heart and I can’t let that go, not now, not ever. I just hope you know what a crazy ride you’re in for dating me, the real me.”

“If it means being with you, I’ll ride the craziness. Just don’t break my heart, ever again, please.”

“Never again, I promise I’ll make you happy, forever.”

---

Masterlist

166 notes · View notes

whippin-cream · 3 years

Text

Blooming Day, Part 1

You neve imagined that your engagement would fail, that you would move to Korea, or that by a series of coincidences you would meet your long-term celebrity crush, Byun Baekhyun. You most certainly never imagined that someone like him would take an interest in you either, but he did; and now you’re stuck because you don’t trust like you used to and you just aren’t quite sure if you have the courage to take a chance on him.

Wordcount: 4k

You let out a sigh as you dropped your spoon back into your tea. You wondered how long it would take for the cheap metal to turn the drink as bitter as you felt about the state of your life at the current moment. You flopped back onto the floor, still not having any actual furniture despite having been in Korea for just under a month now.

Who needed a sofa or a nice set of kitchen chairs when you had that homely camping chair you picked up for cheap at the street market? Sure, the arms were flimsy, the cup holder was too small, and it sagged very low when you sat in it, but, it was something and it was yours.

To be fair, you thought, you were never supposed to have been here.

You were supposed to have rejected the opportunity to study for a year in Korea in favor of finally marrying your fiancé in the Spring: transferring to a college just 15 minutes away from the job he was offered at some powerhouse music label.

That was what you had been planning ever since you got engaged 6 months ago. Even found a nice apartment with the view of a park filled to the brim with tall trees and dickhead geese that you liked to watch chase people. You spent so many Saturday mornings with Ethan on the balcony. Nothing sounded better than finally starting a life together with the man you loved more than yourself.

Well, at least until you came home early on your anniversary to surprise him with his favorite dessert and found him balls deep in your (former) best friend.

On the bed you paid for.

The bitch even had the nerve to be wearing the fancy set of lingerie that you had bought for yourself just a few months prior as a reward for acing a particularly brutal exam.

You remember dropping the sweets onto the floor, furiously yanking the diamond off your left hand, and throwing it somewhere in his general direction. You tightly clutched the purse that you never even got the chance to set down to your body and ran back out of the apartment. He rushed after you, yelling some bullshit about how it “didn’t mean anything”, “it isn’t what you think”, and “(Y/N), I love you! I’m sorry. Baby, please stop!”

You didn’t, though. Your brisk walked changed into a full sprint when curious neighbors opened their doors to take a peek at the commotion. They glanced repeatedly between the sobbing girl and the naked man yelling after her. It was by far the most humiliating experience of your life.

From there the details of that day get a little fuzzy, but you remember taking a taxi to the airport and buying a last-minute flight to Seoul. A child kicked the back of your seat for at least half the time you were in the air out of boredom, but you didn’t have the energy to tell him to stop. After a good five hours of doing nothing but staring blankly in front of you, you managed to drift off.

When you came to, a flight attendant was explaining to everyone that they needed to get ready to disembark. Her warm smile and friendly tone did nothing but annoy you. Who gave her the right to be so happy when your world just crumbled beneath your feet?

You knew you were being irrational, but still.

After making it to what appeared to be a small shopping center within the airport, you decided that you needed a drink. Preferably something warm and sugary to get you out of the daze you were in. Luckily, a Starbucks was nestled in between two shops: One being an overpriced gift shop and the other selling fast food that was far too greasy for the average customer. About 20 minutes later you were sitting alone on a barstool, with a half-full venti cup that was most definitely cold by now, but you didn’t mind.

With one more deep breath, you reached into your purse and slid out your phone. You had turned it off immediately after buying your plane tickets and you were scared of the notifications that you would receive. Part of you was even more scared that you wouldn’t receive any.

Was it possible for him to just toss five years together away so quickly? Could you? After all, he did say he was sorry. That it was all just a big mistake, and that he loved you and not her.

But how could he do something like that to you when he said he loved you? You loved him, and you most certainly never slept with another man. Especially not in the bed you shared with him and with his closest friend.

How many times had they done it? Was it truly a mistake? Maybe he had just gotten drunk and it was all one big accident. Your head started to hurt with all the possibilities floating through your mind.

You had shocked yourself with a quick, but firm smack to the center of your forehead. “You don’t accidentally stick your dick in someone else, idiot. Why would he be drunk at 2 pm? He knew what he was doing.”

With your thumb pressing into the power button you watched with bated breath as the welcome screen flashed on. You waited for the notifications to flood your phone; the flight to Seoul was long, surely, you’d have received many texts in that time, right? Your finger tapped anxiously on the screen as it refreshed.

Then, one after another a notification popped up in a bright banner at the top of the phone. There were several voicemails and even more texts. They started out apologetic, parroting the words he yelled after you in the hallway. However, they grew increasingly nasty. Ethan always did have a nasty temper, and it flared up when he was being ignored and when he was drunk.

Judging by how slurred his voice was in the last few messages, and how incoherent his texts became, it was safe to assume that he had downed the bottle of (far too expensive) whiskey he loved to always keep stocked at the house.

While you weren’t able to make out everything he said to you, the gist was that you were just some dumb little girl that he had settled for because you were safe. That he never loved you and that you needed to apologize to him for the scene you created when you left the apartment.

“The neighbors were staring.” Because that was your fault, just like the reason he cheated was your fault too, apparently.

He ended his drunken tirade by saying that you would never find a man like him again and that sooner or later you would come crawling back to him. After all, you were dating up by dating him, he claimed. "What other man would want you?"

Though, you did not go crawling back to him. Not even after he sobered up and the second round of “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any of it”s started back up again.

It was clear that he didn’t respect you. The only thing your father ever made you promise about how you would date is that you would not tolerate staying with a person who treated you with less dignity than you deserved. You knew that you would never be happy marrying a man that looked down on you. How would your life be anything but constant paranoia with a person that could run around with other women without even acting guilty about it?

It definitely was not easy, and there were times where you did consider that maybe you had overreacted. Admittedly, moving across the globe did seem rather dramatic at times, but going to Korea was something that you wanted to do long before you ever met Ethan. When you tried to look at things in a positive light, you saw that: you got to move on in your life, continue your education, and cross an item off of your bucket list all in one go. Despite trying your hardest to stay optimistic, most days you simply did not have the energy to do anything other than wallow in your own self-pity.

Today was one of those days.

You brought your hands to your chest and rolled over a few times to get on the sleeping mat you wanted to snuggle up in. While it was no Tempurpedic, it was surprisingly comfortable; especially when you wrapped yourself in the soft and bulky you crocheted the week prior.

You slipped off your glasses and placed them a few feet above the mat. Light was still pouring in through the window, so you brought your blanket up and over your head. It covered your eyes while the edge curved down around the side of your face and rested under your chin. You loved the darkness and all-around cozy feeling it provided without having your mouth covered by the blanket. You hated having your mouth covered by the blanket. It never felt like you could get enough air when it was.

Unfortunately for you, the sleep was not as comforting as you assumed it would be. The happy dreams where everything you could have ever wanted and hoped for were nowhere to be found that night, neither were the strange ones that left you with a feeling of confusion that you couldn’t quite shake when you woke up. Instead, you were plagued with watching a replay of your anniversary on loop.

After a few hours, you managed to pry your eyes open. Your skin felt uncomfortably sticky due to the cold sweat you had broken out in. You felt warm tears welling up in your eyes and threatening to spill over. You blinked them away, angry at yourself for still crying over him.

You felt pathetic.

You pressed the heels of your hands against your temples in a sad attempt to get the thump, thump, thumping in your head to stop. You raked your fingernails down your face, wincing at the slight burn you felt. You snatched the glasses from the ground and hastily shoved them onto your face.

You picked up your phone and tapped on it harder than you probably needed to. You didn’t know what you were expecting to find on your phone, but you hoped that there would be something there that stop the lonely feeling you felt in your chest from consuming you entirely.

Your salvation came in the form of a text from Minji. “CALL ME!!!” It read, several emojis following the exclamation points. It brought a smile to your lips. That was something Minji had always been good at.

You had first met her back in high school when she was taking part in her own foreign exchange program. The two of you became fast friends, staying in contact with one another even after she went back home to Korea. Her personality was bright and warm, and she had a knack for making even the most socially awkward people feel comfortable in her presence.

Despite your history, you had to admit that you were a bit shocked to hear from her. Seven months ago she became a trainee for SM entertainment, and your communication with her went from nearly daily to radio silence. It stung, but you understood. Becoming an idol had always been her dream, and you didn’t think it would be fair to try to distract her from that.

You had let her know when you first arrived in Korea, and while she seemed excited over the phone, she hadn’t seen you yet. You pressed the phone icon next to her name, opting to put the call on speaker because your earbuds were nowhere to be found.

“(Y/N)! You got my message.”

“Yeah, what’s up Minji?” You replied, lightly digging your fingers into your thumb. You couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous. You wondered what exactly it was that she needed.

“Look, I know I’ve been a bad friend. I have been distant lately, and this isn’t fair. Especially not to you. I mean, you’re the one who encouraged me to even go to the audition in the first place. If you hadn’t of yelled at me until I got off my ass and went…. Well, I wouldn’t be where I am now.”

She paused for a moment to take a breath.

“So, I want to make it up to you. I don’t exactly have the money to take you out for dinner or anything, but SM is having a party on Friday. All the trainees that are close to debuting will be there, and so will the established artists. It is supposed to help us build “inter-company relationships”; whatever that means. We are all allowed to bring a plus one, and I want that to be you. There will be expensive catering, and that fancy booze that is so easy to get drunk on since it doesn’t taste like alcohol. The perfect venue for catching up. So, what do you say?”

She sounded slightly awkward, but hopeful as well. Before you could answer she started speaking.

"I know it isn't exactly your scene, but I really want to see you."

"What's the dress code, Min? I wouldn't want to look totally out of place." You replied. You closed your eyes tightly. Minji was right, big parties were not your thing. However, you reasoned, maybe you needed something out of your comfort zone.

Minji squealed so loudly that you recoiled slightly. "Does that mean you're coming? Yes! Nothing too fancy, but not casual either. Remember, simple is sexy, baby."

You snorted and shook your head. "Okay, I'll keep that in mind."

"I'll text you the address.” You heard her name get called in the background. “Sorry, I have to get back to practice now. I’ll see you in a few days. Bye!” The line went dead, and you rolled back over. You felt a contentedness that you hadn’t felt since the breakup wash over you. It was nice to know that you still mattered to someone.

The days leading up to Friday flew by quickly. You had bought yourself a fitted black dress for the party. You wanted to look nice, but you didn’t exactly want to draw any unwanted attention to yourself either. You paired the dress with some flats and kept your makeup minimal as well.

You grinned at yourself and gave a little twirl when you did your final once over in the mirror. You rarely got to wear dresses; Ethan had always gotten upset with you when you tried. He thought they brought on too much male attention, and in the interests of keeping the peace you just gave them up.

You felt pretty.

You felt happy. Truly happy.

A pleasant warmth bloomed in your chest, and you could feel it spread throughout your body. You eyed the perfume you had bought and saved for a special occasion. This occasion, you decided, was special enough.

In 20 minutes time you found yourself in front of the doors to SM Entertainment. They seemed big, and mildly intimidating, but you pushed through them regardless. You sent Minji a text that you had arrived and you moved to stand by some chairs in the lobby.

You dug your fingers into your thumb while you waited. It stung a bit, but the feeling kept you grounded. You took in the architecture of the building, staring in awe at how sleek the whole place looked.

A hand on your shoulder startled you and you turned to see Minji’s smiling face. You smiled back at her, and you were quickly brought into a hug. It was slightly awkward, as a hug was a greeting she reserved for her foreign friends only. Nevertheless, you appreciated the gesture.

When she pulled away you finally got a good look at her. The first thing you noticed was that she was significantly slimmer. You felt a flash of self-consciousness hit you, but you quickly dismissed it.

“Come on, the party’s this way.”

After a few hallways, and a short elevator ride you found yourself in the reception room. It was loud, and lively. Minji led you closer to one of the walls by the back of the room. It was in close enough proximity to the dancefloor that you two could join in without too much trouble, but just quite enough that you two could talk comfortably. Minji spoke first.

She went on and on about all the funny things that happened in practice, and how she was so excited to have been placed in a group she knew would debut sometime in the near future. She hadn’t been given an exact date yet, but they had started to shoot promotional content. Minji explained that she had done three photoshoots in the past week, and cringed when she talked about how awkward she felt doing her solo shots.

She giggled and grabbed a glass of something pink and pretty from a waiter that was carrying them by. “I felt like I was doing school pictures again. Hopefully these ones turn out a little bit better.” She took a gulp of her drink and then nodded toward you.

“Enough about me. How have you been? How’s the wedding planning going?”

Ah, right. You hadn’t told her about the breakup yet.

You coughed awkwardly and brought your left hand up to show it off. “It’s…” you hesitated “It isn’t anymore. Ethan and I are over.” You averted your eyes, grabbing your own alcohol and downing it. When you looked back at Minji, her eyes were wide and she sputtered out a quick apology. Her cheeks were stained an embarrassed pink.

“What happened?” She questioned before she could stop herself. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

“I caught him and Rachel in bed together.” You answered simply, not wanting to go into too much detail. You didn’t want to ruin the night that had been so fun so far.

Minji’s face hardened. She had never liked Rachel, or Ethan for that matter. You knew that, and you were hoping to escape an “I told you so”. Minji scoffed. “What an asshole.” She muttered quietly. “Who needs him anyway?”

You smiled at her. “Not me; but what I do need is some more of this.” You held up your empty glass and shook it slightly.

After a few more drinks and reminisced memories you found yourself on the dancefloor with Minji. You felt the heat radiating off of you, and you weren’t sure if it was from the alcohol or from the dancing, but it was nearly too much for you. You made a mental note to just drink water for the rest of the night, but your head was fuzzy and you weren’t quite sure if you’d be able to resist a pina colada if one became accessible.

You weren’t the best dancer, especially compared to the trainees and idols surrounding you, but you were enjoying yourself. You felt a fresh rush of adrenaline hit you when Exo’s Wolf came on. You were sure you and Minji looked ridiculous when you made wolf ears with your hands at the “awoo” parts, but the two of you were laughing to hard to truly care.

“I haven’t heard this song in so long!” You shouted to her.

She looked at you in surprise. “What? But you love Exo.”

You nodded back to her. “I do, but Ethan didn’t like me listening to them.”

“Why not?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, he never really gave me a good reason.” Minji rolled her eyes once again.

“Just another reason to be glad he’s out of your life.” You giggled at her statement. She was right. The more you thought back on your relationship the more you realized that maybe he wasn’t really the prince charming you thought he was. You couldn’t just be you when you were with him. You were the you he wanted you to be. The only thing that you left the relationship with was a monthly payment to a landlord for an apartment you weren’t even living in. Ethan had refused to allow you to take your name off of the lease. So, fuck Ethan.

“Have you met them?” You asked. Her eyes brightened, and she nodded her head rapidly.

“Yes, and god. They are so much hotter in person.” You noticed a shift in her expression then. Something mischievous made its way onto her features. “Are you ever going to tell me who your bias is?”

You laughed. “Fuck no, Minji. Definitely not now. You know them! That would be weird.” You whined. You knew that if you admitted to holding a fondness for Baekhyun that you would never hear the end of it. She pouted at you. Her lip stuck out and it wobbled slightly.

You walked backwards a few steps and she followed. “Puppy dog eyes won’t work on me, Minji.”

“Oh, come on. I don’t know Exo that well. Just tell me.”

“Nope, too weird.” You laughed again. The room was spinning, and everything seemed far more funny to you than it should have. However, your laughter was cut short when you backed into the firm chest of someone behind you.

You felt the warm exhale of breath against your face as a voice you only recognized from interviews and fancams whispered in your ear. “What’s so weird about us?” You froze. A feeling of terror shot down your spine and your face became far hotter than you thought was humanly possible. That voice definitely belonged to a one Byun Baekhyun, and his tone was teasing. “Huh?” He questioned again. After the initial shock wore away, you realized that your body was completely pressed against his.

You shot away from him like you had been scalded. He had a Cheshire-cat grin plastered on his face. “N-nothing.” You stammered. Your eyes were so wide they nearly popped right out of your skull, and you were sure Minji’s were doing the same.

His eyes slowly glanced down the length of your body before his gaze found Minji’s. “Friend of yours?” He asked. She merely nodded in response. He turned his attention back to you and bowed slightly. “I’m Baekhyun, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You didn’t respond until you felt Minji elbow you in the side.

You bowed back, slightly lower than what he had given to you. “(Y/N).”

He grinned at you once again. He ran a hand through his neatly styled hair, causing a few strands to fall back over his forehead. His cheeks were flushed red, and you wondered if he was as tipsy as you were. “Minji, we are having a bit of an afterparty at the dorms later. Well, technically it’s supposed to be a mentorship meeting, but we want to make it fun, you know? The rest of your members have already been invited. Feel free to bring your friend along.”

He winked at the two of you, and then he was gone.

You stood there for a moment, not quite sure how to process what had just happened. You glanced over at Minji to find that she was already staring at you. “What the fuck was that?” You whispered to her. You felt a sudden need for secrecy, and it seemed she felt the same way.

“I think Baekhyun just hit on you.” You shook your head violently.

“And I think you’re crazy.” You stated, though conviction was nowhere to be found in your voice.

“You are coming with me to that afterparty.”

“I most certainly am not! You heard him. It is supposed to be a mentorship thing.”

“And you heard him when he said he wanted something more fun that that.” She hissed back.

“Minji.” You warned.

“(Y/N).” She shot back as she raised her eyebrows at you. “If nothing else, come for me. Tonight is our night to catch up, remember?” Your fingers went to your thumb, and you nodded your head. Butterflies bloomed in your stomach and you tried to expel them with a sigh.

“Okay, I’ll go.”

149 notes · View notes

ao719 · 3 years

Text

Full Disclosure: The Beginning

Full Disclosure: The Beginning (Part 12)

Characters belong to Pixelberry

Summary: A look back at Charlotte during the social season and engagement tour.

A/N: I don’t feel great about this chapter, twice having almost scrapped it entirely. There was just a lot to pack in from Paris and it’s a lot of dialogue (I apologize in advance). I switched up canon a bit as well because there were some things I wanted to happen that kind of made the tea party and opera scenes pretty irrelevant here, so I didn’t write those in and I’m not sure how that worked out. Please excuse any grammatical errors.

A/N 2: 🍋

Catch Up Here

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Charlotte sat at a table in the dining car of the train, eating breakfast with Bertrand, Maxwell, Olivia, and Drake. She was also nursing her shoulder, bruised from her run-in with the wall earlier that morning as she sipped her coffee and listened to Bertrand explain what he had been able to find out about the bank transaction.

“So, you only have the card number, but not who it belongs to?” Drake asked.

“Correct.”

“How the hell do we find out whose card it is?”

“Well, we know that it was one of the ladies -- whichever one paid the maid off in Applewood. We need to check their cards somehow.”

“But how do we check them? We can’t just walk up to them and ask to see their credit cards,” Charlotte scoffed.

“Madeleine’s bachelorette party is tonight, so it gives us a more than a perfect opportunity.” Bertrand glanced at Charlotte. “You can see if you can get a look at the cards then.”

“Wait … what?” Charlotte choked on her coffee as she looked at Bertrand. “You’re not seriously expecting me to go out and celebrate with them …”

“Lady Charlotte-” Bertrand stopped when Charlotte shook her head and looked away from him for a moment. He shared a glance with Maxwell, silently asking for help.

Maxwell reached over and covered Charlotte’s hand with his. “You won’t be there alone, Little Blossom. Olivia is going …”

“Excuse me.”

Charlotte stood from her seat and headed towards the exit, walking past Liam, who was getting ready to leave the train with Madeleine for a day full of press interviews and meetings. His eyes followed her with a look of concern before Madeleine yanked his arm. Liam glanced worriedly at the table, watching the others get up to follow her.

“Lady Charlotte,” Bertrand called after her.

When she didn’t stop, Drake side-stepped Bertrand and caught up to Charlotte. “Brooks …”

Charlotte turned and looked at the four of them again. “Look … between the scandal and being on this tour, and having to watch Liam parade around with Madeleine on a daily basis, I have a sliver of dignity left at this moment. I’d like to keep it.” Charlotte’s voice slightly cracked at her last words. “Please don’t ask me to go out with them tonight and try to put on this happy face, especially when we know that one of them was involved …”

Bertrand stared at Charlotte, feeling a wave of guilt hit him. “I can do it,” Olivia chimed in. She locked eyes with Charlotte for a moment. “I’ll try and get a look at the card numbers. There’s no need to send her out just for that. Just tell me what I’m looking for.” Charlotte subtly nodded her head in a silent thank you.

****

That evening, after dealing with the press and foreign dignitaries all day, Liam entered the train alone; Madeleine was already out with the other ladies for her bachelorette party. On his way back to his cabin, he saw Maxwell, who was headed out to meet Drake and Olivia.

“Hey, Li,” he smiled.

“Lord Beaumont.” Liam glanced around before looking back at Maxwell. “Was Charlotte ok this morning?”

“Bertrand brought up the bachelorette party and how we could use it as an opportunity to check the cards against the one used in the transaction. She got upset about having to go.” Liam’s expression fell; he didn’t blame her for not wanting to go. “But Olivia offered to do it. She and Drake left not too long ago. I’m on my way to meet them now. Charlotte’s in her cabin.”

“She stayed?” Maxwell nodded with a smile before he clapped Liam’s shoulder and walked away.

****

Charlotte sat on her bed in her cabin on the train, reading a book; it was a much better way to spend her evening than being out celebrating and having Madeleine shove the engagement down her throat even more than she already had. She heard a soft knock on her door, and stood from her bed. She opened it to see Liam on the other side. “Hi,” she smiled.

“Hey!” Charlotte turned and made her way back to the bed as Liam stepped inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. He watched Charlotte climb back onto her bed and lean back against the headboard; she wore sweatpants and a cropped T-shirt; her hair was piled into a messy bun on top of her head. “Maxwell said you didn’t want to go out with the others tonight …”

“Maxwell was correct.” Charlotte glanced up and let out a breath. “I’m sorry, Liam … I know I should have gone. I just-”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Charlotte, nor do you owe me an explanation.” He slipped off his suit jacket and draped it over the back of the chair. “I understand why you didn’t want to go … and I don’t blame you.”

“You’re not upset?”

Liam smiled and shook his head. “Not at all. A bit relieved, actually.” Charlotte gave him a questioning look as he walked towards the bed; he leaned over, pressing his palms against the mattress. “Now I get to spend the evening with you.” Charlotte smiled and grabbed his tie, curling it around her hand before pulling him down and meeting his lips with hers.

****

Charlotte had spent the last thirty minutes teasing Liam unmercifully. She was now straddling him topless while his shirt lay open; her hands were pressed against his bare chest. Liam’s hand was tangled in her hair, and his other gripped her hip tightly, anchoring her to him as their tongues curled together.

They abruptly parted when they heard a soft knock on Charlotte’s door. “Don’t … do not answer it. They’ll go away,” Liam whispered before drawing her swollen and tingly lips back to his; she rocked her hips against him, eliciting a soft moan from him as he pulled her hips tighter against him. A moment later, another knock came; Charlotte felt Liam’s body tense beneath her in frustration as she stifled a laugh against his lips.

“Brooks!” They heard Drake��s voice on the other side.

“Shouldn’t he be off on a Tinder date or something?” Liam whispered harshly, causing Charlotte to snort loudly.

“I hear you in there, Brooks! Open up! It’s important.”

Charlotte gave Liam an apologetic smile before leaning down and kissing him once more; she slid off his lap and picked up her discarded shirt from the floor. “You better fix that,” she chuckled, motioning her head towards his arousal before pulling her shirt on.

Liam gave her a withering glance in return as he sat on the edge of the bed, quickly buttoning his shirt. “You need to finish what you started,” he retorted.

“Brooks!”

“I’m coming! And not the way I wanted to be!” Liam let out a laugh behind her as she walked to the door.

Drake stared at her when it opened. “I really didn’t need to know that.”

Drake stepped inside, Maxwell and Olivia following behind him. “Hi, guys,” Liam smiled sheepishly.

Charlotte shut the door and turned to face them. “Were you able to find anything?”

“Uh … yeah,” Drake sighed, running his hand through his hair.

“I managed to check Madeleine’s card first when she … accidentally dumped her purse all over the floor … I was certain it was her, or at least I had hoped,” Olivia explained. “But it wasn’t a match.”

“I checked Kiara’s when I asked her to get shots,” Maxwell said. “Not her either.”

“I had to help Penelope order a car to get Madeleine’s drunk ass home because she didn’t know how … she had two different cards. The first one didn’t match, so I lied and told her they declined the card. She gave me the second one and … it was a match …”

“Penelope?” Liam asked incredulously. Drake, Maxwell, and Olivia all nodded.

Charlotte stared at Drake in stunned silence. Penelope. Poodle loving, dopey Penelope. Is Drake sure? Did he check the numbers right? Then she heard Drake say that he was absolutely certain when Liam asked if he was sure. This is unbelievable. Charlotte couldn’t believe the wool that Penelope had pulled over her eyes. She wondered if the way Penelope carried herself was all an act, an elaborate ruse to throw people off and make them think she was utterly helpless and completely invaluable when really she was some kind of secret goddamn genius. Fucking Penelope. Her brain was having a hard time computing it all.

“Charlotte?” Liam spoke her name when he saw her shocked expression as she stood frozen in place.

“Brooks, are you ok?” Drake asked.

“No, I AM NOT ok!” she shrieked. “My brain is like an internet browser right now! I have like 19 tabs open, six of them are glitching, and I can’t figure out where the fuck the music is coming from!” She pressed her palms to her temples and began to pace the floor. “Fucking Penelope? Are you kidding me? This is …” Charlotte trailed off as she let out a breath. “That little-”

“Charlotte, try and calm down,” Liam said as he took a step toward her.

“You know what? For Halloween this year, I’m dressing up as my life in this very moment because it’s a goddamn fucking nightmare. Or better yet, April Fool’s, because this is a fucking JOKE!” She faced all of them and threw her hands into the air. “PENELOPE? Penelope is the one who … I cannot believe this shit!”

“Char, calm down. We’ll have a chance to talk to her tomorrow at the fashion show.”

Suddenly, Charlotte walked to her cabin door and opened it. “Everybody out.”

“Charlotte-”

“I just want to be alone. Please.” She looked down at her feet as everyone shared concerned looks before slowly filing out of the room.

Liam, the last one in the line, stopped in front of her. He didn’t want to leave her alone, but he knew better than to push her right now. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispered. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, letting his lips linger there for a moment. “I love you.”

Without looking at him, Charlotte whispered, “I love you too.”

*******

The following morning Charlotte found herself in the boutique car of the train with Bertrand. She had taken the night to calm herself down, but she was still seething. She was having trouble comprehending how Penelope, of all people, was the one who had helped set her up in Applewood. She acted so nice and innocent to Charlotte’s face, and not once during this Engagement Tour did she even mention knowing anything about the scandal.

“I managed to get this dress from the designer of today’s charity fashion show.” Bertrand unzipped the black garment bag revealing the gown inside.

“It’s beautiful,” Charlotte smiled. She took the bag and stepped inside a dressing room. She came back out a few moments later, smoothing down the front of the dress. “Well?”

“Fits like a glove,” Bertrand nodded approvingly. Charlotte eyed the designer gown with a grin in the mirror as she did a half-spin. “Just remember to fawn over it when the press asks who you’re wearing. The designer will appreciate it.”

Just then, the boutique door flung open, and Maxwell stepped inside; Charlotte’s gaze immediately landed on the little ball of fluff he was carrying in his arms, and her eyes went wide. “PUPPY!” she squealed loudly.

“Isn’t he the cutest!” Maxwell grinned. “I found him on the street. I couldn’t just leave him out there.”

“Absolutely not, Maxwell!” Bertrand barked.

“But-”

“No! We cannot have a dog with us on the tour!”

“But look at his wittle face,” Charlotte crooned as she reached out to pet the Corgi. “Hi, little guy,” she smiled. The dog’s tongue lolled out of the side of its mouth as he panted happily while looking at her. Charlotte scratched his head just behind his ear, and he leaned into her touch. “Oh my god, I love him!”

“Do not even think about picking him up while you’re wearing that dress! Everyone will ask what perfume you’re wearing, and you'll have to respond, ‘it’s called wet dog.’” Bertrand threw his arms up in frustration when Charlotte took the dog from Maxwell despite his warning.

“He is precious! Aren’t you? Yes, you are!” She leaned down to kiss the top of his head but drew back. “But you need a bath. You stink.”

“Perfect!” Bertrand scoffed. “Maxwell, do whatever you need to do with this mutt. Charlotte needs to prepare for the fashion show.”

“Yes, good idea, Bertrand,” Charlotte agreed. “Maxwell, can you take him to a groomer?”

“That is not what I meant, Lady Charlotte!”

“Well, I’m not putting this poor little guy back out on the street, Bertrand! I’m keeping him. And you can’t tell me no because number one, I can do what I want, and number two, you owe me.”

Bertrand’s expression fell. He couldn’t deny that he did owe Charlotte for everything she had been through, mainly on his behalf. “Be that as it may, having a dog on tour is preposterous!”

“No, it’s not! Think of the attention it’ll bring. ‘Lady Charlotte of House Beaumont saves orphan dog from streets,’” Maxwell smiled as he imagined the headline. “People will love it!”

Bertrand pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maxwell, I entertained the peafowl. Asking me to keep a dog after you brought Carl home is not a good idea!”

“Carl and the dog will be best friends! Carl needs a friend!”

Charlotte set the dog on the ground and crouched down next to him while Bertrand and Maxwell continued to go back and forth. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I won’t let that asshole peacock anywhere near you.”

“But look at him!” Maxwell flung his arm out.

Bertrand glanced down to see both the dog and Charlotte staring up at him with puppy dog eyes. “Well, can you do tricks?” he asked the dog. “Roll over.” At the command, the dog flopped on its side and rolled over before standing back on its stubby legs, panting up at Bertrand as his fluffy butt shook back and forth. “Goddammit!”

At that moment, Drake entered the boutique. When he noticed the dog, he smiled. “Hey there, little sausage looking buddy.” The dog walked up to Drake and sniffed his leg; he raised his own leg and pissed all over Drake’s pants. “What the hell?” Drake jumped back. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Charlotte laughed, and Drake shot her a look.

Bertrand couldn’t hold back his snort. “Very well, you may keep him.”

Charlotte squealed and high fived Maxwell. Bertrand’s expression grew serious. “But one wrong move -- a chewed shoe, a random pooping incident -- and he is gone!”

“He just pissed on my leg!” Drake hollered.

“You should probably go change. I mean, unless dog pee is your kind of thing,” Charlotte giggled. Drake turned and stalked out of the boutique.

“We have to name him,” Maxwell smiled.

“How about Chance? Like … what are the chances he would piss on Drake’s leg?” Charlotte laughed. The dog turned and barked, wagging his fluffy butt. “Chance it is. You can come to the fashion show with me today, little guy!”

“I’ll give him a bath while you finish getting ready. Come on, Chance,” Maxwell scooped him into his arms. “We’re going to make you fresh and fly for your public debut.”

****

An hour later, Charlotte and Bertrand met Maxwell outside the train; Maxwell was with a freshly groomed Chance. Charlotte decided she would test how good Chance was for her image, choosing to walk with him on the step-and-repeat outside the fashion show. The press snapped photographs, smiling at her new friend as she posed with him. Donnie Brine, the reporter from the CBC, asked Charlotte all about the dog, and she sold the story of Maxwell rescuing him and her choosing to keep him. She then fawned over her gown, just like Bertrand told her when asked who she was wearing before finally stepping inside the building.

Charlotte held Chance’s leash as she, Drake, and Maxwell weaved their way through the crowd. She told herself she would steer clear of Penelope at the fashion show, not wanting to cause a scene, knowing she wouldn’t have very nice things to say to her. She planned to confront her afterward.

“Oh, puppy!” Charlotte heard the familiar voice and turned to see Penelope just as she crouched down.

Before she could pet Chance, Charlotte scooped him into her arms. “Do not touch my dog,” she spat. Penelope’s eyes widened as Charlotte turned and walked away.

“Way to be subtle, Brooks,” Drake snorted.

“She doesn’t get to touch my dog. And I know how much she likes dogs, so I know that broke her soul just a little bit.”

Drake spotted something up ahead and stopped Charlotte from walking any further. “Hey, there might be something or rather someone you’ll want to see in that little room over there.” Drake tilted his head towards a room off to the side. Charlotte nodded in understanding before making her way over.

Charlotte led Chance inside what appeared to be a private office; Liam was standing behind the door, smiling at her when their eyes met. He shut the door and immediately leaned down, pressing his lips to hers. “Hi,” he smiled.

“Hey, you.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry about last night … I just needed to clear my head.”

“It’s fine. I understand.” Liam glanced down, just noticing the dog sitting quietly at Charlotte’s feet and his lips curved into a large grin. “And who is this?”

“This is Chance. Maxwell found him all alone on the street, and I’m keeping him. He’s the most adorable ball of fluff!”

Liam crouched down, and Chance immediately moved to him, jumping up to lick his face. Charlotte couldn’t help but smile at the sound of Liam’s laugh. “Well, hello to you too, Chance.” He scratched behind his ears before Chance flopped on the ground for a belly rub. “Who’s a good boy? Yes, you are,” Liam chuckled as he rubbed his belly. He smiled at Charlotte as he stood back up. “I wanted to ask if you’d like to meet me later tonight.”

“Oh?”

“I may have a trip to the top of the Eiffel Tower planned.”

Charlotte’s mouth fell open. “The top?”

Liam nodded with a grin before leaning down to kiss her once more. “I’ll have a car waiting for you at 10 o’clock.”

****

After the fashion show, the ladies of court answered a few questions from the press, talking about their donations to the charity. It was the first time Charlotte had been in close proximity to Madeleine since Italy when she had bailed on attending her bachelorette party.

As they finished with the press, Madeleine approached Charlotte. “I missed you last night at my bachelorette party.”

Charlotte gave her a look, arching her brow. “Really?”

“No. But I do find it extremely rude that you chose not to attend.”

“I was sick.”

“You seemed fine all day.”

“Yes, then I thought of having to celebrate your bullshit of an engagement, and it nauseated me. So I stayed behind. I heard it was pretty lame anyway.” Drake and Maxwell both laughed behind her, and Madeleine rolled her eyes as she turned, walking away. Charlotte then spotted Penelope heading into the back room behind the stage. “Can you guys take Chance back to the train? I have someone I need to speak with.” Charlotte extended her hand, trying to give Drake the leash.

“No way! He pissed on my leg!”

“He was just marking you as his,” she snorted. “It means he likes you!” Drake huffed and took the leash. “Thank you. Just take him to my room. I won’t be long.” Drake and Maxwell left with Chance as Charlotte weaved her way through the crowd towards the back room. She stepped inside, finding Penelope rifling through her purse, mumbling under heat breath about where her checkbook was.

Penelope turned at the sound of the door latching shut. “Charlotte,” she said when her eyes fell on her. “Come to tell me I can’t touch your dog again?”

“No, but I’m not sorry about it. Dogs are loyal, Penelope. My sweet boy was not about to be exposed to a corrupt traitor!”

Penelope furrowed her brows. “Corrupt traitor? What are you talking about?”

Charlotte pointed her finger and jabbed it into Penelope's shoulder. “You know exactly what I’m talking about … TRAITOR!”

“I really don’t, Charlotte.”

“Penelope, I know that you helped set me up in Applewood. I know. And you owe me some goddamn answers.”

Penelope’s eyes widened. “I …” She abruptly closed her mouth as she stared at Charlotte. She glanced down, wringing her hands together. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I didn’t want to hurt you, I promise.”

“I was wrong about you, Penelope. I thought you were a good person. Not like the other cut-throat bitches at court. I wanted to be your friend. I thought that you were sweet and kind. But I should have known that you were just like the others and would drive that knife in my back the minute you had an opportunity. So I just have one question: why?”

“It was the only way for me to remain at court. I knew Liam wasn’t going to choose me, and I don’t like being here, but my parents thought I was doing so well making friends and spending time with eligible noblemen. I couldn’t bear to face them as a failure. But I’m not like Madeleine. I’m not skilled to maneuver myself into a favorable position … at least not alone. I was offered a chance to remain at court as a lady-in-waiting regardless of who Liam chose … as long as I helped in the scheme against you …”

“‘Offered’? So someone told you to set me up?”

“Of course! I would never have thought of such an awful thing on my own.”

“You claim it’s awful, yet you still went along with it!”

“I’m sorry, Charlotte. I really am.”

“After everything I’ve been through because of something you chose to take part in, your apology doesn’t mean shit to me, Penelope, and I don’t accept it. And all of this time, you didn’t come forward, knowing that everything they have been saying about me is a lie!” Charlotte could see the remorse on Penelope’s face, but truthfully, she didn’t care. “Who was it, the person who gave you this offer? You at least owe me that much.”

“It …” Penelope let out a breath as she met Charlotte’s gaze again. “It was Bastien.”

****

Charlotte walked back to the train, still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that Bastien -- Liam’s head guard, someone he was supposed to trust -- played a part in the scandal against her. The more she found out about who was involved, the more shocked she became. First the maid, then Penelope, then Bastien. She wondered why. What did Bastien gain from helping to scheme against her? And she wondered what Liam was going to think when he found out.

Charlotte entered the train and walked to her room; when she stepped inside, Maxwell and Drake rose from the floor where they played with Chance. “How’d it go?” Maxwell asked. Charlotte just shook her head as she stared off. “What did she say?”

“She admitted to it. She said … that she was offered a chance to remain at court as a lady-in-waiting … only if she helped in the scheme against me …”

“Who the fuck would offer her that?” Drake asked. Charlotte looked up, meeting Drake’s gaze. She knew how close he was to Bastien, the older man had practically helped raise Drake after his dad died. “Brooks … who was it?”

“Bastien …”

“What?” Drake asked incredulously. “No. No way. He wouldn’t do that, Brooks. There has to be some kind of mistake.”

“Drake … she and Bastien met face-to-face more than once. He gave her explicit instructions to hire the photographer and to arrange for Tariq to be in my room that night …” Charlotte watched the disbelief fill Drake’s expression as he ran his hands through his hair and laced them behind his head. After a few moments of watching him silently struggle to comprehend that it was Bastien, Charlotte took a step forward. “I … Drake, I’m sorry …”

Drake shook his head as he looked at her. “Don’t you dare apologize to me. He chose to do this. That’s on him.”

“I need to tell Liam. I’m supposed to meet up with him in a little bit.”

“Don’t tell him, not yet,” Drake shook his head, and Charlotte gave him a look. “Let me talk to Bastien first to try and get an explanation before we say anything to Liam. His bachelor party is tomorrow … I can talk to Bas then.”

“I’m going with you,” Charlotte stated matter of factly.

“You can’t,” Maxwell said. “It’s at a gentlemen’s only speakeasy.”

Charlotte arched her brow. “Really? A gentlemen’s club?”

“I promise, it’s not that kind of club, Brooks. And I think Bastien will be more inclined to talk if you’re not there. If you come, he’s just going to ask you to leave because it’s against protocol,” he added. “I’ll talk to him, I promise. And then I’ll tell Liam myself. Bas … he’s been in Liam’s life just as long as he’s been in mine. It’s not something that’s going to be easy for him to hear.”

****

That night, Charlotte took the car Liam had waiting for her to the Eiffel Tower. She hoped he wouldn’t ask her if she spoke to Penelope because she didn’t want to lie to him, knowing Drake wanted her to wait before telling him what their conversion revealed. When the car pulled up alongside the massive monument, Charlotte looked up at it through the window in awe. She thanked the driver before exiting the vehicle; she spotted Liam standing at the base of the tower and made her way towards him.

“Hi,” she smiled as she approached him.

Liam grinned and extended his hand to her. “Hello, love.” Behind him, Charlotte spotted a man standing near the elevator; she glanced back at Liam with a look of concern. “No need to worry. Come on,” he smiled, leading her to the elevator car.

They rode up to the top of the tower and stepped out onto the terrace deck; the man disappeared as he took the elevator back down to the ground. Liam led Charlotte to the railing, and she gasped at the view of the city below. “Liam! This is incredible!”

“I thought you’d enjoy it,” he smiled.

Not having seen her since early that afternoon, Liam stepped behind her, caging her between his arms as he leaned against the railing. “I missed you today,” he whispered as his lips graded the shell of her ear.

“I missed you too.” Charlotte thought for sure he would ask her about Penelope then, but instead, he wrapped his arms around her and casually told her about his day before he began pointing out different sights below them. She leaned back against Liam’s chest and sighed in content when his strong arms tightened their hold around her waist. She stared down at the twinkling lights of Paris below them and smiled. “I feel like I’m standing on top of the world.”

Liam dipped his head, dragging his lips across the silky skin of her neck. “I can’t wait until I can show you the world. As my wife.”

“You’re not doing a bad job so far. Maybe I’ll stay the secret girlfriend,” Charlotte teased. It was her way of trying to ignore the immediate “what if” that popped into her mind at his words.

Liam’s fingers dropped down the front of her, his fingers fiddling with the skirt of her dress. “I don’t want you to be a secret,” he said as he lifted the fabric enough to slip his hands beneath it so he could massage her thighs.

Charlotte relaxed beneath his touch and tilted her head upwards to see the star-filled sky. “Liam! Look!”

“It’s beautiful,” Liam agreed as his hands slid a bit higher. But he was staring at Charlotte, not the sky. “Paris is below us, the heavens above us. And I have paradise in my arms.”

Charlotte giggled and turned her head, ready to make a teasing joke about his adorably cheesy comment, but she smiled instead at the dreamy expression he was wearing. And then she let out a soft breath when she felt his fingers brush against her lace-covered center. “Liam,” she whispered as her eyes fluttered shut.

Liam smirked when she rested her foot on the balustrade to give him better access. He watched her bite her lip through a smile when his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of her underwear. He leaned forward and captured her lips in his while his fingers began to move against her in tantalizing circles, and his tongue curled with hers at the same pace.

When he drew back from the kiss, he moved his lips to her ear. “We’re way up here, all alone,” he whispered. “Let me hear you, love.” As he spoke the last word, Liam pushed a finger inside her, drawing an instant moan from her. “That’s my girl.”

Liam’s finger slid in and out a few times before he added a second, crooking them to hit that spot as his thumb circled her clit and her moans grew louder. Charlotte slid her hand over his and arched into his palm as his lips trailed along her neck. “Liam, don’t stop,” she mewled as her hips bucked against his hand. Liam pumped his fingers, doubling his efforts, and before long, he felt her begin to flutter around him just before she tipped over the edge. She gripped his arm, and he continued to stroke her as she rode out her release.

Liam slowed his fingers and pulled them out of her while she caught her breath; she opened her eyes to meet his gaze just as he slipped his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean before kissing her again. Charlotte placed her foot back on the ground and, without breaking the kiss, turned in his arms. Her hand palmed his hard cock through the fabric of his pants before her fingers began to fumble with his belt, then the button, and zipper. She pushed down his pants and boxer-briefs and wrapped her fingers around his cock; he moaned and pushed himself further into her hand as she stroked him before she dropped to her knees.

“Charlotte, you don’t have-” Liam’s words rolled into a moan when she wrapped her lips around the head of cock and swirled her tongue. He closed his eyes, cursing under his breath as her tongue slid along the underside of his shaft when she took him fully into her mouth. “God, your mouth feels so good.” Liam wrapped his hand around her hair and bucked his hips as she bobbed her head. He glanced down, watching himself fuck her mouth while her hand stroked him simultaneously, bringing him closer and closer to the edge. Liam dropped his head back with a deep groan when she hallowed her cheeks, and he felt himself hit the back of her throat. “Fuck, Charlotte,” he hissed in pleasure. He didn’t want her to stop, but he needed her to. With a growl, Liam looked down and gently tugged her hair, forcing her off of him. He pulled her up to her feet and kissed her deeply, backing her against the railing as his hands quickly pulled up the skirt of her dress. “I need to be inside you, love.”

Liam reached down and hooked his arm under her knee, hoisting her leg up to his waist as his other hand slid her underwear to the side. He kissed her again, feeling the head of his cock slide through her wetness and press against her entrance before he pushed himself to the hilt inside her. Charlotte drew back from the kiss to suck in a breath at the way he filled her. “You feel so good,” she whimpered, feeling him swell even more inside her. She grabbed the railing behind her with one hand, looping her other arm around his neck.

Liam reached out with the arm hooked under her leg and grabbed hold of the railing behind her for leverage before he pulled out and plunged back into her with a groan. He thrust into her in deep, purposeful strokes as she rolled her hips to match his rhythm. “Yes, just like that, love,” he groaned.

Charlotte’s head dropped back, and Liam leaned forward, brushing his lips against the tender curve of her neck before his teeth began nipping her skin; his tongue followed each bite, soothing the sting, neither one caring at that moment if he left any marks. His brow beaded with sweat as his thrusts came harder and faster, chasing his release while Charlotte crested on her second. “Liam, I-” Charlotte’s words were replaced with a loud moan as he angled his hips just right, hitting that perfect spot deep inside with a powerful thrust. “Fuck, Liam!”

Liam could tell she was close by the way her body began to tense and tremble; he captured her lips in one more deep kiss before drawing back and uttering his command. “Come for me, love.” A cry of pleasure ripped from her throat as she came undone, gripping the hair at the base of his neck while he continued driving into her. Liam could feel her tighten around his cock, following her with his own shuddering release a moment later as he let out a deep groan and pulled her hips flush against his.

Charlotte’s forehead rested against Liam’s chest as they caught their breath. She tilted her head to meet his lips, kissing him slow and deep as he still pulsated inside her. He slowly pulled himself out, smiling into the kiss at the whimper that the loss of him drew from Charlotte. He slowly rested her leg back down, sliding his hand higher up her thigh as he went until it settled on her backside. “Your ass is freezing,” he spoke through a chuckle as they parted.

“I don’t feel cold. Not at all,” she sighed. He smiled, sliding his finger beneath her chin and brushing his thumb across her lips before kissing her again.

Liam and Charlotte collected themselves and fixed their clothing back into place; he slipped off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders before pulling her to him and wrapping his arms around her. Charlotte nuzzled against his chest, relishing in his warmth as they stood on the top of the tower for a few more peaceful moments before they had to step back into reality.

Charlotte felt him kiss the top of her head as his hand rubbed her back, and she smiled. “I love you,” he whispered against her hair.

“I love you too.”

*******

The following evening, while Charlotte stayed back on the train, Maxwell and Drake headed to the speakeasy for Liam’s bachelor party. Drake was feeling uneasy about going. Not only did he have to be around the pompous assholes of court, but he also had to talk to Bastien. He was still having a difficult time coming to terms with the fact that he had helped set Charlotte up and trying to figure out exactly how he was going to tell Liam.

The limousine pulled up along the sidewalk, and Maxwell glanced at Drake. “Ready for this?”

“As I’ll ever be …”

When Maxwell and Drake entered the private room where the party was being held, they immediately spotted Liam on the other side; a look of relief flashed across Liam’s expression upon seeing them, thankfully tearing himself away from a conversation with Neville. He greeted Drake and Maxwell and waved a staff member down to get them drinks.

The three of them sat in a quiet corner of the room with their whiskey and steaks, talking for a while before Drake finally forced himself to scan the room for Bastien. He spotted him on the other side speaking with Rashad, and his jaw ticked as he narrowed his eyes. He tossed back the rest of his whiskey and set his glass down before excusing himself.

“Hey, Drake,” Bastien smiled as he approached him.

“Hey. Can I talk to you?” Drake asked.

Bastien nodded, and Rashad stepped away, leaving the two of them alone. “Enjoying the party? Whiskey and steaks sound like your kind of scene,” he chuckled.

“Bas …” Drake stared at him, and Bastien furrowed his brows in question at the look on his face. “I need to talk to you about Charlotte.”

“What about her?” Bastien asked, raising his glass to his lips.

“We know it was you … who helped set her up …” Bastien paused, staring at Drake over the rim of his glass. “There’s no use in denying it. She was told everything yesterday about how you paid Penelope to sabotage her. But I keep asking myself why? Why would you do that to her? To Liam? It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Drake …” Bastien trailed off and glanced around the room before meeting his gaze again and shaking his head. “I can’t talk about this.”

“Bas, I know you’re a good guy, but what you did, what you helped Tariq almost do to Brooks that night, is fucked up, and you know it! And I know you had to be working for someone. I know you wouldn’t do-”

“Dammit, Drake! I said can’t talk about this!” Bastien’s voice came out louder than he expected, pulling a few other’s attention, including Liam’s.

“You’re unbelievable! You stand there and preach loyalty and then turn around and do what did to not only Brooks, who was innocent in all of this, but to Liam!” Drake hissed. “You’re not the man I thought you were. At all.”

“Drake, it wasn’t personal … I swear.”

“What wasn’t personal?” Liam’s voice came behind them, and both Bastien and Drake stiffened as they stared at one another.

“Nothing, Your Majesty. I apologize for the commotion. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go do a quick perimeter check.”

Bastien stepped away, and Liam turned to Drake. “Are you ok? What the hell was that about?”

Drake let out a breath and looked over at his friend as Maxwell joined them. It was clear Bastien had no intention of coming clean to Liam, leaving Drake no other choice. “Li …” Drake ran his fingers through his hair before telling Liam what Penelope had told Charlotte the day before. As Liam listened, he could feel the anger rising inside him, learning that his head guard was involved in the scandal against Charlotte. “I tried to get some answers from him before telling you, but … he just kept saying he couldn’t talk to me.”

“I can’t believe this …” Liam shook his head in disbelief as he rubbed his hand over his mouth.

“He had to be working for someone else because he has nothing to gain from it himself,” Drake added.

Liam’s jaw tensed. “Can you head back to the train and give Charlotte a message for me?” Drake nodded, and Liam leaned over, dropping his voice as he explained what he wanted them to tell her; Drake and Maxwell both nodded. “I won’t be far behind you.”

When Drake and Maxwell left, Liam’s eyes scanned the crowd of men, narrowing when they landed on Bastien as he came back inside from his security check. He stalked towards him and roughly grabbed hold of his arm, yanking him out of the room through the private back entrance of the speakeasy.

“Your Majesty!” Bastien’s voice slightly shook.

The door shut, and Liam glowered at him. “It was you!”

Bastien opened his mouth to speak but let out a breath instead. He didn’t think Drake would say anything, but it was clear Liam knew the truth. “Sir … if I can just explain-”

Bastien was knocked backward to the ground when Liam’s fist came across his jaw. “Explain? There is nothing to explain!” Liam bellowed, his voice echoing through the dark alley they were standing in. “You helped set her up!” Bastien rubbed his jaw but stayed on the ground, knowing better than to try and get to his feet. “You took fucking part in what happened to her!” Liam grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him up. “Who were you working for?”

“Sir-”

“Who were you working for?” Liam growled.

Bastien hesitated for another moment before answering. “Your father, sir …”

Liam let out a sharp breath as his eyes widened; he let go of Bastien’s shirt and took a step back, staring at him. “My … my father?”

“I paid Lady Penelope in exchange for hiring the photographer who took the pictures of Lady Charlotte and Tariq that night … all under orders from your father.” He could see the shock and betrayal written across Liam’s expression as he tried processing what he was just told.

Suddenly, Liam remembered something. “That night … when you came to get me for the last-minute meeting with him …” Liam shook his head in disbelief. “He knew I was supposed to meet her, didn’t he?”

Bastien nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“And you came and got me knowing what was going to take place that night!” Liam ran his trembling hand through his hair as he tried wrapping his mind around the revelation.

“I was only following the orders of my King, sir.”

“You could have come forward two months ago, but you chose to stay silent! The minute that signet ring was given to me, I became your King! All of this could have been avoided! The entire Coronation Ball scene! Her being dragged out! All of it!”

“Sir, I will help you in any-”

“I don’t want your fucking help!” Liam shouted. He turned and began walking out of the alley; he could hear Bastien’s footsteps following behind him, and he whirled around. “Do not fucking follow me! I’ll get another guard to accompany me for the remainder of the tour because I surely can’t trust you!”

****

Liam walked on the sidewalk illuminated by the lampposts alongside the concrete balustrade that overlooked the Seine River. His hands were stuffed in his pocket as he struggled to process that his father was the one behind Charlotte’s scandal. He pulled his hand from his pocket, clearing his throat and rubbing his forefinger and thumb against his eyes as he wiped away the tears that had begun to leak. His own father had stood in the way of the one thing that he knew made Liam happy … and he couldn’t understand why. And now he had to tell Charlotte, and he was unsure how she would take the news that the former King had conspired against her.

Hearing his name, Liam glanced up and spotted Charlotte near the bridge; he composed himself before quickening his pace, not wanting to give way that he had been upset. Drake didn’t tell Charlotte what happened at the speakeasy, only that he didn’t get any answers from Bastien. He thought Liam should be the one to talk to her, unsure of what took place after he left. He only relayed Liam’s message he gave him to meet near the bridge.

Despite everything going on, Liam couldn’t stop the smile when he looked at her. “Hi,” he whispered as he made it up to her, cupping her face and leaning down, pressing his lips to hers in a lingering kiss. “Thank you for meeting me.”

“Why did you want to meet here?” she smiled.

Liam chose to wait to tell her about his father, not wanting to ruin this moment he had planned before learning the truth himself. “I had an idea earlier …” He stepped back and pulled out a small lock that he had purchased that morning, wanting to take Charlotte to the famous Love Lock Bridge. Charlotte grinned when she saw the brass lock in his hand, knowing what he had in mind. “Do me the honor?” he smiled.

“Yes! I’ve heard stories about these!” Charlotte became giddy with excitement as he led to the bridge. They stepped onto it, looking at all the locks put there over the years, scanning for a spot to place their own.

Liam crouched down when he eyed an opening for the lock. “Ok … what should we write on it?”

“Do our initials,” Charlotte smiled as she kneeled next to him.

“Like people carve on trees?” he chuckled, pulling the key from his other pocket.

“Yeah! Have you never done that?”

“No. I never had anyone I wanted to do it with,” he smiled. Using the tip of the key, Liam carved an ‘L’ and a ‘C’ into the brass. He took her hand when he finished, and together they placed the lock on the bridge, clicking it shut. He stared at it for a moment, thinking of everything they had been through already in their short time together. “Thank you for doing this with me.”

Charlotte sensed something off in his tone, and when she looked at him, she could see it in his expression. “Liam … what’s wrong?”

Liam glanced at her and let out a breath as he helped her to stand. He leaned against the railing and looked down at their intertwined hands. “Drake told me about Bastien …”

“Liam, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Drake said he wanted to talk to Bastien first and then tell you himself.”

“I understand. I just … I talked to Bastien after Drake left. It didn’t go very well …”

“What happened?”

Liam glanced up and met her gaze. “I yelled … and punched him.” Charlotte’s eyes widened at his words. “Then I asked him who he was working for … and he told me. I know who was behind the scandal, Charlotte. I know who set you up.”

Charlotte’s heart began to race. “Who was it?”

A look of guilt and remorse filled Liam’s expression. “It was my father …”

#trr #choices trr #the royal romance #choices the royal romance #trr liam #trr mc #trr liam x mc #choices liam x mc #king liam #king liam x mc #trr king liam x mc #choices king liam x mc #ns*w #lemons #trr fanfic #trr fan fic #trr fanfiction #choices fan fiction #choices fanfic

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Text

holding our breath (again)

in which carlos is at the minefield call, like he deserved to be.

title from the projectionist by sleeping at last

ao3 | 1.9k | 2.06 spoilers

They’re late arriving to the scene, the rescue already well underway when Carlos pulls up. His heart sinks when he sees the large 126 emblazoned on the side of the firetruck; normally, he loves getting on calls with them, but an active minefield is the last place he wants to find his danger-magnet boyfriend. His only consolation is that TK should be hanging back with the rest of the team, but that doesn’t stop the fear, which, at this point, is just a given.

Only, he can’t find TK anywhere, and Carlos barely listens to the sheriff briefing them, his need to make sure TK’s safe winning out. He and Owen are the only ones missing, including the paramedics, and Carlos - well, Carlos knows what that means. But he refuses to think it, even if he’s only buying himself a few more seconds of relief.

He heads over to the rest of the 126, pointedly not looking at the minefield as he approaches. Paul greets him with a tight nod, then goes back to staring outwards.

Carlos leans in. “Who’s out there?” he murmurs, though he knows, deep down, that it doesn’t need asking.

Someone needs help, and TK’s nowhere to be seen. It’s an easy conclusion.

Paul’s mouth twists into a sympathetic grimace. “Who do you think?”

Carlos squeezes his eyes shut, feels a hand gripping his shoulder. He takes a couple of steadying breaths, then finally - finally - forces himself to look.

He’s just in time to see TK take another leap, and his breath catches in his throat as he watches TK stumble, hand landing perilously close to the edge of the circle. Carlos had thought there’d be nothing worse than watching the man he loves run into burning buildings, but this… This is some kind of torture, the knowledge that TK’s safety - his life - rests almost entirely on pure luck.

“Why’s TK even out there?” he asks, turning his body towards Paul though his eyes remain locked on his boyfriend. It’s a distraction, of a kind, to stop his mind from barrelling down all the worst case scenarios. “Shouldn’t it be a paramedic with Captain Strand?”

“He is one,” Paul answers. “Dual function medic in New York, apparently. Must have kept his certifications up to date since coming out here. Nancy’s out on medical leave after one of the trial medics ran the ambulance over her foot, and Mr Perfect Record over there chickened out. Captain Vega was going to go but then TK, uh.” Paul stops, clearing his throat nervously, and Carlos feels his own heart rate tick up even as he realises with some relief that TK and Owen are almost at the two boys. When Paul speaks again, his voice is quieter, speeding through the words as if he doesn’t want Carlos to hear them. “He volunteered.”

“He what?” And Carlos does look over then, turning to gape at Paul, which is of course when it happens.

One of the mines goes off.

TK’s name rips out of his mouth as he takes an unconscious step forward, though he’s blocked from going further by a hand on his arm yanking him backwards. Carlos lets himself be manhandled, his mind feeling separate from his body as they wait for the smoke to clear.

He can just about see TK crouching on the edge of the blast, an arm flung protectively over his head, which at least means he’s alive. He could still be hurt, though, could still be bleeding out, and Carlos has never felt more helpless.

“Breathe, Reyes,” Judd reminds him, leaning close to his ear, and Carlos manages a tight nod even as he feels his chest seize with anxiety. He clenches his hands into fists to stop the shaking, looking over at Captain Vega, praying for a sign that they’re okay.

Then, “Still in one piece,” Owen reports over the radio, and Carlos’s entire body sags. The rest of the team are wearing similarly relieved expressions, exchanging glances and nervous head shakes. Carlos allows himself a moment to breathe before turning back to the scene, his heart in his throat as TK takes the final few steps towards the two boys.

The rest of the call passes in a blur, Carlos feeling like he’s underwater as he tries to force his body to come down from the anxiety still thrumming through his veins. Pride bursts in his chest when TK saves the boy, but the arrival of the bomb squad sets him on edge again, desperate as he is for TK to be back on safe ground.

He needs to see he’s okay with his own two eyes, and it’s only the team’s grounding presence at his side that stops him from completely losing it.

It’s an agonising wait, the minutes dragging out painfully, but then -

Then, TK’s walking toward them, an exhausted grin lighting up his face. Carlos stands back as he’s immediately mobbed by the rest of the 126, but their eyes meet over the top of Marjan’s head, and Carlos sees his own relief mirrored back at him. As much as TK can be reckless and as much as he seems to gravitate towards danger, Carlos knows he often gets just as scared as he does, especially now they have this. Especially now that they both have so much to lose.

Judd is the first to step away, following the line of TK’s gaze until he spots Carlos. “Hey, come on now, y’all,” he says gruffly to the others. “Let’s give the kid some space, we ain’t the only ones here for him.”

He punctuates it with a tug on Mateo’s arm, and they all begin to disperse. Judd cocks an eyebrow at him as he walks past.

“What are you waiting for? He’s all yours.”

Carlos nods gratefully, then turns his full attention over to TK, quickly closing the short distance between them to crush him in a hug. TK staggers a little under the force of it, but soon enough he’s hugging back just as tightly, hands fisted in the back of Carlos’s jacket. Carlos drops his head to TK’s shoulder, closing his eyes.

He’s okay, he realises. This is real.

TK smiles at him when they separate, though neither of them move too far away. Carlos keeps a hand wrapped around TK’s wrist, his thumb resting on his pulse point.

“Hi,” TK says.

“Are you okay?” Carlos demands, forgoing any greeting. TK laughs, a little taken aback, but Carlos just… He needs to know. He needs to hear it.

“I’m good,” TK promises. “I swear.”

Carlos nods, breaking eye contact to stare at the field, at the crater that could have ended TK’s life. TK must notice, as he’s suddenly in Carlos’s space again, a gentle hand turning his head towards him.

“Are you okay?” he asks, frowning, and Carlos could laugh.

“Am I? Am I?” He’s aware his voice is bordering on hysterical, but he doesn’t care anymore. He breathes out shakily, scrubbing his free hand down his face. “I’m not the one who just volunteered to walk onto an active fucking minefield, TK!”

He sucks in a breath, clamping his jaw shut before he can say anything else. Carlos can feel the eyes on them and he flushes, staring down at his shoes, trying to blink away the sudden tears. He hadn’t meant to yell, but it had all just been too much all at once, the relief and panic and worry and frustration mixing up inside of him and coming out all wrong.

He shakes his head, preparing to excuse himself, when TK’s arm twists in his grasp, linking their fingers.

“Come on,” he murmurs, and Carlos lets himself be pulled away somewhere more private. The 126 do a good job of appearing busy as they pass, but Carlos knows they’ll be more curious than they’re letting on, and he burns with shame all over again. TK leads him around the back of the truck, pushing Carlos down on the step and sitting down next to him, their joined hands resting on his thigh.

“I’m sorry -” Carlos starts, but TK cuts him off.

“Don’t finish that sentence,” he says. “You don’t need to apologise for anything. God knows if I’d been where you are, I… I don’t know what I would have done.”

Carlos nods. “It was just… When I saw you out there - when the bomb went off - it was the scariest moment of my life, Ty. And then I find out you volunteered? I mean… Why did you?”

“I had to,” TK says, squeezing his hand. “We were just standing around, arguing over who would go, and that kid didn’t have time to wait for us. I knew I could do it, so I said I would. Is that - Are you mad?”

“Mad?” Carlos looks up, meeting TK’s eyes, and his heart hurts at the worry in them. “Of course I’m not mad. I was worried, and I’m still not convinced you’re not trying to give me a heart attack, but mostly I’m just glad you’re safe. It came out all wrong back there, I’m so -”

TK cuts him off with a kiss, and Carlos all but melts into it, eyes fluttering closed. He rests their foreheads together when they separate, smiling softly.

“I’m so proud of you, you know?” he murmurs.

TK hums. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Carlos pulls away, bumping their shoulders together. “You were amazing out there.”

TK grins, looking down at the ground. “It was pretty cool,” he admits. “Kind of makes me wonder if -”

A loud bang on the side of the truck makes both of them jump. Marjan’s standing there, a smirk on her lips as she looks between the two of them.

“We’re rolling out soon,” she says. “Cap wants you to get checked out by Vega before we leave, so you’d better wrap this up, loverboy.”

TK opens his mouth to argue, but Marjan holds a finger up. “Don’t even bother. Cap’s already been checked over himself, so get your ass over there.”

She leaves with a warning glance, and TK looks apologetically at Carlos as they stand.

“Sorry,” he offers, but Carlos shakes his head.

“No, I get it,” he says. “Just, what were you saying?”

TK bites his lip, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh. I’m not sure. I’ll see you at home?”

Carlos nods, frowning, but before he can get another word in, TK’s kissing him goodbye and leaving, Carlos’s hand trailing after him until he’s forced to let go. A smile plays at his lips as he watches TK interact with the team, but all too soon he’s being called away himself, and he leaves with a quick backward glance.

“You okay?” his partner asks as he slumps into the passenger seat.

He heaves out a sigh. “Yeah. I’m good.”

She raises a dubious eyebrow, but doesn’t comment, starting the ignition. “Buckle up, then,” she says. “I want to get out of here before the firefighters; I hate getting stuck behind their truck.”

Carlos laughs. “Better step on it. They’re all getting in.”

She curses and complies, the car lurching forward as she speeds out of the field. Carlos watches it shrink in the rear view mirror, the remaining heaviness in his heart slowly fading as the scene disappears from sight. He could have lost so much today, but he knows that that’s always going to be a fear for as long as he’s with TK.

Which will be for a very long time indeed, if Carlos has anything to say about it.

#911 lone star #911 lone star spoilers #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #tk x carlos #lone star #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #userjillian #tuserjamie #userkimmy #tuserpaige #reyeslonestartag #tuserjenny

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neonthewrite · 3 years

Text

Leaf Wings (One-shot prompt)

Got this prompt a while back, and I wanted it to be Eral and Bowman. Do I know what led up to this little scene? Absolutely not! I may try to come up with more, but for now I have some fun with a What If scenario, bringing my leaf-winged characters together for some crack AU type shenanigans. The prompt: “Stop running away!” “AND WHY SHOULD I NOT.”

From This List

Reading Time ~10 minutes

~~~~~

Bowman’s heart pounded and he breathed quicker than his lungs could truly take in the air. His legs burned from so much running, activity he definitely wasn’t used to. Most days he’d be flying, his speedy wings propelling him forward. Wherever forward might lead him.

He was lost in a maze of twisting corridors, dimly lit and echoing faintly with every one of his frantic steps. They loomed a foot or so overhead; he didn’t know what they might be for, or where they might lead him, but he yearned for some glimpse of the outside world. He’d barely managed to escape into these tunnels on his own. At least here, whatever had captured him couldn’t follow.

Whatever had bound his wings wouldn’t be able to bind the rest of him, blast it.

His wings, strong as they were, couldn’t budge the odd material wrapped around his torso. It chafed at the all important limbs, and he couldn’t risk scratching them up without even a guarantee that he’d actually get them free. His arms, also trapped partially at his sides, couldn’t reach a proper angle to shove at the loop. All he could rely on was his sprinting speed.

Around a bend just feet ahead of him, a figure stumbled into view. Bowman smiled at first, and then skidded to a halt with a distrusting frown as he parsed the details of his fellow duct-traveler.

For one, his clothes looked so human, from the collared shirt to the leather boots. Pale skin, dark, swept-back hair, and blue eyes set him apart from any wood sprite Bowman knew. He had wings at his back, too, though they looked strangely folded under the bindings that also held them in place. His hands were bound by the wrists behind his back.

Most notably, this pale stranger was six inches tall, standing over Bowman by half his own height.

“What?!” Bowman blurted, scrambling backwards so abruptly he nearly toppled himself. He didn’t want to wait around to find out what was going on with that stranger, that … small giant. That was just too much to deal with.

“Hey, waitasecond!” the man griped after him. Bowman didn’t spare a look back, but he didn’t need it to know the man followed. Footsteps that didn’t match his own echoed around him in the metal corridors. “What’s going on here?”

Bowman didn’t want to take any chances. For all he knew, this man was just another part of the bizarre trap he’d found himself in. He didn’t slow, and he didn’t look over his shoulder. He simply ran on, though his aching lungs made him think that might not last much longer anyway.

The man swore, and by the sound of it he wasn’t gaining that much ground despite his height advantage. “Dammit, kid. Stop running away!”

“And why should I not?!” Bowman shouted back, wishing he could turn his indignant glare on the strange miniature giant. “How do I know you’re not part of all this?”

“I don’t even know what ‘this’ is!” the man insisted. “I’m just as tied up as you are! Will you stop for a second?!”

Bowman scowled as he ran, but didn’t slow just yet. He didn’t have enough information to say for sure if this man was part of whatever was going on, or another victim like himself. With this many unknowns in the game, he really ought to seek out an ally.

Why did his only option have to be some strange almost-giant?

He let his sprint taper into a jog, which came to a steady walk. Finally, he stopped and turned to face his would-be pursuer, finding that the guy had slowed down along with him. He stood his ground and stared hard up at the guy’s face, searching for signs of a trick there; in the dim lighting, he didn’t see much aside from annoyance.

Two could play that game. Bowman would get his answers somewhere, blast it. “What is going on?” he demanded.

The stranger didn’t seem bothered nor intimidated by his glare, and merely rolled his eyes. “If I knew, I’d already be unbound,” he shot back confidently. “But it looks like maybe we need to work together if we’re gonna get anywhere, so how about you drop the attitude, kid?”

Bowman bristled. “I’m not a kid! You don’t look any older than I do!”

The man smirked. “Looks are deceiving,” he countered. “I’m Eral. You got a name under all that piss and vinegar?”

Bowman didn’t know what the expression meant, but all the same he narrowed his eyes. “Bowman,” he said, giving the shortest introduction he could just to spite this Eral. “How did we get here?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” Eral said with a shrug. “But we might have better chances getting out if we can get our wings untied. Sound agreeable, Bowman kid?”

Bowman scowled again. “I’m not a kid,” he insisted. “But yes. We need to get untied.”

Eral nodded, his smirk still faintly present on his face, taunting Bowman with his nonchalance. “Alright. If you can reach my hands and get them undone, I’ll get that loop off you for your wings, okay? Then you can get these bands off mine.”

It was a reasonable plan, though Bowman’s wariness clung to him like cobwebs. He eyed Eral critically and nodded, for once having nothing to say in contrary stubbornness. Suspicion and snark could wait until his wings were free.

Eral turned, and to Bowman’s chagrin his wrists were nearly Bowman’s eye level. Luckily, the loop keeping Bowman’s wings restrained only kept his arms partially restrained. He had enough movement to tug at the bindings around Eral’s wrists, searching for some kind of weak point in the knot that he could exploit.

While he did, he stared at Eral’s wings. They were somehow folded up into a leaf bud shape, same as a wood sprite’s when they were still just a sprout. Strange bands wrapped around each one, preventing them from unfurling into the proper shape, but Bowman wasn’t sure how they’d folded up so tightly in the first place. If he attempted to curl his own wings up so tightly, he’d break bones for certain.

“Any luck?” Eral prompted, glancing over his shoulder.

He wouldn’t be able to see Bowman’s progress, but Bowman waved him off anyway. “It’s a tough knot,” he snipped. “I’ll get it.”

He glared at the knot as he worked at it, finally managing to work his fingers into the mess of coiled string and loosen one loop by degrees. He gave it a few more tugs, a smile flashing onto his face in spite of himself, as the bindings loosened more and more. Soon enough, he tugged one end free, and from there it was much easier to pull the knot loose.

“I got it,” Bowman announced, some pride and relief in his voice as Eral finally managed to tug his wrists apart and let the rope fall to the ground. Bowman took a step back as the small giant turned to face him, absently rubbing at the raw skin where the ropes had dug into his wrists. Bowman had some sympathy, but he was impatient. “Now you can help me, right?”

Eral grinned and shrugged. “Absolutely, kid. I’ll do my best.”

Bowman opened his mouth to protest the nickname, but flinched when Eral leaned over him to grasp at the loop tied around his torso. Eral’s shadow fell over him, a claustrophobic thing that made Bowman want to duck out of reach and back up. He tensed, but resisted the urge to flinch away.

Eral was, to Bowman’s surprise, quite careful with the task at hand. He didn’t simply yank at the bindings keeping Bowman’s wings restricted; such an action would probably only frustrate them both. Instead, Eral carefully worked the loop upward bit by bit, inching it along without putting too much strain on Bowman’s delicate wings. Even then, Bowman winced once or twice as the pressure shifted along the bones and joints within his wings.

“This knot doesn’t wanna loosen up,” Eral commented, though he didn’t sound too concerned. “Luckily it’s moving right up. We’ll have it over your head in no time, kid.”

Bowman scoffed, but remained rooted while the mini-giant worked. “I’m fully grown,” he grumbled, some heat in his cheeks to accompany the admission. “I’m not a kid.”

Eral’s gaze flickered to meet his, but not for long before his focus returned to the rope. “It’s just nuance, Bowman,” he conceded. “I’m old. A lot older than I look. Lots of people are ‘kid’ to me.”

Bowman’s consternation showed in the distrusting set of his brow, but he didn’t say anything to counter the claim. A lot of things were strange about Eral already. What was one more? “How much older than you look?” he asked, wondering if he’d get a real answer.

He didn’t. “It’s tough to say,” Eral admitted, sending him an apologetic smirk. “There’s a point where you stop counting. Almost gotcha.”

Indeed, Bowman could feel the ropes moving up at a slightly faster pace as they loosened. His wings tapering inward helped the task, and soon enough Eral was pulling the whole loop over his head. Bowman stepped back from him at last to regain some space, and gingerly opened up his wings.

They were sore from being so cramped, and the bindings had chafed against them at points, but they’d make it without any damage. Bowman stretched out his wingspan before finally tucking his wings against his back once more, this time without some stupid rope keeping them there.

Eral humored him, but soon made an impatient, rolling gesture with his hand. “Alright, everything in one piece? Can we get my wings all stretched out and showing off now?”

Bowman rolled his eyes. “Yes, one blasted second,” he countered, mimicking Eral’s gesture to prompt him to turn around. “Let me see them.”

The bands around Eral’s leaf bud wings looked tight, and Bowman winced faintly at the sight of them bound so soundly. “What is this?” he asked, carefully working at one of them. He was careful not to scrape it against the wing too much; it looked like they had the powdery scales of butterfly wings, and he didn’t want to damage them.

“I think they’re just rubber bands,” Eral mused, patiently waiting for Bowman to work them free of his wings. “Once my wings are furled it’s pretty easy to keep ‘em that way.”

Bowman could relate, considering he’d only recently been freed from his own bindings. Their wings were all-important for their ability to navigate the world, so they had to be careful even when struggling to get free.

Thankfully, the rubber bands came loose fairly quickly, and Bowman tossed both to the ground with a certain sense of triumph in the action. He looked over his hands, where some of the glittery dust from Eral’s wings had rubbed off.

“It’s just pixie dust,” Eral reassured him. “Won’t stick or anything.” Bowman looked up just in time to see those leaf bud shapes uncurl before his eyes, spreading wide into leaf shapes even more convincing than Bowman’s. If he hadn’t already touched them, Bowman might think there really were leaves fixed right to Eral’s back.

Eral grinned, and Bowman, in spite of his misgivings about the entire situation, smiled along with him. They could both relate to the relief of being free, even if they still didn’t know where they were.

“Thanks, Bowman,” Eral said, his gratitude outweighing any teasing that might have lingered in his tone. “Look at us go, a regular leaf winged team.”

Bowman rolled his eyes. “We’re blasted unstoppable, alright,” he quipped. Then, rolling his shoulders, he inclined his head at his apparent ally. “So why aren’t we already flying out of here, then?”

Eral snickered, and it made him look altogether youthful for someone who insisted he was older than he could remember. “I like the way you think, Bowman kid. Wanna lead the way?”

“Yeah,” Bowman shot back, full of confidence. “I can do that. Better keep up, Eral.”

#leaf wings #bowman leafwing #eral the arbor pixie #mywriting #prompt #scene without plot

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