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moralesluvr · 11 months

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being miguel’s pretty assistant who’s always willing to help him in lots of different ways! <3

oh baby yes…just yes. | nsfw included, fem!reader

“good morning sir, i brought your coffee!” you’d chirp in the morning time, waltzing into your boss’s office with a sweet sway to your hips, lips pursed and eyelashes fluttering as you sat his morning beverage in front of him.

he looked up at you with a sweet smile, though it seemed like his happiness was driven at something else by the way his eyes relocated to your teeny skirt, one that you knew was too short to be wearing around the place anyways. but it was cute, and you felt confident in it, so you wore it anyways. you smiled at him, “i put 3 sugars and one creamer, just how you like it. anything else i can do for you, sir?”

miguel nods at your perfect making of his coffee, eyes glossy with emotion as he looked at you, “yes, actually, can you come here for a second?”

you nodded at his request, sliding over to his chair as he spun to look at you, habds finding your waist as he pulled you closer to him. your breath hitches in your throat, eyes landing on his as he trickled his right hand up and down your bare thigh. his big hands meet the hemming of your skirt, tugging it lightly as he cocked his head to the side, “why would you wear this little skirt to work, y/n?”

“oh, i’m—“ you choke, face heated, embarrassment coursed in your expression as miguel raised his eyebrows, waiting for your response. you frown at him, genuinely worried that you made your boss upset, until he grabs your hips and props his knee up, bending you over it. a gasp finds you when you feel his hand slither underneath your skirt, fingers toying with your bright pink thong. “tell me to stop.”

you bite your lip as you feel miguel’s hand cup the sweet, soft flesh of your bottom, the warm feeling making pleasure erupt in your stomach, head hanging low as you felt hun lift your pretty skirt completely, the cold air hitting you.

“tell me to stop, sweetheart.” he mutters again, and when you don’t answer, he lets out a chuckle, hand drawing back before connecting with the flesh of your ass, making you yelp.

“don’t.” slap!

“wear.” slap!

“this.” slap!

“skirt.” slap!

“ever.” slap!

“again.” he delivers one last lash onto your sore bottom, tears brimming your eyes as he sat you up in his lap, thumb coming up to wipe your pretty doe irises, cooing at you.

“why the crocodile tears, pretty mama?” he nearly chucked, his hand dipping underneath you, pulling your thong to the side as he collected your wetness onto the tips of his veiny fingers. when the tips of them brush against your clit, you gasp, making miguel giggle lightly as he continued to tease you.

“wearing that skirt around here…what if you had to bend down and someone saw these pretty panties, hm? showing your cunt off for the world to see? what a dirty girl.” he seethed at you, venom laced in his tone as he slipped two fingers inside of you, stretching you out sweetly. you let out a whimper as he curled his digits, hips rolling against yours, nothing but a scowl on this face, “you wear this skimpy shit again, i’ll have you limping for days, sucio chica. ¿lo entiendes?” (dirty girl. do you understand?)

“yes…yes sir.” you choked out, waves of pleasure crashing into you harshly as you came undone on miguel’s fingers, coating them in your warm juices. he didn’t waste a single drop, scooping them up and into his mouth as he eyed you, tongue flicking against the roof of his mouth in contentment. you clung onto him, head buried in the crook of his neck as you whimpered, still recovering from your intense orgasm. his thumb found itself on your clit and your legs instantly shook against his thighs, “mi- miguel…i can’t…no more…”

“mi chica, you can do it..” he coaxed, his free hand pulling his pants and boxers off, the tip of his cock angry and beaded with his pre-cum. his thumb ripped away from your clit, landing on your waist as he sat you on his dick slowly, a moan escaping him as you swallowed him whole.

“hermosa…” he murmured, hands still taking home on your waist as he guided you slow up his cock, walls squeezing him tight as you frowned at the gradual loss. he rubbed your cheek with his thumb as you pouted, so caught up in your sweet aura— it was all too much. the way you were slowly riding him, pussy warm and welcoming, all for him. he was drunk on you, mouth parted as he whispered incoherent, spanish phrases, urging you to keep going.

“feels…s’good…miguel.” you moaned his name, and you moaned it loud, so loud you were sure the others in HQ could pick up your sounds, but you didn’t care. miguel’s pretty brown eyes were boring into your own as your pace quickened, pretty tits nearly spilling out of your low cut top as you whined, your second orgasm already bubbling in your tummy.

“so tight, ah— coño, takin’ me so well…bebé, i’m addicted to you.”

you purse your lips at that, trying so hard to conceal your moans as your head fell into his chest, his hands holding you up as his cock furiously pistons inside of you, desperate for that high, that release. he’s so overwhelmed with your fluttering cunt and the heat of your body and your pretty moans that his hips rut into you, stuttering thrusts quickening as he whispered into your ear, “gonna fill you up, sweetheart— shit, how would you like it, hm? my pretty little assistant, dripping with my cum…having my babies…”

“please.” you squeaked out, “miggy, please.”

miguel wasted no time adhering to your request, thrusts becoming slow as he came inside of you, thick cum filling you to the brim as he grunted lowly, sighing against your skin. he lifted you up and off of his length slowly, both of you whining from the loss, cum dripping out of your cunt and onto his chest.

you stood up and miguel pulled your thong back onto your cunt, pulling your skirt down as he yanked his clothes back on, heaving as he laid back in his chair. he furrowed an eyebrow at you,

“can i get another coffee, please?”

#‧₊˚✩ — 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒!#………….i don’t know what’s happening to me #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman: across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara

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eloquent-edits · 2 months

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🗡️ “I can assure you, we are just friends.”

definitely not something that’s a little more than friends 🗡️ friends with benefits prompts 🗡️ 18+ prompts

While Person A is chatting with their friends, Person B sidles up to A and subtly trails a finger up their spine (does A stutter? go completely silent at the electricity going through their body? start to get red but manage to keep their composure? TELL ME WHAT HAPPENS)

B begs A to not leave any marks because they just can’t let this secret get out

For that beach episode: A takes off their shirt, exposing scratch marks from a recent session… B hides a sly grin as A is questioned about who they’re with

A is very physically affectionate in general, but has fallen into the habit of only bothering B in public with it

^ A wants to interact with B in many ways and just ends up biting their arm jokingly to satiate that desire (yes, their friends think this is weird)

B needs to be held accountable for finishing their work, so A comes over to hang out… they do not get work done for a while

At a party, B can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy when they spot A flirting with someone

A’s childhood friend is in town and A is super excited to have them meet B (B is quietly panicking over making a good impression and wondering what A has said about them)

A and B are in the same anatomy class and they spend a lot of time studying together (A is most certainly a hands-on learner hehehehe)

“Is that B’s shirt?” “What? Oh, uh, yes… My shirt got dirty the last time I was over there so they’re washing mine for me.”

“Is that A’s shirt?” “Yes. What about it?” “…Does A know you have their shirt?” “Nope!”

They really only planned on the midnight rendezvous, not falling asleep afterwards, so A and B go get morning coffee together (they are both very grumpy but still enjoying each other’s company)

Inside jokes during sexy times bleed into their normal banter, leading to some questionable looks from their friends

A gets a little drunk and B expects them to slip up and expose their true relationship, but instead A is very wholesome and remains steadfast on their boundaries; B is so proud of them for this

B is desperately trying to get something off their mind, so A offers a distraction for the night… it’s Mario Kart and whoever loses owes the other a favor

Any of their plans to go out have to include wiggle room in case they get preoccupied (soon it’s not just B that’s always late to events)

While their friends are occupied in another room, A and B intertwine their bodies and try to stay quiet—key word here is TRY

“I bet A would really like [insert kink here]…” “Nah, they’re not really into that.” “How the fuck do you know that?”

All their friends take the BDSM test as a joke and A and B secretly take notes on what the other person likes/dislikes to make the benefits side better

If given the choice, A will always pick the seat next to B so they can tease them under the table

During a passionate session, A accidentally draws blood while gripping B’s back (A apologizes over and over while tending to B, who just has a shit-eating grin the whole time)

Whenever B cracks yet another terrible joke, A has to refrain from kissing it off their face

A and B take a break from the benefits whenever one of them wants to pursue someone else (your characters can have healthy boundaries and communication!!! I am BEGGING y’all to write characters that actually communicate with each other)

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cinnamonest · 2 months

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Alright, we need to know. Who are top members of the "looking at women, who're minding their own business, and talking about how sad and concerned you are for them because 'with the way they are, they'll end up single and childless for the rest of their lives and no high value man would give them a chance," club? Like on a sclae of 1-10 how delusional would they become after they realize said woman doesn't give a shit?

Honestly one of my favorite tropes is the whole, “nooo what are you doing living your own life you're supposed to be someone's wife and having babies” thing. Like it has both benevolent aspects (the whole “you'll be happier this way” part) while also having malevolent aspects (the “you're a resource to be used and the resource is being wasted” part).

Like, even irl, there are some men who are like. Discombobulated. Baffled. At the suggestion that a woman can have other priorities in life. The sheer reeling disbelief when he sees a woman that's like 30+ with NO kids, NO husband. Unbelievable. It must be so awful for you, you must be so sad and desperate. Equally worrisome is that you might end up accepting some inferior, unsuitable guy that doesn't have the same Husbandly Quality™ of someone like himself, tragic…

But yes I’ve been thinking about this concept ever since the Diluc escape fic, and I know I’ve talked about him with that concept before, but consider CHILDE would be such a major candidate.

Childe is hopelessly drawn to you if you’re mean.

It’s honestly not healthy for his sake either, but it’s far worse to be on the receiving end. He can’t help it, it’s like waving meat in front of a hungry dog, an irresistible urge to have you.

You’re not exactly high rank, but not much of a subordinate, you’re more of an “other” category, you keep records and files and do a lot of scribe work for a division of units you’re assigned to. Unfortunately for you, higher-ups such as harbingers end up consulting you quite often for records and information… well, most of the time, they send someone else to do such a menial task for them, but he always comes in-person, waltzing in all cheerful and full of youthful energy — and loud, God. You wonder if parents these days have stopped teaching their kids about having an inside voice, because this kid certainly is unfamiliar with the concept.

You scowl, evident disgust on your face as you lazily sort through your records, not about to show any urgency for someone so annoying. You were kind of hoping to irritate him, even. But alas, he’s equally smiley and talkative when you hand him what he’s looking for.

Far too talkative. You’ve already handed him what he needs. Why is he still in here? Now he’s talking to you, asking you the dumbest questions about if you like working here and what you do and blah, blah. You didn’t ask for this. You force yourself to give answers, albeit blunt and short as possible, mostly consisting of yeah-s and sure-s, before the annoyance becomes too much and you ask through clenched teeth if he needs anything else or if he’s done here, an all-too-obvious hint to leave.

Thus marks the beginning of the bane of your existence, because unfortunately, by the will of some malicious higher power, he comes back. Regularly. Habitually. Eventually you start noticing that he isn’t even retrieving anything, half of the time, he’s coming in just to annoy you.

See, for him, it’s not just attraction, but a weird sort of pride thing. That initial coldness draws him in, because it presents a sort of challenge. He’s now overheard other people say the same thing, that you’re cold and mean to everyone.

Based on looks alone, he thinks, you’re old enough that you should be married. Maybe that’s why you’re so mean, you’re just bitter or something. Maybe you had bad luck and got hurt a bunch and now you’re all guarded. That’s actually kind of cute.

Naturally… well, naturally for him and whatever’s wrong with him, at least, it sparks an obsession. He likes chases, challenges. Things that are hard to get are that much more satisfying to obtain, you know? The feeling of having won, the feeling of being better than everyone else, knowing that he accomplished something other people can’t and now reaps the rewards, and the pride and ego boost that comes with it — that sort of thing is an intoxicating fuel, a motivator unlike anything else one could offer him. This does not combine well with the fact that he’s young and hot-blooded and in possession of a hair-triggered sexual aggression, not to mention a sense of pride for which the word ‘no’ doesn’t have any meaning.

It’s kind of sad though. Wasting your life away in some menial job, you’ll be so lonely and regretful.

You’re very lucky, then, that he takes pity on your plight. It will all work out.

Because he can fix you.

And he knows that that's just how you are — he's already composed multiple potential sad backstories that explain your behavior in a way that makes you seem cutely pitiable, that writes off your attitude as being ultimately due to being sensitive and afraid of vulnerability, very endearing — he's not deterred by you pushing him away.

In fact, he realizes, once you've opened up to him and he's forced you to expose the vulnerable side of yourself, you'll probably feel bad for all the times you were mean to him. You'll shuffle even closer (in the scene that plays out in his mind, see, you'll be in bed, naked, face buried against his chest, all clingy and needy) and quietly sheepishly mutter out apologies and ask him to forgive you.

Or maybe after a while, if he keeps being nice to you, you'll break down and cry and be more honest about how sad and lonely you are and how much you need him and then he'll be right there to hold you close and promise to be there for you, it'll be really sweet and will make him very happy. He's already planned out several lines to say that should elicit enjoyable reactions.

It will be so cute. It will feel so good. It’s just a matter of winning you over at this point.

Which, you see, proves to be the difficult part.

He’s getting there, he’s certain, you’re just a little more stubborn than he anticipated.

He’s already started trying to work his way there, during his regular visits. He’s already asked you if you’re married, watched the way your face turned all sour the moment the word came out and the way you rolled your eyes before you muttered a no. Ah. Sore spot, then, as expected.

And then asks if you have kids — because the first answer doesn't necessarily negate that possibility, and ‘jaded single mom with a bad ex' is one of the potential backstories he's theorized for you, so, it's worth asking. You still say no.

The ideal response, then, is—

That's too bad. You would make a good mother!

You narrow your eyes and glare like he's just said the most vile thing you've ever heard. But it's okay, it's cute that you’re so defensive (because you know he’s right and it’s what you really want).

It doesn't matter what you say, any words that come out of your mouth will be filtered through his delusions to match the reality he's already decided is the case.

You say you don't want to get married, this means you actually really do, you say you don't need a man, which means you actually really do and are aware of it and it bothers you, you say you're fine by yourself, which means you're very lonely, it's practically a cry for help.

He'll keep being nice, no matter how much you push back. He can tell it's just because you're sensitive. Maybe you think someone as young and charming as him wouldn't sincerely like you, and you're being defensive? That's probably it. Aw. That makes him feel good.

Poor thing. You're so defensive, so guarded. It's endearing, even if it's starting to get a little frustrating. But it will just take a little more work before he gets through to you, and then everything will work out perfectly… and then he’ll have a nice trophy for all his efforts, can savor the defeat and vulnerability you’ll show. You'll become so meek and submissive and it'll be just for him and no one else. It’ll be so nice. Just a little more time.

#i cant help but believe this man has the worst 'i can fix her' complex of any guy to ever live #.ch #.miso

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katsu28 · 1 year

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🍭 lollipop - 25. “Don’t do that. Don’t push me away. I can’t help it” From list 4 with steve??? pls and ty honey <3333

thank you for this request sweet anon! i hope you like it <3 even if it is just a pile of angst oops

steve harrington x reader, 1.2k, general tw for depression (it's not explicitly stated but it's kinda implied)

Steve knew something in you had changed when you slowly stopped hanging out with everyone. Even when you did join them, he noticed that you weren’t entirely there. You always seemed a million miles away, smiles a little too forced, eyes a little too hollow. Where there used to be warmth that made everything seem a little brighter, there was nothing but hardness in your gaze, like the light in you had been snuffed out.

It was like you were becoming a shell of the person you once were, right before his very eyes.

And he understood why, because he’d gone down the same path the first time he witnessed the horrors of the Upside Down. How could someone face everything that you all had and not come out the other end a different person?

Steve wanted to be there for you—show you that you weren’t alone, that you had someone who could help. That you had him. He just had to figure out how.

That was how he found himself hovering on your doorstep tonight, shifting from foot to foot as he waited for you to answer his constant knocking. It seemed like an eternity before the door swung open to reveal you standing on the other side of it, wrapped in a blanket and peering out at him in confusion.

“Steve?” Your brow furrowed, hands gripping the edges of the blanket to draw it tighter around yourself.

“Hi. Can I come in?”

“I don’t think—”

“Please?” You opened the door a little wider for him, moving to the side wordlessly as he hurried across the threshold and headed straight for the living room. You followed him, taking a seat on the couch and watching him pace back and forth in front of you for a good while until he finally stopped.

Steve turned to you, letting out a deep breath. “I had an entire speech planned out in my head on what I was gonna say to you, but now that I’m here I’ve forgotten everything, so forgive me if I’m, like, rambling a lot, and I’m sorry if I sound pushy or anything, I just—I need you to know this.”

You hesitated a beat before answering, wary of what he was about to say to you. “Okay.”

“I know what you’re going through right now, Y/N. Well, not exactly what you’re going through, but I get it. Hell, I’ve even gone through it myself. This saving the world shit is fucking awful, I get it. It’s like, the world is fine, but you’re…not. Not you, specifically, I mean, but us. We’re not fine.” He blurted, hands moving a million miles a minute in gestures that might’ve been a tad too crazed, but he couldn’t stop himself. “You feel like you’re suffocating in your own thoughts all the time, and you keep replaying everything in your head, wondering if things would’ve ended the same way if you’d just tried something else, or gotten to Eddie a little faster. You feel like you’re never gonna be okay ever again, but I’m here to tell you that you will be. You’re gonna be okay, because I’m here for you. And I know that sounds like a load of crap, I thought so too after everything, but I promise, I’m here for you, anything you need.”

He halted in his pacing once more to look at you, pleading honey eyes boring into yours. You glanced away immediately, focusing on the lamp in the corner of the room, because the longer you looked at him, the more the defenses you put up would start to crack. “You can yell at me, throw things at me, tell me you hate the world and everything in it, tell me you hate me—I don’t care. I just want you to let me help you.”

You pressed your lips together, fists clenching under your blanket. “I don’t need your help, Steve. And I appreciate the effort, but I’m fine.”

“You’re my best friend and I love you, you know that. So you know that I mean it in the nicest way when I say, no you’re not. You’re not fine, Y/N, and I know that because I know you. I know you’re not sleeping, I know you’re barely eating, and I know that you’re scared and angry and confused and about a hundred other different emotions that you can’t pinpoint., because…y’know, who wouldn’t feel the same after everything that's happened?” Steve couldn’t help the bitter chuckle that fell from his lips at his own words, because it was true.

Even he still felt the same way most of the time, terrified that something else would happen and it would be right back to square one, all of you fighting a war against something the bounds of which you couldn’t even begin to understand, but fighting anyway because if you didn’t, no one would.

“And I wish I could take away everything bad in the world from you, but I can’t. All I can do is help you through it, if you let me.” He said defeatedly, kneeling in front of you.

His hands rested on your knees, the warmth of his palms spreading through your whole body. “I can’t lose you, okay? Not after everything else we’ve lost. I need you, Y/N. You’re my best friend, and I need you. So I’m sorry if I sound like an asshole right now, but whatever tough ‘I can handle it on my own’ thing you’ve got going on here, don’t do that. Don’t push me away.”

“I can’t help it.” You whispered, lip trembling. When you finally met Steve’s gaze, your eyes were bright with unshed tears, and he was next to you instantly, wrapping his arms around you tighter than you ever thought possible. His hug was the final nail in the coffin, the last crack in your wall that sent it crumbling to the ground. You buried your face into his chest as sobs shook your body, clutching at him like he was your lifeline as you let every feeling all out into the fabric of his sweatshirt, barely hearing the reassurances he whispered into your hair.

You’d never cried like this in front of anyone before, not even him, and after you’d finally stopped hiccupping, you felt strangely lighter. Still the same as before, but a little bit like the weight on your shoulders had been lessened just by knowing Steve was here. He wiped your tear tracks away with his sleeve gently, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean to shut you out.” You sniffled, inhaling a shuddering breath. Steve made a noncommittal noise, taking one edge of your blanket and squeezing himself under it, squishing even closer to you.

“Hey, no. You don’t be sorry. Just promise me you’ll let me help you through this.”

You held out your pinky towards him. “I promise.”

“Good.” He linked his own pinky around yours, giving it a firm shake. “Now let’s try and get some sleep, okay? What can I do for ya? I can sing a little something, if you want. Some Tears for Fears, perhaps?”

You let out a watery chuckle. “Not Tears for Fears, please.”

“Whoa, what’s wrong with Tears for Fears?”

“Nothing. Just…stay here with me?”

“Okay.” He said softly, rubbing his thumb over your shoulder. “I can do that.” He wouldn’t even dream of leaving. Not now, not ever.

#i am so sorry for this #nothing like writing sad shit at three in the morning amirite :')#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #kait celebrates 1k!

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fukingsad · 10 months

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Hobie’s Hands 🙌

Synopsis: Hobie has really nice hands…..

Master List

Hobie’s hands…..

So we ALL saw how much taller Hobie was than literally everyone he stood next too

I believe they say he’s 6’3”

Now if we look up the average hand size for a 6’3” man it’s 7.6 INCHES

And just so we have a mental picture of how LONG that is for a HUMAN HAND

the STANDARD length of a #2 pencil is 7-7.5 inches long….FOR A HAND, THAT'S KINDA LONG

Now I can’t tell you how WIDE is palm is (bc….idk how to do math…..fuck off 😪)

BUT LOOOOOK

LOOK AT HOW BIG HIS PALM IS

BRO’S HAND IS THE DEFINITION OF FIRMLY GRASP IT

ALSO, he plays guitar

and as someone who plays the bass guitar and the orchestral bass…..THE CALLUSES ON HIS FINGERTIPS MUST BE SOMETHING ELSE

like y’all know what a callus is ( if not here’s what I found on Google bc I cannot explain for shit: “A callus is thickened skin on your hands or the soles of your feet. The thickening of the skin is a protective reaction. For example, farmers and rowers get calluses on their hands that prevent blisters from forming”)

LIKE OML

Okay okay okay imagine

you and Hobie sitting on the couch or a rooftop or something your sitting down whatever

And he’s holding you like bridal style or something idfk the names but he’s holding you😓

and he’s just drawing circles on your skin, like his hand under the back of your shirt, him calmly holding you as his fingers swirl circles into your back

(Also I feel like ALL spider people love physical touch TO AN EXTENT only because with being a spider person they lose so much so just seeing someone isn’t enough but being able to feel them lets their heart know that the person is really there and it’s not just their mind….. I’ll write more about this later…..maybe)

BUT LIKE C’MONNNN

like imagine y’all doin’ the nasty in public and you’re just a whimpering whiny mess (probably overstimulated) and Hobie just covers your mouth WITH THAT MASSIVE HAND OML

“hey hey hey, ‘s alrigh' luv, ya gotta be quiet, ya don’t want ‘em to hear you do ya darlin'?”

LIKE OH MY SWEET JESUS UGHHHH

OH COULD YOU IMAGINE HIS SLAPPING YOUR ASS

he’d probably think it’s funny but that shit would hurt…..ina good way 🤭

(And if ur into that super kinky shit could you imagine him wrapping his hand around your throat[with your consent obvi] like ugh 😩)

Also after reading VARIOUS fics i’ve been convinced he’s a boobs man (so for my readers with boobies all sizes) IMAGINE HIM CUPPING THEM IN HIS BIG ASS HANDS

He’s definitely the kinda guy that would hold ‘em for comfort

bro’s a functioning boyfriend and bra and for the ppl with the heavy ones THE WEIGHT OFF YO BACK 😩🧎‍♀️

(Definitely gonna have to make something separate on his love for boobs….)

BUT ANYWAYS HANDS

He definitely had the gripper thing….to workout your hands…..y’all know wtf i’m talking about…don’t look at me like that 😒

AND NO ONE IS TELLING ME HE DOESN’T HAVE VEINY HANDS

like he’s tall and skinny (i’m not gonna say lanky because he’s not thin, just skinny)

LIKE 8/10 TALL AND SKINNY MEN HAVE VEINY HANDS

hobie is just so…..so very perfect

ANYWAYS

if you can’t tell…..i really like large hands….a lot

🧍🏾‍♀️😛🫶🏾

Ending A/n: I’m sorry ya’ll but HIS HANDS THEY HAVE BEEN PLAGUING MY MIND JUS OML

anyways love and peace yall 😻

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cultofdixon · 10 months

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Lost in the dark, look for the light

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Eldest Greene Sister!Reader • Plenty of those lost people before Alexandria let them in. Daryl didn’t like the place but when you fell into that dark place after losing so much, he’d do anything to help • ANGST/SFW • TW: Grieving / Nightmares / Sleep Deprivation / Self Inflicted Pain / Scars / Depression

Requested by: Anon

Maggie had told her…about what happened to Beth. Even if the look in Daryl’s face wanted him to be the one to tell his partner, Maggie’s sister, Y/N…that she had lost her youngest sister only a few days after losing her father.

The shock that met her body lead Y/N to become numb, instead of heartbroken. Even if she was…

Without saying a word of response to the news, all Y/N did was take a hold of her now only little sister in her embrace. Holding her with a force that told Maggie that she was terrified and that letting her go may bring on the thoughts that she would disappear.

A trend seemed to continue

Bob had died before the news of Beth, and Tyreese died shortly after hers. It was a lot. Many held on a good front, Y/N included. Others grieved quicker than most…grieved in strange ways.

During the time of walking, Daryl strayed away to take a moment to fall apart…expecting to be alone with his tears and to draw the pain to focus on the burn he made from dragging his cigarette onto his hand. But the archer was slipping with his observation skills, as he didn’t know he was being followed and by Y/N of all people.

The woman didn’t say a word but made herself present as the archer looks up at her before diverting his attention away. Did she see what he did? Is what he thought and it was only confirmed by the way she knelt in front of his seated position, taking the hand he burned…gently brushing all of the ash away before pressing her lips gently against the burn. It wasn’t going to do much, except tell him that she was there and that she can’t lose him as well.

As the tears came on strong, Daryl carefully pulled Y/N into his embrace as her body laid against him holding onto his form for dear life. As he returned the same sense. But he couldn’t help but fell an overwhelming intense wave of worry for his girl laid in his embrace…she wasn’t speaking or doing anything to grieve…she’s there for everyone, and everyone is blind.

He shall not

“I don’t trust this place” Rick states his thought out to everyone as they approached the walls to said place named Alexandria.

Then the words left without a second thought…

“We need the walls to keep our remaining family alive” Y/N sighed feeling a weight return itself on her chest as she kept her composure and decided to stray her thought in his favor. “If this place turns in any direction, we’ll show it not to mess with us” she whispers the last part to Rick who couldn’t agree more.

This place definitely felt a bit more like the old world with the new infused into such. Like going for runs to find supplies and creating walls to keep the sickos outside. But how the old world worked in some ways still remained and that’s what feared some of the group, that these people don’t truly understand the horrors.

When Y/N was brought in for the interview, no one expected Maggie and Daryl to want to eavesdrop. Making the others question their actions but in a sense it’s within good reason.

“You’re Maggie’s sister”

“Yes, is it obvious?”

“In a sense, you didn’t want to leave her side or at least her leave yours…did you recently lose someone?”

This feels uncomfortably like therapy “What is it you want exactly, Ms…?”

“Deanna is fine, I just want to get to know the group my recruiters have been watching for some time now—-“

“You hired stalkers?”

“Recruiters—-“

“Listen here dollface, it’s the end of the world and my group has been through enough shit as it is. We’ve been FUCKED more than once so if you’re gonna try and sell me on this pitch perfect fever dream of a community you got that’s exactly like how the old world used to be with just a couple changes—-you’re gonna have to try harder and not interrogate to know what I used to be”

The door pushed open startling the two eavesdropping to move quickly out of the way of the eldest Greene stepping out. Rick took note of the stress written all over her face as he was about to pull her aside when she brushed passed him stepping out of the house completely.

Y/N found herself sitting on the steps while her gaze glued to the gate. She half expected to be followed out and she was, but the three standing at the door were conflicted on who to confront her and what happened.

“Daryl and Glenn don’t know how to whisper, and I know you’re with’em”

Glenn and Daryl froze while Maggie pushed through, but forced the two back inside before shutting the door to give the sisters some sense of privacy.

“Boss lady mad or something?”

“No she told me to tell yea she wants you to be with the runners.”

“She really handing out jobs?” Y/N scoffs leaning against the porch railing. “I don’t want to go back to the old world…” I’m having a hard time staying here

“Neither do I, frankly” Maggie laughs slightly as her face fell into sadness. “I think…I’m losing you.”

I’m tired Mags…that is all Y/N thought as she brought her arm around her sister’s shoulders bringing her close. “You’ll never lose me, Mags. I’m right here”

The first night spent in this new place was all under the same roof. They were given two houses, and discussion of the Rhees getting their own was in the air…but all felt safer at least for the first night to be together.

Daryl kept himself posted by the window that was by the crib where Judith slept peacefully. His mind was racing the entire time he was within the walls as he didn’t want to trust it, he knew his partner didn’t want to…but there was more to it and he’s worried even when Y/N brought herself to sit with him while Rick talked.

“Wanna step out after this?” Daryl whispers to Y/N as she nods before leaning against him.

After listening to Rick talk about Alexandria and if anything happened, they have each other and they’ll take it over if it comes to that. Or at least that’s the idea with his speech without straight up saying they’ll take the place over. The two slipped out before the lights turned off for everybody, leaving the two only using the moonlight and the few porch lights to light their path through Alexandria.

“Are you doing alright? After…yeah” Y/N wasn’t exactly ready herself to admit it and Daryl couldn’t help but worry for her.

“Best as I could, are you—-“

“Hey!”

The two stopped when Deanna and her husband Reg started to approach. Daryl is usually the one to step back but when he noticed Y/N, his very forward outgoing Y/N, started to step back to try and avoid them. He stepped forward covering her.

“Well isn’t it Daryl and Y/N, this is my husband Reg” Deanna smiles presenting her husband as he gave a gentle wave sensing the anxiety from the two unlike her wife. “What are you two do—-“

“Hun, I think they’re lookin’ for a relaxing evening alone just like we were”

“Oh, OH! My apologizes…I hope your run tomorrow with my son goes well, Y/N. Maybe you and Glenn can share some insight”

“Sure…” Y/N gave a small smile hoping she’d walk away and before she could even talk more, Daryl cut himself in.

“It’s getting late” Daryl states gently wrapping his arm around Y/N’s shoulders directing her back to the house as she didn’t say a word but gave him a thankful look.

When the two themselves turned in for the night, Daryl held Y/N close as she slept feeling her shake in her sleep which made him tighten his grasp on her. She used to do this back at the prison when they first started living there, instead of waking from her nightmares she just…shakes. Scared Daryl at first when he first saw this happening but learned that holding her closer to him would get her to relax eventually.

Even if right now it wasn’t working. Something was wrong.

“Have you heard about their run at all?” Daryl startled Maggie slightly out of her thoughts as she passed by noticing he was waiting on her porch.

“It’s just to get an idea of how they do things around here. Not an actual run that takes hours.” Maggie joins Daryl in the steps of her and Glenn’s place watching him anxiously grip onto his crossbow. “Daryl…do you have any idea of…what might be going on with my sister?”

That very question floats around in his mind as it was an obvious answer, she hasn’t had the time to process all of what happened by herself.

“You chain up walkers?” Y/N asks in disbelief as Aiden nods while he and Nicholas were looking for the walker that killed their friend.

“It killed our own. This shows—-“

“Shows what?” Glenn scoffs. “You’re just making it more dangerous for others”

“It’s just one walker, not like it’s gonna do anything—-“ Aiden was cut off by said walker, or hell a completely different one, making itself known by almost taking out the man.

When Noah tried to go over and take it out Nicolas stopped it because the two were determined to chain it back up. But the others weren’t going to let them.

“Can you—-fucking help” Aiden snaps toward one of the “newbies” as Tara went ahead but ended up getting stuck in the matter of she was trying not to let the thing bite her.

This was getting ridiculous.

Y/N immediately went in and ended the Walker which lead to Aiden pushing her away once the body hit the floor.

“The fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Hey!” Glenn tried to intervene when the two got face to face.

“What’s wrong with me?! You’re the one with brain fucking damage thinkin’ you can contain these sickos”

“IT KILLED OUR FRIEND! IT DESERVES—-“

“DESERVES WHAT?!” Y/N snaps getting up in his business as he stumbled to stand his ground. “They’re already fucking dead. They are just a risk for the living now. What is chaining it up gonna do? Scare off the rest? Teach it a lesson?” She suddenly pushed the man over making it level with the now dead dead walker. “It’s not a fucking person in need of a punishment anymore! You’re a fucking idiot for putting others at risk, especially yourself…you’re not cut out to survive outside the walls”

Aiden didn’t say a word of response as Y/N stood her ground while her hands shook with anger.

This is risky, dad. They aren’t—-

Some part of them is still there, sweetheart.

Dad seriously—

You saying…that’s not your mother anymore?

Y/N quickly stepped through the gates first wanting to find some place to hide but of course Aiden had enough.

“You guys need new gigs! Especially you!” Aiden grabs her shoulder forcing her to turn around as Glenn immediately stepped in between.

“Don’t pick a fight man”

“Pick a fight? She’s the one that fucking started this. You gotta learn to follow my lead.” He snaps pushing Glenn aside even if he tried to cut in between only knowing what’s next to happen.

“Don’t start—-“

“I’m protecting my fucking people.” Aiden glares at Y/N trying to use his height to his advantage. “Hell! You’re here because you failed to protect your own”

And without a second thought, Y/N punched him right in the center of his face with enough force to knock him on his ass. Completely tuning out the crowd around them as she towered over him.

“I’m doing my goddamn BEST.” Y/N snaps, not noticing the tears that spilled. “At least I kept those with me alive unlike you…risking everyone with your savior complex.”

“You fucking bi—-“ Aiden was cut off by Glenn cutting in between once more and this time he was about ready to stab a bitch if he had to. “Your people don’t belong here…especially you” he glares at Y/N noticing his mom watching as he quickly stepped away.

“Listen here! Rick’s people deserve to be here”

The rest of the speech didn’t pick up as Y/N did her best to step away even if the worried looks from Tara and Noah caught her eye while her brother in law tried talking to her to check on her. But nothing picked up as she completely pulled herself away leaving the crowd entirely.

Daryl had approached the commotion right when Y/N started to leave as he frowns noticing the tears immediately. He carefully blocked her way trying to get through to her but his words weren’t reaching, but grabbing her biceps gently did make her stop.

“Sunshine, what happened? Who hurt you, what can I do?”

“I got them killed” Y/N felt a pain in her chest as she started to try and pull away. “I don’t deserve to be here. I don’t…I…They’re dead because of me. The Governor, Terminus…the hospital…everyone. It’s my fault” she broke right before his eyes as it pained him, as if someone had stabbed him right through the chest. She’s been enduring all this loss of her family, their friends…by herself in muted silence.

“No…sunshine, none of it was your—-“

“…why couldn’t it have been me” Y/N whispered, feeling the tears continue to fall as part of her wanted to collapse in his arms and stay there…he wanted to hold her, keep her safe from everyone within the walls.

But she pulled away, hurting them both in a way.

The archer found himself sitting on either the porch or outside Y/N’s door since what happened. It’s been hours and eventually the next day, she hasn’t left that room. Maggie didn’t care about shadowing Deanna when Y/N was in this episode, she did the same as Daryl by staying as close as possible. Even if every fiber of her being wanted to make sure she wasn’t…Mm.

“You need anything?” Glenn whispers to Maggie who was sat beside Daryl who looked dressed for a trail recruiting run with Aaron while she was more comfortable.

“Can you get another glass of water? I’m gonna—“

“I’ll give it to her, long as yea…stay while I’m gone?” Daryl asks watching Maggie nod even if they both know she’ll be going to this party because Deanna is requesting all of Rick’s group to attend. Not everyone will.

After receiving the water from Glenn, Daryl quietly enters the room leaving a small gap for Maggie to listen in if Y/N said anything. Even if she currently laid in bed facing the blackout curtains with half the blanket off of her.

The archer quietly approached setting the glass on the nightstand before crouching enough to her level. He frowns as he couldn’t help but wonder what else is going on in her mind.

“‘M gonna go with Aaron to check around…find anythin’ or anyone” Daryl whispers tugging on the blanket to cover her, watching her curl up slightly. “Ain’t gonna go to the party, so I should be back in a few hours…please drink the water…” he mumbles a bit watching her eyes lock on him for a moment before he got up and started to head out.

“be safe…” Y/N managed out, leading Daryl to stop and contemplate leaving or not. He didn’t want her to do anything harmful when he was gone but he knew Maggie had already taken out everything in the room.

He did the extra curtesy of taking her knife off the nightstand closing to the door, taking it with him for safe keeping. If it came to a breach, Y/N will know what to do if she doesn’t have her knife.

One could hope she would fight if it came to it during this period.

“We’ll come and get yea if anything” Maggie reassures Daryl with Glenn nodding in agreement.

“We are going to the party because Deanna asked Maggie personally, but we won’t be out long”

“I should be back before then” Daryl states and went on his way out leaving the two to check Y/N one last time before closing the door quietly.

When night fell and the party was going on, Daryl found himself in Aaron’s residence after being invited in for dinner. He didn’t want to leave Y/N alone for much longer as he stared at his empty plate for a moment.

“You wanna bring a plate to your partner?” Eric offers with a smile watching the archer light up a bit.

The two knew about Y/N and what happened by the gates the other day, and they didn’t push Daryl to talk about it in any way. Only providing help in small ways, hence bringing home a plate of spaghetti.

Alexandria was lighting up slowly for the archer and he wishes to share that with his partner. At her own speed.

“Hey” Daryl kept his voice low entering the room when he noticed the light from her lantern was on. At least the one that was in the room. Y/N wasn’t laying down anymore but she still had a gloom radiating from her. “How long have yea been up?”

“Uhm. I don’t…know?”

“Think yea can eat?” Daryl asks showing off the wrapped plate as she looked up for it but given how he didn’t budge from his place, he wanted her to get up.

And for good smelling food? Y/N did exactly that.

The two sat in silence in the dining room as Daryl watched her eat like she hasn’t eaten in days…which was the case. He would refill her glass every time it emptied and he’d listen to her soft ‘thank you’ as that was the most interaction between the two. As Y/N finishes she kept everything neat even if she wasn’t a messy eater like Daryl, she just. Felt like everything would fall apart if she didn’t clean up after herself even if Daryl took care of the plate setting it in the sink.

After cleaning up, especially after Y/N’s bossiness started to return and told Daryl to wash the plate to return tomorrow, the two found themselves back in the bedroom as Y/N was already in loungewear and getting under the covers while Daryl took his clothes off going through the dresser to find sweats for him leaving himself shirtless. He pulled the covers carefully, getting underneath them and bringing himself close to Y/N.

As Daryl finally got comfortable, he brought his arm cautiously around his partner half expecting her to pull away. Instead Y/N brought her hand to his holding it.

“I’m not going anywhere, sunshine” Daryl whispers to her, not seeing the tears brim in her eyes when he said such.

“Promise…?”

“I promise” He pulled her close to his chest feeling her ease in his embrace.

The following days, Y/N came back out of the hole that her depression dug for her at her own pace with the help of Daryl and Maggie. Daryl would have her help with building the bike in Aaron’s garage so she wouldn’t have to work with Aiden or frankly any of the assholes within Alexandria. Some days she would go with Maggie in shadowing Deanna but mostly the times she’d spend in the makeshift library to learn more about the place with the blueprints there and a few documented journals by Reg that were placed there for those to read.

Before their lives in Alexandria changed, Y/N found herself sitting on the porch watching the people go by as she unconsciously traces every blemish, scar, beauty mark that graced her skin while she waited for Maggie to step out and join her on the steps. They weren’t going anywhere, just a moment between the two sisters.

That Y/N really needed…

“Beth would’ve loved this place”

A smile broke out on Maggie’s face out of remembrance and a little bit of sadness.

“Yeah…she would’ve.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t…entirely there for you when…yknow”

“You were lost, we all were…it just. Took a different form of light to bring yea back” Maggie smiles more as Y/N brought her arm around her shoulders bringing her in.

The eldest Greene looking down the street, not far but close enough to get a get a clear picture of the light that brought her out of her darkness.

Daryl Dixon

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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liliansun · 10 months

Text

ENCHANTED TO MEET YOU : 20 : deserve to be heard (2.2k)

w. shit hits the fan so be prepared, mentions of alcohol, renjun gets a lil violent but it’s nothing graphic, crying..lots of it

After you and the girls get out of the car, you and Joy locked arms. Her eyes looked troubled, something within you telling you she was feeling anxious, but you gave her a reassuring smile and that seemed to be enough for her. Neowa and Mal were the most excited between the five of you, scurrying up the steps to the same two doors you felt held so much for the night ahead. “C’mon slow pokes, we have the whole night to go!”

“Exactly, the whole night so why don’t y’all stop running and wait on us?” Sal’s response earned a laugh from the rest of you while the two girls stood by the doors. “We can’t help it that you're moving slow.” Mal threw her arm around Neowa, smiling as you three came up to them. The doors opened, revealing a slightly tipsy Renjun with Mark on his left and Jaemin on his right. “My girls are here, took y’all long enough.” Renjun pulled you into a hug, smiling as he then made his way around with his sudden burst for physical affection. Mark immediately put his arm around Joy, smiling at her while she giggled at something he said. Jaemin sent a wink to Mal, to which she pretended to be gagged by and rolled her eyes.

“C’mon, let’s go find everyone.” Renjun grabbed your hand, leading you inside following behind everyone else. “What happened to us meeting at the front?” He shrugs, keeping a grip on your hand to ensure you wouldn’t get lost in the crowd. “Chenle and Jisung went off to do shots and they are hard to keep up with, mainly because Jisung won’t leave Chenle’s side, especially when he’s been drinking.” A smile spread across your lips, making a mental note to tease Jisung about his cute dynamic with Chenle in the morning.

Passing by the seating areas, you loop through the kitchen and find mostly everyone in a not so crowded space. Almost everyone at least, Chenle and Jisung are still not around and you can’t help, but notice you don’t spot a new face. “Where’s Haechan?” Jeno looked to Renjun, hoping at least someone knew the whereabouts of the boy in question. Letting go of your hand now that he knew you were safe, he groans, rubbing his temples with frustration. “I told him to meet us here.” He turns to you, an almost sad look in his eyes. “I’m gonna go find the devils incarnate, please don’t wander off.”

Your heart went out to Renjun, you knew he still felt guilty for leaving you the last time even after you assured him over and over it was okay. “Stop worrying, I’m here with everyone else, go find your friend.” He gave you a smile before he went off into the crowd and the group started making small talk. “Yo, I have the best idea.” Mark captured everyone’s attention, suddenly feeling shy under all the gazes. “We should play a game while we wait for Renjun and Haechan, chances are Renjun will be a while before he finds him.”

“Sounds like fun, but I’m just going to be honest, all friendship is temporarily thrown out over a game of uno.” Mal threw her hands up in defense before locking eyes with Jaemin who was smirking at her. You could sense something was stirring between them and the thought made your smile grow. “Oh you’re on, I’ve never lost a game of uno.”

“What about that game we played last week?” Jeno intervened, pushing his shoulder against Jaemin. “That didn’t count, you cheated!” Jeno and Jaemin start to bicker over the game they recently played while Mark led the group to a spot where they could all sit around. Once the game started, despite its delay due to Jaemin wanting to sit next to Mal and Neowa threatening to ruin his chance at fatherhood, almost everyone was close to winning except you. “I hate everyone in the circle, this is cheating at its finest.”

“You were the one who said we can stack cards, you can’t get mad now that you have to draw half the deck.” Jeno snickered at your grimace, earning a finger thrown up at him from you. You’re shuffling through your cards when you hear Renjun’s voice calling out to everyone. “I found him, it took forever and I had to drag him downstairs, but I got him.” Everyone started to stand up, your friends were eager to meet this mystery boy Renjun and his friends had gone on and on about. From what they’ve mentioned of him, he seemed like a nice person to be around and you’d be lying if you didn’t say you were equally eager to meet him. Renjun walked into the room as you set your cards down, tugging the boy behind him. As you looked up, your eyes locked with his and you couldn’t tell if you were going crazy or not.

Haechan immediately made eye contact with you and his blood ran cold, feeling a wave of anxiety rush through him. “Guys, this is Haechan, the one we’ve been telling you about. Haechan, that’s Joy, Mal, Neowa, Sal and Y/n.” You didn’t notice Joy’s worrying look when she glanced your way, your brain trying to figure out what exactly was going on. “Bro where have you been and why do you look so pale?” Jeno looked at Haechan, confused at his behavior. The Haechan they knew was bright, he was captivating and he was the reason behind most of their laughs, but his friend looked like he wanted to be anywhere, but here at this moment. “Hyuck?”

Your voice caught everyone’s attention, making Haechan want to open a hole and crawl inside. “Do you two already know each other?” Jaemin curiously asked, glancing between the two of you. The girls felt something was wrong, making their way to be by your side. “Y/n, please let me explain and I prom-“

“You’re going to have to do a lot more than explaining.” You’re confused, pain starting to bubble in your chest as you see the panic spread on his face. “What’s going on?” Sal asked, wrapping her arm around your waist and pulling you into her side. Joy let out a sigh, chewing on her lip as Mark rubbed her back. “Hyuck is H and apparently he’s also Haechan.” The room felt like it was silent, despite the party that was still going on in the rest of the house. The music and sounds of people moving around were deaf to your ears as you start to rethink these last few weeks. “Y/n, please talk to me and I can explain it all.” He took a step forward, reaching out for your hand, but was stopped by Renjun.

“You’re H? And you knew about it this whole time? You knew her this whole time?” Renjun was furious, a new sense of anger settling deep into him and started to make him think the worse, wanting to do the worse. Grabbing Haechan by his collar, his whole body shook with rage as Mark and Jeno immediately rushed to get Renjun away from Haechan as soon as possible. “Woah woah, hey, think about what you’re doing.” Mark tried to reason with his friend, not wanting anything that he’d regret later to happen now. Haechan didn’t seem phased, he knew he deserved this and he truly didn’t care if he got one to the face right now because the look you were giving him hurt worse than any physical pain ever could.

“Think about what I’m doing? He didn’t think about what the fuck he was doing.” Renjun spat back, trying to get Mark and Jeno’s hold off of him. “Renjun, let’s go walk it off, now.” Jeno wasn't usually confrontational, but he knew Renjun wouldn’t try anything on him and that’s ultimately what convinced Renjun to leave the room with the two boys and Jaemin to accompany. “Can we talk, just us two for just a second?”

“Do you really think you deserve to be heard?” Mal was protective, about to try and get her own hands on the boy she just met and already wasn’t fond of. “Guys, can you give us a second?” Neowa nodded, grabbing Mal’s hand and walked her in the opposite direction of Haechan in case she tried anything. Joy bit her lip, feeling guilt of her own for not telling you sooner. She didn’t think things would turn out the way she did, but she too felt like she didn’t protect you from what you may be feeling. “We’ll be in the other room, okay?” Sal whispered to you, kissing your cheek before removing her arm from around you and walked out the room with Joy.

“Please don’t cry, pretty.” His voice sounded strained as he took small steps towards you. You hadn’t noticed the tears that rolled down your cheeks, standing frozen as he got closer. Hesitantly, he brought his hand up to your cheek, brushing off the tears that continued to fall. Pushing his hand away, you turned your head to wipe away the tears with a sniffle. “Why did you lie to me hyuck? Can I even call you that? Is that even your name?”

“Y/n, I didn’t mean to lie to you, I-“

“So why did you?” The question felt like it had too many answers and none at all. Hung up like a piece of paper in the air that neither of you knew how to get to. “You had every chance, every opportunity to tell me it was you and you didn’t, you just continued to lie to me.”

“What would you have done when I saw you on campus because I’m assuming you don’t go to SMU, hell I don’t know what to believe from what you told me anymore.” He wanted to rip his hair out, running his fingers through his hair as he let out a shaky sigh. He moves to a seat, plopping down to steady his spinning mind. “I don’t know what I was thinking, I honestly don’t, but I can tell you everything I said to you, everything I feel for you was real y/n, you have to believe me.”

But you didn’t, you didn’t know what to believe. You had opened up to him and let him into your life and he shined light in every dark corner of your heart and now he has the pieces in his hands. Your lack of response was making him worry, not having the courage to look up and make sure you were still there. Usually, he didn’t show any of his emotions in front of people. He was the type to let it all out when he was alone and cope the only way he knew how, but he was breaking down in front of you and his tears too were pouring down his cheeks.

“I fucked around and played with girls to try and fix what someone else broke and it followed me. I don’t—I didn’t want you to see that side of me and when I told you my name was Hyuck instead of Haechan it wasn’t because I wanted to lie to you.”

“I wanted you to know me, Lee Donghyuck instead of Haechan, the guy who led girls on without second thought and I wanted to tell you so bad, but I was scared of what Renjun would say to you if he found out it was me and I didn’t think we’d get here this fast and all I can say is I’m sorry y/n, I’m so fucking sorry.” He was now crying into his hands, leaning forward as he rethought his every decision and painted them black with regret in his mind. You may have been the best thing to come to him in the last year and he fucked it up on his own and he feels an all too familiar feeling in his chest.

You still stood there, speechless at his sudden confession while you too continued to cry, but in silence. Part of you wanted to reach out and wipe away his tears, tell him that it was okay and all was forgiven because you hated to see people cry. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, because it wasn’t all okay. The world around you continued to spin and everyone was continuing with their lives while you questioned yours. You didn’t want to give in to someone who hurt you, again, because you learned from your previous relationships that it never ends well when you do. So you did the next best thing you could think to do and you left.

You left Haechan there alone, hearing the sounds of his sobs replay in your head and when you found your friends, you found out Joy had known for a few days and it felt like the pain and betrayal was never going to end. It was all too much for you, too much in one night to withstand. Feeling like you had nowhere to turn to and didn’t know who to trust, you walked out those same two doors you had left through weeks before, except now the smile on your face from that night had been left behind.

summary : college was enough to deal with, barely passing classes and struggling to keep up with what was going on in each was a daily struggle. not having time to catch someone’s eye was fine with you, that was until you met him. there was something about him that was enchanting, so you went out to find him, hoping you kept him up the same way he did you.

prev : 21 : she’s safe : masterlist

taglist : @jaylaxies @snowflakemoon3 @jinsoul-gf @roboknight117 @shwizhies @dinonuguaegi @makiswrld @sunflowerbebe07 @xtrataerrestrial @n0hyuck @222brainrot @blackjello @i6renj @cutesince2000 @lcvehyvck

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pedge-stuff · 1 year

Text

marked - part 1. (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: starting a deep dive into whatever the fuck this is.

summary: in a world where soulmates are connected by a distinctive mark, mirrored on their bodies, Pedro's bullseye takes on a new meaning. (set 2019.)

——————————————————————————————————

You can’t bring yourself to knock on the door. Even your hand, outstretched, cuticles raw with worry, torments you with the gravity of the moment— bearing the mark that brought you here. The “target”; three concurrent circles, carved into the webbing of your left thumb by fate itself.

It brought you here— to the doorstep of its counterpart. To your soulmate.

Carol, a woman from Wardrobe, had spotted it, the target, in passing at the afterparty. You’d never spoken; always seen her around, at work, but never had a reason to enter her orbit. Yet she’d grabbed your wrist, waiting at the open bar for a watered-down G&T, inspecting your left hand with a startling and unreadable gaze.

“Where did you get this?” She’d asked, though the answer was clear— it was not a tattoo. Where tattoos were flat, marks were deep-set, shinier, burned into the flesh in-utero (or whatever the scientists were saying now).

Your brain, hampered by two drinks on a Lexapro tolerance, was slow to process. “Shit, do you…”

Carol was still holding your wrist. “Can I take a picture?”

“No face.” That would be just your luck; the first picture your soulmate sees, blurry and flushed and coming off a 16-hour day. SNL Saturdays kicked the shit out of you. Unless they’ve seen you, you know them, they’re here tonight…

The questions spiraled off, as they always seem to. She’d released your wrist to begin furiously texting, leaving you to freak out in the middle of the crowded party. Circled back a drink later, given you a phone number and a man’s name, and disappeared back into the sea of nameless coworkers and plus-ones.

And so here you are: standing on the Brooklyn doorstep of the man who shares your mark, one intercom buzz away from the rest of your life. Or not.

Before you can hit it, the electric lock unlatches with a metallic hum. You hope to fuck he didn’t see you standing there like an idiot. Inside the door, there is a staircase to the second floor, and a small pile of shoes (mostly sneakers) on a worn welcome mat.

You ascend as shakily as you stood outside. Out of breath, not from exertion but sheer adrenaline.

At the top, right at your last footfall, before you can even knock, the door swings open, and—

“Hi.”

There he is.

Taller than you, by a good few inches. Much older than you, too, though you knew that. One Google search had given you a shocking amount of information. Famous, famous-famous, like Netflix famous, Star Wars famous. You were no stranger to that side of life, writing for SNL, but you never really thought you’d end up marked to someone like this.

The man before you now is not red-carpet-ready. His hair is slightly shaggy and salted at the temples. A purple Lakers tee and some light wash jeans, colorful socks poking out the bottom. (Though you agonized over it all morning, dressing casual seems to have been a good call. "They're your soulmate," your roommate had said, "what you wear shouldn't matter.")

Black glasses frame dark eyes, which meet yours with a thoughtful and hopeful softness.

“Hi.”

A paid, professional writer, but you can’t bring yourself to say another word.

“I, uh.” At least he seems equally lost. His eyes don’t leave you, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. You are appraising each other, taking it in. Soulmates. Or something?

He reaches out a hand— not his right, to shake, but his left. You are marked in the same place, same hand, same three circles.

“Pedro,” he says, trance-like, still holding your hand. “Sorry, I… It’s a lot.” His thumb, warm and un-calloused, rubs back and forth over the marked skin. You can’t draw your eyes away from the motion.

“Do you want to come in?” He laughs, weakly. Drops your hand and gestures for you to follow him over the threshold.

The apartment is clean, well-lit; all light wood and white finishings. You follow him down a narrow hallway, which opens into a comfortable living area. Pictures line the wall, small pieces of framed artwork and photographs of happy people. You recognize a few of them.

"I'm sorry," you find yourself saying, clearing your throat. "This is a lot. People wait their whole lives. Or something. For this." For the chance to stand awkwardly on their soulmates carpet, worrying their bottom lip between their teeth.

Pedro turns around to face you. There are tears in his eyes. "I'm gonna be honest, I thought I'd never match," he said quietly. "Forty four years old. I thought I'd never find you."

"Can I..." On instinct alone, you close the distance between you— not for a sweeping, romantic kiss, but to tentatively reach up and brush the tear from his cheek, with the thumb that bears his mark.

His hand finds the soft spot between your neck and shoulder, and he gives you a small squeeze. "I'm just excited," he says, choked with emotion. "To have you here, with me."

#pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fluff #what even is this #pedro x reader #the last of us imagine #the last of us #the mandolorian

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unamused-boss · 3 months

Text

How we met

Billy Harvgrove x Phoebe Levin

Summary: The day Billy Hargrove found Phoebe Levin changed his life forever. The day he met her was one he would never forget, literally. Like how can you forget that.

The minute that Billy stepped out of his camaro into the Hawkin’s High School parking lot he knew that this was gonna be the absolute worst part of his entire life. Girls were already gawking him like a piece of meat given to a pack of wolves. The guys were sizing him up like they thought they had a chance at winning a fight against him.

“Jeezus, smells like cow shit here.” He muttered as he made his way into the high school. Once his boot made contact with the tile floor of the school he was swarmed with wannabes and thirsty girls.

“Hey man, I'm Tommy. We’re gonna be great friends.” One freckled faced freak said to him.

“Hello~ I’m Tina, it’s so great to meet you.” Some brunette flirted.

“Heey cali boy, how does the countryside feel?” Some rando said.

‘Holy shit, do these guys have anything better to do?’ Billy thought. ‘It's not the worst, I already have them like putty in my hand.’ He smirked, he already had a majority of the school's population on his side. This could not be as awful as he thought it was going to be. If these guys are like this just by his first day then Billy can’t wait for what will happen throughout the next couple of months.

Which is what happened, Billy soon became the new King of Hawkins High School. He had everyone eating from the palm of his hand. The parties were nothing like the ones in California but they were a good way to distract him while being here. And every girl here wanted in his pants, which he let them but soon left them right after the deed was done.

The day started off as any other day. Billy was late to his first period, as perusal, taking his seat with a very irked teacher. As he was about to start his normal routine of ignoring everyone around him a glint caught his eye. He turned his head to see a girl decorated in long earrings and glittering necklaces. She had pale skin and hard dark hair. Her eyes looked bored but still tried to pay attention to the lesson at hand. She wore dark clothes, her stomach was out, and the closer Billy looked he realized she didn’t have a bra on. She looked wild. Her hair somehow kept and unkept at the same time. Something about her was drawing him in, like a wave to a surfboard.

“Can you stop starring?” She broke him from his thoughts. No enthusiasm in her tone, she was not happy whatsoever that he was staring at her. Why was she not giggling at him like every other girl?

“I’m Billy.” Billy tried to introduce himself. Pulling his classic charm to win this girl over.

“I know. Now stop talking to me.” She simply put.

“What?”

“I said stop talking to me, you are someone I do not want to speak to.” She was getting frustrated by his presence. That’s bullshit, the only person that was supposed to get annoyed by him was Hairrington.

“I’m trying to flirt with you, you know that right?” He asked as if it wasn’t obvious.

“Yes it’s very obvious, so why don’t you stop and go back to the other girl next you that you flirted with all last month that has not stopped staring at you since class started.” Now you were over him. If your tone didn’t put it straight in his face that you were not having anything he was giving; he turned around to, in fact, see the said girl staring at him. Then the bell rang just as he was going to talk to you again. But you were out of there without him seeing.

The cafeteria was where Billy saw the mysterious girl next. He just stared at her as she sat by herself. No one was around her, being that her friends had a different lunch schedule then her. His staring didn’t go unnoticed by Tommy or Carol.

“Why are you staring at that weirdo?” Tommy asked him, picking at the food on his tray.

“Who is she?” Billy asked curiously.

“Phoebe Levin is the most peculiar girl you’ll ever meet. Swear to god she is related to The freak sometimes.” Carol scowled. “You seriously don’t want to be around her.”

“Her mom was married to some Russian immigrant dude, probably killed because of his help with the Russian forces.” Tommy laughed.

“Ugh, I don’t know why she is still here.” Carol whined. “Billy there are such better girls in this school than her.” The three continued to stare at the young girl.

Phoebe knew they were watching her, she knew Billy was asking questions about her. “God give me a break.” She grumbled through the sandwich she was chewing. She heard the sound of fake pompous heels click their way over to where she was sitting. And to no one's surprise there stood Carol Perkins. With a grin on her face and her caked on makeup.

“Can I help you Carol?” The unenthused girl spoke.

“Hey Phoebe.” Carol smiled, obviously fake. “ I just wanted to check up on you, you seem so lonely.”

“Okay?” Carol just continued to stare at her while she ate.

“You know for someone that has so many cropped tops, you do have a pretty fat stomach.” Carol snied.

“You know for someone that sucks every other guy's dick except her boyfriend’s, you’d think you’d know how to shut your mouth.” Phoebe retorted. “Are we done here?” Carol just sat there with her mouth agape. Phoebe finished the remainder of her lunch taking her tray to leave. Only for Coral to put her foot out and trip her. Causing Phoebe to go face first into her tray. Phoebe picked herself up, taking the little food she had off her shirt. Walking away unbothered.

“Ugh, You scathing BITCH!” Yell Carol.

Billy watched in amazement. He loved every moment of that conversation, he knew she were different. He didn’t think she'd be this different. He watched as Phoebe made her way out of the lunchroom watching her hips sway as she walked. Carol made her way back to their table huffing and puffing at the interaction she just had. Sitting down like a newly scolded child.

“I told you Billy, you don’t want to be around her.” Carol sneered.

Ever since Billy asked about Phoebe Levin everybody has given every opinion possible about her.

“She is so weird.”

“She’s probably a spy planted for the Russians, maybe that’s why she’s so isolated.”

“I swear she’s done a seance with Munson!”

“Phoebe doesn’t wear a bra, like ever, which is kinda hot?”

“Uhg, she hangs in the library all the time in her dark corner.”

“She always seems like she’s on some psychedelic trip.”

“I saw her walking barefoot through the woods once.”

“Her grandma is a witch.”

“I hear she’s eaten goat’s brain.”

Billy didn’ t give a shit what these people thought. He only knew her name and that he wanted to meet her.

While Billy dealt with his predicament of having to find his belle of the ball in black Phoebe was dealing with her own troubles. Her trouble has names that are Carol Perkins, Hiedi Flanders, Tina Clarks, and Betty Johnson; those four have been giving her hell all week. All for Billy Hargrove having caught his eye on her.

“I swear to everything, I will rip his tongue out.” Phoebe grumbled under her breath.

“Hey it’s alright.” Nancy reassured, “It’s Friday, you won’t see them for two days. But you will be seeing Tom Cruise with me.” She grinned. The both of you being friends was an odd sight to see. A princess and a witch, but you guys have been through thick and thin together. Phoebe was there for her when she found out Barb was found dead. And Nancy was there for Phoebe when her dad died. Only those two know the secrets between each other, that no one else will ever know.

“I guess you’re right.” Phoebe smiled. “I’ll see you after gym… see ya.” Phoebe waved her off.

Phoebe was making her way to the gym locker room when she thought she heard giggling behind her. She knew what was going to happen, having already accepted her fate of whatever little prank the class bimbos were going to pull on her. Nothing like this will change for her if she stays in this fucking town. Phoebe entered the locker room to her spot by the corner. Putting her stuff away into her cubby then continues with getting ready as normal. Taking off her clothes to put on her gym clothes. Once the shirt was over her head and on her body, this is one of few instances she puts a bra on (ya gotta stay prepared) Phoebe then hears the giggles again. ‘Dammit’ Phoebe braces herself for what is about to come. The expecting rush of cold water comes down upon her; her hair now wet, her mascara smudged and running down her face, the top of her shirt soaked. The giggles turned to full hyena laughter ringing through the locker room.

“Sorry Carrie didn’t see ya there!” Carol boasted.

“I think she looks better this way.” Tina smirked.

“Yeah, it brings out that washed out skin.” Betty cackled, and I’m the one that gets called a witch. The warning whistle from the coach signaling us to get out of the locker room.

“Come on Carrie, don’t wanna be late.” Carol joked, her and her friends laughed as they walked away. Phoebe did not react. She made no comment. All she did was make her way out of the locker room to the gym for class. Where she saw a familiar mullet head skipping class.

A glare was given to him. Phoebe was tired of the shit she was given. Tired of the attention people have decided to give you for the dumbest reason. To have some meat head think this is the funniest joke on the planet. ‘I will shave his head and make him eat his hair.’ I hate him.

‘Holy shit.’ No one since he has gotten here has given Billy any shit. But the glare that Phoebe gave him. A chill ran up his back. With the unlit cigarette hanging from his lip almost falling out. He has not met a girl like her. Well he has but they usually never speak to him, let alone glare through his skull.

“Go to hell…”

Phoebe spent her time in gym class wisely. She didn’t tell the coach. Didn’t explain to anyone that asked. She ran her laps. Did every exercise she was told to. She ignored the laughter of the girls that did this to her. Ignored that stares from everyone. However when at her water break Phoebe noticed the janitor’s closet was unlocked, ideas went through her head. If she was going to be treated like this only because some ass is giving her attention. Well they don’t say an eye for an eye for nothin.

Gym class was let out, since Phoebe was one of the first few into the locker room her plan was already in action. The four bimbo’s made their way to her corner; already dressed in her tank top and long skirt. Accentuating her figure, a figure that many were jealous of or either wanted. The bimbo’s were in their towels going to take their showers.

“Who knew you’d enjoy a cold bath before class.” Laughed Betty.

“Yeah… Now just for you to know…” Heidi said, wickedness pouring from her words as she stepped forward closer to me. She glared at me, “Stay away from Billy, or I will make your life hell.”

“Oh sweetheart.” Phoebe mocked. “I knew I was there when I saw you.” She apparently didn’t like that too much since she turned away from me flipping her hair into my face. Her curly coarse hair from too many perm treatments. But Phoebe didn’t have to worry about that, when across from her she saw the familiar belongings to the girls that were once here. Along with some items that will aid her in her revenge.

Nancy was confused, gym class got out a few minutes ago and she couldn’t find Phoebe anywhere. All she saw was the commotion of the halls. Nancy doesn’t know where she could be. Until…

Billy was getting annoyed not only with not being able to shake off his interaction with Phoebe earlier today but no one would stop bothering him. He can’t stand it, Tommy won’t shut his yap.

“Then I told him to strew off if he knew what was good for him.” Tommy laughed.

“Yep, you got him.” Billy grumbled. He just watched as the people in the halls passed him. Looking for her.

Tommy rolled his eyes, “Are you still looking for her, she’s literally a nobody.”

“Tommy. If I wanted your opinion I’d ask for it.” Billy stated. “ And I don’t-” Billy was cut of by the clicking of running heels.

“TOMMY!” Carol yelled, “TOMMY!” Carol and the other three girls ran up to the two boys. The girls were out of breath but fuming with anger with their arms tightly crossed against their chests.

“Whoa what is it?” Tommy asked.

“Someone stole from us.” Carol snided.

“Stole what?” Tommy questioned. “You have all your stuff.” He pointed out.

“NO.” Carold came closer to Tommy’s face so no one else would hear. “Someone stole our bras…” Tommy’s eyes widened, he almost laughed at the statement before him.

“What?” Tommy answered. Neither of them noticed the sudden burst of energy in the hallway. People started to make their way to windows and the front of the school. Billy noticed but he waited for the couple to finish. All while being stared at by Hiedi.

“I want you to find them and kick their ass!” Carol screamed. The echo of her words is what stopped their discussion. Carol looked around, along with her little posse, “What are they looking at?”

It was about the same time when Billy and Nancy made their way outside to the front of the school. Pushing their way through a shocked crowd of students, some laughing and some with their jaws on the floor. By the time the two teens made it to the front of the crowd what they saw before them was not what they thought it would be.

In front of them stood four burning stacks with bras being burnt at the ends.

With what Billy just overheard, he can only guess at who those were. And off to the side stood Phoebe Levin smoking a cigarette lit by the flames. Standing only looking at the crowd before her. It didn’t take long before Carol and the others saw what had happened to their once lacy bralettes. Screaming as they saw the consequences of their actions before them.

“OOHH!” Coral screeched. “YOU BITCH!”

“Exactly!” Phoebe Levin replied. Phoebe then stared at Billy, the same stare she gave him in the halls a while ago. She flicked the last of her cigarette onto the ground, then stomped it out. She only smiled as she passed Carol and them until she was face to face with Billy.

“I don’t know what your game is, but I don’t like it so leave me out of it.” She stated to him.

“I don’t think so, this only made me want more.” He grinned at her.

“PHOEBE LEVIN!” The familiar call of the principle called, she wasn’t getting out of this easily.

“That’s my que…” She said as she left him there.

Billy did not know what else to say. He was glad she walked away because he would have been speechless. Billy knew what he wanted and he wanted her, he wanted to be with her. And he’ll have to work a little harder to get her. He doesn’t mind cause once he has her. He won’t let go.

I hope you like it!

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baurbiediv · 2 years

Text

watch it

a/n: readers got a slight attitudeee 🫣

you sat across the room as you watched jack mingle with his friends while some groupies tried to hang around them but were failing miserably.

playing with the straw you swirled it around in your drink that you clearly were no longer showing interest in.

looking at the girls hang around jack like he was a piece of meat had made you want to physically vomit, and for once you’d wish that he would’ve spoken up for himself but he didn’t want to destroy his image of being ‘the nice boy who had a good reputation with everyone’, you couldn’t blame him though.

he had a career for himself and he wanted to have a clean slate with anyone and everyone that he met. his ‘good boy’ persona was cracking at the seams when some groupie started to touch up on his arm, and that’s when you had it.

getting up, you left your drink with neelam as you didn’t want to make another big scene with breaking the glass down on the glass coffee table. “y/n?” neelam called after you, but you gently waved her off.

you quickly made your way to jack and the look he gave you was the almost the one of a toddler seeing their parent after a long overdue stay at daycare.

you bluntly and nonchalantly pushed the girl (nearly shoving) her away from jack. “excuse you?” she said, at this point nearly screaming to only draw unneeded attention. you looked at her, then back at jack who looked terrified, then back at the girl.

jack slyly snaked his hand on your waist to keep you grounded, but boy was he about to be so wrong. “you’re excused but i don’t know where you grew up, but in today’s day and age, i hope you know that you just can’t go around touching people and then thinking that shit is absolutely okay.” you told her, your hands somewhat now clasped together.

she scoffed, “my names lauren and you really must not know who i am -“,

you put your hand up, “first off lauren, i don’t give a damn or a fuck about whoever you seem to be.” you told her straight up.

“you obviously couldn’t be aware of what you were doing cause of all that botched dye job and toner that’s seeping into your head.” you spat.

by now she was getting upset and more people had started to gather around you. “jack you really need to put this girl in her place, i’m not sure how you deal with an attitude like this.” lauren snickered as she rolled her eyes.

“you know i’m glad you think this is funny, you’re an unknown woman rubbing up on someone else’s man. god forbid you get in this situation because that would be the day hell freezes over.” you eyed her with every word that came from your lips.

“now, i suggest you walk your ass out right now before your tracks get hung up as halloween decorations because of how fucking horrendous they look.” your words were spewing with venom, lauren who looked shocked and terrified grabbed her belongings and headed for the door.

but not before her friend attempted to throw water at you in their way out. if it wasn’t for jack being there and moving your body out of the way, you would’ve been pissed that the outfit you wore was wet.

there were people pulling you and jack out of the way meanwhile they tried to pull the other girl away as well. you reacted too quick as the first thing that you grabbed was a glass cup and you instinctively threw it at her without thinking twice and you watched as it shattered across the girls head.

that’s immediately when jack snatched you out the house along with the rest of private garden and the team. jack pulled you to the side, “are you actually being serious right now y/n?!” jack was holding back because he knew he didn’t want to yell at you during a time and setting like this.

you looked at your boyfriend as if he was crazy, “you’re absofuckinglutely right i’m being serious, i’m not gonna sit here and let no botched barbie bimbo bitch talk to me like i’m fucking stupid.” you told him with your arms crossed and a whole lot of annoyance displayed in your voice.

jack groaned and rubbed his hands over his face, you looked at him as you waited for him to say anything or make his next move. he took a second before he put his hands in his pockets. “so you’re just not gonna say anything?” you told him, now he was looking at you as if you had two heads. “what? no, look baby i love and thank you for defending me,” he said as he kissed your forehead lightly, “but you can’t go and just throw glass at random girls.” he said and you could hear the concern in his voice.

you sighed deeply, “can we go home? these heels are killing my feet ..” you said as you began to take them off.

jack offered you a piggy back ride as you gleefully accepted the offer as he walked you both to the van as he had you get in before him. he got into the back with you while intertwining your hand with his hand while running his thumb across the front of your hand.

#jack harlow x reader #jack harlow #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow concepts #bf!jack #jackharlow #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow x black reader #black!fem!reader #black!reader

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corn-fanfiction · 6 months

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SAVIOUR COMPLEX (PT. 6)

(Pt. 5)

Rated: M

TAGS: language/past abuse/Mark Hoffman being a c*p/reader is normal and wants a normal life/Mark is protective bc it's his job but he's also problematic/because he's a c*p/Detective Gibson

**NOTE: Hey guys. Thank you so much for interaction with this fic, and I’m seeing a lot of new followers. I love that!! But I really need to stress right now how I do not support/endorse C*stas M*ndylor as a person or his opinions. He’s racist and I enjoy and only enjoy Mark Hoffman’s character. If you are a C*stas Stan, I highly encourage you to maybe cease interacting with this fic. **

Legs bouncing under the table. Hot coffee between your hands. Your makeup is smeared and not for any of the reasons you had hoped.

Ted is dead. The rhyme would be hilarious if you weren’t shitting bricks. You’ve been sitting in this interrogation room for 45 something minutes without a single word. Maybe they’re sweating you out. Can’t imagine why. You couldn’t talk if you wanted to without your nerves shooting up from your stomach.

You have no idea where Mark is. He had taken you back to the station with him but by the time you got there, someone was pulling you in for questioning. You couldn’t help but wonder if Mark’s in the same spot as you one room over.

Finally, finally, the door opens. A plain looking detective enters with a folder, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and takes a seat across from you.

“What time is it?” You ask weakly. He pauses like he wasn’t expecting you to talk first. He checks his watch.

“Uh, 2:37.”

You nod mutely and stare at the mirror over his shoulder.

“Can I ask a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why do you guys still do the one way mirror thing?” You nod to over his shoulder. “Everybody knows what it is because of the movies. So why bother?”

The detective just stares at you. You wonder if he’s stupid.

“You gonna tell me your name?”

He blinks, flips open the folder.

“I’m Detective Gibson. Sorry you had to wait so long.”

“Did you have more people to hassle?”

“That’s not fair. None of them were his ex.”

“But I still wasn’t top of the list?”

He digests your comment before chucking. “Alright, you got me. So we wanted you to sit for a little while.”

“A waste of your time and mine,” you mutter.

“Yeah, seems that you had a hot date with Detective Hoffman, is that right?”

“You gonna book me for conflict of interest?”

“Booking? Getting a little ahead of ourselves. I haven’t even had a chance to tell you what’s in the folder.”

“Nothing of substance.”

“No?”

“No, because there’s nothing there. Let’s just get this first bit out of the way. You don’t intimidate me. Am I here because you think I killed Ted? Is that it? You have a stack of 8 by 10 glossy photos of me with a black eye? How about a broken arm? And yet he never got booked for it.”

“Sounds like a motive.”

You chuckle humorlessly and bury your face in your hands.

“Uh-fucking-believable. Where’s Mark? You shaking him down, too?”

Gibson is quiet again, then shuffles the papers.

“Do you know where you were on July 9th?”

“Last Monday? Depends on the time. Probably work. If not work, home. Hey, you know who you could ask? The person you guys have had tracking my every move for two fucking weeks!”

He’s not smiling but you can tell the fucker is satisfied with your outburst.

“Admissible in court?” You scoff. “I don’t get it. That’s where I was. You don’t have a case. Let me go home so I can mourn and take off my makeup.”

He cocks his head. “Mourn?”

“He was a piece of shit but he was a human being, and I used to love him. I don’t care. No one deserves to die in one of those fucking monstrosities.”

“You draw a pretty clear line, morally.”

“Yes, it’s all a part of my master plan. Can I please go home?”

“Just a few more questions.” He pulls a specific photo. “Take a look at this for me.”

You look, and then grimace at the image. It’s Ted, his arms separated from his body, laying face down in a pool of blood and viscera.

“Jesus,” you groan. Tears start to pool at the corners of your eyes as you force your head over your shoulder.

“You barely looked.”

“I saw enough. Stop fucking with me. I told you all I know. I cut ties with him after his last stint. I don’t do anything. I’m a waitress. I don’t have friends, I don’t leave my apartment. I don’t do anything.” You realize halfway through your memorized spiel that you’re crying. “I don’t know why this shit is following me around but I don’t want it. Any of it. Please just let me go home.”

There’s silence as you shake and let the tears fall from your eyes.

You feel a hand come to yours and you jerk it away like it burned you, suddenly turning back to Gibson with a fury.

“Get the fuck away from me!” You hiss, backing up in your chair. Gibson raises his hands.

“Woah, okay, easy. Alright. I see no reason to keep you any longer. Come on.”

He replaces the papers in his folder and you both stand. You keep your distance but as he holds the door open you realize he’s going to make you pass him. You tense as you do so, feeling his scrutinous eyes on your back. You hate him, he’s an asshole, but you can’t get a read on him. Whatever. You’re exhausted. All you want to do is go home and sleep.

You stumble out of the interrogation room and into the main room of the station, heels in hand. The few people present are watching you. You only have eyes for the door at the end of the hall.

But then a hand is between your shoulder blades and you feel Mark’s heat next to you, smell his cologne. But he doesn’t follow you.

“What the fuck is your problem, Gibson!?”

You turn and Mark has Gibson's collar in a vice grip. Gibson shoves Mark’s hands from him and pushes his chest.

“I’m doing my job, Hoffman. Don’t forget, you’re a suspect too, and in danger of ‘reassignment’. Right?”

“You better keep your nose outta things before something happens to it.”

“Is that a threat?”

You grip Mark’s forearm and spin him around, digging your heels to peel him down the hall.

“Mark, come on, please. Please, let’s just go home. Please.”

Mark’s eyes land on you and they soften. You can’t even imagine what you must look like but you don’t care. You squeeze Mark’s arm.

He turns back to Gibson, straightens out his jacket, runs a hand through his hair, and then he’s walking you out of the station with his hand having returned to your back, content to let it remain there.

The trip back to your place is silent. You don’t even remember the last time you had your shoes on. You go straight for the bathroom and shut the door behind you, locking it. Take off your makeup. Brush out your hair. Stare at yourself in the mirror until your reflection becomes blurry and your knuckles are white as you grip grooves into the sink.

You pee, peel off your panty hose, strip down to your underwear.

Hoffman is leaning against the wall outside the door and he does a very good job hiding his reaction at your bare skin. You sigh anyway.

“Sorry- I wasn’t even thinking…”

“No, don’t worry about it. Come on. You need water?”

You nod and drag your feet to your bedroom. Distantly you can make out the sound of your sink in the kitchen. You manage to take off your bra- some scanty thing you’d picked out for Mark, and slip on a band tee. Mark returns to your side. He’s removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves. He has a guiding hand taking you to your bed and you run your hands along his thick forearms.

“Alright, come on,” Mark half warns/half suggests you under your covers. If you were any more cognizant, you’d hate the way he’s walking you around like a child. But child or not, you need comfort.

He tries to turn away but you grab his wrist.

“Please, don’t leave. I don’t want to be alone.”

Mark sighs. “I don’t think…”

“No, not that. Just lay down with me, please. Or sit. Just please don’t leave me.”

Mark leaves your vision and you don’t turn your attention from the window that scared you shitless last week. Then you feel the bed dip at your back. Feel Mark’s strong arms slip across your stomach and rubbing circles into your shoulder.

You turn in to face his chest. Fiddle with the buttons on his shirt. Inhale the smell of him. You run your fingers along his jaw and press your nose to his. He doesn't move; in fact, his breathing has all but stopped.

You press wet lips to his but he doesn’t return. Just presses his lips together until you pull away.

“Not right now, sweetheart. Trust me, you’ll thank me in the morning.”

But he does kiss you on the forehead and you settle for curling into him and let his presence send you into sleep.

#mark hoffman #saw fanfic #mark hoffman x reader #angst #fanfiction #smut

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sisterspooky1013 · 6 months

Text

Gaslight, Chapter 39/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Cal and Mulder carefully explore the forest beyond the retaining wall, keeping a safe distance from anything man made in the hopes of avoiding detection. The earth is slightly raised in an area roughly the size of a city block, and they locate three cleverly disguised ventilation systems adjacent to three even more cleverly disguised doors in the ground around the perimeter of the mound, suggesting the existence of a subterranean structure beneath it.

The main entrance, concealed behind the retaining wall, appears to be nothing more than a vestibule containing a desk and an elevator, though they do not risk drawing close enough to discern whether the desk is occupied. Every now and then someone will emerge from the vestibule to smoke a cigarette or sit in the sun, then scan the badge clipped to their lapel to gain entry back inside.

The men are hunkered down behind a fallen log, watching the door and working out their options.

“The front door seems like a non-starter,” Mulder says, chewing on his thumbnail.

Cal shakes his head.

“All the other doors open from the inside.”

Two men in lab coats emerge from the vestibule, laughing and digging in their pockets. They walk to the outer edge of the parking lot and sit on a rock as one of the men lights his colleague’s cigarette, and then his own.

“Psst,” Cal signals to Mulder before moving closer to the men, who are talking and laughing so loudly they are unlikely to hear the rustle of footfalls in the forest behind them.

“...said I’d take this week off but I totally spaced on even asking so now she’s pissed at me,” the bulkier of the two men says.

“She’ll get over it,” his companion says derisively. “And if you were off this week you would have missed the return of the redhead.”

“Right?” the bulky man says, jabbing the other with his elbow. “And here we thought we’d never get to lay eyes on that little firecracker again.”

“There is a god after all.”

The men erupt into a burst of laughter and Mulder looks at Cal. His jaw is set, his nostrils flaring.

“You know they changed her file to termination, right?” The smaller man says. “Today or tomorrow, I think.”

Mulder’s heart sinks. What if they’re already too late?

“What a fucking waste,” the bulky man says, throwing his cigarette on the ground and grinding it into the pavement with his heel. “If she’s up for termination anyway, you think they’d give me ten minutes alone with her?”

Mulder clenches his fists as the men laugh again at their own cruelty.

“Shit, I’d take five,” the smaller one says. “She’s so tiny, I bet she’s tight as fu—”

Crack crack.

Mulder jumps and his ears begin to ring loudly. The two men slump over, one falling backwards across the rock and the other falling forward onto the ground beside it. He smells the sulfuric funk of gunpowder and looks over at Cal to find him with his weapon still in hand, the muzzle pointing in the direction of the fallen men.

There isn’t time for admonishment; what’s done is done. Now that their presence is sure to be known, all they can do is act as quickly as possible.

“Get the badges,” Cal says, already standing up.

His entire demeanor has shifted, the square of his shoulders confident as he emerges from the edge of the forest and tugs the ID badge off the smaller man’s lab coat. Mulder jogs to catch up with him, and as he rolls the bulky man over to locate his badge, Cal kicks the smaller man in the ribs and mutters something in Spanish that Mulder can’t decipher.

Mulder readies his weapon as they cross quickly to the vestibule and scan one of the badges on a reader beside the glass doors. The doors slide open and a blast of temperature-controlled air pushes down on them as they enter and find a man standing behind the desk with a phone to his ear. The man looks up sharply and opens his mouth to speak.

Crack.

Mulder looks down at the smoking gun in his own hands, surprised. Cal has already moved on to calling the elevator, and when Mulder steps behind the desk to hang up the phone he sees a small bank of screens displaying the feed from several security cameras. He quickly scans them, looking for Scully, but they appear to be mostly hallways or exit and entry points. On one of the screens, four men with long guns are boarding the elevator on another floor.

“Stairs,” Mulder says, indicating a door behind the desk as he drags the body of the man he shot out of the way.

Before following Cal into the stairwell, he smashes the handle of his gun against each of the small screens, rendering them useless. They clamber down the stairs and through the first available door, which deposits them into one end of a long, vacant hallway.

“Start clearing rooms,” Mulder instructs him, and they cling to opposite sides of the hall, scanning their pilfered badges and flinging doors open one by one.

The first room Mulder looks into is a lab of some kind, full of computers, microscopes, and a large centrifuge. The second looks like a hospital room.

Crack.

He looks over his shoulder to see Cal lowering his gun and moving to the next room. The shriek of a fire alarm sounds off, and red lights begin flashing overhead. Behind them, the elevator dings to announce its impending arrival.

“Incoming,” he calls across the hall, ducking into an open doorway as Cal does the same.

The two men make eye contact, and Mulder holds up four fingers, then points two towards Cal and two towards himself. Divide and conquer. Cal nods once.

The elevator doors slide open, and Cal counts down 3, 2, 1 on his fingers before they simultaneously lean through the doorways and open fire.

Crack crack crack. Crack. Crack crack crack crack.

Gunfire rings out against the persistent blare of the fire alarm. Mulder ducks back to take cover before popping out again, and the four men are quickly reduced to two, and then one, and then zero. He looks across the hall, relieved to see Cal still standing, though the floor is littered with chunks of drywall and flecks of blood in addition to the lifeless bodies of the four men.

“You okay?” he asks breathlessly, and Cal nods.

Mulder drops the magazine on his weapon and counts five rounds remaining.

“Let’s go,” Cal says, and they continue down the hall until they come to a four-way intersection. In all three directions, the halls are lined with closed doors and look nearly identical. “Should we split up?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “You check down that way, I’ll check this way, and we’ll meet back here,” he says, gesturing with his weapon down the hall to their left and then the one straight ahead.

Cal goes left, and Mulder continues on straight, opening doors to rooms full of filing cabinets, more hospital rooms, and others that are filled with banks of computers and industrial size printers. He clears each room, and then clears the hallway before stepping back out, slowly working his way down. When he pushes open the door to the next room, he hears a gasp and a whimper.

“I’m armed,” he announces, scanning the room with his eyes. “Come forward with your hands up.”

The room is dim, but the flashing of the light on the fire alarm illuminates it in little bursts.

“Please don’t hurt me,” a tiny voice says, and he follows the sound to a desk in the corner, beneath which he can see a person curled in the fetal position.

“Come out with your hands up,” he repeats, and a middle aged woman wriggles out from beneath the desk and then slowly stands. She holds her trembling hands up beside her head, her eyes pinned to the floor. “I’m looking for Dana Scully, or Dana Rose,” he says sternly. “Where is she?”

The woman shakes her head.

“I don’t know. I just work on documents, I don’t see anyone. I swear, I don’t know anything. Please, don’t hurt me,” she blubbers.

Mulder considers his options. She doesn’t appear to be a threat.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he says, and she flashes her eyes up to him for just a split second. “Tell me how to get out of here without being seen and I’ll let you go.”

She looks up at him again, zeroing in on the gun in his hand.

“There’s a hatch in Mr. Spender’s office,” she says. “Under his desk. It’ll take you down to the river.”

“Show me,” Mulder orders, and she flinches as though struck.

He clears the hallway and gestures for her to go first, then follows her to where the hall dead-ends with a door marked “exit.” When they arrive outside the last door before the exit, she points to it and says, “In here.”

Mulder hears the crash of a door flying open and boots filing into the hallway somewhere out of sight. The woman scrambles through the exit, her sheer level of terror instilling confidence that she won’t wait around to give away his location. He scans the badge and slips through the door, quietly pulling it closed behind him. He stays close, straining to listen for the sound of footsteps over the fire alarm. He needs to find Scully and bring her back here. He hopes that Cal has had more luck.

“Jeff, what a pleasant surprise.”

Mulder wheels around, weapon drawn, to find his father—or the man he thought was his father—seated behind the desk.

“Where’s Scully?” he demands, stepping closer and leveling his gun on the man’s chest.

“Scully?” his father repeats, feigning ignorance. “Can’t say that I’m familiar. What brings you by, Jeff? Wanted to see what the old man does for work?”

Mulder’s blood boils as he watches the wrinkly bastard lean back in his chair and light a cigarette like he hasn’t a care in the world.

“Cut the act,” he growls. “I know who you are.”

A sinister smile blooms on the man’s face.

“Do you?”

Mulder flinches when someone begins to pound on the door behind him.

“Mr. Spender!” a voice calls out from the other side. “Permission to enter, sir?”

Mulder flicks off the safety on his gun, keeping it trained on Spender.

“Call them off,” he says in a low voice.

“Or what, you’ll shoot me?” Spender mocks him. “What do you think will become of you then?”

“I’d rather die trying than let you walk out of here after what you did to me and Scully,” Mulder hisses, keeping his voice low so he won’t be heard through the door.

There is another series of desperate knocks.

Spender sighs resignedly and slowly rises from his chair, and Mulder moves to stand behind the door, never taking the gun off him. He watches the side of Spender’s face as he opens the door and greets the men in the hallway with casual indifference.

“How might I be of assistance, Sergeant O’Leary?”

“The building has been breached, sir. Two men, both armed,” a man barks with military precision.

“Have the staff been evacuated?” Spender asks.

“Yes, sir, but there were casualties.”

“Unfortunate,” Spender says blandly. “Well, no use in stirring up a ruckus down here. Post at the exits up top and wait for them to come out. They can’t very well stay underground forever.”

“Yes, sir. What about you, sir? Can we escort you up?”

“That won’t be necessary, Sergeant, I will account for myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

Spender stands in the open doorway as the patter of the mens’ boots fades away. As he closes the door, he quickly pivots his body to face Mulder’s and takes one step forward. Mulder feels the press of something firm against his belly.

“You think you’re the only one with a gun, Jeff?” Spender asks derisively, his sour tobacco breath stinging Mulder’s eyes. “Diana has been looking everywhere for you. She’s worried sick.”

“Diana is a liar, and so are you,” Mulder spits at him, pressing the muzzle of his gun against the old man’s temple.

“Diana is the only reason you’re going to walk out of here alive, son. That is if you’d be so kind as to take that gun off me.”

Mulder presses it into his crepey skin more firmly, his entire body shaking with anger.

“Fuck. You.”

“All right,” Spender says with a sigh. “Let me more clearly outline your options. Shoot me, and if you manage to exit this bunker without incident—which is unlikely—Agent Scully will be dead within a month.”

Mulder tries not to react to this information.

“What did you do to her?” he growls.

“I’d be happy to answer that, however I find it difficult to think with a gun pointed at my head, which brings me to your second option. Put the gun down, and we can have a conversation.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Perhaps not, but you’re forgetting that I know your greatest weakness, Jeff. The one thing you’d be willing to die to protect.” Mulder stares into his watery blue eyes and finds nothing behind them. No empathy, no humanity, no soul. Slowly, he lowers his gun, and the old man cracks a smug little smile. “I knew you’d be reasonable, particularly when it comes to her. Set the gun on the ground, slowly.” Mulder sinks down to the floor and Spender takes one step back, keeping his own weapon trained on Mulder’s head. “And your backup too, while you’re down there. I recall that you’re partial to an ankle carry.” Mulder’s shoulders slump with defeat, and he pulls up his pant leg to remove his back up weapon and sets it on the floor as well. “Very good, son. Have a seat at my desk, won’t you? There are some things we need to discuss.”

Scully is on her knees at the foot of the bed, hands clasped under her chin, praying to every saint who could possibly help her.

“Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle…” She remembers the beginning of the old-fashioned prayer, something her mother used to say, but only snippets here and there after that. “Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil …. thrust into hell Satan and all evil spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls.”

No one has entered her room since last night. She’s been given no food, though she has gratefully been able to drink water from the tap in the bathroom. She’s heard footsteps and silence, and more recently shouting and gunfire. When the fire alarm started going off, she dropped to her knees and begged that she would not burn up here. That this would not be the end.

She tries to think of the other saints her mother called on in desperate times. “St. Anthony,” she whispers. “I implore you.”

Waiting to die is something she has experience with. She cannot help but compare the experience of waiting for disease to ravage your body beyond the point of survival, and waiting for another human being to intentionally and ruthlessly stop the clock on your life. To steal from you each of your future days, all the experiences you’ve yet to have, every joy and sorrow and celebration and heartache.

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”

She wishes she could remember more. More of the happy moments, memories of her father and Missy. She wishes she had more time to tell Mulder about all the things he can’t recall, to tell him the story of how they found their way to one another. She thinks of Abby and Peter growing up with the knowledge that their mother went to work one day and never came home, and wonders what Cal will tell them, and what he’ll do when the Numerol runs out. There are so many things left unfinished. So many words left unsaid.

“Oh, please, God,” she wails, her knees aching and her cheeks wet.

The latch on the door thunks, and Scully scrambles to her feet. She looks for something, anything, to use as a weapon, but of course there is nothing; they would anticipate such things in a place like this. She backs away from the door, her fingers running over an invisible rosary, and awaits her fate.

The door springs open and slams against the wall, and a man pivots around the corner, gun drawn. Scully instinctively brings her hands up to cover her face, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she continues to recite prayers for mercy in her head.

“Mija?”

Slowly, she lowers her hands and opens her eyes.

“Oh my god.”

They collide in the center of the room, her arms going around his neck while his encircle her waist.

“Are you okay? God, Dana, I was so scared. I was so scared I’d never see you again.”

Trembling with relief, she tucks her face into the crook of his neck to breathe in the familiar smell of his sweat. He shuffles them over half a foot so he can set the gun down on the bed and then takes her face in his hands, looking into her eyes before he kisses her over and over, like he’s making up for all the days he missed.

“Did they hurt you?” he asks, still holding her close.

She shakes her head.

“How did you find me?”

“They sent a letter asking me to bring the kids out here—”

“The kids are here?” she interjects as her stomach drops out.

“No, it’s just me and Mulder.”

She blinks at him as her two worlds merge into one in her mind.

“Mulder is here?”

Cal nods.

“We split up to look for you, but now that I found you we need to get back to him and get the fuck out of here.”

“Okay,” she says, her mind reeling. “Do you know the way?”

“Yes and no,” he says, releasing her and retrieving his gun. “I haven’t seen anybody out there in a few minutes, but that doesn’t mean we won’t run into anyone. And I don’t know what’s going on up top.”

He moves toward the door, but Scully grabs his arm to stop him and he looks back at her expectantly.

“Let me take the gun,” she says, holding her hand out, and he throws her an incredulous look.

“Do you know how to fire a gun, mija?” he asks, and she rolls her eyes.

“Do you?”

Cal quirks a smile and crouches down to unstrap a second weapon from his ankle.

“I guess there’s a lot we don’t know about each other,” he says fondly as he stands and holds the two pistols out, allowing her to select one.

“I guess so,” she agrees, returning his smile.

He scans the badge, and she opens the door and clears the hallway.

“Let’s go,” she whispers over her shoulder, and as they creep down the hall she can’t help but observe how odd it is to have someone who is not Mulder by her side in this way.

“You should know that this was never my intention,” Spender says.

He’s standing in front of the desk, a cigarette in one hand and a gun in the other. Mulder sits in a chair behind it, his hands laid flat on his knees, per Spender’s direction, and his jaw clenched so tightly that it’s beginning to ache. The blare of the fire alarm has become almost unnoticeable, for as long as it’s been going off, save for the dull throb above his ears that beats in time with each shrill blast.

Mulder doesn’t respond to the man’s statement. If his goal is to engender sympathy, it’s a wasted effort. The only feeling he can summon when looking at the bastard’s corrugate face is hatred.

“My associates ordered your execution,” Spender continues. “This was the only way to save your life, and Agent Scully’s.”

Mulder stares at him, unblinking. The old man takes a slow, deliberate drag on his cigarette, never taking his eyes off Mulder. When he speaks, smoke haphazardly curls out around his lips and nose, giving him the appearance of a dragon.

“I’d like to propose an agreement,” he begins, but Mulder cuts him off.

“I’m not interested in making a deal with the devil.”

There’s a heavy pause. A silent battle of wills.

“Are you interested in seeing Agent Scully live?” Spender finally asks, and Mulder digs his fingers into his kneecaps as he resists the urge to jump over the desk and throttle him, gun be damned.

“What do you want?” he asks flatly.

“I want you to come work with me,” he says, his tone suggesting that this is an offer that Mulder should find appealing. “We’ll strike out on our own. You can gain access to the answers you’ve so ardently sought.”

Mulder scoffs.

“Maybe that would have been a compelling offer before, but you seem to forget that you erased my memory,” he says bitingly. “I don’t remember what I know, I don’t remember what I saw, and I sure as shit don’t need answers to questions I can’t remember asking.”

He sees a flash of emotion in the old man’s eyes, but it’s quickly concealed.

“Fair point,” Spender says, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Stand up, son.” Mulder hesitates, then slowly rises from the chair. “Come, let’s pay a visit to Agent Scully. Perhaps she can help you see reason.”

“Leave Scully out of this,” Mulder says urgently, desperation taking root in his chest. “Do whatever you want to me, but let her go.”

Spender gestures with his gun, and Mulder reluctantly moves toward the door.

“That wouldn’t suffice, I’m afraid,” the old man says as he positions himself right behind Mulder, holding the gun inches from his lower back. “Please don’t take any offense, but if there’s one thing I’ve taken from this experience, it’s that there is no Mulder without Scully. You agree to work with me and you both live, or you refuse and you both die. I will do you and Agent Scully the courtesy of allowing you to decide which option suits you best.”

He prods the gun against Mulder’s lower back, urging him forward. They enter the hallway and the shriek of the fire alarm intensifies as it bounces off the high ceilings and empty walls. Mulder walks slowly, his mind racing as he tries to work out his next move. Where the fuck is Cal?

“Just a bit further, then turn right,” the old man says as they near the place where the two halls intersect.

Just ahead of them, from around the very corner they were about to turn, Scully steps out, gun drawn, and Mulder’s knees nearly buckle.

“Stop right there.”

She stands with her feet shoulder width apart, elbows locked, upper torso pitched slightly forward. In her periphery, Cal freezes just before he turns the corner and then backs up several steps, staying hidden from view.

“Agent Scully,” the old man says in an unfitting jovial tone. “We were just on our way to your room.”

“Let him go,” Scully demands.

Mulder, who is standing just ahead and partially in front of the smoking man, looks at her with a pained expression that makes her heart sink.

“I’d like to,” Spender coos, stepping out just enough for her to see the gun in his hand before he lifts it to Mulder’s head. A cold slice of fear cuts through her and she feels her arms begin to tremble. “But I’m afraid that I’ll need some assurances before doing so.”

Scully hears the click of a door opening and closing, but she keeps her eyes on Spender to avoid giving Cal away.

“What do you want?” she asks, her voice breaking though she’s trying very hard to remain calm.

“There will be time to discuss that,” the old man says, “but first I’ll need you to put down your weapon so we can have a civil conversation.”

Scully flashes her eyes over to Mulder. He looks agonized and, uncharacteristically, afraid. She asks him a question with her eyes, and he answers with a tiny bob of his head. Slowly, she bends down and sets the pistol on the floor, keeping her eyes on Spender the entire time.

“There we are, now slide it on over,” Spender says, and she gently pushes the gun across the waxy linoleum. Spender retrieves it and points it at her, then, with a weapon in each hand, looks back and forth between Mulder and Scully. “Shall we convene in my office?” he asks. “It’s awfully loud out here. Hands up if you will, Agent Scully, then come this way.”

Scully holds her hands up near her shoulders, palms out, and slowly walks towards Mulder. She looks for some indication of what they should do, a glance or a tilt of his head, or even a reassuring nod. But he looks abjectly miserable and somehow apologetic, and she realizes that they may not make it out of here alive.

From the corner of her eye she sees movement at the far end of the hallway, behind Spender, and she looks just as Cal steps through an open door, gun drawn, his face a mask of hatred.

“Vaya con dios, pendejo,” he calls out, drawing Spender’s attention.

Time seems to slow down and speed up all at once. Spender’s head whips around to look at Cal, the gun he’d been aiming at Mulder following suit. Mulder, seeing an opportunity, steps forward and slams his fist down against the old man’s other arm, attempting to knock the gun he has on Scully out of his hand.

Crack crack crack.

A light bursts, sending shards of glass raining down, and Scully ducks and covers her head. The fire alarm continues to scream, and she holds her breath and waits for pain, or more gunfire, or the miracle she prayed for.

“Scully.”

She lifts her head at the sound of Mulder’s voice. He’s standing near the side of the hallway, his shirt and arms flecked with blood. The smoking man lies motionless at his feet, and when Scully steps forward she sees that the old man’s eyes are open, a single gunshot wound centered between his eyebrows.

She looks at Mulder’s face, but he isn’t looking at the smoking man. She follows his line of sight to the end of the hallway where Cal is lying on his back, his formerly white T-shirt drenched with blood and his legs curled up toward his belly.

She’s beside him in an instant, dropping to her knees and pressing her palm firmly over the wound on his chest. The location of it and the amount of blood already pooling beneath him on the floor tell her that his prospects aren’t good.

“Cal,” she says tightly, tears already thickening her throat.

His panic-stricken eyes find hers, and she touches his cheek to comfort him.

“Did I get him?” he sputters, struggling for air.

Scully nods and the tears break loose, streaming down her cheeks.

“Right between the eyes. You’re a good shot,” she says, attempting a smile.

“I told you,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking. He coughs and blood wets his lips. “I don’t think I’m gonna make it, Mija.”

She can’t bring herself to lie to him, to tell him that he’ll be okay. She leans forward and kisses his forehead, allowing her lips to linger.

“I’m so sorry,” she says against his skin before sitting up again. “I’m sorry you got pulled into all this.”

Her hand over his chest is dark with blood. It pools in the spaces between her fingers and wets her knees. There is so much of it.

Cal slowly shakes his head.

“Don’t ever be sorry,” he says, then pulls in a ragged gasp. “Being your husband…” he closes his eyes briefly, then opens them again. “This has been the best two months of my life, with you and the kids. I wouldn’t take it back.”

Scully chokes out a sob.

“You were a great husband,” she says softly, running her hand over the top of his head. “The best father.”

Cal closes his eyes and smiles. His breathing is becoming more shallow, and she can feel his heart slowing under her hand.

“Sweet Caroline,” he sings slowly, very off-key, and then opens his eyes and looks at her.

Scully’s face contorts. She can hardly manage to speak.

“Bah, bah, bah,” she whispers.

“Good times…never seemed so good,” he continues, his eyes taking longer to open again on each blink.

“So good, so good, so good,” she rasps.

“I’ve been inclined…to believe…they never…”

His voice fades away and his eyes lose focus. She watches as all the muscles in his body relax, and his head falls to the side.

“Oh, god,” Scully keens, digging her fingers into his chest.

She leans over him, kissing his forehead and his cheeks. She whispers in his ear her thanks for his kindness and the love he showed her. She tells him that she’ll never forget what he did for her.

Mulder touches her back and she looks up at him.

“We need to go,” he says somberly. “I’m sorry.”

Scully nods, turning back to Cal one last time. She runs her fingers over his eyelids to close them, kisses him once more on the forehead, then picks up the gun lying on the floor by his hip.

When she stands, Mulder pulls her into a brief hug, just the tiniest shred of comfort before they must continue on. She follows him into an office across the hall where there is an open hatch in the middle of the floor.

“This way,” he says gently, encouraging her down. “Let’s get out of here.”

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #xf fanfic #x files #the x-files #xfiles #thexfiles

31 notes · View notes

octavare · 6 months

Text

Alright children, listen up

This is Agent Cynthia Vance. She’s an Invincible oc. If you have seen my post history you know damn well where this is going.

(I tried drawing her in the comics art style as well, referencing even the pose from there. It’s hard I’ll say that lol).

Anyway here’s the run down:

- Was initially a field agent of the GDA. No powers, but genius intellect and made a lot of tech to assist in the process.

- Took a beating at one point. Lost right arm. The GDA replaced it with a prosthetic. She made some of her own enhancements, like embedding a semi auto pistol into her hand. (The muzzle retracts when not in use). This is AFTER the next two bullet points.

- Was pretty good ‘friends’ with Cecil before his accident, they were on the same strike team. He had put in a word for her which helped her gain her position. Kept their relationship secret, though.

- Cecil has his accident. She waits with him in recovery for almost the whole time. He proposes.

- Was promoted to head of technology and armaments. Worked on the foundations of some key technology used by the GDA (cloaking devices, teleportation, etc).

- After Cecil’s incident, she pleaded the director into letting him out of jail. He agreed and the two of them persuaded him to take on the role of director.

- Oversaw a lot of technology developments for a few years (most notably, teleportation) before making a groundbreaking discovery. Discovered a plane adjacent to ours and taking up the same cosmological space. Entities in this plane were immune to damage and other manipulation from entities in the material (our) plane.

- Big lightbulbs going off in Vance and Cecil’s heads. This shit is can be very useful. Mutually agree to look further into it.

- Vance figures that being able to manipulate the plane temporally locally to each entity would be useful. Aka, freezing individuals in time while in the plane. Freezing someone in time allows for easy dispatch, no matter who you are.

- Goes to test out the stasis tech. It can only be activated from inside the rift. Something goes wrong, and it affects Vance, now in suspended animation.

- Cecil orders the tech guys to fix it. They can’t figure it out. Months pass. A year passes. They’ve essentially given up. Another fucking reminder of lives lost due to his negligence. (It wasn’t really his fault but he thinks it was)

- Cecil grows cold. Was already cold to begin with, though. Comes to conclusion that he shouldn’t be forming meaningful relationships with people. It will affect his mental state and make him more prone to error. Gives up on romance and friendships. Never become too attached. Is still dedicated to her, though, and tells people that he is widowed. The accident had to be kept private since the project was classified.

- 8 years pass. Omni-man crisis. Etc. Eventually recruits Robot/Rudy. Rudy is trying to figure out Cecil (iykyk). Discovers Vance. Succeeds in freeing her.

- Vance says she feels like a split second passed: what happened? Rudy tells her, her heart sinks. Oh fuck. “Where’s Cecil?”

- Cecil hears of this and looses his shit. Something he’d never anticipated happening, happened. Has to reevaluate the last 8 years of his life. He was damaged.

- He sees Vance. Vance doesn’t care that he looks 8 (or more let’s be real) years older than her now. She still sees him for what he is. Cecil realizes that his view of relationships was fucked up. Essentially he was coping for his own loss. It comes back to him. What he really felt was devotion, not reclusion. They reunite.

There’s a little more but it’s CoMiC sPoIlErS and major ones at that so it will be omitted. Honestly might be better off without those details anyway.

Now burn me alive pls

#mp ocs #invincible cynthia #mp art #invincible scars and stripes #Cynthia Stedman

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specialagentlokitty · 2 months

Text

Mr Evershed x teen!reader - weight of the world

Part 1:

Sitting on the step to the school, you ran a hand down your face, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to fight back a yawn.

“You’re late.” Someone spoke.

You grumbled a little, looking up at the man.

“Well no shit Tim, guess who was fucking up all night somewhere under Ackley bridge because I was sent on a wild goose chase!” You hissed.

He raised his hands, sitting next to you on the step.

“Look, I’m just the messenger here kid, I’m told to tell you where the words are, that’s it.”

“Yeah, well I couldn’t get all the way through so I have to go back down tonight, finish the last half. I found a passage to cut my time a little bit.”

He nodded his head.

Reaching into the pocket of your blazer, you pulled out some old paper and you opened it, taking the pen from you pocket as you drew along a path.

“This route here was pretty active, like a lot more than normal.” You explained.

“Do you know why?”

“My guess? Maybe someone else has recently been there, I’ve no idea.”

Tim nodded his head, taking the pen and map from you, and he circled a certain part of the map.

“We have reason to believe you’ll find the word here somewhere, or in the nearby area.”

You sighed, taking the pen and map, putting them back into your pocket.

“I don’t even want to do this, just send somebody else I don’t care.”

“You’re the only person who can do this kid, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah yeah the whole world rests on me, without me everything is gone. Yeah.”

You pushed yourself up from the step, and you looked at your phone for the time.

“I’ll go finish this now so let the old bastards know that their little pet is doing what I’ve been told.”

“(Y/N) seriously? Come on?”

You stuck your middle finger up at him as you made your way back towards the reception so you could leave.

“Hey! Hey!” Mr Evershed called.

He set the papers down he was holding on the desk, setting his cup down as well.

“(Y/N) you can’t just walk out of here.”

“Watch me because I can.”

“Let’s talk about this first, please?”

You waved your hand dismissively at him as you pushed the front door open, making your way out.

“(Y/N)!”

“I’m busy!”

“And you need to be in school!”

You didn’t reply, you just made your way to the gate, pushing it open so you could step outside and you carried on down the street.

It didn’t take long to walk to where you needed to be, and you held your hand out to open the doorway before entering.

You couldn’t be bothered to do this, and you didn’t want to do it but you had absolutely no choice at this point they were going to be on back for however long this took.

The one before you had died trying, and they had been training you since you were a kid for this whole thing.

It took hours for you to finally get to where you had to be, your body ached from being thrown around, you had numerous cuts and injuries, but finally you stood in front of the wall.

Your eyes scanned over the words until you found one drawing your attention and you stared at it for a few minutes, finally burning the word into your brain.

You left, making your way to the body of the creature you had killed, and you pulled the mask from its face, picking up the staff as well.

Did you need it? No. But it was pretty cool looking, so you took it, along with some other things you found.

You found the exit, and left, coming out on the other side of Ackley and you found it was dark.

Thankfully you lived closer to this side, so you walked home, making your way down stairs to your basement, you set the staff on the table, and you put the mask on the wall with the others.

Heading back upstairs, you took a shower, ignoring the stinging of your wounds, and you held your hand out, a small golden glow circling them, closing them and healing them into small scars.

Getting dried, you changed into some more comfortable clothes and headed back to your basement.

Looking at the larger map, you drew a small X on it where you just been, looking at all the others.

Pulling up a chair, you sat on your knees as you began to flick through some reports that you were given to read.

How they had managed to fuck up twice all those years ago was beyond you, now their problem was your problem and you didn’t want it to be.

Setting the reports down, you got up, taking the staff into a different room, and you set it on the enchanting table, flicking through the pages of a book to find the right one.

You grabbed a stone, and set it on the table as well, whispering the ancient language to transfer the power from the staff to the stone.

The staff broke, and you grabbed the stone, carefully placing it in a holder, taking a slip of parchment to write what it was and placed it behind it.

You tossed the bow broke staff in the corner with the others, and you made your way upstairs to the sofa to lay down.

The dog in front of the fire whined a little, his tail thudding against the ground and you smiled, patting your stomach.

“Come on Meeko.”

He barked, jumping up to jump on you, making you groan in pain, and he laid down, resting his head on your stomach as you ruffled the fur on his back.

You were always exhausted so for you sleep came easily, and you didn’t wake up until the morning light came filtering through the window, and your alarm resounded through the room.

You sat up, turning your alarm off and looked at the time.

“Come on Meek, let’s get breakfast.”

The dogs ears perked up and you smiled.

“You want breakfast buddy?”

His tail waged a little bit, and he peered up at you but didn’t move his head.

“Oh does the silly boy need his morning kiss?”

Meeko wagged his tail even more and you smiled, leaning down you kissed his head, and he sat up, stretching before lazily following you to the kitchen.

You made his breakfast first before sitting down with yours, nibbling at the bread as you gathered your other uniform from the dryer.

Putting it on, you let Meeko out the back for half an hour, sitting on the step as you watched him happily run around the garden.

“So, how did it go?” Tim asked.

You titled your head back up at him.

“Fine, I got it.”

“Good, you just need to practice it now. Which was it?”

“Aura whisper, pretty useless to be honest.”

“Well, anything helps. Let’s go, you’re in enough trouble as it is.”

You sighed, calling your dog back inside, and you grabbed your bag, swinging it over your shoulder.

It only contained one object, but that object was important, so you couldn’t let it ought of your sight in case any trouble happened.

“I still don’t get why I have to attend school.”

“Because you need to blend in. That’s what the greybeards said. You have to blend in while working here.”

“Still don’t get why it’s so important…” you grumbled.

You climbed into the car, putting your seatbelt on.

“Because this is going to be the site where the gate to the heavens is going to open, that’s the day you’re going to have to fight him.”

“I already know the prophecy.”

You turned your attention out the window.

“Exactly, so you need to take this seriously (Y/N). You are the chosen one, the dragonborn. This is your destiny.”

“I know, okay? Trust me I’ve been reminded of this my whole fucking life.” You snapped.

Tim sighed, glancing at you before turning his attention back to the road.

“I know this isn’t what you asked for kiddo, I know it isn’t fair and it’s not right, but I swear I did try get them to push this further down the line, but they’re insistent that it has to be done. You have to make sure you’re ready now.”

“We don’t even know when this event is going to happen… it could be weeks.. could be years… could be after I’m dead…”

“I know, but the greybeards want you to be ready. They want you to be fully trained for when it does happen. They’re thinking of you.”

“They’re thinking of themselves. You can speak the language why can’t you do it?”

Tim sighed again, pulling his car into a parking spot in front of the school.

You climbed out, and he followed you over to one of the benches in the reception, sitting down next to you.

“I can speak Dovah, yes, but not like you. You have the soul of a dragon (Y/N), which means you’ve got the power to end this.”

“So did the previous dragonborn, didn’t do them much good now did it? No, they just sent Alduin forward in time like the one before them.”

“That’s why I’m working on fixing whatever enchantment they used, okay? I’m going to make sure that I have all the pieces.”

You looked at your mentor, and he smiled at you.

“I know you want a normal life, and I’m really sorry you can’t have one.”

“I don’t even know why I’m disappointed, I should be used to it.”

“No, you shouldn’t. It isn’t fair, okay? It isn’t, no amount of pressure should ever be put on a teenager, especially not this. But the. The weight of trying to take lessons and pass exams? That’s not fair.”

You shrugged a little bit, resting your head back n the wall as you closed your eyes.

“It is what it is.”

Tim sighed, standing up as he took your bag.

“I’ll keep this in my office.”

You just nodded your head, listening to the sound of him walking away, and you opened your eyes, staring up at the ceiling.

You were angry.

Not with Tim.

He had been the only person in your corner for as long as you could remember, but with everything else.

With your ancestors for messing this up, with Alduin, with the mages running around, the secret communities who aren’t doing much to help you, the greybeards, yourself.

You just held resentment towards everything and anything.

You didn’t want any of this.

Taking a deep breath, you crouched down, leg bouncing up and down as you stared at your hands, covered in small scars, one large one going over the back of your right hand.

No teenager should have to carry this amount of responsibility, these amounts of scars.

“Good morning (Y/N).”

You looked up from your hands.

“Mr Evershed.” You greeted.

He pointed towards his office and you nodded, getting up to follow him.

Walking inside, you stand down in one of the chairs while he draped his jacket on the coat hook, setting his bag next to his desk.

“Are you ready to talk about yesterday?” He asked.

“Yeah I guess.”

He nodded, sitting down.

“So, would you like to tell me what happened? Why did you leave a few hours into the day?”

“I was tired, just wanted to go home and sleep really.”

“(Y/N) that’s no excuse to leave the way you did, I understand you may be tired but so are most of the students in this school. Not only that but you’ve been leaving most of your lessons, you never do your homework. You only moved here last year yet you’re quickly becoming one of the biggest red flagged students here.”

You shrugged a little.

“So what? My grades are fine right?”

“Yes but that’s aside from the point. You can’t behave like this, and I am going to have to place you in resolve for the day.”

“Fine, okay. I’ll go to resolve.”

“That willingly?”

“I did wrong, I know that. Why deny something I know I did and waste both our time?”

He sighed softly.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Why?”

Mr Evershed gestured to the side of his head.

“Because you’ve got a bruise here, if you’re having problems with a student, somebody at home you know you can talk to me right?”

You furrowed your brows a little, pulling your phone out so you could have a look.

He was right, you had a small bruise on the side of your head, going past your hairline.

You put your phone back into your pocket.

“I’m not having any trouble with anybody, I fell on the sofa so maybe my dog accidentally hit me with a toy or something, he does that sometimes.”

“This is a safe place (Y/N).”

“If that’s everything I’m going to resolve.”

You got up, leaving the room and Mr Evershed sighed to himself again.

You had been at the school for just over a year now, and yet nobody could ever get you to open up, you just weren’t interested, you had a cold hard stare that could rival any soldiers and he was sure of it.

Most teachers were concerned about you but with no hard evidence of anything they couldn’t help you or figure out what was going on.

All he could do was go to resolve later on to check on you, make sure that you were still there and working like you were supposed to be.

For now, he would just try get in contact with your guardians to see if he was able to hold a meeting with them about your behaviour and lack of interest in anything

#ackley bridge #ackley bridge imagine #ackley bridge x reader #ackley bridge x you #mr evershed #mr evershed x reader #mr evershed imagine #mr evershed x you

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