#these are not suicid*l thoughts i do not feel like that anymore i genuinely enjoy living and being alive so much in just so so tired | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sentientgolfball · 7 months

Note

i love soft phantom but how about a scenario of a new ghoul or some other demon species acting predatory towards reader and phantom being all protecting and aggressive!!! 🤭

When I saw this one I knew I had to save it :> consider this Golfball's Halloween special

Tags: nothing too overtly gory, but there's some description of injury, demon Phantom, blood drinking, extremely brief mention of suicide

My requests are open !

Phantom has always been a cheerful ghoul, ever since the day he was summoned. He was always willing to help where it was needed and eager to learn about the strange world of humanity. He was talkative and affectionate, kind and curious. He’s someone you considered a friend with how often he’d swing by to help you where he could. But something has been off lately.

It started with snide comments and jokes that were a bit too personal. That quickly turned into stealing your things and hiding them where you’d never find them. Bleeding into the shadows just to pop out when you thought you were alone. The worst part was nobody else seemed to notice his change. You tried venting to your friends one night and all you received were confused looks and questions. He only seemed to be treating you like this. You felt crazy. And now here he was sitting on your desk.

“Come on, is it really that important?” He snatches the paper you were looking over from your hand. His eyes roam over it quickly before a sick grin crosses his face as he tears it up.

“Phantom what the fuck!” You feel your gut twist at the sight of the contract now in tiny pieces all across the desk.

His once sickeningly sweet laugh sounds grating to your ears. You look at him only to be met with a horrible Cheshire grin full of fang.

“What? You said it yourself we couldn’t hang today cause you were busy. Now you’re not busy.”

You stare incredulously at him, mouth slightly agape “Get out.”

“Excuse me?”

“Get the fuck out!”

“Aww come on you’ve got nothing to do now.” He purrs

“No. Now I have more to do! Leave!”

He shrugs with a chuckle before hopping off your desk and out the door, tail flicking happily as he goes. You dig the heel of your palm into your eyes and let out a frustrated groan. What the hell was up with him? You felt crazy. He’s been like this for weeks. What’s even worse there would be days that he seemed completely normal and you could almost forget how much of a pain in the ass he’s become. He’d flip so often you were beginning to wonder if he needed to go see Omega. You started to loathe seeing him, it was getting exhausting dealing with the whiplash of demeanor.

A soft knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. Whoever is there waits only a few seconds before slowly opening the creaky door.

“Hey” a smooth voice calls out “you missed lunch so I thought I’d bring you something small.”

Your irritation spikes. You actually couldn’t believe him. The audacity of this ghoul.

“Phantom do you really fucking think a little sandwich is going make me forgive you?”

You remove your hands from your eyes and glare at him.

“What?” He asks with genuine confusion, ears drooping.

You huff and stand, shoving your chair in with a shrill scrape against the floor. You gather the rest of the papers before Phantom has a chance to shred them. You shoulder past him and out the door. You couldn’t be near him anymore. You went to go find somewhere to finish your work without a little demon bothering you.

You had spent the rest of your day fixing the mess Phantom caused and catching up on what you had to put on pause. You were now alone in your room trying to alleviate the headache that had plagued you for the last few hours. You were laying in bed staring off when you heard a knock at your door. You didn’t answer. You really didn’t care who was on the other side, you didn’t want to deal with it.

“Please let me in.” A soft whine came as you stayed quiet.

“Go away Phantom.”

It was quiet for a long time. You started to settle believing that he actually listened and left you alone. Until you heard a whisper you would’ve missed if it hadn’t been dead quiet.

“I’m sorry.”

You rolled over and looked at the door, weighing your options. You had been sick of the way he was acting towards you, but he was your friend. He had been so kind to you much longer than this new asshole side of his. Maybe he was going through something ghoulish that you couldn’t understand? You sigh. If he was coming here to apologize then he at least realized he did something wrong. You’d be willing to forgive if he could mend the tears in your relationship.

You push yourself out of bed and open the door. You stand in the doorframe eyeing his downtrodden posture. He was slouching, ears drooped and eyes wide with his tail wrapped around his leg. Little pricks of guilt began to soften the anger steaming in your mind.

“I’m sorry” He squeaks again “for everything.”

“Phantom” you sigh and cross your arms “I don’t know what’s up with you, but it’s really hurt.”

“I know, I know I’m sorry I just need to exp—“

“I really don’t want an excuse just…fuck.”

“Please let me make it up to you.”

You consider him for a moment. You really hated the way he’s been acting, but you had a fondness for the sweet little ghoul you once knew. You wanted to believe he could make it up to you. You wanted to have the Phantom you knew back. Maybe you would regret it. Maybe you would come to realize he’s a demon no matter how soft his smile is. Maybe you were just stupid and naive for thinking it could change. But if he’s willing to apologize, willing to admit how fucked he’s been maybe he deserves a second chance.

“Okay.”

His ears perk up.

“Not tonight. I’m still pissed about the paperwork, but if you haven’t flipped out again overnight then maybe we can work something out.”

“Yes it’ll be different I promise, no more bad Phantom. I’ll make sure he’s gone.”

“Goodnight Phantom. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

He stays and watches you close the door before departing. You sigh heavily, shoulder slumping before crawling back into your bed. You were exhausted. Everything’s been so exhausting lately. Though, on the bright side it seemed like your headache finally went away.

After Phantom’s apology everything seemed to go back to normal. Well almost normal. He refused to leave you alone now. Granted he was always a little clingy, but this was a whole new level. He was always hanging around the same area as you even if he wasn’t directly interacting. You honestly didn’t care at this point, you were just glad he seemed like his sweet self again. He even kept his promise. He had begun getting you small little gifts of crystals and flowers and helping you with your tasks around the Ministry. It was nice. About a week of this passed and you felt good, great even. You wanted to do something with him, show him you’re no longer mad at him. With Samhain right around the corner you both decided on having a gigantic movie marathon.

You were waiting for him in your room, everything needed for the night already set up. You were just waiting for him to get out of rehearsal. A knock at your door startled you. You furrow your brow opening it to see who was there.

“Phantom?”

“Hey hey we were let out early. Come on, let's get this party started.” He shoulders past you into your room.

You shrug it off and close the door behind you. He flops onto your bed as you start the first movie. You offer up the snacks you gathered but he declines scrunching his nose in disgust. You get a weird feeling. You try to ignore it though as the movie begins. You settle next to him on your bed, eating since he won’t. Another sinking feeling creeps in when he doesn’t move closer. He’s always been physically affectionate, but now he stays leaning against the wall with a rigid posture. You try to focus on the movie.

Your phone buzzes after about thirty minutes into the movie. You check it. A text from Phantom.

I’m on my way! Copia just let us out….please tell me you remembered my candy

What…?

You stare at it. The sinking feeling in your stomach twists. You feel nauseous. You try to sneak a glance at the Phantom sitting next to you. He’s staring right at you with a sick grin. You jump out of the bed away from him.

“Something wrong?” He asks nonchalantly.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“That’s a stupid question. I’m Phantom, your favorite ghoul.” That Cheshire grin splits his face.

“No you’re not. You’re not him. Who are—“

“Oh ouch guess my time is up. Or no that’s not right. Your time.”

The thing wearing Phantom’s face stands from the bed, eyes rolling back joints popping sickeningly. You don’t waste another second. You run out of your room determined to make it to the practice room. Find Phantom. Find Papa and the other ghouls. Find anyone before this thing turned you into prey. As you ran you heard its wicked laugh bounce through the halls, the scraping of claws against polished floor. You didn’t dare spare a glance behind you. You needed to get away from it. You turn sharply at the next corner hoping to either lose it or find somewhere to hide until it was safe to run.

You dipped into an alcove throwing a hand over your mouth to stifle your breathing, praying to whoever was listening that you'd be safe. Your eyes widen as the creature stalks forward. It still wears the appearance of Phantom but there’s something so unsettlingly wrong about it. He looks thin, too thin. Bones clearly visible through skin that was drawn too tight. Its hair was long, greasy like an oil spill. Everytime it moved you could hear its tendons snap and pop. You could see black ichor under its skin where its veins popped on its neck.

“Where are you?” Its cracked, layered voice sang out as it stalked down the hall.

Lucky, it passes right by your hiding spot. You wait just a bit longer for safe measure before ducking out. It’s gone. You move at a brisk pace towards where you knew a pack of ghouls was hanging. You end up slowing down after a while. It still hasn’t caught up to you. Maybe it lost you? Or maybe one of the sentry ghouls caught it? Either way, you felt safe enough to slow. It hadn’t appeared and you were almost to the practice rooms. You were so close.

You were so close.

You stop dead in your tracks when you feel a thick substance drip onto your face. You swipe it, seeing a black ichor coating your fingers.

“Hello” that voice laughs.

You try to run but it’s faster. It grabs you, claws digging deep into your skin. You feel the blood flow before you see it, but when you do see it you’re suddenly snapped into the reality of the situation. You panic. You freeze. You don’t know what to do. All you can think about is the gory demise that surely awaits you. It drags you forwards and you stumble. When you fall to the floor the thing pounces. You stare in horror at its gaping maw, filled with hundreds of needle-thin teeth. Spit dripped from his mouth coating your face as it leaned in. You flinch when it springs forward and it latches onto your arm biting down hard and sucking the blood from the wound. It burns. It feels like fire is coursing through your veins as its saliva infects you. The imposter Phantom rips its teeth from your arm and grins, licking the excess blood from its mouth with a sick tongue.

“You know…I was not going to hunt you” it’s cracked voice says “you were feeding me so well. I would have taken from you until you ended your own life, but that vermin that horrid guard dog pushed me away. Starved me.”

It brings its mouth close to your throat, jaw cracking and popping as flesh rips so it can open its mouth wider than should be possible. You make one last attempt to push it away, but the burning all but consumed your mind. You couldn’t move, couldn’t think, could barely feel. All you could do is watch in paralyzed horror as the beast that wore Phantom’s face prepared to end your life.

You hear a sharp trill and you close your eyes waiting for the final blow. But it never came. The force of the beast is suddenly knocked off you. You blink your eyes open and you see Phantom. The real Phantom crouched between your broken body and the creature. He growls low in his throat at the thing, tail lashing dangerously. The Phantom you see before you is not one you’ve seen before. It’s definitely him, but something is different. He looks bigger, taller. His horns are long, more sharp. His quintessence pops and cracks haphazardly over his body. His claws look sharper. His eyes are gone, completely black and hollow, swallowed by the void within his very core. His physical form is barely contained as wisps of smoke and stardust curl around him.

The creature screeches and jumps up, form twisting as it does so. Its joints pop as it grows, thin limbs becoming thinner. It’s leathery skin is stretched so thin you can practically see every ichor filled vein. It still wears Phantom’s face but it looks half melted as it struggles to maintain the appearance. It’s sharp, every ridge and bone visible. It lunges at Phantom.

He growls and disappears in a puff of smoke before reappearing behind the beast. He rakes his claws down its back, black ichor spilling onto the pristine floors. He warps away again when it turns, landing another blow to its side. He does this again and again, but the beast catches on. The minute he puffs away it spins and catches him when he reappears. It throws Phantom against the wall with horrible force. He lets out a pained wheeze, rolling over trying to gather himself before it’s too late. He’s not fast enough though. The creature sinks its teeth deep into his shoulder and Phantom wails. Its teeth dig in.

Phantom screams and digs his claws into its head. He sets his jaw and unleashes so much raw quintessence from his body that the hallway is filled with a purple glow. The beast falls limp, sparks jumping from its body. Phantom doesn’t hesitate. He sinks his fangs deep into its throat and pulls and pulls until it’s ripped from its neck. He spits it onto the floor and bends back down, drinking the ichor like blood that pours from the wound of the dead creature. He pulls back when he’s satisfied, swiping his forked tongue over his mouth collecting the remnants. He growls at the body of the beast.

You scream at the scene, or at least you try to. It comes out more as a whimper as the venom works its way through your system. The moment you do, though, Phantom’s head snaps to your body laying on the floor. Immediately everything about him changes. The quintessence stops rippling over his body, he goes back to his normal size, his form becomes solid again, his eyes return to their normal purple. You see his mouth move but you can’t hear it over the ringing in your ears. You see him run to you before your eyes fall shut.

When you finally blink open your eyes, you're met with the sterile white of an infirmary room. Everything hurts. You felt slick with sweat and cold. Your head was absolutely pounding as you looked around trying to get your bearings. That’s when you notice a little ball of purple curled up at the foot of your bed.

“He’s been there all night you know.”

You whip your head around at the voice before you can stop yourself. You groan feeling like someone took a hammer to the side of your skull.

“Don’t move so quickly. Your body is still recovering from the venom. You’re lucky I was able to make an antidote.”

“Thanks Omega.” You wince both from the pain and how that came out a lot more sarcastic than genuine.

He chuffs “Don’t mention it Sibling, however next time a trickster spirit is within these halls please alert me before another scene is caused.”

And with that, he walks out. You lay back in the bed and close your eyes against the annoying fluorescent. You replay the night's memories over and over again until you feel a weight shift as Phantom moves from his spot at the foot. A smile ghosts your face as he curls closer to you and mumbles a sleepy “You’re thinking too loud” before he falls back asleep with a purr in his chest.

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #phantom ghoul #i hope you like it anon <3 #phantom x reader #the band ghost fic #ghost fic #nameless ghoul #nameless ghoul x reader #golfball writes

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orecana · 8 months

Text

Once upon a time

Nct dream ot7 x male reader

Hello everybody, Orecana here is back with another fic for you guys. i've decided to try to write something i haven't tried after a long time, angst. As always, thank you to everyone who liked and read my fics.

WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS:

Main character death (y/n)

slight horror

survivor guilt

excessive crying

suicide attempts

nightmare/flashbacks

abuse/verbal assault

children were laughing, singing and dancing. They were full of joy. this is what a young boy thought as he walks timidly home. he was accompanied by another young boy. they were talking happily.

"hey! last one home is a rotten egg."

the boy's energetic friend runs off as the boy tries to warn him about cars and chases him. it was unfortunate that the friend was too excited that he failed to see the car that was in front of him when he steps onto the road to home.

"JAEMIN!"

it was a blur really, he couldn't remember what had happened but what he does know is that when he wakes up after he was pushed, He sees something that would traumatize him forever. he struggled to breath, trying to hold back tears as he see the boy, his friend with blood all over his body.

The boy screams so loud that it alerted everyone in the neighborhood. when the parents arrived to the crime scene while some neighbors tries to phone the ambulance. the boy's parents holds him like he was the most precious thing ever and caresses his arms. his friend's father tried to hit him and told him that he should have died instead of his son which resulted in a huge fight.

as they fight, the boy walks towards the body of his friend and hold his body as he sobs into it. his tears staining the white shirt they were wearing as a matching outfit. the worst part was that the boy had a smile as he lays unconscious on the road which only made jaemin cries harder.

"wake up......."

"WAKE UP!"

jaemin startles awake in his bed, gasping for air as he felt a pair of hands wrap around him.

"Jaemin, are you okay?" jeno says as he tries to calm him down

jaemin looks around seeing the faces of his group members looking at him with concerned looks. he was sweating a lot, it was a painful memory to remember. he felt a hand on his, he looks up to see renjun with a worried face.

"it's been happening for many days already jaemin-ah, i think it's time you let us know what is troubling you. i can't bear to see you cry in your sleep anymore." renjun says as he can feel his tears threatening to pour out.

jaemin looks down, feeling ashamed over his own actions. He didn't that avoiding the topic has caused so much trouble for his band members.

mark sits on the bed and rubs jaemin's shoulders as he whispers sweet nothings to him.

"don't keep your pain within yourself, darling. We're all here to help you overcome it and we'll do everything that we can do. you just have to let us in."

jaemin blushes a bit at the nickname. it has been a secret for a long time but all 7 of them were in a relationship. At first, not everyone was open to the idea of having such a relationship, but overtime everyone realized their feelings and warmed up to the idea of this relationship.

jaemin sighs as he look at everyone and takes a deep breath.

"okay, you guys better strap yourself. since we got the whole week off, i'm gonna go over every detail. please don't mind me if i cry over this, it's just a painful memory for me."

they nod and smile. this made jaemin loosen up and begins to tell about his childhood.

you see, jaemin did have a happy childhood and it was because of his friend y/n l/n. because he was kinda rich, he was only sought after because of his wealth. y/n however was not like that, he genuinely wanted to be friends with jaemin. He was hesitant at first, not knowing if y/n really wanted to be friends with him. he quickly warmed up though when y/n saved him from falling off the stairs.

it might sound silly but the genuine smile that he saw on y/n face was what made him accept the friend request. they told their respective parents about their friends and while jaemin received positive reviews, he knew something was up with y/n when he was suddenly avoiding him like a plague.

at first, he didn't mind because he didn't want to barge into unknown territories. but after a month, he had enough. He corners y/n near the library halls and started screaming at him.

"i don't know what i did wrong to make you avoid me, but AT LEAST talk to me or just tell me you're okay...."

jaemin cries as his body falls onto y/n who holds it.

"I'm sorry, my parents wanted me to use you for money. That's why i avoided you."

Jaemin smiles and y/n smiles back.

"friends?"

y/n chuckles

"friends."

After that it was so much fun for them. They hanged out together, made many fun memories. Of course until that fateful day. The car crash.

Jaemin sobs while telling the members about y/n saving him from the car crash and how he felt so guilty about it. Donghyuck caresses jaemin's hair as mark whispers sweet nothings to him.

"I'm sorry it happened to you jaemin ah."

"No, don't be sorry. It was my fault. if i didn't run, he wouldn't have died."

Jisung angrily grips jaemin by the collar of his shirt.

"It's not anyone's fault. Even if you travelled back in time, It would have still happened."

Chenle removes jisung's hand from jaemin as he tries to calm down the maknae.

"jisung is mad you're blaming yourself. But what he said is true babe. There are just some things in life that we can't change no matter what we do."

Jaemin listened to the two youngest words and he felt himself relieved of the guilt he felt just now. Then they heard something move in the room. they tried to look for where it was coming from until something dropped to the floor.

Jeno goes to check it out. He saw something on the floor amidst the dark room and picks it up.

"Uh jaemin, It appears to be a portrait of someone."

Jaemin's blood froze and instantly went to grab the portrait. No..... it can't be....

It was a portrait of 2 boys standing and hugging each other. they were smiling happily and words were carved into the portrait. It reads

"BEST FRIENDS FOREVER"

Then a noise from the bathroom broke them out of their trances. They look it with fearful expressions. Jisung slowly approaches and opens the door along with turning on the lights. He freezes when he looks at the mirror and signals the others to look as well.

It was a bloody message that reads

"Where's our most cherished place nana?"

Jaemin head hurts again as he groans painfully, seeing many visions before collapsing.

'a letter with a heart on it...... A place with many flowers...... A tall sakura tree...'

Jaemin wakes up from his flashback with the other members surrounding him again. Renjun and jeno were hugging each of his arms while the others slept around the bed.

"are you awake nana?"

jaemin looks to his left, seeing renjun giggling and pinch his cheeks.

"Yes, i am injunnie."

slowly the others got up as well because of the interaction between the two.

"i remembered something when i looked at that message."

they all look at jaemin in surprise and chenle asked what was it?

"it was our old place, i bet it's in shambles now. but i wanna see it again since the message told me to. will you guys come with me?"

He smiles a bit but it was enough to warm the others heart knowing that jaemin has recovered a bit.

"we would love to, hyung" chenle said with a smile as well

"someone should tell the manager though."

Mark sternly tells everyone as they get ready to head out. everyone nod in agreement. they don't want their manager to go on a wild goose chase for their whereabouts.

still being the leader, he decides to be the one to do it. the manager was kind and told them that it is okay but warn them to be safe and be as discreet as possible because they don't want the members to get into trouble.

mark says goodbye as he starts off the car while everybody else locks the dorm. Mark drives the car based on jaemin's directions. they started small and happy talks while they were driving, filling the atmosphere with joy. Then they arrived at that place. it was just as jaemin said nothing was the same.

It wasn't the same place that jaemin remembers. it was filled with a garden of flowers and a giant sakura tree in the middle. Now though, nothing was left, no gardens no flowers not even a sign of life was there. there was only a dead tree in the middle but jaemin knew that going there would mean something.

They all got out of the car after mark parked it somewhere safe and began walking towards the dead tree. everything was gone. The green bushes full of flowers were now dead withered and the little bugs that y/n and him would catch is nowhere to be seen. And the giant blooming sakura tree where y/n confesses that he had a crush now stood dead and hollow.

they stopped in front of the tree, frozen in their tracks. jaemin felt tears running down his cheeks as he drops to his knees. the others could do nothing but stand frozen at the sight before them.

there it was, the Corpse of y/n l/n. the state of the body was as jaemin remembers it, Blood dripping down all parts of the body, eyes closed with that horrid smile. Then the corpse moves its head up and opens its eyes, showing extremely dark eyes with small white pupils.

"You're all here. *smiles* I'm g-glad"

Jaemin stares at it in disbelief. It couldn't be....

"y-y/n?"

The corpse smiles as it stands up, walking towards the group.

"of course nana. Who else?"

jaemin rush to hug the corpse. even if it was dead and rotten but he didn't care. he missed his friend so much.

"i-i'm sorry y/n. if it weren't for me, you wouldn't have died."

y/n only smiles as he pats jaemin's back and look at the members behind him.

"it's not your fault jaemin, in fact i have a confession to make. i would have died that day even if i hadn't saved you."

jaemin was confused as he backs away from his childhood friend.

"what do you mean?" "i've tried killing myself millions of times already jaemin, it's only natural that i will die soon."

the revelation shocked jaemin very hard as he stared at y/n in disbelief. there was no way.... right?

"that day, i've consumed poison so i would die the moment i sleep. that's why i felt extremely weak and tired that day. But when i saw the car coming your way, i couldn't bear to see you die so i pushed you out of the way."

Jaemin was angry and grips the corpses shoulders. because the body was frail, a huge crack sound echo through the environment.

jeno tries to hold jaemin back but mark stopped him, shaking his head.

"let them take care of this."

Jaemin was growling at his dead friend who only smiled at him back.

" why did you kill yourself? why?"

"because my parents was gonna sell me off. they only had money because they won their gambles but when they don't and the person demanded payment, they decided to sell me off."

Jaemin only become angrier, knowing that those pieces of shit called y/n parents killed his most beloved childhood friend.

"why did you save me?" "because you still have a life. my life was already decided for me but yours was not. That's why i saved you. don't be sad jaemin ah! I'm so happy to see you accomplish a lot of things in life. i'm so glad."

y/n pushes jaemin away from him as he starts walking back to the tree. his body changing, glowing. He was his normal self now. no longer covered in blood and looking as pretty as back then only that he aged himself. his body begins to slowly fade away as jaemin screams "NO" and tries to stop him but The others hold him back as y/n smiles sadly.

"you know jaemin, my life was shit until i found you. you were the only thing in this world that kept me from moving on into the afterlife. I wanted to see you happy, just once."

The other 6 members don't know why but tears threatened to fall down their faces as well at y/n's words.

"I LOVE YOU GUYS. NCT DREAM!"

those were y/n's final words as he fade away leaving a photo album on the ground. They walk towards and grab it and opens the book.

in it were memories of y/n with all of them. all members heads begin to spin as they all recall memories that were long forgotten. how they met y/n, how they hang out, how all of them met back in their childhood.

They snapped out of it to see the album empty with only fragile papers threatened to torn at any second and only a sentence was written on it.

"I LOVE YOU GUYS. I HOPE YOU GUYS ARE HAPPY!"

They smiled at the message as mark excuses himself to go get the car so they can go home. Once they were in the car, they all look at each other. as if they were thinking the same thing, they all laugh in sync before mark starts up the car and drives them home.

Jaemin looks out the window and into the clear sky as he smile fondly.

'i hope that wherever you are now y/n, i hope you're happy. Thanks for giving me- no, for giving us such wonderful memories that we wish to forget. You gave us the strength to fight forward.'

So please y/n l/n, rest in peace. WE LOVE YOU TOO.

nct dream was finishing their concert and were walking to their favorite place to eat when a familiar person walk past them. jaemin notices and tries to grab them when they turn around smiling.

"Hello guys..."

#fanfiction #romance #gay #male idol x male reader #horror #nct dream #nct dream x male reader #na jaemin #nct x male reader #lee jeno #mark lee #lee donghyuck #haechan #huang renjun #zhong chenle #park jisung #kpop male idol x male reader

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ii-zi · 2 years

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the only thing I want is to give up but i can't i can't for the life of me I can't I've never stopped cooperating I've never stopped giving it my all to make an effort and keep functioning enough to not let anything go but myself i absolutely cannot function without some semblance of normalcy and giving up is not anywhere near that normalcy god i just need some peace

#I've been holding on for so long I've considered every single option but every single one is worse than the other i can't give up I can't #im doing it all for myself I've given up so much of myself to on the long run secure a normal comfortable live that has been #nothing but a fantasy all my life #but it's so much and im so tired and i don't wanna have to do it all i dont wanna have to keep tearing myself apart im so tired #i can't remember the last time i met myself cry I've been holding it in for so long but i just couldn't anymore i can sense myself #nearing my limits I've already been running on empty for so so long god i just want peace i just want to rest i haven't even #been pretending to be able to bear the load i never was not even for a second have i denied the fact that it's too much and how it's #crushing me why do i have to keep it up but i have to because there's literally no other option there's no way out aside from giving up and #I can't. not for anybody else. not for me. i need this so bad. but i don't know how much I'll be allowed to keep it up #if it was for me I'd just grind myself down til there's nothing left just to get it but i can hear my own body screaming exactly because of #it. it won't let me keep all this up for long and I'm absolutely terrified of how bad the fall will be and how much it'll affect how #all I've put myself through to achieve peace will be rendered useless because i just wont be able to keep going anymore #god im so tired #tw negativity #told my mother i was too tired and she (understandably) asked me to just keep holding a lik bit and i just. broke down #these are not suicid*l thoughts i do not feel like that anymore i genuinely enjoy living and being alive so much in just so so tired #<- clarification for not tagging that lol i just. do not want it here sorry #she's trying so hard to cheer me up and i just can't stop crying

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

peaches & cream || soft!dark Jake Wyler x reader

for @stargazingfangirl18's 5k challenge! I used the prompt, "the town golden boy isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks."

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut (noncon), stalking/obsession, some degradation/negging (but lots of praise during the actual smut), kinda yandere vibes?, touch of breeding kink at the end, definitely flirting with the boundary between soft!dark and regular dark but I like to think it’s a fine line

“Sorry, but that’s a seasonal flavor,” the girl at the counter explained in a snarky monotone.

“Well, yeah, but isn’t it still… the season?” you pressed; normally you weren’t the sort of person to argue with a cashier over a milkshake, but the look she was giving you made you feel like she was holding out on you— especially when the promotional poster for the very thing you were trying to order was just behind her head, and said the flavor was available for two more days.

“We’re out,” she answered firmly, but then her face suddenly shifted to a much more pleasant expression as you heard the chime of the front door opening behind you.

You felt his body hovering behind yours just as his hand laid on the counter beside you, caging you in. It was even more unsettling with the context that there was a whole line of people waiting behind you already.

“I’ll get your usual,” the girl promised to the man beside with a flirtatious smile as she disappeared to the back, returning almost instantly with a shake in her extended hand. “Peaches and cream milkshake— extra whipped cream, no cherry. Enjoy!”

Your eyes widened at the reading of your own order. “I thought you were out!” you protested, going completely ignored.

"If you were my girl, this sort of thing wouldn't need to happen."

You recoiled from Jake's voice in your ear, and he smiled in spite of your snarl, bringing the straw to his lips slowly. With a shudder you walked away, deciding it was probably better to forgo a milkshake anyways— especially if it was a chance to avoid everyone’s favorite senior, the football king who basically owned the whole town for no other reason than being good-looking, athletic, and allegedly “charming” or whatever.

Of course, he followed you, sitting across from you in a booth and silently shooing his posse of fellow teammates to go off and give you two some space. If only he would give you space.

“We can share,” he offered as he held the milkshake out towards you. “I know it’s your favorite… it’s mine too.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” you explained quickly as you pulled a book out of your backpack, intent on ignoring him since you couldn’t physically force him to leave.

He shrugged and returned to sucking on the straw, watching you unwaveringly as you tried to read your book— staring at the page was going well, but you couldn’t seem to actually get any words down. Had you forgotten English as a written language or something?

“Could you leave?” you finally asked as you groaned and looked up from your book. “You’re distracting me.”

“I’m literally just sitting here,” he reminded you.

“And it’s distracting!”

He smirked proudly. “My presence tends to have that effect on people. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You rolled your eyes, burying your face back in your book. “You know, you may have everybody else fooled, but someday you’re gonna have to leave this pathetic little town and go into the real world where throwing a ball isn’t a career and nobody fawns over you just because you have the audacity to be attractive.”

He chuckled lightly. “Right, because you have those big city dreams of yours, but believe it or not some of us like this ‘pathetic’ little town.”

“Well, of course you would,” you snorted. “Your dad’s the mayor and your girlfriend’s the head cheerleader.”

“My ex-girlfriend,” he corrected, finally getting your attention enough to make you shut your book.

“What?” you blurted out.

“Yeah, she dumped me,” he explained plainly.

“Why would she do that?” you asked, making him look much too proud of himself again. “Finally snapped out of the brainwashing, huh?” you added, effectively killing his smug expression.

“I guess you could say that. She met some college guy from out of town… I think her parents liked me too much, she needed a bit more rebellion.”

“Well, my condolences to you,” you smiled, “and my congratulations to her.”

“I thought you hated her,” he scoffed.

“Well, now she and I have something in common: a complete lack of interest in you!”

“I mean, I wouldn’t go that far,” he smirked, “she still comes over every now and again to suck my cock.”

You choked on nothing, face getting warm at his crude language. He didn’t talk like that with anyone else; it was so cruel the way he kept everybody in town under his spell except you, the way he let you in on his real darkness with no one else to confide in or believe you.

It was so fundamentally lonely, being the one person who wasn’t in love with Jake Wyler. It was even worse being the one person Jake Wyler loved.

At least, that was the word he used multiple times in his semi-anonymous letters, his incessant calls and emails, his speeches outside your window. He’d actually cooled off lately, you wondered if maybe he had finally let go of this ‘the one thing I can’t have’ obsession and learned to appreciate his girlfriend (who, for all her personality flaws, was objectively gorgeous, and seemed to at least be nice to him if nobody else).

But now that she left him (which you were still trying to process, honestly), you were surprised he hadn’t already moved on to the next best wannabe model and/or reinstated his campaign to win you over.

Then again, the look in his eye kind of made you think you were about to witness the second one.

“You know, when she does come over, I can only ever finish because I’m thinking about you,” he revealed in a low voice. You grimaced and slid out of the booth, stuffing your book into your bag and barely managing to throw him a goodbye before you dashed out.

It wasn’t like you really thought you could get away from him— he had made it clear over and over that you couldn’t— but the idea of being crammed in that booth with him, surrounded throughout the diner by his adoring fans who somehow didn’t manage to overhear him when he said those awful things, made you feel nauseous.

What you should’ve considered was that, fans or not, those people were witnesses, and now that you were running out into the dark streets of the town and he was chasing after you, you didn’t have any. It was just you and him, and when you turned into an alleyway to try to get home faster, even the dim glow of the streetlights couldn’t see you anymore.

“Hey,” he stopped you with a tight grip on your arm, pulling you back into him.

“Let me go!” you whined, trying to tug yourself away but only ensuring that his hand would leave a bruise on your arm.

“I will when you just hear me out, okay?” he hissed, spinning you around to look up at him. "Why don't you just give me a chance? Don't you wanna be popular?"

"I don't want to be anything that requires being within ten yards of you!" you spat.

He seemed bewildered, but you knew he wasn’t actually that stupid. "Why?"

"Because you know why!"

He sighed, slumping his shoulders a little. "Are we still on that, really? I told you, you should take it as a compliment. You know how many girls would kill to catch me jerking off in their panties?"

"You're sick, Jake,” you sighed, “and you're really good at hiding it from everyone else but I know what you really are. You told me you needed help with algebra and I actually believed you, for months you were lying to me to get close so you could perv on me when you already had a girlfriend and two side chicks anyways— god, Jake, you're crazy!"

You yelped when he pinned you to the wall, blue eyes darker than ever. "I really, really hate that word."

Against the wall, your back straightened as you felt the tone shift completely for a moment before he was back to his jovial self again, giving you a somber but almost-genuine smile.

“The only kind of crazy I am is crazy about you,” he defended with a laugh, leaning in a little closer. “Why can’t you see that?”

As his eyes moved from your own to your lips, a renewed sense of fear shot through you. “Jake…” you mumbled, apparently your feeble attempt to ask him to stop.

“Just one kiss,” he bargained, “and then I’ll let you go. Okay? That’s all I need.”

“N-no,” you whimpered, turning your head away as he leaned in even further. “Stop.”

“Come on, it’s just a kiss, baby,” he cooed. “Then you can leave. Hey, you might actually like it. You know, I think that’s what you’re really scared about… and I get it! When I first realized I was in love with you, it was scary for me, too— I mean, I’m the most important guy in town and you’re just some bookworm, it’s sort of social suicide for me so I had a lot to worry about.”

There he went with his negging again, trying to bring you down to his level. Your brain knew that, it saw right through it, but your gut still sank with doubt.

“But I know now that love is nothing to be afraid of,” he concluded.

“No, Jake,” you whispered, feeling tears well in your eyes, “I’m afraid that you’ll hurt me if I don’t do what you want.”

“Well, that is something to be afraid of,” he replied with the coldest laugh you’d ever heard; you didn’t hear any agreement, but the lack of denial was deafening. “So just be my good girl and let me kiss you…”

You swallowed dryly, your eyes wide open and searching for anywhere to look but up at him.

He was so close now that his lips brushed against yours with his command: “say it.”

You stammered over your breath, not sure exactly what he was asking for, and you winced as you felt his grip tighten on your arms.

“Say, ‘kiss me’,” he clarified in a harsh whisper. “Say, ‘please’...”

“Please,” you repeated awkwardly, hearing it in your voice but so clearly not your own words, “kiss me.”

He let his mouth intertwine with yours and your eyes were still wide open as he let his own fall shut, moving his hands to clutch your face gently instead as you gave a weak effort to kiss him back.

Objectively, he was good at this. A lot of things were objectively true about Jake: as much as you forced yourself not to see it, he was handsome; as much as it didn’t really matter to you, a boycotter of all things sports, he was talented; and, as much as no one else realized it, he was completely deranged. For every word of kindness from him there was another of anger. For every love letter in your locker, there was a threat left scrawled on crumpled paper inside your bedroom, just so he could remind you that your parents would let him into the house if he asked and never question it.

Which was why it was extremely important that you did not enjoy this kiss. You needed to hate the way his fingers traced over the pulse in your neck, the way his tongue tickled yours, the way his teeth just barely grazed your lip until your knees went a little weak.

But wow, there was something primally satisfying about melting into his arms, feeling his strength support you like it was nothing when he held your waist and pulled you closer.

You could almost forget that it was him. But then he mumbled your name into the kiss, nearly moaned it in fact, and it pulled you back to reality. With a gasp, you pushed him away and blinked your eyes open, not even realizing you’d closed them; hating how quickly you’d started to give in to him.

“There, one kiss,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve. “I’m gonna go home now—”

“You can’t be serious,” he laughed incredulously. “You’re gonna kiss me like that and tell me you don’t feel this, too? We’re so meant for each other— we even order the same milkshake!”

“That doesn’t matter!” you denied.

“I love you!”

“That doesn’t matter either!”

You turned to leave but he grabbed you again from behind, covering your mouth with his hand when you opened your mouth to scream. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that,” he hissed in your ear, “and don’t walk away from me.”

Fighting against his grip did nothing but exhaust you: he only needed one arm to hold you back as he dragged you deeper into the alley. Your legs swung wildly and landed a kick to his shin, and he plugged your nose while he was covering your mouth so you couldn’t breathe.

“Listen to me, you stuck up little bitch,” he growled. “I’m really sick of this ‘hard to get’ act. I know you want me. So shut up and let me show you what you’ve been missing out on, okay? You gonna be good?”

In that moment, you would’ve agreed to anything for a chance to fill your lungs with fresh air, and so you nodded, the back of your head rubbing against his chest.

“You gonna be nice and quiet so nobody catches you getting fucked like a whore in this alley?”

Another nod, more feverish than the last, ended with a sharp inhale as he let go of your nose. But he was still covering your mouth, his arm around you now feeling less like restraint and more like an embrace.

"I've wanted you for so long, you can't even imagine," he explained softly as he leaned down and kissed your neck, gripping your waist tighter. "You and this perfect body of yours. This smart little head that thinks too much…"

You swallowed dryly as his hand trailed lower.

"This pussy you've been hiding from me for much too long," he added darkly, roughly shoving his hand up your skirt.

You whined behind his hand but he didn’t seem to care; he pulled your skirt up and grinned at the sight of your panties— because he recognized them.

“I remember these,” he purred. “They look good on you, baby, but they looked better covered in my come.”

Your cheeks burned with shame— you already hated yourself for still wearing the pair he’d tampered with, but it was harmless after a few runs through the washer, right? You weren’t going to stop wearing your favorite panties just for him, that would mean he won, in a sense; or, that’s what you told yourself to justify not burning them.

“Don’t worry, they’re gonna be soaked by the time I’m done with you,” he purred, slipping two fingers between your legs and growling slightly. “Well, actually, you’ve already done a lot of the work for me.”

He pulled the fabric aside and explored your pussy instead, tightening his grip over your mouth as you made little muffled yelps. The rough pads of his fingers found and targeted your clit instantly, that megawatt smile pressed against your ear as he started to rub your bud harder.

“Mm, feels good, huh?” he taunted, moving even faster as your hips jolted unintentionally. He stopped only to bring the fingers to his lips, humming at the taste of you which he sucked off of them. “So sweet, babygirl— better than any peaches and cream milkshake, that’s for sure.”

The wet fingers trailed down your body again, finding your entrance that he suddenly pushed into; it was a little too much without any warning and it made your eyes shoot wide open, a squeak barely escaping your throat.

"Just as tight as I imagined, baby,” he sighed, “all those times I used your panties, or hooked up with somebody who almost looked like you from behind. You’re gonna feel so good on my cock, I know you want it so bad.”

He took his fingers out of you to reach back and open his belt with one hand, the sound of the buckle matched in upsettingness only by the sound of his jeans sliding down to his thighs.

You heard your own breath loud and heavy against his hand as you felt his hard cock press against your thigh, a drop of precum smearing on your skin. Your breathing halted suddenly, though, when he slid himself between your legs to rub his cock over your exposed and swollen pussy.

“Oh, babygirl, you really are too good to me,” he grinned, kissing your ear tenderly. “So fucking wet and ready for me, huh? You need it that bad? You’re gonna get it, baby, ‘m gonna give it to you so good…”

Bracing yourself as best you could, you felt the head of his cock push against your entrance before he slammed in all at once, making you hiss in pain.

“Oh god,” he groaned, “fuck, you’re so warm…”

Already he was fucking into you roughly, pumping faster and deeper, paying no mind to your choked sobs of pain from the wide stretch. Even when it stung it felt oddly good, and the underside of his cock seemed to slide perfectly over your g-spot with each movement until your eyes began to roll back in your head.

“So fucking good,” he moaned hoarsely as he braced you against the brick wall for leverage, reaching back down with his free hand to rub your clit again. He chuckled when your legs quivered, and he must have felt your walls tighten around him, too. “I wanna hear those pretty moans, baby, if I take my hand away are you gonna be good?” he asked darkly. You nodded, enjoying the brief feeling of freedom that came from not having his hand over your mouth anymore. But then again, it was humiliating that now he could hear your panting breaths, your desperate mewls that you failed to swallow down.

He made a sound that was almost like a laugh as he watched you squirm in his arms, one more way he had to lord this all over you, as if forcing you to take him in an alley wasn’t enough on its own.

His breath against your ear was hot and strained, each meeting of your hips to his accentuated with a little grunt from him. It didn’t help at all that his fingers were rubbing you just right, with so much skill that you wondered if he’d somehow figured out how you touched yourself when you needed to get off. Honestly, you wouldn’t put it past him to have spied on you before, even if you couldn’t figure out when or how.

The hand that used to cover your mouth slid up under your shirt and pulled your bra down, a large, rough hand groping each breast and pinching your nipples until you bit down on your lip to stay quiet. For all the mocking and teasing he’d done before, he was pretty direct now— like he was trying to make you come as fast as possible, overloading your body with sensation.

And did he have to be so fucking good at it?

“I know you’re close, babygirl,” he whispered in your ear, “just let go…”

“Jake, please,” you sobbed, too far gone to appreciate that no begging would make him stop now.

“Come for me,” he demanded roughly, fucking you even faster as he sucked a mark onto your neck, and finally it all came crashing down with a choked-out cry of his name and a gush of warmth dripping out around his length.

“Ohh fuck, there you go, fuck it feels good when you come for me,” he grunted, thrusting even faster. “You’re gonna milk my cock with that pretty pussy, babygirl— you’re gonna make me come…”

“J-Jake, not inside!” you interjected, getting his hand back over your mouth in return.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed, “waited too long for this to pull out now. Feels too fucking good.”

Behind his hand, the difference between whines of hatred and moans of pleasure was irritatingly subtle.

“I love you,” he reminded you in a voice exhausted yet heavy with desire, “so fucking much…”

A few more erratic, brutal thrusts accompanied by heavy pants and he was gone; you could feel his cock pulsing with each rope of come that filled you, so deep that your head fell dejectedly with the realization you had no hope of washing it out now.

His hand fell from your mouth but he didn’t pull out for another few moments as he caught his breath, gently peppering your neck and cheek in slow kisses. “Baby,” he finally sighed, breaking the crushing silence, “you’re so fucking perfect. I knew you were made for me.”

I hate you, you wanted to cry out, but words escaped you as he hugged you tightly and pulled your panties back into place, soaking them with his come as it leaked out of you just like he’d promised. He stuffed his cock back into his jeans and helped you adjust your clothes back to looking almost presentable, finishing it off by turning you around and smiling at you with serene pride before kissing your forehead.

"You're gonna make such a beautiful prom queen," he cooed, “especially if you’ve already got a nice little bump showing…”

His hand rubbed beneath your belly button for emphasis, making you whimper and force your eyes shut as tears rolled down your cheeks.

"Shh, don’t cry, baby,” he soothed, kissing your cheek softly. “Trust me, you're gonna love being my girl."

#siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #dark!jake wyler x reader #idek how to tag this nobody's looking for jake wyler fics lmao

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 6

Hannibal sits in on a regular conversation between y/n and her family. Y/n insists it could have gone worse.

⚠️Bigass trigger warning⚠️: Verbal abuse, emotional manipulation, blood, mention of alcohol abuse and suicide

Anna lived her life believing that she was the main character, constantly denying personhood to everyone around her. She was the romantic hero, and everyone else existed to forward her plot.

This metaphor was imperfect, however, because in all the books you'd read, the main character must overcome some kind of challenge. Nobody ever said no to Anna. Nobody ever criticized Anna. Nobody but you. So you were pigeonholed into the role of antagonist for it. You had to give her credit; growing up on the receiving end of her and Theresa's torture was a compelling villain origin story.

It was obvious that she only wanted you at her wedding to present her with an obstacle. Heaven forbid her story progress without some semblance of petty drama out of her control. She'd cornered you into a painful catch-22; you wanted vengeance, but you couldn't give her the satisfaction of having her special day ruined. What was your play? Ruin it just a little? Walk away?

These thoughts passed through your mind as you sat through the boring ceremony. You wanted to lean over and whisper everything to Hannibal, but he seemed lost in his own thoughts. The vows seemed to drag on forever. Liam's English accent grated on your ears and you wished that he would just shut the hell up.

The ceremony concluded and you hoped to skip out on the reception with a purse full of mini cannolis, but fate had other plans. In a last-minute reach for some kind of scene, the blushing bride waved you over to the head table.

"[F/N]!" Anna shouted, with a big smile across her face. "Come on!"

You fought the urge to feel endeared by this. She looked too happy to be harmful. Your guard was all the way up as you and Hannibal approached the table.

Hannibal pulled a seat out for you while you studied Anna's expression. She fixed her doe eyes on Hannibal. You knew from experience that Anna had the same powerlust as grandma and Theresa. She was just better at keeping a lid on it.

"[F/N], you remember Liam?" Anna said, her voice brimming with excitement.

"Yeah." You nodded, scooting your chair up. "Nice to see you again, Liam."

"Good to see you again, too [F/N]."

"Liam is from Birmingham." She bragged, her smile somehow growing wider.

"Alabama?" You piped up before taking a drink from your water glass.

Every time you were forced to interact with Liam, she reminded you that the man with the strong and unmistakable English accent, was in fact from England. And every time, you slipped in the Alabama comment. It was never not funny.

"Liam, Anna," you said. "This is my fiance, Dr. Hannibal Lecter."

"Many congratulations to you two." Hannibal offered.

"Dr. Lecter, thank you so much for coming." Anna returned. "And thank you for taking such good care of our precious [F/N]. I hope she's not giving you too much trouble. She was quite a handful growing up, but we made it work."

"Don't flatter yourself, you're only four years older than me." You hide your passive-aggressive jab beneath a smile. "You can't take credit for a job you didn't do."

Grandma always thought Anna's protective, borderline maternal behavior towards you was adorable. Of course, it disgusted you. You were little more than an accessory to her. A baby doll she could simulate motherhood with. But, in fairness to her, that was all you were to the adult in the house too. Monkey see, monkey do.

"So have you two set a date yet?" Grandma interrupted your thoughts, just trying to keep the tension down.

"Goodness, no." Hannibal answered. "Ours is a long-term engagement."

"Yeah." You added. "Not until I finish school."

"Well, it's not my fault you aren't expected to graduate on time." Grandma said into her wine.

You tightened your grip on your water glass. "Well, changing your major halfway through will do that."

"I'm just saying," Grandma continued. Whenever she was 'just saying' anything, you knew she was raring to stir things up. "If you had just stayed the engineering track, you wouldn't have to keep Hannibal waiting."

"Well!" Anna cut in, offended that the attention was off her for more than a minute. "Liam and I waited until after college."

"Yes, Anna," Grandma said dismissively, before turning back to you. "Y'know, Dr. Lecter here could probably tell you that psychologically speaking, women are more likely to drop out of college and become strippers when they change their majors?"

Now it was Hannibal's turn to down his entire glass of wine. "Ms. [L/N], where did you get that information?"

"Oh, it was an article I found on Facebook." Grandma answered. "I'll have [F/N] send you a link."

"Ms. [L/N]," Hannibal cleared his throat. "Are you familiar with the concept of misinformation?"

"Of course." She looked offended at the implication that she could possibly not know something.

"See, social media websites like Facebook are inundated with misinformation campaigns." Hannibal explained. "Your claim is not rooted in any psychological fact."

"Yeah, also," You cut in. You scanned the area for escape routes if your attempt to change the subject went awry. "There's a wonderful documentary about how Facebook misinformation campaigns targeted rural counties in England leading up to the Brexit vote."

"Oh, we have a funny story about Brexit." Anna interrupted, taking the bait, hook line and sinker.

Before she could recount the same boring anecdote about being at some regional chain restaurant when the vote was cast, Theresa and her husband joined the table.

"Sorry we're late," Theresa sat down. "Damage control is a twenty-four hour job. What were we talking about?"

"Misinformation." Liam said.

"Perfect timing." You muttered.

"Finally, all three of my girls are together again." Grandma threw her head back and rejoiced. "When was the last time we all got together? Just us four girls, huh?"

"Remember the day before prom, we all went out go get manicures?" Anna reminisced. "And we took pictures of us all dressed up?"

"Oh I remember." You scanned the area for any alcohol to ingest.

"Oh, this is so funny." Grandma laughed hysterically. "Dr. Lecter, did you hear this story? [F/N] went to the prom with a boy who had all along been using her to get close to Theresa! They got together that night! Dated for two whole years after that."

"I've heard an iteration of it." He said, looking over his shoulder. He flagged down a waiter who was holding a bottle of champagne. "Leave the bottle, please."

"Don't drink too much, [F/N]." Anna scolded. "Save some alcohol for the rest of us."

You made sure to maintain eye contact with her as you filled your flute to capacity. "Grandma's paying, isn't she?"

"Anna, baby," Grandma said, rubbing her temples. "It's fine. Let [F/N] drink herself silly. It's a party, right?"

"Wow," Theresa sneered. You knew exactly what she was going to say next. "Like mother, like daughter."

Everyone at the table had enough decorum to recognize that Theresa went too far. You crushed the champagne flute in your grip, letting shards of glass dig into your skin. You glared at Theresa, blood oozing from your palm and dripping onto the white tablecloth.

Wordlessly, Hannibal removed the offending glass from your hand and swaddled the affected area in a napkin. He put pressure on the cut, letting the blood absorb into the cloth.

"Is this the famed '[L/N] woman telepathy'?" Liam whispered to Anna.

"No, [F/N] is just mad because her mother was a drunk who killed herself." Anna thought she was being inconspicuous.

"This has been fun." You stand up from the table. "Really. Great way to spend a Saturday."

"[F/N], sit down..." Grandma ordered, sounding exhausted. "You know Theresa didn't mean that."

"No." You said, each syllable out of her mouth pushing you a step closer to your breaking point. "Y'know what? No. I don't have to put up with this anymore. Anna, congratulations. I hope you and Liam have many long years together."

You turned around to exit as quietly as you could, Hannibal at your side. Your grandmother, who somehow hadn't hit her daily allotted dose of confrontation, wouldn't have it.

"Dr. Lecter, tell [F/N] she's being unreasonable." Grandma pleaded.

Hannibal raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. In his long-spanning career, he'd never once met a person as tone-deaf as Beatrice [L/N]. He kept his quiet composure as he slowly approached the table.

"Beatrice," he said, beckoning her to lean in. He whispered something into her ear that left her stunned and quaking.

You could hear your grandmother's hysterical sobs growing softer as Hannibal hurried you out.

"Keep pressure on that cut, love." He instructed, talking over the increasingly loud shouts of agony from the head table. "You'll need a few stitches."

Once you were far enough from the venue, you had to ask. "What on earth did you say to her?"

"Nothing that you don't already know." He answered, facing forward.

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #hannibal x you #tw blood #tw emotional manipulation #cult girl

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alexwritesfiction · 3 years

Text

you really know how to make me cry (when you give me those ocean eyes)

AO3

johnlock | tw suicide mention, swearing | fluff and angst | a/n: ignore typos pls

the one where lestrade breaks down and tells sherlock about how wrecked john was after sherlock's fake death, and it leads to a very wholesome confrontation.

Prompt: Lestrade has a bit of a break down and starts telling Sherlock about John after the fall; "you weren't here Sherlock! you didn't see him! you weren't the one who got drunk phonecalls in the early hours and you didn't run to the cemetery to see him sitting by your grave with his gun in his mouth!"

---

Lestrade really did work hard. Well, lately he hadn’t had to. Sherlock had come back, after all. And for that exact reason, he’d called his dear friend for a breakfast. That was, if John could handle Sherlock being out of his sight for more than five minutes. Greg could swear he was clingier to Sherlock than to Mary.

And he couldn’t even blame him for it. The dumb fool had given all of them heart attacks when he pulled the big prank. Greg had hated himself for not being able to save Holmes.

As he waited, he looked down at his wrist to check the time on, ironically, the same watch Sherlock had once given him. Or rather, Molly had on Sherlock’s behalf.

“Hello, Graham,” an all-too-familiar voice spoke above him, and he looked up to see Sherlock already sat in front of him. He'd become good at that; sneaking around.

“Before you say anything, let me tell you, I will let you solve cases from now on, but I do need a good murder every now then. Maybe you'll need my help soon enough,” he smiled in that know-all way of him, placing his hand on top of another on the table.

Greg couldn’t help but show his wonder at how Sherlock had known exactly what was going to happen.

“How did you- never mind. I shouldn’t even ask,” he said. If his nervous tics were anything to go by, Sherlock probably had him all figured out.

“Well, now that that’s over, I need your help,” he said, quickly and Lestrade almost fell off his chair at hearing that from him.

“I- you- what?” he asked again, and he could genuinely not comprehend what Sherlock had just said.

“I'm going to, ah, prank John,” he smiled a little wider. “I need you to help me pull it off,” his eyes sparkled and as soon as the words “prank john” had left his mouth, Lestrade had hit his limit.

He was done. He was so done with his friend not understanding just how much he had really affected everyone around him. He knew Sherlock didn’t expect anyone to care if he was there or gone, but people did. Just like that, Lestrade burst.

“Prank? A prank?” he said and Sherlock was taken aback by the belittling way he'd said. Greg stood up, almost spilling his beloved coffee. For once, Sherlock did not know why he was so mad.

“How much more do you want to hurt him? Don’t you think you’ve done enough of that after the big fucking Moriarty prank?” His anger was rising and he willed for himself to calm down, but he couldn’t imagine being so dense after solving so many mysteries.

Sherlock remained seated, a frown pulled upon his cupid’s bow. Why would people be hurt? In his idea of a world without himself, all that would change was that John would marry Mary, Mr. Hudson wouldn’t be annoyed and Lestrade would have more work and Mycroft would be the same. Why would anything change?

“I don’t- Lestrade, it's just a prank. It's quite funny, I imagine,” he tried to get the situation under his control, under his sense. He wasn't used to not knowing what was going on.

Greg started to leave after a moment, grabbing his coffee and his coat and walking away. Sherlock’s voice calling him stopped him in his tracks, and just because he’d uttered his real name, called him Greg for the first time ever. That effectively shattered him and gave him courage to say what he was about to.

“You weren't here Sherlock! You didn't see him! You weren't the one who got drunk phone calls in the early hours and you didn't run to the cemetery to see him sitting by your grave with his gun in his mouth!" he yelled, speeding back to the damned detective still watching him.

His face turned ghostly pale, and he was speechless at the confession. John- his John- had tried to- God, he had tried to not exist anymore. Sherlock’s mind was completely blank and running the fastest it ever had simultaneously.

This time, it was Sherlock’s turn to abruptly stand up and sprint away in the freezing winds, leaving a very unstable Lestrade right at the table, reeling from what had just happened.

On his way back, all Sherlock could think of was a world without John. How could that even be possible? There would be no Sherlock, no Sherlock’s world. Because, as he had come to realize it in his days of living without him, John was quite literally his world.

He could not think of the time before Watson, he could not remember his lifestyle, one without seeing john right after waking up and right before sleeping, and sometimes only staring at him sleep so peacefully. 221B Baker Street came into view rather quickly than Sherlock expected it to, and his feet led him right up to his shared room, ignoring Mrs. Hudson’s calling him.

He found John sitting on a chair, particularly, Sherlock’s chair, wrapped up in Sherlock’s favourite billowy coat. And he looked like he had no worried in his life in that position.

Sherlock almost didn’t wake him, debated ruining his sleep for a mere question. But he needed answers, or he would drive himself crazy with all the scenarios in his head.

“John! Wake up!” he urged, and something in his voice didn’t feel right to a sleeping John because he was up and alarmed in five second flat.

He flicked his head around the room, finally settling his gaze on Sherlock, with his lips pressed into a thin line. John had never seen Sherlock like this, all red nosed and red cheeked and so human. And although one could say that Sherlock Holmes was the most human version of himself around john Watson, it still felt ethereal.

The sunlight fell on John’s face such that he looked like an angel to Sherlock, his anchor to reality. But he would not let himself imagine what it would be like to lose his anchor.

“Was what Lestrade said true?” he spoke carefully, closely inspecting John’s face. He saw John’s face contort in confusion, and shake his head.

“He said, he said he saw you. In the cemetery, with your- your gun, in your mouth,” he spoke so softly that John had to strain his ears to catch onto what he was saying.

And once he did, he was taken back, and it took a full moment for him to process that Sherlock knew. He did not get scared of this, he could not because him finding out seemed like such a small pain as compared to the night he was referring to.

He’d gone insane without Sherlock’s little quips and remarks and him being around all the time and his mere presence came back to bite at him. It was a particularly awful night. He’d fought with Mary, over Sherlock nonetheless, but it had been meaningless as soon as he found himself drunk at his grave. He’d called Lestrade because he needed anything that would make him feel like Sherlock was there. Like he existed.

“I thought you died, Sherlock,” he spoke slowly, Sherlock’s coat still around him. He didn’t dare take it off.

“John,” he uttered and then he was right there striding towards his freaking other half. He didn’t know what fuelled it but right then he had a burning need to hold john, to feel him close, for him to be his anchor through whatever whirlwind of emotions he was going through.

John hugged him back just tight, as hard as he could, because god if he hadn’t dreamed of this since the very first time they giggled together at a crime scene. He didn’t know if this chance would come again and he was not going to let it go now that it was here.

“I didn’t know that you cared,” Sherlock said then, and he was terrified of the wet feeling on his cheeks that completely broke john’s heart. John hastily wiped them away because absolutely could not stand the sight of Sherlock being so vulnerable.

Mary’s words came back to him: “You care about him, John, more than me or yourself, and enough that you’re willing to ruin yourself over him.” He realized how wrong she was that night. Sherlock was not the reason John was sad sad, it was his absence. As much as he had hated admitting it to himself, Sherlock was his anchor to reality, too.

The two men stood sharing a moment there, neither of them needing to say anything. But then john recalled Sherlock’s previous words, about not knowing that john cared about him. He wanted to tell him he cared about him, that he could not go a day without seeing him.

But that was exactly was Sherlock was scared of. So, he said the only thing that fit perfectly:

“Elementary, my dear Holmes.”

taglist: ask/reply to be +/-

@metanoiamorii @thescatteredscribbles @little-boats-on-a-lake @talesofsorrowandofruin @w-l-ink @baguettethebooklover @euphoniouspandemonium @wannabeauthorzofija @the-writing-avocado @ink-fireplace-coffee @your-local-bi-disaster @a-completely-normal-writer @felonyfairy @cool-but-confused @writing-is-a-martial-art @47crayons @weirdfishy @fiercely-raging-writer

moots: @sherlockisactuallyagaysname u might like this?

#fanfiction #my works #my writing #johnlock #ao3 #my fanfics #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock bbc #acd sherlock holmes #johnlock fluff #johnlock fanfic

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storiesforallfandoms · 3 years

Text

childhood secrets ~ hannibal lecter;hannibal

word count: 1711

request?: yes!

shady80smusicsingercolor “Hey! Can i request something

Hannibal l x reader

The reader kept her childhood a secret from everyone,until she was watching news about a teen getting bullied,she remembers her childhood and just cries.Hannibal notices and goes run up to her,ask what's wrong.She explain what happen,that her childhood friends used make fun of her,or calling her weirdo.Hannibal comforts her

Hope is okay❤”

description: after hearing the story of a teenager’s tragic passing, unwanted memories are brought back to her

pairing: hannibal lecter x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts, mentions of bullying

masterlist

“Did you hear about the Thompson girl?” Zeller asked as we examined some DNA for a case.

“Who’s the Thompson girl, first and foremost?” I asked.

“She was friends with Abigail Hobbs when she was sent to that psychiatric facility,” Price explained. “They were room neighbors I think.”

“Oh! That Hannah girl! What happened to her?”

“Her parents found her dead in her room. Suicide.”

I was so shocked at the response that I dropped the tool in my hand. Both of them looked at me for a moment as I just looked down at my hands. I was trying to calm the growing PTSD rising in me.

“The poor thing,” I finally managed to say.

“Yeah,” Price said. “I think she was in the facility because of mental illness. Her parents put her in there after her first attempt.”

Zeller shook his head. “Poor thing. They shouldn’t have let her check out so soon. (Y/N), are you okay?”

I was still staring down at my hands. They were shaking and it was getting hard to breathe. I could barley register the fact that Zeller had asked me something. They were both looking at me, expectantly.

“What? Yes, I’m fine,” I responded. “I gotta get some fresh air.”

I threw my coat and gloves on a nearby table and quickly raced for the exit. I had to wait for the elevator to take me to the ground floor, but the wait was antagonizing. My chest and throat felt tight, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

When the elevator door opened, I was faced with Jack Crawford, Will Graham, and Hannibal Lecter.

“(Y/N),” Crawford said. “Are you okay?”

I couldn’t respond this time. I had to get out, I had to be away from there.

The breathe of fresh air in my lungs was just what I needed, but I was still feeling panicked. Flashbacks were running through my head, things I had repressed for all those years coming back all at once, hitting me like a freight train. I sat down on the sidewalk, trying to calm my breathing enough to go back inside.

“Miss. (Y/L/N)?”

I looked up to see Hannibal stood behind me.

“I’m fine, Dr. Lecter,” I told him. “You don’t have to check on me.”

“You’re very obviously not okay. You’re breathing is abnormal and you look as though you’ve been crying.”

I felt my cheek and was shocked to find that Hannibal was right, I had been crying. I hadn’t even realized it before.

“I’m fine,” I repeated, but the crack in my voice gave me away.

Hannibal sat next to me. I tried not to let him see my face, but I knew there was no turning back now. He had seen me in the elevator, he saw how unhappy I was at that moment. Any other person would just think I was overwhelmed from work, or maybe one of our discoveries had upset me, but Hannibal was a talented psychiatrist. He probably already knew what was wrong with me.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

I chuckled. “How often does that one work?”

“Enough times to keep me employed.”

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “Zeller and Price were telling me about a girl that used to be friends with Abigail, Hannah Thompson. She...she...”

“I know,” Hannibal finished for me, luckily. Just thinking about having to finish that sentence made my throat tight again. “I wasn’t aware you knew her so well.”

“I didn’t, but I know...the feeling. Like you’re trapped in your own mind and there’s only one way out of it.”

Hannibal was looking at me, waiting for me to continue but not pushing me to go any further than I felt comfortable with. I wouldn’t have to go any further with my explanation if I didn’t want to, I knew he wouldn’t force me. We could’ve dropped it right then and there.

But my mouth moved before my mind could comprehend what I was sating, “I was the weird girl in school. While other girls wanted to be princesses or astronauts, I wanted to be a forensic scientist. I always had a fascination with crime and forensics and such. At first, I was just an outcast with no friends, until a group of girls took me in and added me to their group in high school. They weren’t super popular girls, but they also weren’t my level of outcast or anything, so, understandably, I was excited.”

“I’d assume it wasn’t as ideal of a situation as you were led to believe.”

I shook my head, tears forming in my eyes again. “They only befriended me so I could be their verbal punching bag. It started mild at first, just some friendly jokes that I could throw back at them. Then they started calling me the weird girl, the freak who liked death and murder. They’d make fun of me for reading stuff about unsolved murders, or even just murder mystery novels. They told me I’d probably grow up to be one of the unfound murderers in those stories. They put me down at every chance they got, but they were the only friends I had so I just...I dealt with it. I even gave up the opportunity to shadow at a police department during my senior year because I was afraid of them making fun of me more.”

“What was the tipping point?” Hannibal asked. “Obviously they are no longer around. I assume either you got rid of them or...they left themselves.”

“A bit of both really,” I responded. “One day, their bullying just got too much for me. My parents never liked the group, so I felt like I couldn’t go to them because they’d just tell me ‘I told you so’ - not because that’s how my parents are but because that was my irrational fear - and the teachers and guidance councilors and principals at school were garbage. They did nothing unless they actually witnessed the bullying first hand, and even then it was always a slap on the wrist punishment. So, I thought...I thought I only had one way out.”

I was still half conscious when my parents found me. My mother’s screams were permanently etched in my head, her sobs breaking through the otherwise muffled sounds I was hearing. Even when I blacked out, all I could hear in my head was my mother.

“They sent me to the same hospital Abigail was in,” I continued, skipping over the nasty parts that I couldn’t bare to relive. “My parents said I needed actual, medical help, that they couldn’t ignore my mental health issues anymore. I was there for months. I met people just like me, people who understood what I was going through. I made friends with a lot of them, and they’re all still in my life right now. My high school friend group came to visit me at one point. They seemed genuine enough with their apologies, saying they didn’t realize how much I took their words to heart and how they didn’t know how dark of a place I was in mentally. I don’t know how true any of that was, but they put on a good act. When they finished their groveling, I told them to go fuck themselves and to never contact me again. They were...offended, to say the least. Apparently they spread rumors about me at school, but I finished my senior year at a different school so it didn’t really matter to me. Went off to do forensic science in college and...here I am.”

For a moment, a look of pride passed over Hannibal’s face, as if the end of my story made him feel proud for me. I guess it made me feel proud, too, but sometimes I kicked myself for sticking around with that toxic friend group for far too long.

“I’ve never told anyone that,” I admitted. “Not anyone who didn’t know me at the time, anyways. I tried to keep it repressed, but hearing about Hannah Thompson...it brought all those memories back for me. Maybe I’m not over it like I think I am.”

“Mental trauma when your brain is still developing is not something one can easily get over,” Hannibal said. “It takes years, and even then those painful memories could follow you to your grave.”

I winced at the thought of having to battle with those memories until the day I died. Part of me was still worried that they would be the reason I would eventually die.

“But it is important to know that your old friend group was wrong,” he continued. “There is nothing wrong with being interested in something that the masses aren’t interested in. I’d argue that being interested in murder and police work is much better than wanting to grow up and be a princess or an astronaut. Your job helps the police to find serial killers and to save innocent people from being their victims. There’s nothing weird about that, not in my eyes.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Dr. Lecter. I think I just needed to hear that when I was younger and...no one really said it to me before.”

“I’m saying it now,” he said. “If you ever feel overcome with those memories again, please do not hesitate to call me. A beautiful and brilliant mind such as yourself should not be worrying over what irrelevant people have to say about you.”

I felt myself blush, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the reassurance Hannibal was giving me, or if it was from the compliment.

“I want to sit out here for a little while longer,” I told him. “I still need some air, and to come down from what happened back there. You don’t have to wait for me.”

“I don’t have to, but I will,” he decided. “I want to make sure you’re okay before I join my collegues again.”

I smiled at him again. I definitely wasn’t about to fight him on staying there with me. Quite the opposite, actually. If there was anyone I wanted with me in that moment, it was Hannibal.

#hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter imagine #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal #hannibal imagine #mads mikkelsen #mads mikkelsen imagine #mads mikkelsen x reader #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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stellocchia · 3 years

Text

I was rewatching the stream where Tommy got locked up in prison with Dream (Tommy Gets Locked In Prison with Dream) and there are just a few quotes that I want to drop here for everyone:

"What's up Dream?" "Nothing much. I lost my clock since the last time you came" "That almost... if you take the 'L' out of that word then it's... it's a different word and that's funny..." "That's the Tommy I know!"

It's just so damn uncomfortable from the get-go. Because keep in mind that Tommy went in there with the idea of getting closure. In hindsight, not the best idea, but it's not like he knew how to deal with what he went through any better.

But no, what makes it so absurdly uncomfortable it's how Dream just effortlessly steps back into the "friend" role. Immediately trying to go back to their old banter and all. And, like, Tommy didn't fall for it entirely. He was clearly uncomfortable as soon as Dream said the last line, immediately going on the defensive again, but it doesn't change that there is a part of him that still had (and possibly still has) a tendency to fall back on that as well.

"I'm glad you came to visit me, you know? It's been a while... I- I wish you'd visit me more"

Like... rewatching it I'm fairly sure that either Dream doesn't understand that Tommy doesn't, in fact, see him as a friend or he's simply very willing to ignore that fact because he's just that desperate to have him around.

"This is my last visit Dream" "Like e...? Y-y..." "Yeah. Yeah... I'm- this is my last visit seeing you" "You're- like... forever?" "Yeah. Yeah I think so" "Well... forever is a long time"

Maybe desperate then. I completely forgot how genuinely shocked he was at the news that Tommy didn't want to ever go back. I'm fairly certain that this is the first time he's left completely with no words and no idea on how to react.

Also, Dream "forever is a long time" Wastaken having absolutely no qualms as long as it's him and Tommy spending that forever together. This man really needs some new hobbies. Maybe a potted plant or something.

"...you know what? there's nothing you can fu- This is my last time visiting you. So anything you wanna say to me now you can- you have to say to me now. Uhm, 'cause I'm not gonna see you again" "Why?" "Are you fucking-"

See... that's what I mean! Like, yes, he lies and manipulates and all of that, but there could be actual confusion here. Like, I do think that Dream understands exactly how fucked up everything he did to Tommy was. I don't think he's ignorant about that at all. I do think that he may not understand why that would be enough for Tommy to want to stop "their game".

Like, he obviously knows that Tommy has a shitload of trauma from what he put him through, but that's part of the fun for Dream isn't it? So does he actually understand that that "fun" is exactly why Tommy doesn't want to be around him anymore?

"I've been suffering from success while you weren't here" "Me too... except for without the 'success' part, just suffering"

Imagine abusing someone for months and then trying to get them to pity you once you end up in jail, what a f*cking looser! Also, Tommy definitely stumbling with the response because he's just very empathetic even towards Dream. Like, he repeats to himself a few times that Dream did deserve being in jail and that he did do bad things which feels much more like a reminder for himself on why he shouldn't pity him more so than a reminder for Dream.

"You had all this shit coming!" "I did... but... you know? I don't know. Maybe one day, right?" "No! No, have you seen the prison? It's kinda the most secure thing ever! Dude, you're not- you're not leaving here! sam's name still there, okay, thank god" "I'm just saying, like, maybe one day, you know?" "I- I don't-" "Eventually" "Maybe if you have extreme therapy" "Maybe one day I'll just walk out of here. Like-" "No, I don't-" "I feel like I've already been changing since I came here"

It's interesting just how quickly Dream managed to regain control of the situation though. Trying to harp on Tommy's tendency to empathize with people.

"This is my last time here. I might- I kinda- I don't wanna-" "But why?"

He asks a second time? Is he actually just that dense? Like, I get the trying to fish for sympathy aspect. He was trying to get something useful to get out of there and whatnot. But man... that's the guy he literally abused. Did he actually expect it to work? Was he just heavily relying on Tommy's empathy to pull this off or does he actually just not understand Tommy's view on their relationship at all?

"I don't wanna know you" "I mean exile it wasn't too bad, right?" "You fu-" "I mean you still- you had, you know? I mean we hang out and stuff" "I fu- you fucking- you bastard Dream!"

Honestly hear Dream talk about exile is always fascinating. Also, a gentle reminder that Dream was well aware about Tommy being suicidal during the whole duration of the exile. And yet he still defines it as "not too bad" because they were spending time together. Just... that... something alright.

"Listen, when I'm around you my brain feels like I'm fucking conditioned to be your friend but also when I have a knife I wanna just plunge it into your heart man it's like I don't- you don't make me a good person Dream, you make me bad, alright? All this shit that's happened has been because of you and I don't- I'm moving onto bigger and better things now bitch. I- I'm done. I'm done" "But isn't- what if- what if you just- like once a month or something?" "No. No, I don't- I don't wanna know you in my life anymore. This is done"

I simply couldn't not include this. I'm too much of an inniter for that. But also Dream is STILL insisting after that speech. He still didn't give up on getting Tommy to visit him more. It may be that he was just stalling for time until the explosions now that I think about it, but still, wow.

"You're a terrible man, alright?" "I did bad things-" "You're a bad guy. You're a wronging'" "Well, everyone thinks they're right from their perspective that's why I-" "That's not true. That's not true!" "Well, I think I'm right. I did bad things but I did them for good reasons, but-" "What do you mean good reasons? You're a psychopath" "I've learned. Yeah I did bad things but I've learned that I shouldn't have done them"

See, this is what I mean when I say that c!Dream apologists parrot c!Dream's rhetoric completely. Like, the whole idea that Dream had "good reasons" for his actions and that somehow that makes them okay didn't come out of nowhere, but it's sure recontextualized a lot when you understand that Dream is spouting this kind of bullshit just to convince his abuse victim to continue spending time with him. Like, when you actually look at how Dream uses his rhetoric instead of taking it as gospel it becomes pretty interesting to see how manipulative he can get.

"No what- what good reasons? No please, please enlighten us. Please enlighten me!" "I just wanted to- I just wanted to bring the server together. Have it be a happy family, you know?" "Bri- bring the server to- you fu-"

It's incredible how he was able to say that to Tommy of all people. After Tommy just mentioned moments priors how Dream tried to kill Tubbo. After he mentioned that he has trauma related to plain biomes because of Dream towards the beginning. Tommy does immediately call out the bullshit though and that's so satisfying...

"You ruined my past Dream, but you will not ruin my future" "I'm not- I- I- Tommy! I'm trying- I'm trying to change, to be better and not be the same person I was and you- it- it doesn't- y- you can visit me. Like, every now and then, right? It'll help! It'll help! Right? It'll help- it'll help me... be better" "Fuck off mate"

This was honestly the reason I rewatched the stream in the first place. I was looking for this specific quote because I thought I remembered it from somewhere and then I got distracted...

But yeah, the reason I was looking for it is that this is possibly the single slimiest f*cking move on Dream's side. If anyone is confused on the why, it's because, once again, this is emotional manipulation pure and simple. Dream putting the baggage of getting better on Tommy and appealing at his empathic nature to keep him into this f*cking abusive relationship. And also he's doing this while clearly panicked and grasping as straws. Because he does know that Tommy is not going for it right now, it's very obvious.

It's just... slimy...

#dream smp #long post #tw manipulation #tw abuse mention #tw unhealthy relationship #tommyinnit #c!dream #dream smp quotes #dream smp analysis #sorta?#it's kinda more quotes with my thoughts added on #of the section before the tnt happened #either way here you go whatever this is!

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adorethedistance · 3 years

Text

9 P.M. - Alive!Luke Patterson x Reader Modern Day!AU

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, mentions of suicide, painful breakup, and angst.

Words: 1991

Summary: Luke breaking up with you made your world stop turning, and when it finally starts moving again after four long months, Luke is back in typical agitator fashion.

A/N: Not requested, and I wrote this in about two hours so bear that in mind. I’ve been toying with an angst idea for a little bit now, and because all of my requests rn are fluff, I decided why not give Luke a little love since it’s been a minute since my last Luke fic. This isn’t proofread so proceed with caution.

“What are you doing here, Luke?” Dana’s voice cuts clear over the mindless chatter in the busy diner. She tucks a stack of menus under her arm to brush a loose strand of sandy blonde hair out of her face.

“I’m here to talk to Y/n. She isn’t returning my calls and she only has her phone on silent when she’s working.”

A solid four months ago, Luke Patterson had broken Y/n Y/l/n’s heart into a couple billion pieces in this very diner. After Luke requested to meet up as soon as possible, Y/n told him she’d be clocking out for the night around 9 PM, and true to his previous request Luke had arrived at 9 on the dot. He considered taking her to his car for more privacy but in fear of forgetting his long, crafted speech, he opted for a secluded booth in the very back corner of her diner.

He still remembers the evening, clear as day. They sat down across from one another on the red vinyl seats with nervous tension exponentially rising between them. He remembers the way she ruffled her loose hair after having it pulled back for an 8-hour shift. He remembers the way she rested her right ankle on her left knee to massage away the calf pain from 8 hours of waiting tables. And he remembers the way her warm smile disappeared after he uttered the words “I think we should break up.”

Y/n was so shocked she couldn’t respond. Everything seemed to be going well between them. They had said their first ‘I love you’s and she had even opened up to the possibility of giving him her virginity. And here he was, a mere week later, claiming that he had fallen out of love with her over the span of a month.

Tears clouded her vision. She was quick to wipe them away before they fell, something Luke noticed that she only did when she was crying out of anger. With her normal sadness or even stress she just lets her emotions run their course. But the anger swelling inside of her at that moment, she so desperately wanted to hide. As a result, she brushed them away. She bit her tongue. She saved face, not wanting to let Luke know just how much he had hurt her.

Luke expected a full-on interrogation. He knew Y/n’s mind was one of insatiable curiosity and she had to have at least a million questions. However, if she did, she didn’t show it. The only question she asked, “Is this really what you want?” Her voice was steady, but Luke knew how badly she wanted to tear him apart, to ravage him right then and there. But after losing such a huge part of herself, Luke, she held onto her dignity so tight it nearly crumbled into dust and blew out of her clenched fingers. Without asking for any more information, she slipped out of the booth and hurried to her car as fast as her walk could take her.

At the time, Luke felt guilty for making her cry. Now he feels guilty for ever having let her believe she wasn’t good enough for him. The only problem is she wouldn’t give him the chance. And her best friend, Dana, didn’t seem like she would give him one either.

“Well, she’s not here. Have you ever considered she’s not returning your calls when she’s off of work, too?”

“Dana, I need to talk to her-”

“What could you possibly have left to say, Luke? Whatever you said to her that night broke her, it absolutely destroyed her. She hasn’t been the same since.” Luke had no trouble believing that was true, which is why it hurt so bad to hear, granted it didn’t hurt as bad as how Y/n felt that night.

“What? No- I-I really need to talk to her.”

“You really don’t.”

“I have to get her back, Dana!” A tornado of shock and anger consumes Dana to the point where all she can do is let out a bitter laugh. The look in Luke’s eyes indicates how hurt he is by her laughter, and Dana’s desire for vengeance has never been so strong. So, she continues to tell the truth. The ferocious, unabridged, hurtful truth,

“You don’t deserve a second chance. You don’t even deserve an attempt at a second chance. Knowing her, Y/n would never tell you this, but I will: you fucked up so bad, you made her almost make the biggest mistake of her life.”

“What?” Luke almost hesitates to ask, knowing he won’t like the answer.

“That night, she came to my place and cried so hard for three hours before she could even get a coherent word out. She stayed with me for three days and, had my shift not ended early that Tuesday, she wouldn’t be alive today.” The dumbstruck look on Luke’s face is only more motivation for Dana to twist the knife, “She almost didn’t survive losing you, Luke. And god forbid she gives you a second chance because she won’t survive losing you again.”

The diner is just crowded enough that no one is paying the two of them any mind as they faceoff by the hostess stand. Dana spent four long months consoling her best friend back to life, and she was not about to let Luke destroy all the hard work Y/n had put into healing.

“I can make this right.”

“How could you possibly make this right?”

“I know more now than I did before. I’ve changed!”

“So has she.” Dana’s biting words render Luke speechless. Once she realizes her work here is done, she continues setting up tables as they’re disinfected.

__________________________

Luke’s conversation with Dana in the diner left him shellshocked, but it also lit a fire under his ass that he needed to move forward. Rather than discouraging him, Dana’s words gave him a greater incentive to win her back: proof that he was willing to do what he said he would. At least, that’s what Luke told himself. Rather than stepping into the future with greater clarity, Luke went into the world with confidence so large and blinding, his actions may sabotage his true intentions.

That’s how he found himself so determined to win Y/n back. And that’s how he found himself face to face with the front door of her home. It’s 9 PM, just early enough to where she’d be home for the day, just early enough to where she wouldn’t be asleep, and hauntingly just the exact time he had broken her heart all those months ago. Before giving his conviction a chance to back out, he was raising a steady hand to ring the doorbell of her residence.

Y/n opened the door without much thought, expecting a food delivery; she was drastically off-put by Luke’s presence at her doorstep this late.

“Oh.” Was the only response manageable for the tired waitress.

“Hi. Can we talk?”

There it was. The phrase that was a paradoxical toss-up regarding her emotional state. Half of her has been waiting for this day for so long, dreaming of the boyfriend she once knew to come genuinely heartbroken and remorseful to win her back. The other half was terrified of this impending day as she realized she wasn’t nearly as emotionally strong enough to handle the situation as she thought.

‘Oh’ was the only response manageable for the tired waitress.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please just give me five minutes and if you never want to hear from me for the rest of your life, I’ll never bother you again,” he rushes out, knowing his time is finite. For what short period of time he thought it over, Luke always imagined pouring his heart out on her front doorstep. That’s why her silent sidestep and opening of the door caught him so off guard. He hadn’t anticipated her to actually give him a decent chance. Why would she? He broke up with her in the very diner she works in full time and crushed her heart so completely, the only things left behind had to be contempt and resentment.

Luke crossed the threshold of her small, cramped LA home with his heart on his sleeve. Reluctantly closing the door behind him, Y/n walks to her living room and sits on the couch amidst a mess of popcorn, her favorite chocolates, used tissues, and a bottle of Advil. The night Luke broke up with Y/n was four months ago and she’s still spending her Friday nights alone crying on her couch with a rom-com on the tv. A sharp pang of guilt cuts through Luke’s chest like a machete and his previous confidence completely dissipates into sadness. Though, he can’t tell if it’s actually remorse or just general pity.

“What did you want to talk about?” Y/n asks as if she doesn’t know what conversation they’re about to have. Luke takes a deep breath to prepare himself as best as he can before explaining what’s been on his mind.

“I am so sorry, Y/n.” His hopes for any sort of reaction are crushed once her blank stare doesn’t waver. In spite of everything that’s happened thus far, this is the moment Luke realizes this would be a lot more difficult than he anticipated. “That night, you asked if taking a break from… us was what I really wanted.”

“I remember.”

“I said yes and you left right after that. I know you’ve blocked my socials, but you haven’t blocked my calls, you just don’t answer. I’m sure you’ve got to be interested in why, you’re a very curious person.”

Luke wasn’t wrong there, Y/n had been wondering why. She had been wondering why since the words left his mouth that night, but she repressed that curiosity. She repressed it because she knew that whatever the answer was, it didn’t make any difference. Luke wasn’t hers to have anymore and that was what really mattered.

“I did it because I thought I was falling out of love with you.”

“You thought?”

“I wasn’t actually falling out of love with you.”

“You weren’t?”

“No.”

“Then why’d you break it off?”

“I thought I was falling out of love with you but really my attraction was just changing. Instead of just spontaneous and passionate and exciting, I began to see our relationship as comforting and secure as well as those other things. I thought my comfortability was falling out of love, but really, I was falling in love. I was no longer just super infatuated with you, I was in love with you. Genuine love.”

“Luke…” Y/n trails off. She has no real idea of what it is she’s thinking so she opts to let Luke continue until she can figure it out.

“I love you, Y/n. And I broke things off because, before you, I didn’t understand love. Hell, with you I didn’t understand it was love, but now I do! I love you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“So, what does this all mean?” Luke draws in a nervous breath, identical to the one he used to soothe his nerves as he stepped into the all-too-familiar house.

“I know I don’t deserve it because of what I put you through… but all I’m asking is for a chance to prove that I really do love you.” The looking shimmering across Y/n’s eyes tells Luke how her thoughts are running wild. She’s experiencing a new train of thought at a mile a minute and it terrifies both of them.

“You hurt me, Luke. And I want to hate you so much for everything that you put me through, but I don’t, and I hate myself for that. But, I’m sorry. I can’t give you a second chance.”

***

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 17 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer is concerned about Reader’s growing impulsiveness, but Reader is the one who gets a call from JJ asking if she can come get her boyfriend. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader   Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)   Content Warning: Discussions of drugs, death/dying, suicide, overdose; Alcohol, addiction, oral (male receiving), handjob, fingering, Daddy Kink, fights, PTSD, hospital talk, drunk smut w/ blanket consent Word Count: 12.5k

MASTERLIST

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When I opened the front door, I realized that I had returned to an empty home. I wasn’t sure which was weirder; the realization that the house was empty, or the fact that I was referring to her apartment as my home. It certainly had started to feel that way.

It never stopped being a shock that I would find a home in someone so quickly and with such little self-awareness. I'd certainly never suspected that the house we’d be in would also be shared with several other people, all of whom were significantly younger than me and shared almost no similarities with me beyond our love for (y/n).

And even if it wasn’t the weirder of the two realizations, the fact that she wasn’t there was definitely the more troubling one. I tried to gather at least a little evidence before I called her; I wasn’t exactly excited about being blindsided again. Judging by the red solo cups that were scattered in the kitchen, I had an idea of how her friends had spent the night. The fact that no one was here led me to another conclusion that I desperately hoped was inaccurate.

Her phone rang four times before she picked up, which was strange in itself. When she did pick up, she sounded like I expected her to. Tired. Groggy.

“Hello?”

“Hey little girl, where are you?” I hoped she couldn’t hear the fumbling of my keys in my pocket, or any other sign of just how anxious I’d gotten in the last three minutes. “Oh. I’m sorry, Spencer, I forgot I was supposed to see you today.” She mumbled, sounding genuinely apologetic if not a little confused.

“You… forgot?” I repeated, quickly making my way over to the calendar hung on a bulletin board outside the kitchen, noting the nothingness over both the current and following week.

“Yeah, I guess I got carried away with school.”

She was lying. I couldn’t be for sure about what, but it was obvious. If she was really having that much trouble with classes, she would have told me. We’d gotten past the whole insecurity over me thinking she was stupid thing a long time ago, and she knew I would always let her learn it on her own if she didn’t want my help.

“... What are you not telling me?” I tried to make the words playful, although my hand was now nervously patting the side of my hip at an alarming rate.

“Nothing! I just got distracted. I’m... a little busy today so we should just meet up again next weekend.”

“A week?” I knew she was probably getting tired of me parroting her words, but that just seemed like a ludicrous amount of time. Usually, we went barely a day or two without seeing each other when I was in the city, cherishing the time together when I wasn't called away to attend to crimes halfway across the country.

“What’s going on?” My voice was quickly falling into that register that warned her I was about to start profiling her, whether I wanted to or not. And unfortunately, she chose the worst possible reaction to that warning, further tipping me off to the fact that something wasn't quite right.

“Spencer, stop being weird.”

But I wasn’t. I knew that I could be weird; it’s kind of my thing. If you looked up weird in the dictionary, you wouldn’t find my name, but you’d definitely find a description that perfectly characterized my personality.

“You’re the one being weird. Turn on your camera.”

“I can’t. It’s dark in here.” She shot back her answer so quickly, I knew that she had already anticipated the request.

“Then move.” I ordered more than suggested. She understandably didn’t take kindly to my reaction, but I know she also knew why I was doing it. The excuses she was giving weren’t even well thought out.

“What is this? An interrogation?” She scoffed, “Do you think I’m cheating on you with barely dissolved stitches in my intestines?”

I took a deep breath, sitting down at the kitchen table still sticky with leftover sugary liquor and turned the phone onto speaker. “Turn it on.” This time, my voice broke with the order. As much as that didn’t make it sound authoritative, it did make her feel guilty.

As the screen lit up, it all made sense in the worst possible way. She was forcing a fake smile, her other hand resting against her face in a failed attempt to draw attention away from the the mottled skin of her left eye.

“I’m not cheating on you. Happy?” The words were sharp on her tongue, an anger in her features paired well with the understanding that I wasn’t wrong to be worried. I honestly think that was what bothered her the most – that she wanted it to be nothing, for me to be overreacting, but knew that it was a little more serious that she let on.

“I’m definitely not happy. What happened?” I was already at the door by the time the sentence ended... She shut off her camera just as quickly, hearing the commotion from my side. “Where are you? I’m coming right now.”

She sighed, and I could see it clearly despite the fact that she wasn’t on my screen anymore. “I don’t want you to come here. Spencer, I’m fine.”

I might have believed her. I might have honestly given her the benefit of the doubt – let her lie to me a little, and just accept that a black eye wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Eventually, she would tell me how she got it, so I wouldn’t need to worry about it.

But it became very obvious very quickly that it was not just a black eye.

“Ms. (Y/l/n)?” A third voice announced in the background, accompanied by the distinct sound of an alarm sounding in the distance.

“... Are you in a hospital?!”

“For fucks sake. I hate dating a profiler.” She grumbled, implicitly admitting that my conclusion was right. She wouldn’t let me have another word, speedily slurring her goodbye. “I have to go, Spencer. I’ll call you later. Love you!”

—————————————————

Anyone who has spent a long time in inpatient knows that nosy nurses are both the best and worst kind of people to be assigned to your stay. They were the best because they always had the best gossip and would spend their precious little free time sharing stories about their lives that were always more entertaining than whatever poorly budgeted gameshow was on the old, staticky television.

They were the worst because one wrong move meant that you were the subject of gossip. And boy, were they good at getting it out of you.

“Trouble in paradise?” She sweetly hummed as she pushed my bed down the hall.

I wanted to tell her that there was trouble, and that it was through no fault of my own. If the other people in the hospital didn’t have the audacity to be sick at the same time that I needed a CT scan, then I wouldn’t have even still been here. I could have been back at home, where… well, I guess Spencer would have figured it out either way.

“Yeah, I guess.” I sadly admitted, playing with the string of my gown. “He’s just a worrywart.”

The woman had that glimmer in her eye, the kind that came from years of seeing the same stories over and over again. Although, I had a hard time believing she’d ever been in this exact scenario, I guess they were all kind of the same after a while, semantics aside.

“Well, that makes sense considering your current state.” It was more of a reprimand than anything else, and I audibly groaned to try and get her to stop there. She didn’t, though, having spent enough time with me to know I needed to hear it. “You were very lucky, you know. If things had been even just a little bit different…”

Couldn’t you say that about everything? If things had been even just a little bit different, I never would have met Spencer in the first place. We never would have fallen in love or fought or done any of it at all.

I didn’t like thinking about that. I didn’t like even considering a life without Spencer. No matter how much pain I’d been through, or what traumatic memories were dug up, they were worth it.

That’s what she wanted me to realize, and she had succeeded. Suddenly, as we turned into the room, I was overcome with guilt at the way I’d ended my conversation with him.

The nurse knew it, too, because as she transferred me onto the scanner, she smiled. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. If he woke up next to your hospital bed last time, I understand why he’d be scared.”

Chewing on my lips, I thought about the last time I was in a hospital. I thought about how Spencer had curled his giant lanky body onto the bed and barely slept for 2 weeks. I could see the way his eyes got more sunken by the day, but never stopped shining with relief. I could hear him chewing on ice because he didn’t want to leave to grab food until after I’d woken up, and the cold would distract him from just how hungry he was.

“He must love you an awful lot to be that worried.”

I hated when they did that; when they read my mind and said exactly what I was thinking.

“Yeah, I know.” I tried to smile. It was hard with the stabbing pain in my stomach and the aching in the entire left side of my face, but I managed. It was just one of those things where if I thought of Spencer, my body had to react. It was as natural as breathing.

Which, speaking of…

“Take a deep breath in.” The technician alerted me from the speaker.

The high pitched whines of the CT scanner weren’t as obnoxious as the MRI machine. I was silently grateful that they were still too scared to use the giant magnet. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be stuck in a confined space, listening to loud banging that sounded too much like gun shots for my comfort.

Even just the thought made me nauseous. I felt like a baby, to have such a strong reaction to something so stupid. I’d been in an MRI before. I was a in a hospital. Nothing bad was going to happen to me, and I knew that.

But even now, in a machine that made virtually no noise and barely covered half my body, I wasn’t able to hold in a breath. Each time I tried, it felt like I was choking on Spencer’s lap again. The stinging in my stomach felt so much stronger, even though I knew it was healed.

The world felt like it was closing in on me, and every second that passed felt like days. I couldn’t even trust myself to guess how long it took for them to get images that should have taken no longer than 5 minutes.

I felt like such a burden. Like I was in their way. Like I was doing it wrong. Like I was a little kid, thinking that she knew what she was doing and could do it on her own.

I wanted Spencer.

That was the only thing I could think, and although it should have been comforting, it just left me feeling empty. The thought of him wasn’t enough to stop the tears streaming down my cheeks. The hands of the nurses trying to calm me down didn’t help, either. They felt wrong. They felt cold.

I just wanted Spencer. I wanted him to be there to hold my hand and distract me from my own thoughts. I wanted him to replace them with other things, like he'd promised me. I wanted to make new memories far away from here.

But I couldn’t. I was an idiot and I’d gotten myself back in the hospital, and he wasn’t here because I told him I didn’t want him to be. Why had I told him that? There was no reason that made any sense.

Once we finally did get out of the damn radiology department, I could still only barely function. The ride back to my room was much quieter, and the nurse didn’t meddle anymore. Gossip was only fun when it didn’t hurt like this.

Again, I couldn’t trust myself to guess how long I’d been in the CT scanner, but as we crossed back into my room, an overwhelming sensation of relief washed over me when I saw his satchel in the seat beside my bed. I hated the knowledge that I’d wasted 45 minutes of the technician’s time, but I was just so fucking happy that he had actually come.

Being alone in my room wasn’t a big deal anymore, because I knew it was only temporary. So as soon as I could, I sat up and waited patiently for my favorite mop of curly brown hair to peek around the corner.

He didn’t disappoint. He rarely did.

“Hey little girl.”

All the tension melted from my muscles, my head finally resting against the pillow with a dopey smile on my face. “Spencer.” I sighed, holding my hand out to him to usher him closer.

He gladly took the invitation, taking wide steps so he could be with me sooner.

“You shouldn’t be here.” I grumbled, flicking him on the arm while I locked our hands together. “But I’m glad you are.”

It was obvious from the way he let out a deep breath that he was also relieved to see that I wasn’t angry at him for coming. However, that’s also where his relief stopped. Because he’d seen me an hour prior and knew that I hadn't been crying then. But now, on top of the black eye, he saw the red rimming my sclera.

Taking my hand into both of his, he pressed a hard kiss against the back of it. Without looking up, he muttered into the skin a sad plea.

“Talk to me.”

“About what?” I asked, pulling back on my hand so he would stop with the shameless display of romance in such an awful place.

“Whatever’s going on.” He paused, but was clearly unhappy with the open ended question, and just as quickly specified, “What happened last night?

Unfortunately, I still wasn’t in the giving mood, even when it was information, and even if the person begging me for it was the boyfriend that I’d just cried for in the CT Scanner. If anything, that almost made it worse.

I hated feeling like this. Vulnerable.

“Nothing.”

Spencer was getting fed up, but it was like I couldn’t stop myself from fighting with him. I didn’t want to. I wanted to tell him that I needed him to take care of me and ask him to hold me while I cried on his shoulder about nothing at all, but I couldn’t. He would do it in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t ask him to. I couldn’t ask him for anything.

I couldn’t need anything without feeling too horribly guilty.

“Please don’t lie to me.” He was begging again, looking up at me with those impossibly warm amber eyes. He smiled when he saw the way my lips curled at the sight of him, unable to be angry for too long.

“Am I not allowed to have any stories for myself?” I joked, reaching forward to poke his face. Instead of moving away to avoid my hand, he leaned into the touch.

“You can. I just...”

“I know. You’re worried.” I responded with an exasperated sigh, rolling my head back. I could still feel him watching me, though, with a precarious smile, happy to see my spirits relatively high while also being deeply unhappy about the circumstances.

Wanting to see that full, confident smile again, I realized I didn’t have much of a choice. I’m sure that whatever he’d come up with in his head was much more sinister than what had actually happened.

“Fine. Stop looking at me like that.” I mumbled, gesturing to the childlike pout and laughing when he sucked his lips into his mouth in an attempt to follow my direction. I was glad he was still in a joking mood, because I had a feeling it would disappear as soon as I started talking.

I took a deep breath, looking up and away before I began my explanation of the stupidest night.

“I went out for drinks with my friends–”

“Drinks?!”

It hadn’t even been five seconds and he’d already cut me off. I couldn’t blame him, but it was so freaking annoying. This was exactly why I hadn't told him. Well, that and the fact he could get in serious trouble.

“I didn’t have any! Geez. Chill out.” I yelled back, chuckling a little bit at the conflicting looks of terror and relief. Because while he obviously believed that I didn’t drink any myself, it gave ugly context to the nightmarish guesses his mind had concocted.

“And everything was fine. We were on our way home. But then some asshole started messing with my friend. And she was way too drunk and started crying.” I was groaning internally the whole time, thinking about all the different ways this whole situation could have been avoided. Honestly, I don’t know why she had decided to try and square up with a cat caller when she knew damn well that she would start crying the second he raised his voice.

Which, of course, he had.

“So, I told the guy to fuck off. And he did not like it.”

There was a powerful rage boiling under the surface of Spencer’s skin, which was only betrayed by his clenched jaw and the sheets scrunched under his hand. “Did they arrest him?” He said, trying to calm the trembling in his voice. He wasn’t angry at me for being a victim, even if he was probably a little annoyed that I went out without telling him.

Not like he was even in the state, anyway.

“I didn’t press charges.”

He took a deep breath, clearly about to tell me that I was stupid for not holding him accountable. That I could’ve gotten hurt and he would’ve gotten away with it. That I could’ve died if he’d hurt me the wrong way.

I didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop. I didn’t want to go to court, and I’m fine. I didn’t even need invasive surgery again.”

Spencer was still angry but trying to settle himself down before he spoke. He could hardly even look at me, his hand leaving the bed to run through his hair and shake his keys in his pockets.

I wanted to tell him that the tension of silence was worse than if he’d just raised his voice at me, but I couldn’t even gather the energy to do that. My body and mind seemed resigned to their current state; they’d just given up.

“(Y/n)...” He started, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the use of my name. They didn’t retreat, especially not when he dragged a chair over to my bedside, sitting down and placing a gentle hand over mine again.

“Are you okay?”

It was so sincere. So pure, so unforgivably kind. My hand that had felt paralyzed seconds earlier twitched under his. “I just told you.” I shrugged, fighting the urge to pull my arm away again. I wanted him here. I wanted him to touch me.

So why did it hurt? Why did everything hurt?

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” His voice broke, and I saw the way he was holding back tears with his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. He was biting back so many things he didn’t want me to know.

But again, I was too tired to fight it. So instead, I said nothing.

“It doesn’t take a profiler to see you’re hurting.” He continued, urging me to give him anything to work with. “How can I make it better?”

He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t I let him help?

“I’m fine. Nothing even happened to me.” My throat tried to reject the words, my brain screaming at me that they were fundamentally untrue. But my heart hurt, pounding louder in my chest to tell me that the logic was wrong. Because I was a big girl, and I shouldn’t be scared by things that already happened.

I’m safe, right? I don’t need to be scared, right?

Spencer could see the panic on my face because I couldn’t even have hid it if I'd wanted to. And my brain was telling me to not to. It told me that I needed to talk to him, to let him listen.

“That’s not true. You’ve been through a lot.” He bargained, trying to locate that little voice in my head with his offerings. He wanted to pull that small part of me out and force it to talk so that we might finally be able to start to move on.

“You go through worse every day.”

‘It’s common for patients suffering from PTSD to minimize their suffering or compare it to others. It’s a completely normal response, but I want you to try to resist belittling your own feelings. They’re yours, and no one else’s. Okay, sweetheart?’

The voice was so clear in my head, my body jerked in response. I looked around the room, looking for any sign of the man who’d told me them first. But he wasn’t here; he hadn’t been here for some time.

“Do you know how many profilers I’ve seen leave in my time at the bureau?” Spencer distracted me from the thought. He probably figured my flashbacks were more sinister than what they actually were. As upsetting as they had once been, hearing my dad’s voice in my head was usually oddly soothing.

“No.” I answered blankly, trying to pay all attention to the man who was still here.

“Four. And I’ve considered it myself.” There was a soft chuckle to hide the guilt in the admission.

I didn’t know why he felt bad for it; his job was so ridiculously difficult. On top of constantly having to rearrange his life on account of the various inextinguishable evils in the world, he had to face those evils every day and try to figure out their inner workings in order to thwart them. The only time I'd ever done that, I'd killed all three of them. Not the best track record.

“The first one, she... she reminds me a lot of you.” The soft twinkling in his eyes, much like emotional music in the movies, alerted me that a backstory was coming. Based on the extent of just how nostalgic he was coming, I guessed that whatever he was about to say was deeply important to him.

However, I was fragile enough as it was, and I didn’t need to add jealousy to my current emotional repertoire. “Is this another JJ origin story? Cause I don’t think I can handle it.”

He laughed, shaking his head at the frustrated pout that formed on my face. “No,” He said quietly, taking a pregnant pause to formulate the story. “Her name was Elle.”

The story he told was woven well, although I expected no less. He told it passionately and with absolute sincerity. He told me about the woman who was one of the first people he'd bonded with on the team. The playful relationship he described was painted so vividly in my imagination.

I wanted to meet her. But by the end of the story, it was obvious that it wasn’t an option. He didn’t say anything about it, but from the far off look I could guess that he hadn’t seen her since that last day.

“She was like a sister to me, and to see her fall apart and not be able to do anything to help her... it was one of the worst feelings in the world.”

And I understood then, why he was worried about me the way he was. He was projecting his previous experience on me, but things were different with me. At least, that’s what I told myself. Realistically I should have been reminding myself that she'd had the training and resources to overcome her obstacles, whereas I was basically still a stupid kid. The prospect of facing the reality was too difficult though; I just shrugged it off.

“Well, I already killed the people who did this to me.” I chuckled.

Spencer did not appreciate my humor. There was an even stronger concern that flashed over his features, worried by my flippancy over the death of three human beings.

Fuck, I should feel worse about it than I do, shouldn’t I? But if I thought about it, then it hurt so badly. If I had to pick one, I would pick apathy every time. I would choose the emptiness before the ocean of remorse.

“I’m not worried about them.”

I had drifted away from him again, and the sentence forced me to look at him.

‘I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about you.’

I’d said that before. Those were my words.

I pulled my hand back from Spencer, rubbing my forehead with both hands before wincing at the sharp pain around my eye socket. It took me a minute to focus on the sentence and dive deeper into its implications. But once I remembered why it instilled such a visceral reaction, I nearly gagged on the words.

“Wait, you think I’m going to kill myself?”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly responded in the most defensive manner possible. If that was his attempt to calm me down, it did not work. It only pissed me off even more.

Because there was only one reason why he would think I was going to kill myself. I hadn’t given him any reason to believe that was a risk. Yeah, sure, I was being reckless and impulsive, but I was a teenager!

“Why would you think that?” I demanded an answer, and he was immediately hesitant to provide one. It was all the evidence I needed to reach my conclusion. “Don’t lie to me, Spencer Reid. You asked Hotch, didn’t you?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair now that it was obvious, I wasn’t going to want him to touch me. “Yeah, I did.”

“You told me you wouldn’t, Spencer! You promised!” I ground the words out between my teeth, hoping he understood just how much I was holding back my volume.

He looked over at the screen monitoring my heart, noting the way the spikes appeared at an exponentially faster rate. “I know.” He whispered with an evident guilt.

“What did he tell you?” I hated the way my voice shrank with my shoulders, my body insisting that I assume to the smallest position I could. Because as much as I hated that Spencer had asked when he told me he wouldn’t, I was desperate for the information.

I’d always wanted to see the files, to hear the story as they knew it. I wanted to know what happened, and this was probably the closest I’d ever come to that, unless that whole Ouija board thing is real.

“Probably the same stuff that you already know.” He knew he was disappointing me. He shouldn’t have felt as bad about that as he did, but I’d take the implicit apology for what it was.

“Tell me anyway.”

Spencer should have been delighted to have the opportunity to talk at me for such a long time, but I also understood why he wasn’t. They weren’t the best topics of conversation, your ex-best friend and your girlfriend’s dead father. But he was a trooper and a skilled conversationalist, despite people not being able to understand that.

“He told me that there were several missions your father was a part of that ended controversially. That… he reported several violations that were never followed through on.”

The words so easily unlocked memories I had tightly and resolutely locked away, it was unsettling. I could hear my parents arguing about the philosophy of blame and responsibility. My dad always arguing that he couldn’t stand aside and let innocent people get hurt. My mom reminding him that he couldn’t save everyone.

‘We also get to see a lot of good.’ Spencer had said on our first not-a-date.

‘Yeah, but which do you see more of?’ I’d asked, and he’d avoided the question. I remembered seeing the question dance across his vision before he shut it out. He'd wondered why I was so confident in my conclusions.

“And the last mission…”

He didn’t have to wonder anymore.

“I saw the report.”

My breath was knocked from my lungs by an invisible fist to my damaged gut. I swallowed, trying to regulate my heart that was at risk of setting off the damn machine next to me. “What did it say?” I whispered, clutching onto the sheets and my gown, hoping it would be enough to keep me grounded.

“Killed in action.”

“That’s fucking bullshit.” I barked, my brows furrowing regardless of just how badly it hurt to contort my face so badly. “He didn’t– H-He wasn’t–“

“I know.” Spencer responded, a note of pity in his voice that made my face twitch in annoyance.

I turned to him with the same snarl, years of repressed anger resurfacing and wreaking even more havoc on my already destroyed life. “Do you? Do you know?”

“I mean, I can’t ever know for sure but… You weren’t the only one who felt that he...” He couldn’t say the word suicide, and for once, I was grateful. “It seems like all of his team had the same concerns.”

He was trying so hard to calm me down, to placate my fears and rage. He was sympathizing the best he could, but the truth was he would never be able to understand just how fucked up it was. He hadn't been there when it was happening, so the only thing he could do was try to slap a band-aid on a well-settled scar and hope that my not being able to see it made it hurt less.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered the two words cautiously, his heartbreak clear in his eyes. He had nothing to apologize for, but there he was, doing it anyway.

“For what?”

“That you’ll never have your answer.”

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but his answer took me by surprise. Of all the explanations I’d heard after an unnecessary platitudinous apology, I’d never heard that. And even worse, I’d never heard it in such a broken way, sounding for all the world like he believed he'd failed tremendously.

“I’m sorry that... that I couldn’t find it for you.”

I couldn’t stand the sight, and my hand found his cheek like it did so often, returning home to find that it was just a bit more stubbly than I remembered it. “It’s not your job, Spencer. We’re not one of your cases.” I assured him, running my thumb over the rough skin and remembering that he’d only just gotten home from exactly that: a case.

He did so much for me every day, but in the past few months he’d had to do so much more. And as much as I tried not to, I took him for granted so often. It was never as obvious to me as it was in that moment, when a tear slid down his cheek at the tenderness of my touch. He always expected anger and pain. I didn’t want him to feel that way with me.

“But thank you for trying. I appreciate you.” I tried to throw my soul into the words as they formed on my tongue, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. “I love you very much.”

“I love you, too.” He sighed into the small embrace, leaning his weight more heavily into my hand. Still holding back, he grimaced at the words he shared. “If I’m going to be honest, I looked something else up myself. Not on any FBI database just... old school research”

I wanted to act surprised, but it was the least shocking thing I’d heard in a while. So instead I just stared at him, with the closest I could come to boredom while still being interested in what he had to say.

“Yeah? What’d you find?” Finally settling into the inevitable resignation, I moved my hand up the side of his face to tangle in his hair. It was so soft despite not having been washed for a few days. I could tell he hadn’t slept much. I wondered why he'd bothered digging into my past in the precious little free time he had.

But then he said it, reminding me of the pain of the cemetery and the events that both preceded and followed it.

“Trent Loughton.”

My fingers stopped in their exploration of his curls for a second, but eventually continued. “I see.” I hummed, trying not to push the conversation any further than he wanted to take it. As emotional as the topic was for me, it must have been harder for him. After all, he was the one who shared the nasty habit with Trent.

“I-I saw how he died... and I think I can fill in the rest myself.”

“Mrs. Loughton did give a lot of clues.” I laughed, mostly to stop myself from crying. That woman didn’t deserve any more of my tears. It was because of her that I’d spent years trying to convince myself that Trent’s death wasn’t my fault. Deep down, a part of me still believed her.

But honestly, it wasn’t my opinion that really mattered to me. It was Spencer’s. If he thought I was a failure, or that it was my fault for what happened, I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to move past it. I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to move past it.

“The drugs he overdosed on... they weren’t yours.”

Relief washed over me, but my mind told me not to get too comfortable, yet. “No, they weren’t.” My body had such a strange reaction to the words being said without an argument. I didn’t need to convince Spencer; he already knew. He not only believed me – he had come to the conclusion himself.

“So why did you say they were?”

It was such an easy answer, I knew he had to know it already. His hesitance to come to conclusions on my behalf, while appreciated, wasn’t necessary in this situation. “Pretty little girl with no record and a batshit war hero dad stood a better chance in the criminal justice system. I didn’t ask my dad to protect me, but he did.”

Spencer clearly sympathized with my father more so than me in that moment, which made my heart flutter in a remarkably inappropriate manner. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that those damn psychologists were right – We really do sometimes pick men that remind us of our fathers.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Spencer said under his breath, and I wondered which one he was even talking about. It honestly could have applied to my whole life. He would have meant it each time, too. Because to him I couldn’t do anything wrong. I tried to take solace in that, but it honestly caused another voice to creep into the back of my mind.

I’d never be as good as he saw me. I’d never be worthy of his love.

Shoving those anxieties away again, I nodded in solemn recognition of the years I spent working to come to that same conclusion. “I know. It just took me a while to figure it out.”

My hand finally fell away from his face, although he grabbed my wrist to stop it from going too far. There was another hesitancy in his body language. His face turned down and his leg bouncing so gently I almost missed it.

“Is he the one you were talking about? The one you loved?”

Ah, nothing like a subtle hint of jealousy to boost a girl’s ego. I chuckled at the sound, swaying a bit in place to let him suffer a millisecond longer. “No. Not exactly.”

But then I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to say it. How could I describe what we had shared, when I'd spent so long trying to forget it? Had I loved him? Probably. No, I'd definitely loved him, just not in the way Spencer was thinking. Not like I loved Spencer.

“It was like, he always liked me, and I always thought we’d end up together because that’s how it happens in the movies, right? I was supposed to fall in love with him.” I ranted, trying to move my hands that were currently wrapped up in Spencer’s. “But I didn’t, and then he was gone and...”

We both stopped, his eyes trailing after me with questions he didn’t voice yet. He wanted me to finish before he decided whether or not they were worth it. I wanted to explain to him that they weren’t. As important as Trent was to me, he was gone.

“It’s fine. I’m sure he would be glad I found someone who makes me happy.” I was confident in that, at least. Because as I stared into those big hazel eyes, forcing themselves to stay open just to listen to me talk about my life, I was glad, too. “Even if that someone snoops too much for his own good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

There were many reasons, most of which I didn’t want to go into. But the way he was looking at me shattered my heart into a million pieces, and I knew that if I lied to him now, it would only make it harder to put those parts back together.

He just wanted to help. I knew I should let him help.

“I didn’t want to think about it.” I admitted for the first time out loud. “I didn’t want to consider all the similarities. I didn’t want you to think I was just looking for a man to replace the ones I’ve lost.”

I couldn’t tell when I started to cry, but it was even more exhausting and painful than normal. Which is why I didn’t hesitate to accept Spencer’s offer when he stood up, wrapping his arms around me just tightly enough that it wouldn’t hurt.

“I didn’t want to lose you, too.” I whined, the comforting scent of his cologne filling my lungs and reminding me of all the beautiful moments we’d shared so far. We had so many more to go.

“You won’t lose me. I’m here to stay.” He said, reading my mind like he always did.

“I know.” I started to laugh, but this time it wasn’t held back by secrets. “You’d think a girl could lose you by getting in a bar fight an hour away and going to an unnamed hospital but nooo...”

He laughed too, although his was much more reserved. Spoilsport.

Spencer’s arms tightened around me briefly, holding me closer to him before he backed away, his hands finding home on my cheeks. I anticipated a kiss, which was usually what happened when he held me like that. But he didn’t kiss me, instead giving me a gentle instruction.

“(Y/n), look at me.”

My eyes, bruised and dry, still opened at his command.

“No jokes. No lies.” He asked, clearly enunciating each word. “Should I be worried about you?”

All I could hear was the sound of my heart and the humming of the machines. I was brought back to the CT scanner, the way it felt to be choking on air. Flashes of other men I loved were racing through my mind. I couldn’t save them, I remembered, before my eyes landed back on Spencer.

My stomach twisted at the memory of a wooden box, a check, and suddenly all I smelled was the pine of the forest.

“(Y/n)?” He asked again, although I saw he’d already received half of the answer.

“No. I’m fine.”

The most terrifying part about it was that I believed what I said, but the look on Spencer’s face told me that I was lying. And I believed that, too.

—————————————————

The thing about coming back from a gunshot wound to the stomach is that it takes a ridiculously annoying amount of time. Like, yeah, the pain is something awful, but the wait for things to return to normal was even worse.

I didn’t even know how long it’d been, my brain blocking out anything that reminded me of that day. If I ever really needed to know, Spencer could tell me. I was basically only keeping track of the days by deadlines for school and the dwindling prescriptions I had left.

My follow-up appointment was next week, and it couldn’t come soon enough. Spencer told me he would come with me, but I hadn’t really heard from him in a couple of days. He didn’t even have time to tell me about the case, although I could tell it was one of the “bad” ones – not that there were really any “good” ones.

But still, it was almost 11pm and I was about to go to sleep, but I wanted to wait a little bit longer before I called it a night. I was just hoping that I’d be able to talk to him, even if it was just to say goodnight. I missed his voice like crazy.

So when my phone lit up, I didn’t even look at the caller ID. There weren’t many people who would call me this late on a Friday – my friends were all already out for the night.

“Hello?” I sang into the receiver, already excitedly spinning around in my chair.

But the voice that responded was decidedly not Spencer.

“Hey, (y/n), right? It’s JJ.”

Her voice rang like a record scratch through my head, and I halted in my chair. “Oh, hey JJ... Why are you calling me?” Suddenly, my enthusiasm morphed into an overwhelming anxiety and darkness that threatened to crush everything in its path. “I-Is everything alright?”

But then I heard it. The sound of terrible music, loud laughter, and the general bustle of a restaurant. It was followed by an even more nervous JJ, “Uhh, yeah. Everything is fine. I was calling because Spencer might have had a few too many drinks and—“

Above the chaotic noise that I just described, I heard Spencer Reid loud and clear. Well, maybe not the clear part. His inaudible slurring sounded vaguely like a rant I’d heard before. Then again, hadn't I heard them all at this point? ?

I hadn’t put it together yet, though, and once I did, I couldn’t help but laugh. “My boyfriend is drunk? Cute.”

I was already standing, gathering my things and tossing my jacket on to head out when I asked, “Do you want me to come get him?”

“Please.” I’d never heard a more relieved woman in my life. The very thought of him driving his best friends insane with his drunken lessons was enough to combat my exhaustion. The poor thing was probably humiliating himself one sip at a time.

But for every chuckle, I was really just hiding a deeper concern. Spencer wasn’t supposed to be drinking. Spencer wasn’t allowed to drink, and he knew that. Out of the two of us, he was the one who put himself at risk more often, and I had a goddamn bullet wound.

“Sure thing. Just send me the address.”

It dawned on me somewhere along the 20 minute drive that Spencer had not only finished his case, but also come home and gone out for a drink with his team. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, but the fact that he hadn’t told me about any of it...?

I tried not to think about it, knowing that talking to him about it tonight would be a waste of time, anyway. From the way he'd sounded over the phone, he wouldn’t be in any state to talk about the deep nuances of addiction and our relationship.

So I pushed it away, trying to enjoy the fact that I’d be able to see him again. Now that we’d cleared the air about my past, things felt strangely calm. I told myself it wasn’t just the eye of the storm because I wasn't sure I could handle much more excitement lately.

Showing up at one of the bars I used to frequent didn’t do much to convince me otherwise, either. The stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol hit me like a freight train as soon as I stepped out of my car. How did I do this every other night before?

As I approached the door, I didn’t even recognize the bouncer’s figure in the shade of the dim porch light. I recognized his voice, though, that’s for sure.

“Hey Jailbait, haven’t seen you around.”

Shit. Slower now, I hesitantly approached him with the most innocent and well-meaning look I could muster, knowing full well that another part of my life was going to be exposed tonight. At least this time, Spencer was the story and not the listener.

“Hey Tom...” I nervously laughed, drawing out the words while I came to a stop.

“Heard some pretty crazy shit went down to keep you off the scene. Must be bad if it keeps you away from me.”

It was weird to think that they talked about me. But I guess it was to be expected; we were all friends before Spencer Reid. And when someone in those friend groups goes missing suddenly, there’s usually reason to be worried. But in my situation, the worry wasn’t really necessary (aside from the whole being shot thing, I guess).

“Crazy is a good word for it.”

He leaned forward, beckoning for me to move in even closer with a wave of his hand. I complied, although I was a little confused as to why we were being so secretive.

“Hey, sorry, but... I can’t let you in tonight. You know I normally would, but the place is swarming with feds tonight.”

Then I remembered that I actually had to explain the reason for my absence, rather than just think about it in the abstract. “Oh no, I know.” I peered around him, trying to spot the man past the door. It wasn’t hard, considering how goddamn tall he was.

I pointed to him, causing Tom to turn with an amused grin before I explained, “I’m here for the drunk noodle man.”

The look on his face – hilarious, and a little insulting.

“What? Jailbait’s picking up a fed? Damn girl what’ve you been into?” He laughed, barely able to control himself. He laughed so hard, in fact, I’m surprised there weren’t tears in his eyes.

“Stop that.” I whined, but he didn’t listen.

“Does he know who he’s dating?”

The question hurt more than he could have anticipated. I didn’t want to confront those messy feelings, so I bundled them all into an annoyed exclamation. “Yes, he knows!” I huffed, crossing my arms and turning away from him as I stepped towards the door. “So can I go get him?”

He composed himself rather quickly after that, shaking his head and unhooking the rope that blocked off the door. “Please do. If I have to hear one more fact about Ancient Rome, I might quit.”

With the last obstacle gone, I happily skipped through the door, the excitement returning in a bubbling wave through my chest. “Thanks, Tom!” I chirped, barely giving him a glance as I raced through the door.

The only person more surprised to see me than Tom was Spencer. Although, to his credit, I did practically launch myself at his side. We both nearly toppled to the ground thanks to our lack of coordination, but we were luckily stopped by the bar he was leaning against.

“Boo!” I shouted in his ear, hearing a small, surprised gasp from my boyfriend.

“(Y/n)?” He turned towards me now, stars quickly forming in his eyes as a big, goofy smile spread across his face. It took him a minute, but eventually he recognized me in the dim light.

“Hey old man.”

Hugging me back just a little too tightly, he began to gush, “Oh my gosh. What are you doing here?” Of course, before I could answer, he came to several other conclusions. “Wait! This is a bar. You can’t be here! You aren’t twenty one!”

He thought he was whispering, but he definitely, definitely was not.

“I’m here to pick you up, not party.” I actually whispered back, turning to see JJ practically hiding at the table. I’m guessing he hasn't wanted her to call me, although I was pretty sure he wouldn’t care at this point. He seemed pretty happy I was there.

“You can’t pick me up. You’re hurt.”

I didn’t even know where to start with that, so I just chuckled. “Smart as a whip, Dr. Reid.”

I ran my hands over his shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkled dress shirt he'd either had no time to iron, or had worn to bed the night before. I didn’t like either of those options. Spencer must have noticed me analyzing the fact, because his hand came up to stop me.

Trying to quickly change the subject, I blurted out over the terrible music, “Even when I’m hurt, I can probably still pick you up. You probably weigh the same as me.”

He scoffed, looking down at his lanky body compared to mine before shaking his head. “That’s hurtful, (y/n).” He attempted a puppy dog face, which only made laughter burst from my pursed lips.

Grabbing hold of his wrists and pulling him away from the bar, I turned and waved to the few team members I could spot among the crowd before returning to my drunken idiot of a boyfriend. “Come on, love. It’s time to take you home with me.”

When the cool autumn air hit him, I felt the goosebumps ripple over his arm. He leaned a bit closer, resting too much of his body weight on me for my comfort, but I wasn’t going to tell him to stop.

“How did you find me?” He mumbled, trying to touch me more than he currently was. Pushing him away from me was supposed to serve as a gentle reminder that we were in public, but he didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“JJ called me.”

“They all like you a lot. So do I.” His fast responses were a little less impressive considering how spontaneous they seemed, but I let it slide. As long as he was saying nice things, it was fine by me.

Guiding him as gently as possible, which is to say not gently at all considering he was essentially a human giraffe, I sighed. “I’m glad to hear it, Spencer. Maybe I can actually hang out with them one of these days.”

The guilt appeared before I could stop it, but it was the least of my worries at the moment. More concerning would be getting him into his house and in bed without either of us doing something stupid. After all, he was usually the one who stopped me from being stupid. And so far tonight, he’d already done something pretty damn stupid.

As I pulled the driver side door closed, a silence filled the car. Spencer was stuck between staring at me with a lovesick smile and looking away, probably because of his pink cheeks making him look a perfect combination of embarrassed and plastered.

“So what had you drinking, Spencer?”

“A case.” He shot back with that voice he usually reserved for the bedroom. It was the voice that told me not to press, to take his answer and let it die.

Unfortunately, I couldn't really do that this time, concerning this particular topic. . “Good thing or bad thing drinking?” I asked quietly.

I think he wanted to snap at me, to tell me that it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, but he didn’t. The way my hands and words trembled told him that I was just as scared as he was that the answer might be the wrong one.

“I don’t know,” was what he said, instead.

“Okay.” I accepted that answer, understanding that it meant we could talk about it later, when his blood went back to normal and his mind was where it should be. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

And there we were, me sitting and staring at the indicators on the car as the engine turned, and him staring at me in the little light provided. After staring back at him for a moment, I had to ask the glaringly obvious question.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

That’s when Spencer Reid let out an honest to god giggle, his hands reaching out to massage my face that no longer showed any signs of the black eye I'd received a few weeks prior. “You’re sooo pretty.” He drawled, slumping over in his seat so he could rest his face against my shoulder.

I couldn’t help but laugh back, petting his hair for a second before returning my attention to the wheel. “Oooh, I like this.” I whispered, letting my heart skip a few beats as he nuzzled into the warmth that only I could provide him.

“I love you.” He mumbled against my shirt, letting out a deep breath before apparently trying to fill his lungs with the smell of my laundry detergent.

The sensation of his breath hot against my neck caused a familiar desire to stir in me, just barely beaten out by the even more powerful adoration I had for the puppy-like man who was already practically asleep on my shoulder.

“I love you, too, darling.”

He didn’t hear me, his soft breath indicating that he would be out for the drive. Taking my time to avoid the roads with potholes and curves, I managed to keep Spencer on me the whole way back to his apartment. Once we were there, though, I didn’t have any option but to wake him up. Unlike him, I definitely could not carry him out of the car.

It took him a surprisingly long period of time to realize that we were not, in fact, at my place. As soon as he did notice, he rubbed his eyes like it would transform the door in front of him. “Why didn’t you take me home?”

“This is your apartment, babe.” I explained, digging through his pockets to find his keys. He jumped at the contact before letting out a sound that was way too close to a moan for him to be making in the hallway.

“Yeah that’s not home.” He answered, swallowing down other noises that threatened to erupt by the time I withdrew my hand. “But home is–“ He hiccuped, patting his finger on my nose as he tried to stabilize his feet. “Home is where you are.”

“Mmm, so smooth.” I hummed, unlocking the door and shoving his drunk ass into the apartment before he could do something else that made me question whether I should just turn around and go home.

But he just looked so proud of himself, spinning around on his feet and crashing into the table beside the door. “Thank you!” He chirped, reaching forward to grab my hand and pull me closer.

When our bodies pressed together, the first thing I noticed was the fact he was clearly much more excited to be home with me than he was letting on. The thin fabric of his slacks left little to the imagination, and when my hand slid over the tent in his pants, there was nothing left to wonder.

“I brought you here... because I didn’t want to have to be quiet.” I purred, palming his erection over his clothes.

Through his broken moans, he still managed to ask the silliest question: “Why are you going to be loud?”

He was so fucking cute; so remarkably innocent in his drunken stupor, it was hard to remember that he was the same man that once finger fucked me on the metro.

“Why do you think?” I asked just as sweetly, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

Spencer still just stared, mesmerized by the way the buttons slipped from the fabric between my fingers. Once they were all open, I ran my hands over his chest before wrapping my arms around his neck.

He was the one to close the gap, coming down to deliver a feverish kiss against my lips. He tasted like honey and whiskey, and I wanted nothing more than to drown in him. His hands were on my lower back, sneaking under my shirt and spreading goosebumps all over my skin.

I moaned into his mouth with the utmost desperation, murmuring words against his lips. “Take me to bed, Spencer,” I begged.

The words awoke something in him, and suddenly, his hands were off of me and raised in the air.

“Wait— I can’t.” He concluded, drawing in heavy breaths.

“Why not?”

I wasn’t sure which part of this situation did him in, although I had my suspicions. As much as I wanted him, I would suppress those urges if he was really, truly uncomfortable. I almost felt bad for a second, but then he spoke again.

“I have a girlfriend.”

With a few slow blinks, I tried to figure out how the hell I was supposed to return a serious answer. Deciding that was impossible, I deadpan replied, “I am your girlfriend, you absolute idiot.”

I took his stunned silence to be permission enough to start leading him into his room. He honestly looked like I’d just told him all the answers to the universe, and he trailed after me like my hand was a leash. Still, once I sat on the bed and pulled his body against mine, he paused again.

“My girlfriend can’t— she’s hurt. She can’t have sex with me.”

I got the impression he was trying to reason with himself more so than with me, which explained the third person. But it was deeply unsettling, because I really needed to know he was here in this moment with me.

“Stop saying 'she'. It’s me, babe.” I gently reminded, and I watched it dawn on him again, his eyes lighting up in the darkness. Sliding my hand up his arm, I pulled him forward to hopefully convince him to climb into the bed with me. “And we don’t have to have sex.”

Funny enough, Spencer was the one who had enough sense to strip off most of his clothes before he stumbled onto the mattress after me. His lack of coordination was even worse with the alcohol, and it reminded me of the virginal teenager I’m certain he once was.

It was strange to consider, that if we’d met each other under different circumstances, at a different time, our roles might have been somewhat reversed. To picture him as an innocent little thing was... kind of exciting.

But he was anything but innocent now, his face hanging over mine while he helped me disrobe, trying to focus his analytical abilities on me in his haze. Finding no pain or hesitancy, he crashed his lips over mine with an energy I hadn’t seen in some time.

And it was so invigorating, to feel his skin against mine without him having to constantly worry about whether or not he was hurting me. It’d been far too long since we shared a bed together like this, and now that it was happening, I could hardly breathe.

“God, I love her.” He whispered against my skin, before quickly correcting himself, “I love you.”

I laughed, the kind that sputters from your lips when you try to hold it back. Pushing the hair from his face, I ran my fingers over his scalp. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk, I’m stupid.” He replied with a cheeky smirk, diving back down to kiss me again. I wasn’t going to argue with the brilliant Spencer Reid, even if the point he was making was that he was, in fact, stupid.

Maybe it was stupid, the two of us tangling up in his sheets despite the fact that I hadn’t been cleared for it yet by my doctor. I knew that it was coming soon – probably at my appointment in a couple weeks, actually – so why wait? I knew that Spencer would never hurt me. Even now, his hands were gentle in their insistence, raking over my hip and stopping just short of the place where I really wanted him.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He groaned, his hips rocking forward and pressing his erection against my leg.

“Touch me.” I ordered, louder and more forcefully than I intended. I was expecting an argument, but I didn’t get one. In fact, Spencer’s finger had already breached my folds before I even finished talking. Unwilling to let him be the only one to enjoy himself, I reached down to grab his cock.

“Shit.” He hissed, biting down on his lip while he rutted against my hand. “I just want to hold you down and fuck you until you cry.” The restraint was obvious in the fingers slowly sinking into me, his jaw clenched and his eyes barely able to stay open. “But I can’t.”

Through my heavy breaths, I panted out another request. “Tell me more about it.”

He immediately realized why I’d asked, and his fingers began to pump in and out of me faster and with more force, his lips trailing kisses over to my ear. While I tried to keep up the pace of my strokes, it became more complicated when his breath fanned over my ear.

“It’s been so long since I bent you over and had my way with you like I did that morning over your kitchen counter...” He moaned, and I could almost feel the sensations as he remembered them. Although his fingers would never be the same, just having him inside me in any capacity felt like pure bliss.

But he wasn’t done, continuing to speak his thoughts into my ear. “I just want to—fuck, I want to fill you up.” I went to respond, but I choked on a sob, instead. The lewd sounds between us only aided his descriptions.

“God, I love the way you feel. You’re always so wet for me.” He whispered, beginning to make small thrusts with his hips. The movement essentially allowed him to use my hand to stroke himself, and he let out another unsteady moan at the contact. “Think about what it feels like, little girl.”

“I-I am.” I could barely make the words come out; my body too sensitive to his touch after being starved of it for so long. And Spencer was ready to take full advantage of that.

“I still have so much planned for you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that little stunt you pulled when you got all riled up.” He growled, using his free hand to grab a fistful of my hair. He yanked my head further to the side, laying sloppy kisses along my jaw. “I told you I’d give you triple the marks you left on me, and I can’t wait to cover you with me.”

“Fuck. Please, Spencer.” I hoarsely begged, my hand on his shoulder tightening so that my nails dug into his skin. If his grip on my hair wasn’t so tight, I would have thrown my head back. Instead, I just squirmed underneath him, crying out, “I’m so close, Spencer, please!”

He did not disappoint, his fingers curling inside of me with each thrust, and by some grace of God, he was able to coordinate his thumb over my clit. As if that wasn’t enough, he pulled back to look me in the eyes.

“I want to feel you come on my fingers.” It was more of a demand than a desire, as evidenced by the way his hand tugged on my hair. “Come on, little girl. Make daddy proud.”

Just like that, my body responded to his call, my muscles trembling from the tension as my orgasm hit me like a fucking freight train. It was such an overwhelming experience, to remember exactly how Spencer was capable of making me feel.

And he knew it, too. “Oh, good girl,” he cooed, continuing his kisses against my neck and murmuring the words as they came to him. “That’s my pretty little slut.”

After taking my time coming back to earth, I struggled from the overstimulation still burning between my legs. Spencer hadn’t stopped his fingers, which were diligently stroking inside of me while he continued to buck his hips against my hand.

“I want you to finish inside me.” I slurred in my delirium, withdrawing my hand from his dick while he whimpered.

“I-I can’t. I can’t fuck you.” He was asserting a necessary and understandable hard limit, and it was clear I wouldn’t be able to convince him to fuck me that night.

But that wasn’t the plan, anyway.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” I said between gasps, struggling against his fingers still inside me. “Come up here.” I whined, rubbing my hands on his shoulders while simultaneously trying to sit myself up.

The movement and the words made him withdraw completely. “(Y/n)...” He warned, running a hand through his hair while he sat up on his knees. “I could hurt you.”

“That’s always been a risk with us, Spencer.” My retort was both quick and persuasive, judging by the way he almost moved, but stopped himself yet again.

“Please. Please, do it. I want you to do it so fucking bad.” There was an obvious and deep desperation. I was literally begging him, to the point that I swore I almost cried. It felt stupid, but I needed him like I’d never needed anything in my life before. He’d spent months taking care of me, and I couldn’t do anything in return.

I just wanted to make him feel good, to give him something like we used to share.

Of course, I think those thoughts were also visible on my face, and they were obviously worrying him. With tender touches, Spencer’s fingers lightly trailed over the side of my face. The brief flashes of clarity alerted him of my struggle, and he let out a shaky breath at the war inside his own mind.

“I want to feel you inside me, and this is the only way.” I concluded, trying to lead him to the simplest conclusion. It was the safest, easiest way to solve both of our current problems. And although I could see how hard the decision was for him, my pleading eventually bested him.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, leaning forward to grab the headboard, staring down at me as I shimmied further up the wood.

“Fuck!” He repeated, rolling his head back with a light groan when both of my hands reached forward to grab his hips. “Fine. You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute.”

A giggle bubbled through my throat, and my body actually bounced in excitement as he slowly positioned himself in front of me. I wasn’t even sure which I was more excited for, my own orgasm or getting to finally give him one again.

As soon as my mouth closed around the head of his dick, I got my answer. Spencer’s moan filled the room, his hands holding so firmly on the headboard that the entire bed creaked. Although I figured he’d been taking care of himself in my absence, it appeared that wasn’t entirely the case. He seemed just as starved as I was.

“Holy shit.” He groaned, dropping a hand to the top of my head. I had to remind myself that he was drunk, which explained why he seemed so much more responsive than normal, with whimpers and pants flowing steadily through his mouth. He only got louder as he began to slowly push himself further into my mouth, stopping every few inches to retreat before pressing further.

“God, I need to do this more often. No back talk, no whining.” He said in a low tone under his breath, beginning to settle on a steady rhythm.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t think of anything except how fucking good it felt to be useful again, to feel him struggling to hold himself back as he started to more aggressively fuck my mouth. My eyes could barely stay open, but I needed them to. I needed to see him in the dim light of the streetlights that peered through the window.

He looked so beautiful, so perfect, and so mine. Feeling him slide back and forth against my tongue revived memories from long before and reignited my longstanding desire to do anything to please him. In all his caretaking, I was worried he might have forgotten how to control me.

But he hadn't. Thank god, he hadn’t.

“Come on, little girl. Earn your fill.” He whispered, burying himself in my throat and holding me against the headboard. I only lightly choked on the intrusion before my body complied, swallowing him further until my lips were pressed against the base of him.

Suddenly, Spencer withdrew, beginning a brutal, dizzying pace. Now, my eyes couldn’t stay open, rolling to the back of my head as I used my hands to steady myself against his thighs. The sobs trying to escape felt more like moans, and they shoved Spencer over the edge he’d been riding in his caution.

“That’s it. Take it.” He barked the instruction, looking down at me and smiling, “Don’t you dare spill any of it, do you hear me?”

My answer was stifled against him, just the way he wanted it to be. And with a few more rough thrusts, Spencer buried himself as deep as possible. I swore my heart synchronized with the pulsing against my tongue as his seed spilled down my throat.

I hollowed my cheeks, trying to drain every last drop from him as he finished. It had its desired effect, and Spencer grabbed my hair and forced himself deeper one more time with a growl. “Good girl.”

Once he had enough, he pulled out of me with a satisfied grunt, waiting just a second before clumsily falling onto the bed beside me. I laughed as he hit the pillows, obviously too tired to even reposition himself in the disastrous sheets.

“Thank you, daddy.” I spoke in the silence, gingerly cleaning the spit that had dripped down my chin.

“Fuck.” The curse was muffled in the pillow, but I understood it well enough. He seemed more concerned when I started to sink down into the sheets again, reaching a tentative hand out to him.

Finally rolling over, he grabbed my arm and guided me closer. “Come here.” He said with the tenderness I’d grown used to over the past few months. He turned towards me, apparently not ready for me to sleep on my side just yet.

He brushed my hair from my face, lifting the sheets to look at the now mostly healed wound. I hated it when he looked at it. It just reminded me that I’d never be the same girl he first met. Every time he saw it, he would remember that day. I didn’t want to think about it.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

But even with the insecurity and anger in my gut, I wasn’t lying when I answered. “No, I’m fine.” My heart was so full, my body relaxing for the first time in so long. I was just so unbelievably happy to be together again. Even if it wasn’t like last time, it was still just as wonderful.

“I’m a little better than fine, actually.” I admitted with a bright smile.

Spencer hummed something in thought, but then winced. “Do me a favor.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes and wiping a heavy hand over his face.

“Anything.”

“Kick my ass in the morning.”

He was caught off guard by my response, which was a full-hearted laugh that was too loud for how close the two of were. But I couldn’t help it, it was just so Spencer to still be punishing himself despite the fact that nothing bad had happened.

Once I calmed down enough to talk, I turned to him with a devilish grin. “I don’t wanna.”

Then were both laughing, and Spencer pulled me close to him until he could rest his chin on the top of my head, curling up against my side. “Spoiled brat.” He whined, running his hand through my hair and down my arm.

When I smelled the whiskey on his breath, the guilt hit me just as hard as any of the pleasure. I'd been so excited to get to experience this with him again, I almost forgot the reason he didn’t want to do it in the first place.

He just didn’t want to hurt me. He just wanted to make me happy.

“I just wanted to be with you again... I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” I whispered, pulling the covers up so that I could hide my shame beneath them.

“I wanted to be with you, too.” He reassured me, half asleep and barely able to talk but wanting to get the words out. “I know it’s important to you, but I need you to know I would be with you even if I never got to touch you again.”

“Please never stop touching me.” I quickly replied, a genuine worry in my eyes.

But when Spencer glanced over, he just laughed, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“No? Even when I get pregnant and have a big ol’ belly?” I playfully answered, bringing his hand to my stomach and pressing it against the side that still remained intact.

The familiar position caused a shift in Spencer’s body language, and suddenly he was even more insistent on being impossibly closer. “You’ll still be irresistible to me.” He said against my hair, running his fingers lightly over the unmarked skin of my lower stomach.

“We’ll see, I guess.” I mumbled, not realizing that I said it aloud until I heard his confused reply.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” The defensiveness in my voice was terrifyingly transparent, and I hoped that if his drinking made him forget anything, it would be this conversation. “Go to sleep, drunk ass.”

“I need hugs and kisses first.” He complained, rubbing his nose against me in a way that should have been irritating instead of adorable.

“Spoiled.” I grumbled, reaching a hand up to play with his hair. I turned to kiss his cheek through the smile that was plastered over my cheeks.

Already half snoring in his sleepy state, he got out one more cringe worthy joke before he succumbed to his exhaustion. “What’s good for the goose...”

“...is good for the gander.” I finished for him, before taking the advice and following him to sleep.

—————————————————

| Part 18 |

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honeypirate · 3 years

Text

Unfinished Letter

My personal headcanon for Kunikida is when he wants to understand his feelings he writes them down and just writes with his flow of thoughts.

Anyway I know I didn’t write this as well as I could but I had to get the idea out so I could stop thinking about it so hard lol

Kunikida x Reader

~These excerpts were taken from the last page of his notebook. ~

In a quickly written scratch above the meticulous writing it says “My love is yours alone”

I fell in love with your laugh. The sound floating down to me on the breeze one day when walking back to work. I stopped yelling at Dazai and had to turn, to find where that beautiful sound was coming from.

I fell in love with your eyes. I watched in horror that day when Dazai walked up to you. What was he doing? What gave him the right? I tried to stop him but I was unsuccessful. “My friend thinks you’re pretty” Daizai had said. He never ceases to be the bane of existence. (Don’t tell him, but I’m glad he approached you that day)

Your laugh, again, captivated me. Light, sweet, bringing an angelic kind of peace to my soul. My heart beat raced as your beautiful eyes met mine, glowing and such a deep color, I felt like I could fall into them forever.

“Is that so?” You had asked, a grin on your soft pink lips, a look that is forever ingrained in my memory.

I find that I cannot lie to you even if i wanted. Something about looking into your eyes compels me to tell you anything you may ask. “Yes” I had said “although I would have been more respectful about telling that to you” Your hand touched my shoulder and I felt a jolt in my heart “I’m flattered” you had said. You are so kind and gentle, your fingernails were shining with a new paint job and when you dropped your hand I felt you take a piece of my heart with you.

You gave me your name, y/n l/n, a name I am positive the angels gave you themselves. After you gave me your number I stared at those few symbols on the phone screen, desperate to call you the moment we parted but I waited, and it was torture.

From that moment on it felt like my world had expanded, opening up more doors in my soul than I thought possible.

You alone are the one that holds the keys to my soul.

I fell in love with your kindness and generosity, the way you give without being asked, willingly, happily. You seem to practically shine with goodness and light and it reaches the very depths and corners of my soul. I went from darkness and strict order to having light fill my cup to the brim, chasing away every shadow.

You surprised me when you developed an easy friendship with Dazai. Easily adding to his antics and energy just for your amusement, even offering up some creative ideas for his suicide mission. Sometimes I find it hard to be annoyed with him anymore, your unique perspective of him chasing it away.

I’m currently looking at you from my desk, watching as you are desperately trying to convince him that dying because you laughed yourself to death was the way to go because then you’d die with a smile in that warmth that laughter brings.

That’s the way I would like to go, laughing and beyond happy with you at my side.

(Thank you by the way for bringing lunch today, it was amazing. It made me realize that you remember the little things about me, my favorite pen, the hair products I use, my favorite meal… another reason I fell in love with you.)

The way you always seem to remember every conversation we have or everything I mention in passing, making it obvious how special I am to you. Making sure to regularly ask me about the books I’m reading or asking about Mom every once in a while. You even went to visit her in the hospital with me and now she calls you every Sunday to chat.

That means more to me than you’ll ever know.

Your thread of life is tangled and woven through every aspect of mine, every day it becomes harder to distinguish the difference between our fates. I am almost positive it is because our fate is the same.

From that first day you just fit so perfectly in my life it’s hard for me to remember my life without you. You’re not a real member of the agency but you’re helping behind the scenes so often no one ever thinks about the technicalities, even I don’t think about that specific technicality anymore (mostly)

Everywhere I find space where I’m lacking, you fill the gaps without me having to ask or without truly considering it. Seeming to be the easiest decision you’ve made, to offer your help or show up when I need you. I am convinced that you are my guardian angel.

I fell hard in love with your personality. You are always on top of things. Organized, disciplined, strong but you also radiate goofy energy and you genuinely care for everyone you meet. What a rare quality to possess, I really admire that about you.

I can see your insecurities, I notice the places you feel like you lack, I need you to know that I will do my best to fill your gaps as you fill mine. I will use my strength to build you up as you have built me up. I will strive to replace your shadows with light as you have for me.

There is one problem though

You do not know I feel this way

I must confess to you how I feel, soon. This seems to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do outside of work. I thought writing it down would be the way to go but I know when I look in your eyes tonight at dinner, I will know what to say. Thank you, thank you, for going out with me tonight.

Dazai is being a pain now so I have to end this note

-K

#kunikida doppo x you #kunikida doppo x reader #bsd kunikida #kunikida x y/n #kunikida x you #kunikida imagines #Kunikida fluff #Kunikida fanfiction #Kunikida doppo x y/n #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs fanfiction #bungou stray dogs kunikida

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of-spaceships-and-cats · 3 years

Text

------------------------------------☆------------------------------------------

Jumin's life did not typically consist of surprises. Of course, there always were a few minor inconveniences that he did not plan for, but those, in the end, were insignificant. This, however, was something he never planned for to happen.

His body was roughly, yet gently, pinned to the cold tiled floor of his bedroom. Fingers dug into his arm on the ground as shaking legs restrained his own. Tears riveted down Jumin's cheek from golden eyes that never before were filled with such grief and pain and guilt. They shone so brightly under the moonlight that filtered through the paneled window.

Jumin would have half-expected such a scene to be a tragic illusion if it were not for the device sporadically echoing throughout the room. A reminder that this indeed was reality and not some far-flung nightmare.

His looming demise was spelled out in the form of a ticking time bomb.

Now, Jumin was self-aware enough to know that he was not liked by everyone. He's had his fair share of attempted assassinations.

But…

Why was the assassin someone who he thought he could trust with his life?

Is every person he trusted doomed to betray him?

"Luciel, what is going on?"

At the question, Luciel's eyes scrunched up further and he seemed to choke back a sob. Jumin noticed the grip on his arm slightly loosen for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Jumin… but, but I have to do this. You don't understand." Seven replied in a wavering voice.

"Understand what?" Jumin tried to push away the arm grasping the bomb but was held at a standstill. "Luciel, you have an active bomb-"

The younger man interrupted with desperation, "I know! Please, I don't need to, to be reminded of it. I wish things could be different, but they can't. They just can't."

Jumin narrowed his eyes, and with more urgency, asked, "Why can't you explain to me whatever is going on? Clearly, we are running out of time, and it will soon not matter if you reveal a secret."

"I- I- " Luciel shook his head, "Look, I never, ever wanted to hurt you like this."

"The truth."

When silence met his demand, Jumin clenched his hand tighter around Luciel's arm. "Luciel! Goddamnit, why are you doing this?"

"I have to! I have no other choice, Jumin. If I had, do you think I would still do this??" Luciel hiccuped violently, his whole body wracked with tremors. "The boss… my boss, he, he- that asshole found out about the RFA. I, I tried to be so careful! Damn it, damn it! I knew I was a danger, but I was too selfish to let go. Now, he knows who is close to me and, and… then some fcking client hired the agency to assassinate you. The boss said if I don't k-k-kill you by the deadline, he would eradicate every single person I have ever interacted with. Including you… and Yoosung, and Jaehee, and Zen, and V, and MC…"

Jumin could only stare after Luciel's jumbled explanation, not even bothering to conceal the shock. Although he only understood half of it, he knew this was a complicated mess.

Just how long was Luciel in such a situation?

The RFA was in danger?

Would everyone be alright?

"Luciel, there has to be another way. I will send guards to all the members or create an intelligence team to dismantle that agency… there are many ways we can go about this…" Jumin eyed the bomb. There must be only a few minutes left.

"No! You are no match for him! He, he is ruthless… they are all ruthless…" Briefly closing his eyes, Luciel continued, "This is the quickest way… the least painful way… if I don't do this, he will make everyone suffer."

Amidst his world shattering, Jumin realized something within the scenario. He lifted his head higher so that he could feel the erratic breathing coming from Luciel and calmly spoke. "If it is only me that needs to die, why are you still here? Luciel, you will be killed, too."

Luciel gave a watery smile and lowered his head so that his nose lightly brushed against Jumin's. "The RFA can live without me… they will be much safer. Besides, I could never l-live with myself… knowing that I k-killed you." He gently knocked their foreheads together, "Y'know, I hate my life… I hate myself…"

Jumin was nearly taken aback by the honesty appearing in Luciel's eyes and the rawness in his voice. The beeps grew faster, and Jumin, for the first time in a while, felt genuine fear. He thought he had so much time left, that he was young and intelligent and ready to take the business sect by storm. He was a naive fool. Life never stayed static; Jumin should have known he would be facing this reality.

"Luciel, how much time?"

"I- I don't want to look… "

Chills crept up Jumin's spine. The sound was too loud. "Shit. Shit. Luciel, I swear I will help you if you don't go through with this. There is time to throw the bomb inside an isolated room. I will be responsible for the costs and the explanations. Please, Luciel, there is time."

A sad chuckle erupted from Luciel. "Jumin, there was never time. If there was, I would, I would have asked you out. We could have raised Elly together. C-Cat cafes, secret outings, movie nights and pajama cuddles. We could have done all these, but- but there is no time."

"What are you rambling about, Luciel? Luciel! Snap out of it."

"We could have bragged to the RFA, to Z-Zen, that the c-cold Jumin and the c-crazy Seven are not single anymore." Luciel gasped through his tears. "I don't want to die, Jumin. I don't want you to die. I wanted to live, but, but…"

Jumin turned his head to nudge Luciel, "If you trusted me more, things would end differently. Why don't you understand that I have the resources to resolve this issue? I do not care how powerful and threatening your boss is."

Luciel's cheek pressed back against Jumin's, "N-No, Jumin. He is too powerful even for y-you. I've known him for too many years…"

"Luciel…"

"Saeyoung."

Saeyoung?

Luciel sniffled, "Saeyoung is my real name. N-not Seven, n-not Luciel… just Saeyoung."

Jumin had no idea why, but he felt a foreign, prickling sensation at the corners of his eyes. "'Saeyoung'… I prefer it over 'Luciel.'"

"Heh… t-that's the first time I've heard my name spoken in years… f-feels nice… " Lu- no, Saeyoung admitted near Jumin's ear.

The bomb ticked faster, and it didn't take a genius to figure out these were the final moments.

Jumin's breathing quickened as he prepared for the explosion. He never got to say goodbye to his father nor V. He never thanked Jaehee, never built trust with Zen, never helped Yoosung. What had he even accomplished? God, he wanted to hug Elizabeth and take refuge in her comforting presence. He hoped she did not come in.

Strangely, he was not upset at Saeyoung, who had roped him into this murder-suicide situation. If only he had noticed Saeyoung's predicament earlier, he could have prevented this a long time ago.

"Saeran… I'm sorry, I am so sorry… I failed you…" Saeyoung barely whispered.

Jumin didn't question who 'Saeran' was.

What was the point?

"Hey, Jumin?"

Jumin nodded.

"I wanted to go to space with you."

Chapped lips brushed against his cheek and a clammy hand slid to intertwine with his. Jumin couldn't speak so he laced his fingers with Saeyoung's.

The sound stopped for a brief moment before Jumin's vision was filled with a bright light.

And then nothing.

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: )

#mystic messenger #saeyoung choi #jumin han #mysme #juciel #angst #haha why do i like my boys to suffer #i have no regrets #forgive the quality

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bitch-for-a-rainbow · 3 years

Text

Lex Luthor: I actually really like him and Supergirl made me mad

So, Lex Luthor is a very interesting, sometimes thought provoking, but most of all very enjoyable character.

Lex is many things, a classic egomaniacal villain, an example of what lies can do to a relationship, a walking, talking red flag, a warning of how hubris and jealously can destroy you, and much, much more. He is not the typical strain of insane— if crazy at all, highly competent, and best of all knows every one of Superman’s buttons and exactly how to press them.

I love watching Lex in every media I’ve ever seen him in going back to the original Christopher Reeve Superman. Every media, that is, except Supergirl. Why?

Because she isn’t fucking Superman.

Obviously, I love Supergirl— I run a blog with her in my icon— but there are certain things she is not and was never meant to be. Nemesis to Lex Luthor is right up there with a mass-murdering nazi (which is why the multiverse exists-- so that you can make her the first super on earth, Lex Luthor’s ex-friend, and not completely ignore the foundation of who they are as characters)

Lex is fun because he’s so smart, but also because of the personal stake he has with Superman. Lex felt jealous. In many cases, he felt betrayed. He let that fester into mania and then he built an evil radioactive robo-suit and committed mass murder. You know, like reasonable people do.

Lex was Superman’s friend and that gives his hatred of Kryptonians not only purpose, but emotional weight. Their relationship has that itching tension of painful history. In addition, Lex is extremely prideful. To him, Supergirl would be second class, she’s backup. And there is a story there: a story when Lex has a breakdown when backup knocks him into the sun, or the (in my opinion, less entertaining) version where Superman shows up to save her, reaffirming Lex’s worldview that he’s everything and defeating Superman means that Lex is the greatest and smartest, and even more stories beyond those that still adhere to its core principles— Kara and Lex as characters.

But Supergirl chose neither. Instead they chose another recycle Superman plot. And then another. And another.

I should make time to say that I like Jon Cryer; I think he’s doing a great job with what he’s been given. He’s got the charisma. He’s got the smarmy self-congratulating swagger down perfectly. The scenes where the real Lex pokes its ugly head through his facade are just great. I think in anything else he would have made an excellent Lex Luthor, but not here.

I was… disappointed with season 4. I liked 4x20– Kara and Lena investigating was fun at worst and at best had some really good edge of my seat moments. I thought that 4x16 “The House of L” was one of the best episodes of supergirl in a very long time and it still holds its place at least in my top 10, probably my top 5. But you will notice Lex wasn’t even in 4x20 and his places in 4x16 I actually enjoyed could easily have been occupied by any other intelligent villainous character. From a very basic point of view Col. Haley would have fit the mold of the manipulator training the compassionate but confused alien to kill— Wouldn’t have been her first time.

The later usages of Lex in Supergirl are also attempting a common Superman plot. Lex “redeems” himself, tricks the public into trusting him again by framing Superman for something, and eventually is once again revealed to be evil. It sounds like a repetitive, boring plot that would lose the audience suspension if belief after a few tries— “Seriously, this again. How are they not expecting this by now?” And that complaint works for Supergirl. Because Supergirl isn’t Superman.

Clark Kent was Lex Luthor’s best friend. Clark Kent ignored every warning sign and red flag waved in his face because Lex Luthor was his best friend. Clark Kent harbors a deep, abiding hurt and resentment from Lex’s betrayal. He has no trust for Lex, just like any hero would, but he also has the built up anger from repeated clashes with Lex and the initial betrayal. So when Lex returns, once again proclaiming he’s changed his ways, Superman’s response is a very public, very obviously bitter “yeah, right.” When Lex lays one of his traps for Superman, Clark is a little too rash. Lex Luthor knows how to push all of Clark’s buttons, even if he doesn’t know that they’re Clark’s. Lex can play him like a fiddle, and as for the general populace— would you be so steadfast in your trust of the invulnerable alien that could laser you in half in the blink of an eye and seems to be getting a little too comfortable in his role as peacekeeper? Would you, when even the slightest chance could slaughter your entire planet and you would have nothing and no one would could stop him— except, of course, Lex Luthor?

We’ve been shown through many media that when Lex can’t manipulate his opponent, when villain comes that is simply too big for him to work on, he is at incredible risk. There are several stories I can think of of the top of my head where Lex becomes a temporary ally of the heroes simply because he realizes he can’t manipulate this new, powerful player and that therefore they are a risk to him (I actually really like those stories because the dynamics between him and the heroes are incredibly fun and interesting— you start to get an idea of who Lex is underneath all of the wit and ego).

This is Supergirl’s great failure with Lex. The show understands that he is a genius— makes a great fuss about it. They understand that he is a manipulator— it’s his entire plot line with Lena. But they fail to understand that Lex’s ploys don’t work because he’s just so smart like the smartest ever. They work because he knows Superman and he knows that people are afraid of him— even the ones who trust and love him live with the knowledge that if he gets mind controlled or goes crazy, he could kill them all with ease, and that it’s happened before.

Supergirl wasn’t around for Lex’s turn. This Supergirl wasn’t even in that steady of contact with Clark. She has no stinging betrayal, no anger and bitter history to make her rash and predictable. Certainly by now, two seasons into Lex’s placement in the show, she is angry— but by all the evidence we’ve been given, Kara’s anger just makes her more volatile, unpredictable and sometimes genuinely down for murder, which is definitely not something Lex needs. We have seen her both let Lex “fall to his death” (when she wasn’t all that angry— she just accepted his suicide without trying to force him into prison) and nearly shoot him with laser vision (this time she was angry and emotionally unstable after the death of Argo and the more Lex centered anger that he revealed her identity and destroyed her relationship with Lena. There is no question that she would have killed-- or at the very least maimed-- him if The Monitor hadn’t intervened). If Superman just murdered Lex when he got angry, he would have died a dozen times over.

Lex doesn’t even have a basic understanding of Kara’s mindset. He can’t. Superman was raised by American humans in Kansas— he has a worldview that Lex could easily pick up on because it is at least based on watching most of the same events unfold as they grew up— and that’s if they had never met before they started fighting. Sure, he could assume Superman had some quirks from being an alien, but the base Americanized cultural standpoint was already affecting Lex’s machinations because he was an American. He’s familiar with the culture and values Superman follows— not so with Kara. I don’t even know if it was possible for him to obtain information on her religion, let alone the cultural views on justice. His research on her past fights would have been choppy at best, given that there are so many things that only Kara or the other Superfriends were there for. He can’t have the information about that fight on Mars where Kara literally disintegrated at least 3 white martians. He can’t know what happened with Reign beyond “she’s not going to be a problem anymore”. He might have more information about the Daxamite invasion through government records and his mother but the information is still limited. As for Non and Myriad, we don’t even know what happened to Non, and did they report to the DEO that J’onn literally tore Indigo in half (very graphically I might add). Or did they just say “They won’t be a problem anymore.” Lex may have been spying on Kara since Season 2, but how much is watching her civilian life going to help him understand her, when Kara’s civilian life was constructed to hide? Kara Danvers doesn’t say a lot of what she thinks to avoid notice, and even Supergirl keeps her mouth shut a lot of the time to try and maintain human-alien relations. The episodes where she squabbles with the Col. Haley and President Baker are full of her smiling and gritting her teeth through statements that clearly make her very angry.

Lex “falling to his death” and then getting shot at the end of season 4 was a great moment— it fit with the characters motivations, but it also unfortunately illustrated the problem with Supergirl characters interacting with Lex. J’onn was a soldier who kills people. Kara has killed people. Alex has killed people. This scene was not the first time we watched Lena try to murder someone with that gun. They are not restricted by the moral code Superman uses, which makes it both more difficult and more dangerous for Lex to try manipulating them— so he doesn’t and instead they skip the intermediary and rely wholly on him being able to manipulate the public. This works to an extent with Red Daughter, but only because anti-alien sentiment was at an all time high with the Children of Liberty, and because Lex lucked into an amnesiac supergirl clone. So little of the heavy lifting was actually done by Lex it feels less like his accomplishment and more like he cheated off of 3 different people and then bragged about his math skills. I said it before and I’ll say it again. The season 4 villain could have been anyone with moderate intelligence and resources. After crisis, the excuses just get weaker and weaker. I mean come on, he confessed to trying to mind control the whole world in front of the jury while screaming vile things at his sister who’s sitting there visibly flinching at his words and they unanimously voted not-guilty? Are you kidding? (Also after watching all the courtroom scenes in Supergirl... do they know how courtrooms work? I mean, I laughed as hard as anyone at the “I plead the 5th” line, but seriously. Do they?)

And Crisis was… a choice. I personally hated that they brought Lex back to life— more so because the in-universe reasoning was so weak. Lex Luthor does not face a whole lot of consequences, it’s true, but that’s because he has the genius, guile, and money to avoid them. To give him such an unearned out— especially after all the damage he’d done by dying— really hurt the both the stakes and the character. Lex is a human, and he fights Superman by taking advantage of very human things: corruption, anger, and fear as well as ingenuity and resourcefulness. He loads the deck in his favor— he doesn’t win on luck. And Lex in the CW Supergirl, seems to only win on luck. First he finds Red Daughter right when anti-alien sentiment is blowing up, then he is resurrected, then he finds out the crisis world loves him. He has had exactly 1 major victory based on his own work— manipulating Brainy. A manipulation which was really hard to believe when Brainy was, in canon, much, much smarter than Lex, familiar with his tactics, lying to the superfriends for no reason, and had no emotional reaction to cloud his judgement.

And even so, this one plot line was one of the more interesting ones in season 5 and the most Lex Luthor-like plot line the show has had. Even when I felt my suspension of disbelief slipping, it wasn’t entirely in tatters. Lex’s win felt somewhat earned.

He has been in the show for 2 1/2 seasons and he has had 1 major victory that felt at all earned. 2 and 1/2 seasons. That’s currently around 45% of the show’s run time.

All in all, we have 4 deeply related problems that plague the CW Supergirl Lex Luthor:

Lex Luthor’s plans rely as much on effective manipulation of Superman as they do on his own genius. Without that manipulation, his victories rely much more on happenstance and luck, making them feel less earned.

Lex Luthor cannot effectively manipulate Supergirl— at the very least, not in the beginning of their relationship, which CW Supergirl focuses on— nor does he try to manipulate her or much of the cast beyond Lena and once with Brainy.

Supergirl kills people. Supergirl has killed Lex. Superman doesn’t kill people.

Lex fighting Supergirl does not have the kind of inherent emotional weight that Lex fighting Superman does.

There are some other issues I have with the CW supergirl version of Lex, but I think if it was a Superman show I wouldn’t have minded. The large amount of screen time dedicated to him would make sense there, and the fact that he’s a cockroach seemingly impervious to any plot consequences would also fit more in line with Superman’s increasing frustration and make his manipulations more effective.

The only problem I have that wouldn’t been solved purely by making it about Superman is the crowding problem. In season 1, Non and the DEO were highly connected and fed each other as villains. Season 2 also fit that same block of alien vs. anti alien. Both of those secondary villains (the army/DEO in s1 and Cadmus in s2) were very much not as big a villain as the main. Season 3 sort of had a secondary villain with Morgan Edge, but he was mostly just a Lena problem. All of these seasons had a good balance between the villains screen time and also between the villains and heroes. It got a little more complicated with the extra world killers in s3, but still functioned fairly smoothly with focus on Reign. This is one of the main reasons that seasons 1 and 3 are my favorites. S4, however, got more cluttered. A lot more cluttered. Manchester Black, the Children of Liberty, Lex Luthor, Red Daughter, and Eve Tessmacher were all villains with multi-episode arcs handled directly by Supergirl herself. There was too much to cover, not enough connection, and not enough time— plus 2 new main cast members (Look, I love Nia and Brainy but that season had way too much going on). Season 5 had Leviathan, Lena Luthor, Lex Luthor and 2 new mains. Each of those villain arcs had their own distinct plot from one another and screen time started to become more choppy and spread out. Season 6 now has so far Lex Luthor, the phantom zone, and Nyxly, as well as the Zor-El mini-arc, and while I’ll give them some leeway for Melissa Beniost’s maternity leave, there is again too much in too little time. Villains are underdeveloped or not given weighty closures, each main gets less and less personal screentime, and every shot that doesn’t serve a good or entertaining purpose feels like pouring out water from a canteen in the desert, especially now in the last season. Lex has greatly suffered for this both in the rage at how much screen time he gets compared to other characters, Kara in particular, and because of how his arcs are still hobbled by the lack of it.

I just find myself wishing they’d restricted Lex to a 3 or 4 episode mini-arc, or just season 4 and saved him for the Superman and Lois show. They could have played the crisis resurrection as just an unfortunate coincidence of fate and had it be Superman’s problem from there on.

To Jon Cryer, may you never see this. It’s so very not your fault.

If anyone actually reads this whole thing and I got something wrong let me know. I’d love to discuss it. Today, I’m just trying to isolate the main issues I have with Lex in Supergirl.

#i spent way too long on this #And I'm pretty sure I still have typos and fragmented sentences #but im not spending another minute editing #so here you go #Supergirl #Lex Luthor

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weasleydream · 4 years

Text

Operation swan song

Here is my participation for @hp-imagines-07 writing challenge! Once again congrats love 💜 My prompts were “I don’t care!” “But I do!” and “Is it that bad?” “Yes.” (I’ve taken a bit of liberty and changed them a bit but they are still here... for the little story I had completely forgotten them and I had to put them at the last moment)

TW: mention of torture

As usual feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

(Also I’ve recently reached the 500 followers and I’ve organized a writing challenge that you can find here! Plz don’t let it flop 😂 )

Masterlist

(gif not mine)

Everyone is different, everyone acts different. Some people cry while some others laugh, some run while others walk. Some use their head while others use their fists. I liked to think I was the kind of person that was like Remus when I was the complete opposite. He was the head and I was the fists. I was as reckless as Sirius and as impulsive as James, but with a heart as big as Remus’ and a love and an admiration for my friends as unconditional as Peter’s. The only priority I had ever had was to make sure this little group I called my family was safe, whether it was from Filch or a Death Eater. You attacked them, you attacked me; that was something I had made clear since the end of the first period of our first year at Hogwarts. Maybe I wasn’t very convincing at the time - James still used to laugh when remembering the time I had threatened a fourth year who had made fun of Remus, only because with one push from the boy I had ended on the floor - but I had never been afraid to defend them and they had never been afraid to defend me.

And now that school was definitely over for us, now that we were adults, now that James and Lily were going to be parents, the mission I had decided to complete had taken more sense than ever. In my mind, if someone had to take all the responsibilities for James, Lily and the baby they were awaiting, for Remus, Sirius and Peter, then I would do it without hesitation. I would give my life for all of them, as much as I knew they would do the same for me. And now that the war was here, now that the prophecy had designated James, Lily and the baby as targets for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, I felt more than ever the need to make sure they were safe. Everyone knew this, everyone including Albus Dumbledore.

_ _ _

“Professor Dumbledore, as much as I’m happy to be back here, I believe you didn’t ask me to come only to propose to me some acid pops, am I right?”

Dumbledore folded his hands on the parchment that was spread out on the desk. His blue eyes were fixing a point on the paper, and he fixed the spot a few seconds before clearing his throat and eventually looking at me.

“You’re right, miss Y/L/N. It is for a way more grave matter that you’re here today. You probably know the Order is in a delicate position.”

“A delicate position? With all due respect, we’re being killed one by one. I don’t call this a delicate position, I call this being near from the end.”

Dumbledore sighed, a sadness all but habitual emanating from him.

“I know that, miss Y/L/N, and I believe you would do anything to prevent the Order from reaching its end, right?” I stayed silent, because we both knew the answer and I was beginning to understand where the conversation was going. “You want to protect your friends and their family, right?”

“What if you got to the point?”

“I need to stay one step ahead of Voldemort, and I need you to help me with that.”

“How- what- how could I help with that?” I stuttered, truly taken aback with what Dumbledore was implying. “Don’t tell me- do you want me to infiltrate the enemies’ camp?”

“That is not exactly what I want. I need you to spy on them, they must not know about you.”

Dumbledore’s piercing blue eyes were almost burning holes in my forehead as I was looking down, trying to process all that it meant. I had the unpleasant sensation that every word had been carefully chosen and that the old man knew that by insisting on my devotion for my friends, he would ensure that my answer would be positive. But spying on the Death Eaters? Even for me, it was a lot. More than a dangerous move, it was a suicidal mission, and if the thought of dying to protect baby Potter wasn’t scaring me that much, thinking that I would have to leave my friends and more especially Remus was making my heart ache painfully.

“Is that your plan?” I whispered. “The only thing you’ve come up with to save us all?”

“Who said it is my only idea? And this is not a plan, miss Y/L/N, only a proposition. You don’t have any obligation.” His eyes still on me, Dumbledore slowly raised his hands to fold them underneath his chin. Somewhere behind him, his phoenix moved.

“A plan, a proposition, I don’t care what we call this. You need someone to send among the enemies and you want me to do it, that’s the same thing.”

“Will you do this, yes or no?”

“Of course I’ll do it.” I muttered before leaving the office with the sensation I had just been manipulated.

It was late at night and the corridors of the school were empty. There were probably a few students out of their dorm - Merlin knew only a few years ago I was part of them - but I didn’t see anyone, and I took the occasion to wander in this familiar place. I stopped in front of a window on the second floor that was overlooking the entrance courtyard. A girl and a boy were sitting next to each other on a bench. They looked like they were looking at the stars. Suddenly, the boy got up and grabbed the girl’s hand and they began to dance to an unheard music, maybe the music of their hearts, I thought bitterly as I looked away.

Maybe it was the weight of the upcoming mission that would very probably kill me, maybe I was just being sensitive because I was alone in the dark, but I was regretting the days I would be in this girl’s shoes and Remus would be in the boy’s. How many nights had we spent here, on that same bench, looking at the same stars? Our thing wasn’t to dance but to share stories, legends or gossip. We would stay here for hours, only coming back to the dorm when the sky took a delicate orange shade. And we would never talk about these nights, greeting the other in the morning in the same way we did with our friends, we would avoid questions and the other’s eyes for the day before doing exactly the same a few days later.

I had always thought I would have a lifetime to figure out what my feelings for him were, but only now did I realize my lifetime was desperately short.

_ _ _

Lily opened the door carefully before smiling broadly.

“Y/N! I didn’t know you were coming!”

She stepped aside to let me in. As soon as the door was closed, she threw her arms around me. When she let go of me, my eyes fell on her barely visible bump and a whiff of courage invaded me.

“How is the baby?” I asked.

Lily’s eyes brightened and she began to babble on about how she wasn’t sick anymore, how James was adorable with her (“But still an idiot.” she stated with a little smirk), and how cute was that little stuffed stag she had found. We were now sitting in the small kitchen, the both of us holding a welcomed cup of tea. We were in January, the air was freezing, the sky was always so dark yet Lily and James’ little house was still so warm it made you feel like home. To be fair, it felt like it was also ours as Sirius, Remus and I used to spend a lot of time here. Peter was a bit less with us, he was working on a personal project which, in my opinion, had something to do with the Order. He seemed more invested than before, and we were all glad to see he had finally been able to fight his fear.

“Y/N, listen, I didn’t want to tell you but… The boys are worried about you, and I am too. We all agree on the fact that you’ve acted strange last week and- well, you know you can tell us everything, right?”

Lily’s eyes were so full of worry that I felt guilty for making her feel such a negative emotion.

“Lily, don’t make a big deal out of it, it’s no good for the baby. I swear everything is okay.” I smiled, an expression that looked everything but convincing, which I realized as soon as Lily frowned.

“Now I know something is definitely wrong.”

“No, really, I told you-”

“Hello there!”

James entered the kitchen, his smile widening when his eyes caught mine.

“Hey Y/N/N, I didn’t know you were coming!”

I smiled broadly and got up before wrapping my arms around him. When he joined Lily to kiss her, Sirius and Remus appeared at the door, the both of them greeting me in the same way James had done. When Remus’ hands touched my back, the memory of us on this courtyard came back and I shivered. Quickly stepping back, I pretended to be cold and ended up in Remus’ sweater. James had insisted for Lily to stay with us in the living room and had brought more tea, and now we were all squeezed on the two couches, sharing not really pleasant news.

“Lily, Y/N, did you know about the rumour that’s going about the Order?” suddenly asked Sirius.

James looked up, and I felt Remus tensing next to me.

“What rumour?” asked Lily, genuinely confused as to why the three boys looked so grave.

“It says that Dumbledore would have given a suicidal mission to a member of the Order.” declared James. “As it seems, it would be a spying mission. Not even undercover.”

“I don’t know who has agreed to do this, but they must be crazy.” muttered Sirius. “There’s no way they are coming back.”

“For me, things are different now,” said James while placing his hands on Lily’s little bump, “but even a few months ago I wouldn’t have done something like this.”

“But why not undercover?” asked Lily. “I mean we already have a few members infiltrated, but why not another?”

“I guess that’s because the infiltrated members of the Order aren’t close enough to You-Know-Who.” Remus spoke up. He was frowning and absent-mindedly playing with the end of his shirt’s sleeve. “A spy would be able to hear the most confidential things. If they aren’t killed before, of course.”

I shifted uncomfortably. Of course they were talking about me without knowing it, but the way they were bringing this up was making me realize how insane I had been to accept this. But the worst was that seeing Lily in such a state of worry without knowing for who she was scared, hearing Sirius mumbling that the poor guy would be a hero, yes, but a dead one and James adding he wouldn’t like to be in their shoes, seeing Remus sighing and closing his eyes as if he was already mourning, all of this made me wonder how they would react.

“Y/N, are you feeling well?”

Sirius’ voice almost made me jump, and I realized all of my friends were now looking at me. I felt my blood becoming ice in my veins while my heart was beating way quicker than it should.

“Yes- yes, don’t worry.”

My shaky voice didn’t convince anyone, of course it didn’t, and it only made them suspicious.

“Y/N,” began slowly Remus, his eyes not leaving mine, “would you happen to know who is going on that mission?”

As soon as the last word left his mouth, I saw in Remus’ eyes that himself had read the answer in mine. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes, usually so clear, were darkening more and more as the realization of what it meant was sinking into him.

“Y/N?” asked Lily, her voice sounding so far from me I almost missed it.

“I am. I am going on that mission.”

The heaviest silence I had ever heard took place, and it stayed here for so long that I began to wonder if I had turned deaf. I was now looking down, I didn’t want to bear Remus’ gaze nor did I want to know how the others were reacting. After what felt like hours, a sob crashed the silence and Lily left her place to throw herself on me. Her tears were soaking my sweater and her hands clenching its back.

“You can’t do that!” she cried out. “You’ll be killed! You can’t!”

Her hair was all over my face and I couldn’t see the boys, but I had felt Remus leaving the couch.

“Why the hell did you do that?” exploded Sirius.

Lily jumped and James put his hands on her shoulders before pulling her in a comforting embrace. If his face was closed, Sirius’ was expressing so many things at the same time that I couldn’t put my finger on what he was really thinking. Anger, fear, disbelief? If he was probably feeling all of this, all I could see was that he was furious.

“Are you crazy? Y/N, you will be killed! Killed, you get that? Did you even think about it?”

His voice thundered, making me feel the urge to disappear.

“Sirius-”

“I knew you were ready to do anything to end this fucking war but this? You’ll never get out of this!”

“I don’t care that much!”

“But I do!”

“Sirius, please-”

“We go to Hogwarts, now. I need a word or two with-”

“I did it for you! Is it that bad?”

Obviously none of them were ready to hear this. Lily stopped crying after something that sounded like a squeal and Sirius stopped dead in his track, his hands having almost reached his jacket. The both of them along with James were looking at me with round eyes, and only at this moment did I realize the door was open and Remus wasn’t here anymore.

“What the hell does that mean?” murmured James. “Yes it is that bad! We don’t-”

“The Order is losing, James!” I exclaimed, desperate to prove my point. “We need more informations, Remus was right, infiltration isn’t enough!”

“But why you? Y/N, the Order has members stronger than you, trained Aurors! Why did Dumbledore ask you to sacrifice yourself?”

“Stop talking like I was already dead. Can’t you consider the fact that maybe I’ll get out of this alive?”

In fact, I wasn’t considering it either. I just didn’t want to admit that if Dumbledore had asked me, it was because he knew I would be easy to manipulate. Suddenly realizing I was standing in the middle of the living-room, I sunk back on the couch and put my hands on my face.

“Listen…” I began, my voice trembling. “You know as well as I do that we’re losing. James, Lily, you are threatened! I can’t let anything happen to you or your baby, not now that you’re reaching the happiness you’ve always wanted. And the both of you, this little baby, Sirius, Remus and Peter, you are my family, I love you all so much and- and I can’t let anything harm my family.”

I looked up to see that Lily had tears streaming down her face. I smiled at her, a very little smile that broke my heart as much as it seemed to break hers.

“I’m sorry Lily, really.”

“I know.” she nodded quickly before wiping her tears away. “You should go and see Remus.”

With the feeling that my knees were going to give up on me, I got up and crossed the living room under the weight of my friends’ eyes. I pushed the door that was already half open and stepped outside, the freezing air making me almost gasp as I looked for Remus.

“Remus?”

My eyes weren’t tricking me… Remus was nowhere to be seen.

“Remus!” I screamed.

Sirius stormed out, closely followed by James and Lily.

“Where is he? Where did he go?” I cried out, completely panicked as the worst scenarios were playing in my head.

“Calm down Y/N/N, I’m sure he’s okay.” said James.

He nodded toward Sirius who disappeared without a word in a soft pop that disturbed the silence of the night.

“Come on Y/N, let’s get inside before we freeze on the spot.” murmured Lily, both her hands on my shoulders.

I sighed to give myself an impression of composure and nodded, following the couple inside. My thoughts were all about Remus. What the hell was he doing? And what the hell was he thinking? James and Lily made a point of making me stop thinking about him and asked me about my meeting with Dumbledore.

“He knows how to do, this old bastard.” muttered James. “I can’t believe you fell for this.”

“I know…” I sighed. “I know but he isn’t completely wrong either. Maybe I’ll be able to catch the information that will save us all.” I added with a bitter chuckle.

The door opened suddenly, and Sirius’ silhouette appeared. As it seemed he was alone, and he cut our questions short by lifting his hand.

“He’s outside.”

I immediately got up and stormed out of the house. Remus was sitting on the low wall at the end of the garden, giving his back to me. I slowly approached, my feet making the snow screech and my breath forming a small cloud in front of my face. My eyes were humid and at this point, I didn’t know if it was really because of the cold. However, I saw Remus’ hand moving and patting the wall next to him after a short hesitation. I joined him and we sat in silence. An air stream colder than the others made me shiver.

“Are you still cold?” asked Remus with a quiet voice.

I nodded and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

“Come here.”

I moved closer to him and rested my head on his shoulder, already feeling his warmth radiating between us. The time seemed to have stopped, it was just the both of us and the snow. My mind was haunted by so many thoughts I couldn’t think straight, and all I was conscious of was Remus’ presence next to me.

“What did I do to end up with such foolish friends?” he finally asked quietly.

“We aren’t foolish,” I murmured, not wanting to break the little world around us. “We just love each other.”

“So that’s why you accepted? Because you love us?”

I lifted my head and met Remus’ eyes. They were full of pain and of worry, and how I hated seeing those eyes! I looked away, unable to face what I was imposing him.

“Y/N, please, look at me.”

His hand found my chin and I faced him again.

“You are my family.” I whispered, and as a single tear was rolling down my cheek, I leaned in his touch. “I love you all too much to let anything happen to you. I- Remus, I love you.”

Remus smiled, a tiny smile that made my heart flutter. I was feeling like a teenager who is breathless because she’s madly in love with a boy.

“I’ve been to Hogwarts.” he suddenly muttered. “I wanted to make Dumbledore change his mind, but this- well, he refused.”

“I won’t change my mind either.”

Remus grabbed my hand and kept his head down, his eyes locked on our hands.

“I know that. I just… I don’t know. I asked him to let me go with you-”

“You what?” I exclaimed, my heart suddenly racing in my ribcage. “No! Remus, no! I won’t let you! If I have to tie you myself-”

“He refused.”

It was a simple statement, but I sighed and closed my eyes, relieved. Another silence took place only to be disturbed by a rumbling coming from the depths of my stomach and a chuckle coming from Remus’ mouth.

“We should get inside and give you something to eat.”

I precipitately jumped off the wall and rushed toward the door, extremely ashamed as I had just realized I had confessed my feelings and Remus had just ignored them.

“Hey, Y/N!”

He grabbed my wrist, pulled me against him and crashed his lips on mine.

“I love you too.” he whispered against my mouth, and at the moment I was so happy I forgot every kind of threat.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

To say the last three days had been weird would be an understatement. Lily had insisted that I shouldn’t stay at my place and Sirius, Remus and I had ended up staying at the Potter’s. We still hadn’t any new of Peter which, more than worrying me, was also saddening me. The atmosphere was tense, it felt like all of us, me included, were already mourning my death. Of course, it wasn’t my friends’ intention, they had done everything to hide their worry, each in their own way. Lily, who had never really been able to cook, had made the most delicious plates I had ever eaten, even better than James’ mother’s, which I had had the chance to try a few years ago. James and Sirius had spent their time looking for informations in files stolen from the Order which had resulted in them not saying anything for hours before resuming their discoveries during the meals. Remus had shared his time between helping them and staying with me, holding my hand or chatting about anything not Order-related.

We had also received Dumbledore’s visit, who had given me all the instruction for my mission. Except the fact that he was there for what would probably kill me, it was quite funny to see the almost exaggerated glares he had received from everyone, but especially from Sirius and Remus.

And now, here I was, standing in the living-room, a backpack at my feet and holding back my tears as I was ready to leave. Remus was waiting outside but the others were here, and the first one to come to me - or jump in my arms - was Lily. She tightened me against her and was trying her best to contain her sobs.

“Promise you’ll do everything to come back, Y/N, do you promise?”

“Of course Lily. I’ll try, I swear I’ll try.”

She nodded and stepped back, sniffling. James nodded toward me before looking away, trying to hide his fear and sadness. Far from being offended, I nodded back.

“I count on you to take care of them Prongs, yeah?”

He nodded again.

“Only if you take care of yourself.”

It was my turn to nod.

I had thought Sirius would have the same reaction as James but he proved me wrong when he pulled me in a strong embrace, a bone-crushing hug we had never shared before.

“You better come back.” he muttered, his voice muffled by my hair. “There will be no place for mistakes. We can’t lose you.” he added in such a small voice that it broke my heart.

The lump in my throat prevented me from saying anything but we didn’t even need words. At the moment, I could feel their love for me, and I knew deep down that I couldn’t give up on this. I knew I would come back because we still had so much to live all together…

A whole new courage flooded in my veins and I smiled at them before grabbing my bag and getting out. Remus was sitting on the same wall as the last time and I joined him. This time, he lost no time and pulled me against him.

“I suppose they have already told you you better come back?”

“It was pretty clear.” I let out a watery chuckle.

“So I’ll just tell you I love you.”

Remus rested his forehead against mine and we both closed our eyes, enjoying this proximity. Then we shared a passionate kiss, a kiss that held so many emotions it was overwhelming. It was a kiss that meant I love you, I’m scared and See you soon. It was a kiss that meant Goodbye but also a kiss that meant Hello because at this very moment, I felt like I was re-discovering Remus, as if I was seeing and feeling a whole new part of him, and I knew he was feeling the same.

“Useless to say I don’t want you out of here, right?” I murmured against Remus’ lips.

“It would put you in danger. No, I’ll stay here, but know that everyday my eyes won’t leave the door. I’ll be waiting for you.”

I grabbed my bag which I had left on the floor and sighed.

“Guess this is it…” I said. “Time to go.”

“Y/N, please, make sure this is not your swan song.”

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

It wasn’t my first mission for the Order. I had already fought against so many Death Eaters I had lost count, and I had two infiltration missions under my belt. But I had never been that close to him, to the wizard that was killing my friends one by one and threatening my family. And never in my life had I even suspected such an army. The enemies were everywhere, they were young or old, men or women. Everytime I turned my head, I saw new faces, new enemies, and it was the scariest thing I had ever experienced. Yet I was doing quite well; in fact I had barely been spotted and the few Death Eaters that had found out about me were now dead. For three months, I had managed to stay alive. However, the more the weeks passed, the more I had wondered if that was worth it. I hadn’t heard anything, absolutely anything that an infiltrated member of the Order wouldn’t have heard.

I knew they were suspicious, all of them knew they were spied on and that was probably why they were being extremely careful when they talked. That’s why, after three months, I began considering the idea that I could try and get in one of their reunion places. However, I had made a promise to Remus, to Sirius, James and Lily, and I wanted to do my best to keep it. I didn’t want to put my life in danger more than necessary and it felt like a suicide to try such a thing.

What decided me was a conversation that I overheard between two Death Eaters one night, at the corner of a street in the heart of London.

“-in Malfoy’s manor tomorrow.” said the first. “As it seems, it’s pretty important.”

“More important than interrogating the Auror we’ve had last week?” asked the second. “What can be more important than that?”

“I’ve heard it’s the prophecy.” My heart almost stopped beating. As far as I knew, there was only one prophecy that could interest Voldemort. “The Dark Lord wants to decide on a plan to eradicate this threat.”

Then the Death Eaters disappeared, leaving me trembling in the street. A plan. To eradicate a threat. Which happened to be James and Lily’s baby. There was no way I would let that happen. I had now two choices: going back to Godric’s Hollow and warn them but miss the plan, or staying here and listening to what would be said. Apparating was too dangerous, anyone could follow me and that would threaten my friends. Suddenly, I realized that after all the time that had passed, Lily’s bump was bigger by now, and imagining her taking care of her child, James always fussing over her, Remus and Sirius and maybe even Peter with them made me take my decision.

_ _ _

I thought the plan was good. Not perfect, obviously, but good enough so that it wouldn’t end up with me being killed. Now, after having dodged dozens of green flashes of light blasting toward me, I was forced to admit that I had screwed up.

I was hiding behind a statue in the corridor, trying to catch my breath as the Death Eaters were getting closer and closer.

“Find her! She’s Dumbledore's spy, I want her alive!”

Voldemort’s voice thundered and the screams in the manor doubled in intensity. Apparating was impossible and I had to reach the front door to try and maybe - just maybe - hide long enough to leave this hell.

Suddenly, and that caught me completely off guards, my wand escaped the grip of my hand. I gasped, slowly realizing what it meant, and turned my head only to gasp once more, this time because I couldn’t believe it.

“Peter?” I whimpered.

Peter was here, in front of me, one of his hands holding my wand and his own wand pointed on me.

“You shouldn’t be here!” he squealed before looking above his shoulder, obviously terrified.

“You- you- Peter, we thought you were- I don’t understand…” I stuttered, unable to process that he was a traitor.

“Y/N, what are you doing here? You’re complicating everything!” he lamented.

Then I understood and I felt the urge to strangle him, to kill him because he had betrayed us, his friends. I was going to jump toward him when I felt a burning sensation in my back and everything became black.

_ _ _

“Crucio.”

The first thing I felt when gaining back consciousness was agony. It wasn’t even pain anymore, it was a fire in every bone of my body, magma flooding in my veins. It was the urge to rip my skin off and to end it as soon as possible. It was torture.

“Will you tell us who you are?”

I didn’t answer, and the agony came back.

“Are you from the Order?”

No answer. Agony.

“Did Dumbledore send you?”

Nothing. Agony.

“What informations have you already transmitted?”

Agony.

“Do you know the Potters?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Agony.

“Where are they hiding?”

Agony.

“How did you get in the manor?”

Agony.

“Y/N, I’m going to help you.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Peter didn’t listen. I didn’t know what was happening. No one was here except us. He did something and suddenly the ropes around me were on the floor. He tried to grab my arm and I shifted. I fell on the floor.

“Don’t touch me- you traitor, don’t-” I hissed.

Peter ignored me. He half carried me. We arrived outside and it was dark. Then the world became black and coloured again and we weren’t in front of the manor anymore.

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

One last world I didn’t understand, then black.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

The old man’s eyes were sad, their usually piercing blue was now shining with contained tears. The young woman in front of him wasn’t containing her tears. She was sobbing in the arms of her husband who was trembling. Then the two other men. One of them fell on his knees, his hands in his hair as if he wanted to yank them out. “Y/N, please, make sure this is not your swan song.” he had said. The other was frozen, his fists so tight his knuckles were white.

The old man left. A few seconds of shock, then the four of them disappeared.

Remus couldn’t care less if a muggle saw him. He crossed the barrier and arrived in the hall of St-Mungo’s. Not bothering to ask where she was, he rushed in the stairs and gained her level.

“Where is she? Y/N? Y/N, where are you?” he screamed.

Three nurses arrived, begging him to calm down. Remus ignored them and asked where she was. Once, twice. The nurses eventually gave up and indicated a room.

Sirius was just behind him, James and Lily were still in the stairs, but Remus didn’t care. He had to make sure- he had to see her. This couldn’t be true, obviously Dumbledore was wrong…

She was sitting on her bed. Her skin was almost as white as the sheets, except for the scars and bruises that seemed to cover her body. When Remus slammed the door open, her head snapped toward him and she smiled brightly, a beautiful smile Remus hadn’t seen in years.

“Hello!” she said. “Who are you? I was thinking about the swans’ songs. Beautiful, don’t you think?”

Remus’ heart stopped beating, and his world crashed at his feet.

Dumbledore was right.

Y/N had lost her memory, and he had lost her.

#Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #Remus Lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin imagine #angst #marauder era #marauders imagine

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