#being resigned to death. being given a life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

uranometrias · 1 month

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✮ꜜ : ❛ you're still a traitor : criminal minds x fem! reader [ pt. 1 ]

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau! reader (unrequited) | spencer reid x bau! reader | s7 team x bau! reader (platonic)

summary: being in love with your boss was hard. especially when there were so many factors surrounding you that made the possibility of being with him, out of the question. for starters, there was your age gap, and hotch was a stickler with baggage that he couldn't quite disclose to you. hotch was a fantasy, always out of your grasp, that is until emily dies. in the four months that followed emily's death at the hands of ian doyle, you found yourself living a life that you'd only ever dreamed about. hotch was careful, but the proof was right in front of your face as he went out of his way to care for you while you grieved. how stupid of you not to realize something was horribly wrong. but now emily was back, and hotch was back from reassignment in pakistan, and you were all on trial, and absolutely nothing makes sense except for the bitter understanding that you were a pawn in a game that in so few words was "way bigger than you." but at least you had spence.

content warnings: this is literally a barrel of angst. reader breaks the skin of her palms with her nails. mentions of slight! anxiety. follows the plot of "it takes a village" aka the iconic "this is calm, and it's doctor" episode. flashbacks x present day! spencer has been crushing on reader for as long as she's been crushing on hotch. hotch is NOT romantically interested in reader. slight! hotchniss vibes (but that's up to your interpretation. jj x reader angst! reader does not react to emily's return well. mentions of unit transfer / bureau resignation. spencer confesses to reader... open ending making room for a part 2! heartbreak, drinking, crying. best friend! penelope garcia + derek morgan. reader has a sister & niece.

Your leg shakes violently as you sat just outside the court room, hands balled into tight fists as your nails press deep into the callousing skin of your palms. You couldn't say you were nervous, as far as the previous case was concerned you'd done everything you could to save Declan. You'd take whatever suspension they'd throw your way without batting an eye. You didn't regret the part you played, no, you just regretted the team that you were apart of.

It had been a crazy seven months. You remembered when things turned left, back when Emily started acting weird. She was shorter, snappier, she had less patience with any of you. Long gone were the days of wasting your time with jokes and innuendos. She had a lot on her mind, a lot none of you were privy to, and you remembered how you'd stretched yourself. You'd all tried so hard to show her you were there, to let her know that you could be trusted.

Your face contorts into a scowl, it had become your new resting face in the last few weeks. God, you hated how stupid and naive you'd been back then. Now that everything was out in the open, it was almost too obvious where the deception began. What was the point of taking care of people who had no trouble treating you like some disposable pawn piece to be moved to fit their whims. Damn. You were crying again, you'd been doing that a whole lot too lately.

You scrub furiously at your face, and you hate your teammates a little bit more. JJ had gone first, face devoid of any timidity or uncertainty. Long gone were the days of Jennifer Jareau the Liaison, she was a profiler now, one of you. When she'd come back, you'd been ecstatic. The unit hadn't been the same since she was transferred, you'd missed her so gravely. But now, now the sight of her just reminded you of the secret you'd been holding on the tip of your tongue.

Hotch wasn't the only one who had known about Emily.

You feel a hand moving to rest on the top of your thigh, and you flinch violently. You sniffle audibly, eyes moving to rest on Penelope, your God-given solace. Your best friend. She, Derek, and Spencer were the only ones who wholeheartedly understood what you felt. But even still, Hotch hadn't used their feelings to make them blind, the way he had done with you. He'd played you like a goddamn fiddle, and you'd let him. Because you were weak, stupid, grieving, and in love.

Hotch had never been in the cards for you, not that you weren't beautiful, gorgeous, an amazing agent. You had the stamp of approval of both Agents Gideon and Rossi. Erin Strauss had been (by your request) rejecting every request of transfer any other unit had tried to offer. You were an asset to the bureau, and a major part of this team. You'd been around since the beginning. You'd witnessed doe-eyed Spencer Reid join at age 23, full of facts and anxiety.

You'd seen Derek blossom and break out of his play-boy persona, and become someone that other branches of the law fought to have. You'd been around for so long, you'd witnessed so much, and Hotch knew that. Which you suppose is what you allowed yourself to believe was the reason he'd never shown signs of reciprocating your feelings. He was respecting your future, leaving your options open. But those were the delusional musings of a girl in love with someone she can't have. Hotch wasn't into you, and you knew that.

So why, why, why did you let him convince you of the opposite? For even one measly second? And, yes, of course in the grand scheme of things you understood why he did what he did. But it didn't make it hurt less. In fact knowing his duty to Emily outweighed his duty to anything else just made this whole ordeal feel more like a slap to your face. Penelope gives your thigh a reassuring squeeze, and you're pulled from your running mind. You blink, registering her worry.

"Are you alright?" she asks, and it's the first time anyone's asked you that since the first day. You know they were giving you space to cope, which only seemed to reaffirm your feelings of betrayal and loneliness. "We'll get out of this, alright? And we'll-we'll be able to be a complete family again." she proceeds, and serves you right for believing someone understood what was going on. They'd all misunderstood you. They thought your behavior was fear of the team being dismantled. Some profilers you were surrounded by.

"I'm fine, Garcia." you say, and you can't bite the snippiness if you wanted to. "I just want to get this over with, and get the hell out of here." you add, and you're standing up, Penelope's hand dropping limply as you move your seat. You find a more isolated corner, plopping back into the uncomfortable seat, as the legs squeak slightly. Your leg is back to shaking, only now you've taken to chomping on your bottom lip. You don't imagine Penelope's hurt expression, you know without a doubt that you'll cave. And you can't.

Not this time.

Your phone chirps in your pocket, and you jump once more. Your jumpiness was a new attribute triggered by the amount of sleep you hadn't been getting. Pulling it out you see that it's a call from your big sister, and you curse under your breath. You were supposed to be watching your niece so your sister could pick up an extra shift. None of you had really expected for things to go this far.

"Hey..." you wince, because you can hear the heaviness of your feelings ladled over your words.

"Hey, are you alright? I got a call from Spence." and you're surprised. You look up, searching for the brunette anywhere in the vicinity, and find that he hasn't shown up yet. It's a bit of a shock, especially for someone as punctual as Reid. You did however spot JJ still meandering about, and she's not looking tense at all. Despite your anger towards her, you couldn't deny that she'd quickly fallen into the role of a profiler. It fit her almost like a glove.

"Spencer called you?" you ask, and you hear the tension in your sister's sigh. You imagine that she must be exhausted. Your sister did a lot, and managing a blossoming family was hard. Your niece was five, and she had a new addition to the family on the way. Which was why it was so important for you to be there on the days she needed you to watch your niece.

"Yes, he said something about..." your sister lowers her voice. "Emily." she questions, and you find your head nodding despite the fact she can't see you. "Are you alright?" she asks again, and this time she emphasizes how important it is for her to hear directly from your mouth the state of your wellbeing. Your sister seemed to always see right through you, it was a wonder she wasn't the one in the FBI.

"I'm-" you trail off before you can lie. "I'm sure if they could they'd disband the unit." you whisper, and you look up just as Derek is exiting the court room, Penelope looking terrified as she takes his place. Derek scans the room before he spots you, and his eyes soften. JJ approaches him and the two seem to chat animatedly. Still they look so serious, there was no room for smiles and banter today.

It's not long though before they're looking at you again, and you know that they know. Your self isolation wasn't something you were exactly being subtle about. You immediately look away, focusing in on what your sister was saying. "Bad decisions or not, they're no good without your unit." she says, and pride still manages to swell up inside of you. "You guys do good work. You work because you're together, everyone plays their role." she proceeds, and it's then you shatter.

Play your role. What role exactly did you play? Hotch was the stoic leader that somehow seemed to play the role of pseudo-father so well for every member of the team, with the exception of Rossi and Derek. Derek, was the shoe-in for promotion. The older brother who teased you relentlessly, but would fight til his last breath to protect you, and he always did. JJ, the pretty girl. The one who everyone on the team at some point had been attracted to. But more than that, she was resilient, a subtle glue that kept your unit running.

You quickly slot through everyone else's roles in your head, and huff. What were you except the odd-woman out. The dummy with a crush on your unit chief, and too much knowledge for your own good. You supposed that was why Hotch had to distract you with exaggerated gestures. If you got out of your feelings and really thought about it, you knew that if anyone on the team was going to see through the smoke, and uncover the truth about Emily, it would be you.

So he had to handicap you. What better way than by hanging the possibility of a romance in your face. Still, it was cruel. Just more proof that this was not the family you made them out to be. "Yeah, I'm not so sure." you reply, and you can hear how disgruntled you sound. It smacks you like a ton of bricks, and it's then you truly realize just how hurt you were by everything. Your sister sighs deeply, and it makes you second guess yourself. Were you being irrational? Unfair?

"I know what Hotch did." she begins, "And it was awful to play with your feelings like that." she expresses, and you feel validated. "And nobody's expecting you to just welcome Emily back with open arms after months and months of thinking that she was dead. You were deceived, and I want you to feel however you want, okay?" she says, and you don't respond, mostly because it feels rhetorical. "Just don't do anything rash without thinking it through alright?"

You don't know what she means by that so your eyes roll. "I think we're well past that, if they find us guilty I could lose my job." you remind her, and she chuckles. You don't find it funny, you can't. Your love for the job outweighed a lot of things, so it had been a no-brainer to help Derek seek out Ian Doyle. You wanted his head spinning on a pike, and you weren't planning to take no for an answer.

two weeks prior.

You were sitting across from Derek, steaming mug of coffee in your head that was more french vanilla creamer than anything else. You held the staged photograph of Declan and Louise. Derek's holding an identical photo, a heady sigh escaping him as you both rack your brains for some sort of bullseye. Something that would point you right in the direction of Declan. "Okay, Emily needed to get Declan a new identity." Penelope says as she walks into the office. She sits in the chair right beside you, arm full of stress balls and files. "So she must have used someone that she trusted." she proceeds.

"Alright, well that's a short list, but it's probably not even written down." is Derek's tired reply.

"Even if it was, she's been so many places, with so many different points of contact. " you speak up, and you take a sip from your coffee, praying it kicks in and wakes you up a bit. "It's not gonna be super easy to track and narrow them all down." you say, and you realize your mistake just as Penelope is placing a file in your hands.

"Oh, tell me about it. Two columns, domestic and imports." she says as she passes the other to Derek, who's looking at you with an amused smile stretched across his face. Serves you both right for underestimating the genius of Penelope Garcia. "I accept your apology, cutie." she says, leaning into you as you grin, smacking your lips in a kiss.

"Hey." JJ's at the door of the office, all three of you turning to look her way as she beams brightly. "Have you guys seen, Spence?" she questions, and you remember how you'd offered to bring him a coffee as a respite from the garbage water they served in the bullpen. He'd shut you down politely asking to reschedule as he was going to be spending his day at the Firing Range. You understood the need, he wanted to protect himself, and the team. He had to get better.

"He's at the firing range." you and Penelope speak in unison, making eye contact, as hers narrow. You knew instantly she would have questions about why you of all people knew Spencer's whereabouts.

"Again?" JJ questions as you shrug your shoulders, her eyes flitting towards you.

"Ever since Prentiss died, he..." Penelope speaks your thoughts.

"Right." JJ nods her head. "Uh... did you guys just get a new case?" she questions, hands clasping together in front of her.

"It's just an old one." Derek answers.

"Do you want some fresh eyes?" she asks, and it's painfully clear that she's still figuring out how to feel more like the team again.

"Not just yet." Derek denies, and he's polite, but you knew why he was being this way. You were all for keeping anything related to Doyle under wraps until you were further along.

"Ok. Um, well let me know." she hums, and then she looks back at you. "Y/N, can I..." your eyebrows raise as she trails off. "Can we talk? It'll only take a second." she hopes, and you look to Derek and Penelope for a moment.

"We won't do anything big without you." Derek promises, and you nod, closing the file, and handing it off, before you stand to your feet. You follow JJ out of the office, and down the hallway, stopping just before you reach the heart of the bullpen. You look to her expectantly, a bit confused, but not on edge. You had missed JJ, and in the two months she'd been back, it'd been pretty hard to get some real time with her. You'd hoped a break in the case would help to change that.

"Everything okay, Jaige?" you ask, and you witness how she exhales in relief right in front of you.

"God, it is now." she says, and your eyebrows jump up. She seems to understand the confusion on your face as she lets out a chuckle, dispelling more of her own tension. "You've been calling me Agent Jareau since I got back... not JJ and definitely not Jaige." she explains, as it seems to register for you. "I guess I was just a little worried I'd done something to make you mad at me." she admits, and she's clearly sheepish.

"Oh." you chuckle yourself, and you reach out to hold her shoulder. "No, you've done nothing wrong." you promise. "I've just been a bit in my head these last few weeks, but I'm really glad you're back." JJ beams at your words, and all the remaining tension in her posture dissipates instantly.

present day.

"Hey, everything alright?" you look up, pulled from your thoughts at the presence of Spencer Reid. He's holding a medium cup of a steaming liquid that you can only assume is coffee, and you find yourself smiling despite yourself. "I remember you asked me a few weeks ago about coffee." he holds it out, and you're quick to press your phone to your shoulder, neck craning slightly as you take it.

"Thanks, Spence." you mumble, and you can practically hear your sister's smirk from the other line. "Could you just give me one second, I'm talking to my sister?" you question, and Spencer nods his head, eyes widening in understanding. You smile politely, and he beams back at you, pretty eyes seemingly brightening before he's making his way over to Derek who's smirking like the nuisance he is.

"Hey." you mumble once he's gone, and your sister is snickering. For some odd reason she'd been dropping hints that maybe the guy on the team you should be setting your sights on was Spencer. To your defense, it wasn't like he wasn't attractive. You'd be an idiot to deny his boyish charm and good looks, but after he'd sat you down and admitted he had a crush on JJ, back during his second year, you'd sort of blocked any potential attraction towards him out of your head.

Now he was just Spence.

"Hey, I should go. I just wanted to check in, Spence made me aware of everything so I've got everything figured out on this end." she promises you, and you nod once more despite yourself. "Just think about what I said, alright? It'd be a shame for you to leave behind such a good job." she finishes, and you don't know how to respond to that, so you don't. "Call me later?" she questions, though you know she's telling you more than asking.

"I will." you reply, and she sounds pleased as she exhales.

"I'll talk to you soon." and then the phone is clicking. You adjust your grip on your coffee, using your free hand to grab your phone, and place it down on your lap. The coffee smelled good, it was from that cute shoppe that sold different pastries and always smelled like cinnamon. You'd been there with Spencer and Penelope a handful of times, and they always made your coffee exactly how you liked it. Still, Spencer had never ordered for you so you await a mishap.

The first sip warms you up instantly, and you're knocked flat on your ass by how on point the drink was. Your eyes snap upwards, looking across the lobby towards Spencer, who's awkwardly sitting in a seat, Derek beside him. JJ was gone now, but you figured she was probably with Hotch and Emily, the three of them had been attached at the hip since the team was "back together". You're certain them being gone was what led you to standing to your feet.

You walk towards Derek and Spencer quietly, slipping into a seat next to Spencer as Derek leaned up against the wall. "I didn't know that you knew my coffee order." you whisper, and Spencer turns to look at you. He offers a half smile, you were certain you'd be passing a lot of those back and forth until the court proceedings were done with.

"Of course I do." he shrugs his shoulders. "I pay attention when you talk." he promises, and you wonder why he had to like JJ, and why you had to like Hotch. On paper, and off paper Spencer Reid was the perfect candidate for boyfriend, plus he never pretended to be into you to keep you from finding out the truth. You both fall into silence, there's not much else to say, but you let his words repeat in your head. I pay attention when you talk. It makes your stomach twist.

"You alright over there, pretty girl?" Derek's voice barely reaches over a whispered volume. It seemed you all were feeling the dreary aftershocks of an ordeal like the one you'd found yourselves in. You look up at Derek tiredly, and you don't understand why he's asking you this, not until you feel the scalding heat of hot coffee singing your skin. Two sets of worried eyes are drawn to your cup, it's squished in your palm, brown liquid streaming everywhere.

"Shit." you hiss, and the cup falls to the floor, you're quick to clutch your burnt hand. God, you were really torn up over this.

"I'll get this cleaned up." Derek promises, and he looks at Spencer as if he was communicating something he didn't want you privy to. Spencer falters, only for a second before he's reaching out for your forearm, and guiding you to your feet. You trail after him, walking down the long corridor, listening out for the telltale sign that Penelope was done, and they'd be calling you next. On your route you pass JJ who looks concerned as she looks between the two of you.

"Spence, Y/N?" she says, and you avert your gaze, you're not sure if you're more angry or embarrassed.

"Sh-she spilled some coffee." Spencer explains, but he doesn't stop walking. "Shouldn't be more than a first degree burn, if she soaks her hand for five minutes, everything should be fine." he is passive as he speaks, eyes never quite meeting hers as he continues to lead you.

"Let me take her." JJ offers, and both you and Spencer are quick to offer denials. She looks hurt but masks it quickly. "It's not like you can go into the girl's bathroom with her, right?" she says and it's then you both realize you've got no other choice. He looks to you, trying to gauge how you'd feel about it, and you sigh. Maybe this was for the best, you could finally get things off your chest with JJ. It was only fair. He seems to clock the instant you've decided, and concedes.

"I'll be right out here." he promises, and you nod slowly. He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn't get the chance to.

"Spence." JJ says his name a bit more sternly, and he resists the urge to cut his eyes in her direction. He ignores her long enough to take in your ailed hand, he saw the way the skin began to redden and swell. He seems cross as he passes you off to JJ, and you feel a bit silly being fussed over for something as minute as a coffee burn. JJ's earnest in the way she takes you to the nearest women's restroom. You hiss the second the cold water comes in contact with your skin.

You don't say anything to JJ though, losing your nerve the second the two of you were alone. She looks like she's waiting for you to say something though, eyes brimming with some sort of unease. She was reading you, using her new skills to profile you. You suppose that's exactly what pushes you to finally speak. "We said we'd never profile one another." you remind her crossly, and she's sheepish. "Just because you're doing it in your head doesn't make it any less invasive." you keep your wrist in place, hissing silently.

"If you would just talk to me I wouldn't have to go that far." she counters, and you blink. Fair, but you had every right to keep your distance from her. Just because the rest of the team was still more or less unaware of JJ's role in harboring the secret of Emily, you'd read right through her.

"What's there to talk about exactly?" you ask. "None of us want to be here dealing with this." and you take the route of the naive girl.

"I'm not talking about with the trial... and the senators." she shakes her head, and she's almost pleading as she tries to catch your eyes in the mirror. "I'm talking about Emily." she deadpans. "Everything that happened?" she proceeds. "You've hardly said a word to her since she came back." she doesn't want to come off like she's scolding you, and so she takes in a breath before her tone can become defensive.

"I don't speak to ghosts." and it's a quiet little dig that she hears all the same. It forces a tense silence to wash over the restroom, the only sound slicing through the awkwardness is the water rushing from the spout. JJ clears her throat, blinking a few times as she adjusts your wrist, allowing the water to evenly coat your burn. Only a few more minutes of this and you could make your grand escape.

"That's not fair." she finally voices her thoughts with a deep sigh.

"Isn't it?" you snap. "Seven months we thought she was dead." and you suppose that was a mistake of hers, getting you started. "Pretty lucky that you were off at the Pentagon, right?" you ask sourly. "Or was it lucky that you were in on the whole scam? I mean you were at the funeral, but you didn't have to cry, you didn't have to grieve." you accuse, and JJ's jaw slackens, clearly surprised at your outburst.

"I lost my friend too, okay?" she counters and you scoff.

"Did you?" you argue. "All those nights I called you crying, all those texts, those check ins... how long did you know Emily was still alive?" you demand, and JJ's feeling cornered, and her heart rate is picking up. She knew there'd be mixed feelings about this, but she'd never expected to ever be at odds with you. You, Spencer, and JJ rounded out the younger crowd on the team, it was your job to stick together. "Answer me." you insist, and you sound so crushed as you speak.

"I knew the whole time." she answers, and you nod your head, because of course you already knew.

"Exactly." you sneer. "You're a liar." you hate how angry this whole thing makes you, but you can't deny it. They'd played with your feelings, all of them, and now you were meant to behave like nothing was wrong. "Did you know about Hotch?" you ask, and JJ flinches. She doesn't answer for a while, and the water seems to rush even louder in your ears.

"I told him it wasn't smart." she finally answers. "But we needed to ensure that Emily wasn't at risk, it was harmless... just some flirting to keep you from getting too close to the truth." and JJ is speaking as if this wasn't some major breach of your position as coworkers and alleged friends. "He'd never cross the line." she reminds you, and the reminder that yeah, Hotch would never be with you makes you wince.

"And he didn't." she says this like she knows for certain. "It was flirting, Y/N. it didn't mean anything, we just needed you to..." and she trails off when she sees how destroyed you look at her admission. "Y/N..." she trails off, and you inhale sharply.

"Don't." you exhale, and you snatch your hand from her grasp. The cool air of the bathroom immediately attacks the welts blooming on your hand. You don't have time to pay them any mind.

"We just wanted to protect you... and keep Emily safe in the process. The more of us that knew Emily was alive, the more of a liability we'd be while Doyle was still on the run." she says, and you suppose in the grand scheme you understand. As profilers, as special agents working for the FBI they'd done great work. As your friends, as people you'd considered family for years... they'd betrayed you.

Plain and simple.

"Congratulations, you did exactly what you meant to." you say dully, and you sniffle, though no tears are set to come. Instead you feel more anger blossoming in the pit of your gut. "I hope it was worth it." and it's dramatic, but you deserve the dramatics, sidestepping the blonde and leaving her behind just as Emily is stepping inside. She looks at you wide-eyed, before she sees JJ standing there seemingly frazzled.

"Is everything okay?" she questions, and you don't offer her an answer, instead leaving the restroom as your earlier words ring in your head. I don't talk to ghosts. And you don't, and despite your history you'd never allow yourself to. You find your way back to the seats that led to the courtroom, Derek was gone, the only person still there was Spencer. He stands up as soon as he hears your shoes.

"Where's Derek?" you ask quietly.

"He left with Garcia." he answers quietly. "I guess they're dismissed for now. They're in with Dave now." he explains, and your eyes shift to the door. More than likely you or Spencer would be next.

You sit down, and Spencer follows you, sinking back into his seat as his legs just barely brush against yours. "Are you scared?" you ask, and Spencer's head shakes.

"Are you?" he shoots back, and you look away from the door.

"Not of this." you admit. "But of what comes after." you add and Spencer's pretty brown eyes are swimming with confusion. "Can we really all bounce back from something like this?" you ask, and it's rhetorical, but he answers you all the same.

"We've come back from worse." he reminds you, and that faint smile is worming back onto your face.

"Sure we have." you agree numbly. Spencer's eyes drop to your hand.

"How does it feel?" he asks, and you follow his gaze with a shrug of your shoulders. He doesn't look pleased by this approach, and it makes you sigh.

"Just feels like I ran some water over it." you admit, and Spencer chuckles. "A bit anticlimactic if I'm honest with you, Doctor." and you're partly teasing, mostly because it's so easy.

"You'll need some sort of petroleum jelly... there's some pretty good products that aren't at all carcinogenic like the leading brands." he begins on a tangent, and it makes you smile a bit bigger. "That with some gauze is the perfect remedy for such a mild burn." he proceeds and you look down at it. There's a moment of silence between you, before he's talking again. "Can I ask what happened?" he whispers.

You hum, almost like you're pretending you can't hear him.

"With the coffee? Was it not good? I tried to follow your order exactly." he says and you squeeze your eyes closed.

"It wasn't you or the coffee, Spence." you promise him, and without thinking you reach out, small hand resting on his shoulder. "The coffee was perfect." you insist, and he relaxes, but not enough. "I guess I'm just thrown about all of this." you proceed. "No matter how much I try to remind myself that they did this to protect Emily... that their deception was for a good reason, it just makes me angrier. Why is it that I have to rationalize being angry?" you question.

"I have to reign my feelings in for the sake of the team." you're careful not to grow loud. Spencer's eyebrows are pressed inwardly, head shaking.

"You don't." he denies you quickly. "You shouldn't." he corrects.

"You're right." you agree, and your silent for only a second. "I wish everyone could be like you, Spence." you say, and your words surprise him. He feels this familiar wave of adoration that always seems to swallow him whole whenever he was around you.

"Really?" he knows it might be pathetic, to be hopeful for something like this. The chance to hear what popped in your head whenever you thought of him.

"Yeah." you say firmly, and he tries not to look too eager. "You're so smart." you tell him, and he knows this, but it still feels nice hearing it from you. "And you're always nice to me." you add with a quiet laugh. "And you'd never lie to me would you?" you ask, and in truth, it's not a fair question. Spencer wasn't in the position the others were in.

"What do you mean?" he asks, and he fears it may be the wrong response. You don't even react, at least not that he can tell.

"Nothing." you settle on, head shaking from side to side. "Forget I mentioned it." and he doesn't really want to remind you that his memory quite literally makes that impossible. "I heard that you weren't fighting the suspension." you say conversationally, and he's surprised, mostly because the only person he'd told about that was Derek. Which meant you had been talking about him when he wasn't around.

"I guess I just stand by everything we did." he tells you, and your hand still hurts a bit, but it's definitely a problem for a later version of you.

"Me too. I'm glad we got Doyle, and Declan's safe." you exhale, and despite your anguish towards the team, you meant every word.

"And the team's back together." Spencer himself doesn't sound so convinced. You look over at him at this, your own unconvinced expression slowly cracking through his attempt at a cool facade.

"Is it?" you ask, and Spencer's face softens, a small little frown taking over his otherwise usually content face. He couldn't admit it now, mostly because it didn't feel like the right time, but he paid attention to you. He knew all about your complicated feelings for Hotch "I don't want to be on a team with people who purposely keep me in the dark about things." you ask, and Spencer pauses.

"I'm sure they wouldn't if they had another choice." he offers, and it's not how he feels at all, but it's what you need to hear.

"You don't believe that." you deny, and Spencer can't fight his chuckle. "Or maybe you do, you've always been good at seeing the best in people."

"Oh, do you think so?" it's a bit of a surprise. With your job description it would've made more sense for you to tell him that he saw the worst in people. He felt it was a fair thing to say that he was exceptionally good at his job, but it's then he recognizes what it is you're truly saying, or at least alluding to. It makes his face heat up immediately, cheeks blossoming a rosy red that makes him want to roll his eyes.

"Of course." you promise, and then you're looking at him again. Your face is one of the prettiest he's ever seen, and it's not even subtle. You seem a bit uncertain of your own allure though, which to him is a major shock. "You're like the best person ever." you add, and he expects you to snicker or show some sign that you were joking, but you don't. Bad for him, because his deluded mind full of fantasies starring you would take words like those the wrong way.

"I think you're the best person ever..." he's whispered this, but you hear it all the same, and he's lucky enough to witness the way your entire face morphs. Despite the bleariness in your eyes, you beam brightly. He hates though, that you start to cry. It starts with one tear slipping down your cheek and dripping into your lap. The onslaught comes right after, and before you know it, you're choking on sobs.

"God..." he hears the bitter tang of self-loathing that attaches and weaves itself into your otherwise honey-filled tone. "You're making this so hard, Spencer." you huff, and you scrub at your face harshly. He doesn't understand, but he's too frozen in place to ask you what you mean. Lucky him, you seem to know that you've got explain a bit, so you do. "I'm gonna resign." you say this quietly, sniffling as more tears fall. Spencer feels like he's misheard you.

He wants to have misheard you. He flounders a bit, and he's mentally scolding himself, because he has to hurry the fuck up and say something. "You can't!" and he's scolding himself again for sounding too eager. You jump a bit at the outburst, and he winces right along with you. "We just got everyone back." he reminds you, and you exhale, head nodding in understanding.

"I know." you promise him. "Why do you think this is so hard. You think I want to be the asshole that turns the unit on its head?" you ask. "But I can't stay here and pretend that everything's fine... or act like I don't feel thrown about all of this." you proceed, and of course, Spencer understands, he's upset he was lied too as well.

"I understand." he admits with a sigh, and you let out a quiet noise of relief, almost like you were worried he'd be upset with you. He assumes this is just him being delusional again. You look like you have something sitting on the tip of your tongue, so he stays silent to give you the room to say all that you need to.

"Have you ever had feelings for someone?" you ask. You chuckle at the look he shoots you, "Not just for a second, Spence." you proceed. "I mean like... take your breath away, kind of almost-in-love feelings." you indulge, and Spencer's keen to shut his mouth. Yes, is the loud and resounding answer that rings in his head, because foolishly he'd allows you to captivate him like the siren you were almost three years prior. He'd be a dummy to tell you such now though.

"I-" he blinks harshly, eyes feeling too dry. "I can't say I have." he lies, and he remembers your words from earlier, how you'd praised him for being someone who would never lie to you. You don't seem to notice his deception though, and if you do, you're too in your own head to comment on it.

"Good." you say with a shuddered breath. "They're nothing but a headache, especially when the person doesn't want you back." you exhale the words, and it's like a dagger is being lunged into his chest. How dense could you possibly be with all your super smarts?

"Did something happen with Hotch?" he asks, and now it's your turn to be embarrassed, face pinching up as you choke on a breath. "I don't mean to pry, if it's personal... it's just that-" he trails off, seemingly waiting for you to berate him or tell him to back off. You don't, instead your nose twitches, and you begin to look at your shoes. "Y/N?" he nudges you with his elbow, and it's light.

"No." you finally say, head shaking. "I thought maybe..." you trail off, more embarrassment slicing at you as you cringe. "But it was all a ruse, just a way to keep me from getting too close, and figuring out everything about Emily before they wanted us to know." you say and Spencer's eyebrows furrow.

"They?" he pries, and you look at him like he's silly.

"Hotch and JJ." you answer plainly, and it takes Spencer a second. JJ who he'd went to for comfort for ten weeks? He blinks at you, and you shrug. "So you see... anyone that could take my feelings and use them to manipulate me... are they really worth sticking around for?" you ask, and Spencer doesn't want to validate you in this way. He wants to be selfish, he wants you to stay on the team.

He thinks about how devasted everyone would be. How devasted he would be to walk into the bullpen and find that your desk was empty.

"I don't want you to go..." he admits, and it's quite pitiful, the sadness that soaks the words like gasoline. You find yourself chomping on your lip again, nails pressing into the cuts of your palms, and Spencer's catching your bad habits in real time.

It's a bit invasive, the way his hand surges out, and stops you in your tracks. "Please don't do this." and you're not sure if he's talking about leaving the unit, or if he's referring to the gashes littering your hands. When he holds your palm out flat, and rubs his thumb across the bleeding indentations, you find that you understand quickly.

Every few seconds it's ebbing with more droplets of blood, and he's quick to wipe them away like they offend him. Just as he's moving to say something else, the doors to the courtroom are opening, and Dave Rossi is exiting, his eyes immediately on you and Spencer. You must look foolish, hands intertwined as you stare wide-eyed at the team's senior agent. It's probably why Spencer is dropping your hand as you're snatching it away from his grasp.

You still find that your eyes are quick to appraise one another. He's looking at you, and you're staring back, mouths parted as if you'd been caught. Had you been caught? Had there really been anything to catch? You don't have time to answer, because you're being called next. You frown at Spencer, standing to your feet as he feels his pulse threaten to leap to disrespectful speeds.

"Y/N..." he calls after you, and you stop for a second. Eager eyes fall back on him, and he's trailing off, because the look in your eyes says it all. If you got out of this without being fired, you could imagine a world where quitting the FBI no longer made you sick to your stomach. Silence befalls the space, and he shakes his head after a beat. You look disappointed but not surprised, inhaling deep and audibly as you march towards the court room.

Spencer doesn't know what you're going to say, but he hopes recalling all you'd been through in the last few weeks will be enough to make you stay. At least until he has the courage to ensure that you leaving the team doesn't equate to losing you entirely and completely.

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lixxpix · 1 month

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we can't be friends - l.mh

genre: idol!minho x reader, lovers to exes to lovers

tw: angst, hurt, breaking up, erasing of memories (almost) , mutual pining, did i mention angst, reader is kinda depressed, like two kisses ig

status: delivered !

word count: 4.0k

author's note: aaaa omd it's finally done >< reblogs + likes are appreciated!!

lee minho. your muse, your life, your heart.

he broke your heart one stormy sunday night and you hated him as you watched him leave with tears in both of your eyes.

granted, he did break your heart for your own good, to save you from the dangers of being with him. but you didn't care, not when he was your universe, your world. you would gladly take a bullet for him.

just as he would take a bullet for you.

minho knew leaving would break you, just as much as it would break him, but he needed to do it. life as an idol was already dangerous enough with all the death threats and saesangs, but the moment 'fans' caught even the slightest whiff of you they would hunt you down and hurt you, and minho simply couldn't let that happen. he knew you wouldn't care about all the danger as long as you were with him, but he did. minho would never forgive himself if something happened to you all because he had given in to his innermost wants and kept you by his side.

so he left.

november 8th, 2019, 8.46 pm.

"i want to break up." he said, one sunday night. the rain was pouring outside, flashes of thunder and lightning ringing through the sky occasionally. in the quiet and comfort of your shared apartment, with the dim glow of lamps illuminating your features, in that moment, for a split second, minho wanted to stay. he wanted to pretend everything was alright, to have you stay by his side and be happy together, but he knew he shouldn't. the two of you were eating dinner, sitting at the small round dining table in your kitchen tucking into your homemade kimchi stew. god, he would miss your kimchi stew, he thought miserably.

"what?" your world felt like it had stopped, your hand frozen in place as you slowly tilted your head to look at your boyfriend sitting across from you.

"i... want to break up." he repeated robotically.

"minho, where is this coming from? did i do something wrong? please... just talk to me," you begged, panic starting to flood your mind as tears threatened to spill over. you couldn't believe what he had just said. the both of you had been perfectly fine before, the both of you were happy, why was he doing this? were you not good enough for him? did he fall in love with someone else? the thought alone made you weak.

"i just... it's for the best. i'm putting you in danger every day, fans will hurt you if they find out i'm with you. i can't let that happen."

"i don't care if they try to hurt me, minho. as long as i'm with you, it’s- " you reached for his hand, and could feel your heart finally sinking to the bottom as you saw his face, screwed into an expression of hurt and resignation as he shook his head.

"just... don't forget me in the future, okay?" before you could say anything, minho was already out of his seat, grabbing his coat and his phone, already reaching for the front door.

"wait! minho-" you jumped out of your seat in alarm and desperation, clinging to his arm as he looked back at you with a pained expression.

"please- we can work this out, just don't leave me," you pleaded, tears already cascading down your face. you must've looked a pathetic mess in that moment, sniffling and sobbing, yet minho still thought you were the most beautiful person to ever exist as he memorised your face for one last time.

finally, minho turned around, cupping your face in his hands. your hands reached up to hold his, as he memorised your every detail for the last time. minho's lips found their way to your forehead, then the corner of your eyes, then your lips as he kissed you tenderly for the last time as you sobbed in his arms.

"i'm sorry." he whispered, before pushing you back as you cried out and stumbled backwards, opening the door, walking out of the apartment and out of your life.

december 25th, 2019, 11.28 pm.

your diary.

i still think of you, you know. i still see your face in the windows of that cafe shop we used to go to whenever i pass by. i know you're not in there, and i'm hallucinating. i can't go in there anymore, not without thinking of you. i can't even watch the television anymore without having to see your face. listened to your new comeback. that song was about me, wasn't it?

it's christmas now. i adopted some presents for you. you would love them, the three cats. i named them soongie, doongie, and dori. quite fitting, they're playful like you. they'll never meet their father. i still wore your hoodie, the green one i always wore every christmas. you used to wear my red hoodie, but i guess you won't be here to wear it anymore. it still smells like you.

i still wonder why you left. was such a pathetic excuse as me potentially being hurt the only reason why you would leave me? you knew i didn't care if i was hurt, so long as i was with you. you still left. i hate you for that, but deep down i could never hate you. i still love you.

january 7th, 2020, 2.35 pm.

you strolled down the busy streets of seoul, a long oversized fluffy coat resting on your shoulders and your nose pink from the cold. a sigh of relief escaped your lips when you finally stepped foot into the cozy ambience of a random cafe alongside the road, the warm air blowing gently at you helping to relieve the coldness settling into your bones. ordering a latte and a small cake which were promptly delivered to your table, you settled down to scroll through the news.

new technology developed, scientists say new machinery can effectively target and erase memories of specific people and objects. is now being offered at multiple mental health clinics nationwide at a low cost, guaranteed 90% success rate. for sign-ups and further information, please contact...

you raised your eyebrows at the news, marvelling slightly at how advanced technology seemed to be developing at this rate. thinking nothing of it, you simply continued scrolling.

january 7th, 2020, 12.02 pm.

you sighed as you flopped onto your bed, tired from a day of work and countless emails sent. feeling a warm, soft head poke it's way under your arm, you smiled softly, hand reaching out to scratch doongie's head as he meowed in content. smiling softly, you felt two large lumps jump onto your bed and settle on you, soongie choosing to settle on your feet and dori choosing to burrow his way under you arm as you giggled.

"soongie, you're so heavy," you laughing light-heartedly as your oldest cat let out a 'meow' of indignation at your words.

minho would love the cats so much...

your smile drooped, feeling that warm familiar sensation pricking at your eyes again.

god, how stupid. it had been two months already and you were still hung up on him. everywhere you went, you saw his face, on advertisments at the bus stop, billboards in the shopping districts, to even advertisments on youtube, and every single time your old memories with minho would surface and you would miss him again.

memories...

oh. the news of the memory erasure experiment.

would it hurt to try? you tried imagining forgetting minho. for him to just be another face on the billboard, a random k-pop idol to you. to forget you had ever even loved him and forget that he ever loved you. the pain would be gone. your heart would no longer ache each day, you would no longer think of him and he would no longer cloud your mind.

picking up your phone, your finger hovered above the 'call' button.

"hello? this is the seoul medical psychiatry clinic speaking. how may i help you?"

"i..." you paused, gnawing at your bottom lip.

"i would like to make an appointment."

january 19th, 2020, 1.28 pm.

"welcome! do you have a booked appointment?" the receptionist greeted cheerfully as you stepped into the reception and seating area of the clinic, a large box full of items in your hands. the hallways were filled with posters and quotes, the beanbags and seats painted in warm and soothing colours.

"yes, doctor kim at 1.35pm." you answered, watching as the receptionist typed a few words into her computer.

"ah yes, under the name yoon y/n, right?" she clicked her tongue, "for... memory erasure?" she glanced at you with a look full of sympathy, as if you were some lost wounded puppy.

"yes." you confirmed, lips pursing together slightly as you stared down at the box.

"good, and you've got your box of items already. do double check to make sure they are linked to that specific person only, we wouldn't want any erasure of other memories woth different people."

you swallowed the lump in your throat.

"yeah, i have."

"great, we'll be calling for you later, the doctor will run you through the procedure and then the operation will commence. take a seat first," she gestured to the seating area. not long after, you heard your name.

"yoon y/n?"

you hurriedly stood up, making your way towards the nurse and following her into the operation room. the operation room was white and cold, lacking any warmth and colour, filled with odd looking machinery and lab coats and tools. you were sat down on a chair, and your box of items given to the nurse who began taking them out one by one while another nurse attached a few wires to your skin to a machine on the right which measured your heart rate, a steady thump-thump-thump. the first nurse began to place your items in a row, scanning each one under a machine.

beep.

minho's green hoodie.

beep.

the snow globe the both of you had bought together at a winter festival.

beep.

polariods of you and him.

beep.

a cat plushie you had gifted him in celebration of his lastest comeback before he had left.

beep.

matching mugs the two of you had bought.

minho. everything, everywhere, everyone reminded you of minho. it felt like you were drowning, consumed by him.

"alright, i'll be placing the device on your head. the device will take you through individual memories of the person, but you will have to re-experience certain bigger core memories again as those take a longer time to process. if at any point should you feel distressed or want to stop, please press the red button beside you, and should you want to restore your memories we will reload them back into your brain. however, if you choose not to restore the memories, we will automatically delete them after 30 days." the doctor explained, showing you a strange contraption with two pulse points connecting to either side of your temple.

beside you, the heart rate measured by the machine started beeping faster.

you nodded.

the cold, tingly terminals of the device connected with either side of your temples, the unfamiliar feeling odd and alienating.

then all turned black.

"min! look, they have matching mugs! we should get them," you pointed excitedly to two mugs at a stall in a summer fair you and minho had just happened to pass by. you watched as your old self pointed to the mugs happily, "the world's best boyfriend" and "the world's best girlfriend" written on each mug respectively. "that's so cheesy," minho said, a grin on his face as he pulled you close to him by your waist. well, the old minho in your memories. it felt like a punch in the gut yet the cure to your pain as you stared at his face again in your re-lived memory, his oh-so-familar grin plastered on his stupidly handsome face. "yeah, but it's cute!" you exclaimed, turning to face minho. "pleaseeee," you begged, lips downturned in a pout and your eyes shining hopefully as you tugged on his arm. "fine," minho groans, eventually giving in into your request, feigning annoyace by rolling his eyes yet still smiling at your delighted expression.

god, you missed him so much.

the memory shifted, warping into another blurry picture.

this time, it was another memory that faded in, a memory of you and him sitting in the living room unwrapping your christmas presents. minho tore open his box eagerly, laughing as he held up a green hoodie from his favorite brand gifted to him by you, coupled with some other things like perfume and a brand new wallet. "oops... might've gifted you an accidental matching hoodie by accident," he smiled sheepishly, as you opened your present, some jewelry with . "a red hoodie! now we can match," you snickered, pulling the soft hoodie over your head and slipping it on. "hey, we look like the christmas colours!" you laughed, pouncing on him and tackling him down to make him wear his one as he whined in protest. eventually you did managed to get him to put it on and pose for some pictures, albeit him being disgruntled but still giving in to you anyways.

a tear trickled down your face, landing on your lap as your hands on the chair tightened, gripping the armrests so hard your knuckles started turning white.

the memory started to fade away.

"min! the new comeback was so good, i watched the music video just now," you exclaimed, bounding up to him the moment he opened the front door to your shared apartment. "thanks baby," he smiled, leaning in for a quick peck but suddenly finding a soft plushie being thrust into his hands. it was a plush of a brown and white striped cat, soft to the touch and extremely squishable. "what's this for?" he raised eyebrow, cocking his head in confusion as he stared at you. "it's to celebrate your comeback, I figured i'd give you something to cuddle when i'm not around you," you smiled, "i named the cat mr sprinkles." "who names a plush toy mr sprinkles?" minho laughs, watching as you huff at him about how the name was cute and he was being mean. "thank you though, i appreciate it," he kissed you softly, smiling at the small act of love.

no, stop-

you started to whimper and thrash around.

fade to black again.

"min, look," minho turned to you as you were admiring the ornaments at a booth, the both of you coming across a christmas market and deciding to explore it. "it's a snow globe of us," you pointed out to a small snow globe, with a man and women as figurines in the center of the snow globe and fake snow swirling in the water around them. "it does look like us, doesn't it?" he hummed, pressing a soft kiss into your hair as you subconsciously leaned into him. "we should get it," he suggested, smiling at how your eyes lit up and how you pressed a kiss to his cheek. the two of you purchased the item, and then bought some hot chocolate to sip on to relieve the cold setting into your bones. "jagi-ah," minho called, prompting you to look up at him before gasping in surprise. the first snow of the season. "you know, they say the person you witness the first snow with will be with you for a long, long time." minho grinned, leaning down to kiss you tenderly before intertwining your hands.

you didn't want to forget him, you realized, as you gasped for air, heartbeat skyrocketing as you tried to open your mouth to scream. no, you would never want to forget minho. you would rather cling onto those memories and deal with the pain forever than never having remembered him.

the memory faded.

you gasped in surprise as you ripped open the box, holding up a brand-new, shiny polariod camera wrapped in a gift box, its paper shreds used to cushion the camera hapazardly strewn about the floor. minho watched you with a small smile on his face, eyes sparkling as he happily obliged to any pose you wanted to do with him, groaning half-heartedly but still laughing at the silly faces you made.

the memory started to fade again.

"STOP!" your finger found the red button, desperately pressing it in an attempt to get the machine to start working. all of a sudden, you were jolted back into your consciousness in the middle of the white sterile room again, heaving and gasping for air as you tried to adjust back to the surroundings.

"are you okay? do you need to stop the operation?" the nurse asked, a concerned look on her face. beside you, the machine was beeping, a erratic rhythm.

beep. beep. beep. beep.

your hand reached up to fiddle with your necklace, looking left and right. you swallowed, a lump in your throat.

"yes."

----------

you stumbled out the clinic, hands clutching onto the box of items tightly as your eyes adjusted to the bright light of the sun.

hands shaking, you pulled out your phone.

'my love,' the contact at the top of the screen read. you hadn't called him in months, ever since he had broken up with you. you has tried for a few weeks, but day after day of missed calls was heartbreaking.

you pressed the button.

one ring.

two rings.

three rings.

four rings...

"hello?"

a voice you hadn't heard for months. a voice you had only been hearing in your dreams.

"minho-" a strangled sob left your lips.

"please." you could only force out a choked plea, tears falling rapidly, stumbling onto a nearby bench. people started at you as they walked by, a woman breaking down in a random street in seoul oddly disconcerting.

"where are you? i'll come get you." the moment you heard the concern laced in his voice, your eyes brimmed with more unshed tears, stifling a sob that threatened to escape. in the background, you could hear the sound of things being knocked over, presumably minho rushing to get to you.

you told him your location in between shaky breaths, occasional hiccups interrupting your sentence.

"just wait for me, ok? don't move anywhere," minho firmly instructed, voice soft and calming.

a few minutes passed, and he was nowhere to be found.

he would hate you for this, you realized. you didn't deserve him. he tried so hard to keep you safe, and how did you repay him? by almost erasing all memories of him. the thought of it just broke your heart even more, for if he knew what you had tried to do he would never want to have anything to do with you again.

"y/n!" you heard a voice yell, whipping around only to see minho running to you at full speed. you had never been more glad to see him, your knees instantly buckling as you collapsed into his arms, crying into the crook of his neck as you clutched onto him like a lifeline.

you didn't think you would ever get used to this feeling, you thought. his touch, warmth, his gentle strokes of your hair and whispered sweet nothings were like music to your ears, his hand coming up to rest on your back and his other coming up to gently stroke your hair as he swayed you back and forth. he had clearly just ran from dance practice, you realized, slightly sweaty and panting ever so slightly.

"what's wrong, jagi?" he murmured, soft brown eyes searching your own red and teary ones.

"i- i didn't want to remember you because it was too painful, and then i tried to erase my memories of you, but i realized i didn't want to and i really, really, really fucking miss you and it hurts-" your rambling was cut off by a hiccup, lips quivering as you stared back into his eyes.

here comes the part where he realizes your a disgusting bitch and hates you forever, you thought miserably.

"shh, it's ok," minho pulled you closer, engulfing you in his warmth as his hand rose up to cup your cheek.

what?

he was supposed to hate you, not do... this. you literally tried to erase all memories of him, he should be angry and offended, so why...?

nonetheless, you would take what you could get in what you assumed to be your last moments with him, so instead you leaned into his touch, memorising his every detail again. his soft brown eyes framed with delicate lashes, sharp nose and jawline, the pink rosy tint to his cheeks as the winter wind whipped around you.

"i'm sorry," you begged, "just don't hate me."

"i never did, silly." minho laughed softly, a wistful smile gracing his lips.

"but you left me." you said, confused.

"i left you because i loved you. it was just for your own safety, i didn't care about anything else," minho explained, brows furrowing slightly.

oh.

minho stumbled backwards as you crashed into him with a force, nearly knocking him over as you crashed your lips onto his, hands threading through his soft silky hair and teeth knocking against his. it was a heated, messy kiss, teeth clashing and tears streaming down your face, yet minho didn't seem to mind as he deepened the kiss with a fervour, all seeming to pour out of him, pain and regret, relief and want. it is only when you seperate with a gasping breath of air that you finally see his swollen, reddened lips.

“i’ll figure something out, i’ll talk to the company, make a statement or something- i won’t let anyone get to you, i promise,” he rambled, a giddy smile on his face. right now, minho could care less about the repercussions, even if he had to move mountains just to be by your side and keep you safe at the same time.

you giggled, an infectious laugh bubbling out of you. the both of you, crying in the middle of a street, hands intertwined and both a mess, yet you had never been happier with the person you truly loved.

“we'll be alright now.” you whispered. it wasn’t just a statement but a promise, one to keep forever.

december 25th, 2020, 1.43 pm.

“min! come look!” you squealed in delight, eyes lighting up when you were finally done. minho glanced over, and sure enough, you were up to mischief again, the three cats dressed in ugly christmas sweaters with cartoonish designs on them and matching hats on their heads. doongie let out a ‘meow’ of indignation, protesting as minho roared with laughter to scoop him and his fellow cats up. laughter bubbling out of your lips, you quickly grabbed your phone to take a picture of minho and the three cats, his face lighting up in amusement as he watched them try to squirm out of his grasp.

“i love you, you know that?” minho says that night, the two of you cuddled up on the couch with the cats, watching your favourite seasonal christmas movies together and snacking on popcorn.

“i don’t say it enough, partly because i’m not good at expressing myself, but i love you. your smile and personality and everything. just thought you should know.” the tips of his ears are red as he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

you smile, a red tint blossoming across your cheeks as you lean in to kiss him softly.

“i love you too min.”

how did you ever get so lucky? you think, leaning in to rest your head on minho’s shoulder as you resumed watching the movie, one hand absentmindedly scratching dori’s head as he purrs in contentment. here, in the dim light of the cozy apartment with minho, love heavy in the air around you two and christmas lights twinkling merrily, you think you have everything you have ever wanted in life.

after all, it didn't really matter where you were, as long as minho was by your side.

taglist: @starseungs @missmajdastark @jazziwritesthings @layviyu @lailac13 @ana-marais98 @foxinthewild @dandelions-143 @rylea08 @linocz @minseongsworld @realrintaro @kkamismon12 @felinows @baribaaari

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 15 days

Text

10: REVELATIONS

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter

Sharon Carter, of all people, manages to knock some sense into your favorite super soldier.

Word count 2.8k

Warnings: Sharon Carter and her brutal honesty, Bucky Barnes and his ignorance

Bucky returned from his mission physically unharmed, but his conscience didn’t let him off so easily. Sharon was a great partner, but she wasn’t you. She was very business-like but cold. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, but he couldn’t quite open up to her the way he had with you. Bucky wondered if he would ever be able to bare his soul to another human being again. He had given so much of himself to you, was it too much to ask for just a little in return?

Why had you forced him to take just drastic measures? Why did you force him to choose? Why didn’t you love him back? There were days when he could see love in your eyes when you looked at him, but the voice deep inside Bucky that always told him he was undeserving, had him believing that all he saw were his own feelings reflected back at him. He would never have dared to think that you would have been so selfish as to deny him of someone who would love him in return. His thoughts constantly revolved around you, plaguing him long into the night and affecting his sleep.

He couldn’t deny it, he missed you. He felt like a part of himself was missing. Without you by his side, life seemed empty. He reflected on how he didn’t feel that way when he was away from Priya. Perhaps he should, especially after he had confessed his love so publicly to her. Bucky sighed heavily. Had he been too rash? You were always so kind, so selfless, so giving. He would never have entertained the notion that you had nothing to give him for his birthday. Even if he didn’t have your love, he knew he had your friendship. What had gone wrong? You had once told him that all you wanted for him was peace and happiness. Right now he felt neither.

He craved your company, he longed to hear your voice, coveted the warmth of your embrace. But his anger and sense of betrayal had been overwhelming. Why wouldn’t you let him be happy? He couldn’t have you and you wouldn’t let him be happy with someone else. Bucky tightened his grip on the controls of the quinjet.

"Barnes, I got to say, I knew you had a reputation for staring, but I think you’re taking this to a whole new level." Sharon interrupted his thoughts.

"Sorry?" Bucky looked at her with surprise. He had all but forgotten that Sharon was sitting next to him.

"If you grip those controls any tighter, we're going to plummet to our deaths."

"Oh," Bucky released his grip on the handles.

"What's going on with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You look like you haven't slept in a week."

Bucky shrugged.

"So why isn't Cricket here with you?" Sharon probed, continuing despite Bucky's sullen silence. "I mean she clearly wasn't busy with other things."

"Stark calls the shots, I don't know what he’s thinking." Bucky lied through his teeth, knowing full well that he had requested Steve to assign him a different partner.

"So nothing going on between you two?"

"Nothing going on? What does that mean?"

"Oh come on Barnes, I know you’re ancient, but you can’t be that clueless. Everyone thinks you were sleeping together!"

Bucky’s eyes were practically popping, he was utterly speechless.

"They what?"

"But you have a girlfriend now. Is that why Cricket resigned?"

"SHE WHAT?" The plane jolted slightly

"Watch it, Barnes!" Sharon shrieked.

Bucky straightened up the quinjet before speaking. "Cricket resigned?" he asked, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he had heard.

"You don’t know? Wow, how badly did you fuck her?"

"We didn’t…"

"Oh, so she’s leaving because you wouldn’t fuck her, is that it?"

"Sharon, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"I’m just curious!" she shrugged before prattling on. "I can’t see why else she would be leaving such a great position… unless, did you knock her up?"

"For fuck sake Sharon, nothing happened with me and Cricket. We’re just friends."

"Well maybe it should happen then. The way you two look at each other is sickening."

"You know what, this is the reason no one wants to work with you." Bucky grumbled.

"Because you’re too afraid to hear the truth. I’m just telling it like it is. She looks at you like she wants you to fuck her."

"Sharon, I’m warning you."

"Ooooh, Mr America, Cap’s best friend is warning me! What’re you going to do, spank me?" Sharon replied in a mock sultry tone.

"Shut up, Sharon."

Sharon let out a barking laugh, but said nothing more, leaving Bucky more to think about than before. How dare you resign without telling him? Surely it was something someone discussed with their partner. How does someone dump their partner without so much of a word? The small voice of conscience in his brain, your voice, screamed, ‘didn't you do the same?’ He had requested a new partner on this mission because he was angry. He remembered the look on your face when he had left for this mission. Bucky could tell you had wanted to speak to him, but he hadn’t given you the opportunity. The rational part of his brain told him that you had made many attempts to speak to him.

Bucky's mind was a whirlwind of emotions as he tried to process everything that had just been thrown at him. Sharon's words echoed in his head, taunting him with the possibility that maybe he had missed something between him and you. Had he been blind to your feelings all this time? Had he been so consumed by his own insecurities and doubts that he had failed to see what was right in front of him?

He couldn't shake the feeling of regret that washed over him. Regret for not being more attentive to you, regret for not being more open with you, regret for not realizing sooner that maybe, just maybe, you had feelings for him too. The thought of you resigning because of him made his heart ache with guilt. How could he have been so blind?

Bucky's thoughts raced as he tried to make sense of everything. He couldn't deny the fact that he missed you, that he longed for your presence, that he yearned for the connection he had with you. Sharon's words had struck a nerve, awakening a realization within him that maybe, just maybe, he had let something special slip through his fingers.

As the quinjet continued on its course, Bucky's mind was consumed with thoughts of you. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had made a mistake, that he had let his own fears and insecurities cloud his judgment. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you, of losing the one person who had always been there for him, who had always believed in him, who had always seen the good in him.

Bucky knew he had to make things right, that he had to find a way to reach out to you, to apologize for his blindness, to make amends for his mistakes. He couldn't let you slip away without a fight, without at least trying to salvage what was left of the bond between you.

As the quinjet landed, Bucky's resolve hardened. He knew what he had to do. He had to find you, he had to talk to you! With a determined look in his eyes, Bucky stepped out of the quinjet, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead in his quest to win back the one person who had always held his heart.

"Buck," Steve put his hand out to stop Bucky marching off as soon as they disembarked from the plane. "Where're you going? We need to debrief."

"It can wait." Bucky shook off Steve's arm.

"Bucky, this is important."

"I don't care, Steve." He shouted over his shoulder as he made his way towards the compound's living quarters.

Sharon stopped beside Steve. "He's got it bad."

"What happened, Sharon?"

"He realized he's an idiot."

Steve frowned at her.

"Cricket." Sharon rolled her eyes. "Are all of you clueless?"

"Sharon, Cricket isn't here."

"Well, someone's going to have to tell him that."

Steve sighed. "I guess we could reconvene in an hour or two."

"Great, I’m off to take a shower!" Sharon waved at Steve and wandered off.

Meanwhile, Bucky had started sprinting towards your rooms, practically knocking over a couple of new agents who had been getting a tour around the compound. He arrived on the floor where your rooms were situated feeling out of breath and extremely nervous. He had no idea what he was going to say, having not quite thought things through. Frowning slightly when he noticed that your door was slightly ajar, he skidded to a halt. You had to be inside, you often left your door open. You always said ‘everyone was welcome’. Your warmth extended to everyone you met, every single member of the team opened up to you, confiding their secrets. You had such a beautiful openness about you, it was so easy for anyone to fall in love with you, even a broken centenarian with a cantankerous demeanor and suffered from post traumatic stress.

Bucky took a deep breath, he still didn’t have the right words in mind, but he knew he wanted to see you, just a glimpse of your smiling face. He hadn’t seen it in a while, and he knew he was the cause. He had been so angry about his own choices, blaming you for having to make them, that he hadn’t stopped to think about how they affected you. For someone who claimed to love you, he had been incredibly selfish. It was almost an epiphany to Bucky, finally dawning on him that he had forced you to adapt to his choices rather than discussing them with you. He was the one who was too cowardly to share his true feelings for fear of losing you, and his behavior had led to him losing you anyway.

Softly, he knocked on your door, which swung open slowly. The sight before Bucky almost broke his heart. Your room was empty, all the things that bore your unique signature were stripped away. He stumbled inside still breathing heavily. What had he done?

"Cricket!" he called out loudly at first, as though you were hiding behind the remaining furniture, before whispering desperately. "Cricket."

Bucky collapsed on your bed, turning to the toy white wolf you’d left on your pillow. A white wolf, that was his moniker. He remembered seeing you choosing it at Coney Island and had been so blinded by jealousy that he hadn’t noticed your choice. You had always chosen him, systematically and consistently put your faith in him, given him your unwavering trust. Why had he been so quick to dismiss you on his birthday? Why hadn’t he returned your trust? He clutched the plush toy against his chest, burying his face in the fur and breathing in deeply, it smelled of you. He knew you had held it just as he was doing now. He wished it was you that he was holding, oh to be able to bury his face in your hair. He missed how you stroked the back of his neck when you comforted him.

Finally Bucky took his nose out of the small wolf and looked around with tear stained eyes. They landed on the thin, still wrapped vinyl record on your bedside table. The beautifully printed card was carefully taped to the edge. He ran his fingers over the flowery card with his name stenciled across the front, he could tell you'd made it yourself. He slipped his finger in the gap where the wrapping paper met and opened it with ease, unveiling the first edition Glenn Miller album which had been produced back in the 40’s. Bucky sniffed as he ran his fingers over the record before picking up the card to read your message.

"Dear Bucky." He could hear your voice in his head as he read your words.

"Happy birthday to my best friend! I hope this day brings you all the joy and happiness that you deserve. I wanted to take this opportunity to remind you of the love that surrounds you, both from your past and present.

"I know how much your family meant to you and how much you miss them every day. That's why I got you this Glenn Miller vinyl, the last song you danced to with them. I hope that when you listen to it, it reminds you of the love that they gave you and the memories you shared together.

"But I also want you to remember that you are not alone. You have friends who care about you deeply, who are here for you no matter what. We may not be your blood family, but we are your chosen family, and we love you just as much.

"So on this special day, I want you to know that you are loved, Bucky. You are cherished, you are valued, and you are important. And I hope that as you listen to that vinyl, you feel the warmth of the love that surrounds you, both from your past and present.

"And may you always remember that you are not alone, that there is someone out there who cares for you more than you could ever know.

"With all my love, Cricket."

He couldn’t believe the depth of your love and care for him. How could he have been so blind to it all this time? How could he have pushed you away when all you wanted to do was show him love and support? Bucky felt a wave of regret wash over him, realizing the mistake he had made in letting you go.

He sat there on your bed, clutching the record and card to his chest, tears streaming down his face. He had never felt so lost and alone, knowing that he had driven away the one person who had always been there for him. The weight of his actions weighed heavily on his heart, and he knew he had to make things right.

"Buck?" Steve’s voice broke through Bucky’s maelstrom of guilt and self flagellation, making him look up at his oldest friend. Steve sat down beside him, putting a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder. "Look, you have time to fix this. Do you have any idea how much Cricket loves you? She's always been there for you, and you just pushed her away without even giving her a chance to explain," Steve said sternly.

Bucky nodded, wiping away his tears. "I know, Steve. I messed up big time. I was just so scared of ruining our friendship if I told her how I really felt."

"Well, now’s your chance to make things right. Apologize to Cricket and tell her the truth. She deserves to know how you feel," Steve urged.

"What… what am I going to do about Priya?"

"Tell her the truth."

"I don't want to hurt her."

"Bucky, you can't keep living a lie just to spare someone's feelings. It's not fair to either of them. You need to be honest with yourself and with them. It may be difficult, but it's the right thing to do."

Bucky took a deep breath, nodding in agreement. He knew what he had to do. He had to apologize to you and tell you how he truly felt. He couldn't let fear hold him back any longer.

He stood up, determination in his eyes. "Thanks, Steve."

Steve gave him a reassuring smile. "I believe in you, Bucky. You can do this."

There was something about the way Steve spoke, he had a way of inspiring people. Bucky had seen that since they were kids. He couldn’t think of any other reason as to why he would have followed the scrawny kid from Brooklyn down every dark alley. He was grateful for Steve’s unwavering friendship and the honesty in his opinions. "Did she tell you how she felt?" Bucky asked. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

"Buck, it’s not my place to talk to someone else about their feelings."

"You don’t think it’s too late, is it?"

"You won't know until you try."

Steve's words didn't instill hope, but he was right, all Bucky could do now was try his best.

"Do you-" Steve stopped as his phone vibrated. He pulled it out to see a message from you flashing up. "Hang on, it's Cricket."

"What did she say?"

Steve frowned, you never sent voice messages. You always said you hated the sound of your voice. He pressed play apprehensively.

"STEVE!" Your voice was loud and urgent over the speaker. "Alien attack! Vrellnexian! Need back up! Red Oaks Mill. Back up would be- shit" They caught your muffled curse before the message stopped.

Steve and Bucky took one look at each other and leapt up off your bed, running towards the door.

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter

Tag list: @samodivaa @scoonsalicious @noonespecial90 @browneyedgrli @vicmc624 @cjand10 @capswife @julvrs @ordelixx @sashaisready @sebastians-love @belleofthebooks @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @rabbitrabbit12321 @love-isnt-greed @hhiggs @winters1917 @blackhawkfanatic @calwitch @learisa @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lillianacristina @mostlymarvelgirl @wintercrow @buckitostan @crist1216 @bisexualnikkisixx @robynjasp @brairslair

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fan fiction #my best friend's girl

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official-darkforest · 1 month

Note

Given how Feathertail dies in this AU, I'm guessing Sharptooth the mountain lion is either a cop or a really violent war hawk in this?

Also, where does Sasha and her kits fit in?

(This is such a cool AU I love it so much)

yep, i think it makes more sense if sharptooth was a war hawk which allows fetaher to more realistically be the cause his of death after the fight they have (he dies suddenly that night due to the brain injury he sustained), while other “sharptooths” are cops and such.

sasha and her kits are tiger’s affair family. she was an aspiring actress that lost her home after her elderly father passed away, his estate being ripped out of her hands and thrusting her out onto the streets with very little to her name. tiger took a liking to her - unfortunately she would find out he was married and purposefully hid away their oldest son tad from him, but still kept in contact. golden and tiger never divorced but golden did disown her husband, and tiger went back to sasha. he had fallen hard for her and weasled his way into her good graces, meeting tad and getting her pregnant two more times. tad would end up drowning during flood season.

in the meantime, tawny would end up in her father’s care (he pulled some strings. she was always a daddy’s girl and turned her against goldenflower for a few months) and she would meet her younger half siblings. she and sasha did not get along well.

tawny would stay with them even after tiger got arrested for his crimes (murder, some other things) since she already got set up to attend a university close by. sasha was relieved when tawny moved out, but didn’t know what to do with her own two children and struggled a lot being a single mother. tiger was still stringing her along and making promises he likely wouldnt be able to fulfill and she was too lonely to leave.

eventually, she found solace in leopardstar and the two became good friends. leopardstar was like an aunt to moth and hawk. sasha’s depression wpuld get worse, though, and for the sake of her children she entrusted leopardstar to be their guardian from then on. sasha would disappear for a while to find herself and get away from tiger. she’s reappeared once every few years, but after a certain point they just stopped hearing from her entirely.

moth had felt abandoned by religion and her family, resenting them for leaving her this way and having 0 control over anything in her life. pushed into it by her brother, she put all her energy towards studying medicine and becoming an army nurse. she served for a few years before resigning and studying to become an emergency surgeon instead - a familiar high stakes environment without the danger of herself being killed. she chopped her hair short in the 70s after returning from her military service.

hawk meanwhile served in the vietnam war. he had been in the military since he was in his late teens, inspired by his father and leopardstar (who was one of many rosie riveters for WW2). he would meet ashfur from thunderclan and hear about his half brother brambleclaw through him (“you remind me of someone back home” ‘really?’) and mudclaw. hawk was lucky enough to return home, keeping in touch with tiger snd bumping into bramble, who came up to visit tawny and figured he’d show his face while he was here. the two got along pretty well after the initial shock, but eventually a rift was put between them when (i have yet to decide what about) and they stop talking, much to squilf’s relief.

#warrior cats #anthro warrior cats #hawkfrost #sasha #mothwing #tadpole #micks anthro au

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sunflower-ozzy-online · 26 days

Text

Depths of the Heart

This was supposed to be your last excursion with the party and now you're trapped with Laios. What will be revealed while Chilchuck takes his sweet time helping you out?

Miscommunication? sorta both Laios and the reader are oblivious to their feelings. I did give the reader some anxiety so there's that <3

ダンジョン飯 | Dungeon Meshi | Delicious in Dungeon

Relationship: Laios Touden/Reader

Characters: Namari, Chilchuck Tims, Falin Touden, Marcille Donato, Shuro | Nakamoto Toshiro, Laios Touden

Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety

As you walk on the stone floors your footsteps echo alongside your parties. The third floor was known for having hidden doorways and traps from floor to ceiling so Chilchuck was leading the group. His senses worked on overdrive making sure the path was safe.

You had already been in the dungeon for two days so the conversation was light. Marcille and Falin were chatting quietly, probably about spells or their years in the academy. Laios was sticking by Shuros side, like a puppy following a stray cat, asking questions about monsters in the east. Namari and you brought up the rear, protecting the rest of the party from possible attacks. Namari wasn't much of a conversationalist, other than when it came to weapons, so you two walked in a fairly comfortable silence.

Your mind drifted to your conversation with her before you entered the dungeon a few weeks ago. The party was out to dinner while going over the last excursion. You had wanted to get her input about your thoughts on possibly leaving the party.

“Why!? I mean, not that there aren’t any valid reasons to leave and find a different party, or employer but I thought you and Laios… Got along well. And you like the rest of the party too. You seem happy enough with the progress and payment?” her eyes looking over to where the rest of the party ate in the meal hall.

“I did, I do. It’s just lately I find myself making mistakes and not feeling like I fit in. The vibes have changed you know? Plus I got an offer for room and board and a paying position in another party on the island. And I know you were thinking about leaving for a little while so I thought I’d get your thoughts.”

She took in your words for a beat and then responded, “I have been getting offers from other parties as well, and they are pretty enticing. Especially when Laios can be a less-than-great leader in the social aspects of leading. Though it would take something pretty impactful to make me just get up and leave.”

You nod along as she talks.

“But that’s me. What's important is that if you feel like staying in the party is not for you then that's what you feel. Before you leave you should talk to Laios, see if maybe this is something you could ya know, work out together.”

Your face grows hot at her suggestion, that was the opposite of what you wanted to do. Recently just being around Laios made you self-conscious and kinda clumsy, which is not what you wanted when in a life or death situation “Maybe. I’ll give it some thought. Thanks, Namari.”

When you had gone to Namari you had expected her to agree with you and support your decision to leave. It would make sense given that she was always voicing her displeasure with the financial situation. It seemed strange that she would encourage you to try and talk through your issues. Walking on the third floor you think about the resignation letter you had in your pack for after the end of this crawl. You hadn't told anyone yet, not wanting to ruin your last adventure together. Though most of the party members had noticed your emotional distance, besides Laios. He would still tell you monster facts about the monsters you had just taken down, even repeating ones he had told you before. Earlier on you would grin and comment on them, or even offer some of your own. Now however it makes you feel uneasy when his smiling face and positive energy are directed towards you. You simply acknowledged his words and continued.

You can't blame him for not noticing. You were trying to not let him know how strange you felt, and you were not about to tell him and make him concerned. And what if he got mad at you when you told him, you couldn't handle that? It would be easier to just take it on yourself and remove yourself from the equation. You had been in your mind so much you hadn't noticed that there was an odd stone in your path. Though Laios had.

“(Y/N!)” he shouted while rushing back towards you. You looked at him right as your foot stepped down. His body collided with you as the section of floor you were standing on gave out beneath you.

~~~

“Damn it!” you exclaimed after you had landed properly on your bottom with Laios’ body over top of yours. “I can’t believe I was dumb enough to step on that pressure plate! I should have been paying attention.”

“We all make mistakes,” Laios said while standing up and dusting himself off. “Plus Chilchuck should be able to find the release mechanism up above. Then Marcille or Falin can help us out.” He starts looking around, the temporary holding place having a few torches for light. “At least it wasn’t a spike pit.”

“We shouldn't try to escape without Chilchuck. We may get ourselves into even more trouble if we press the wrong thing. Plus neither of us specialize in things like this.” you tell him, worried as he walks along the perimeter of the room.

He nods along, “You’re right, looks like we’ll just have to wait it out.”

Your heart beats loudly in your chest. Not only were you trapped due to your airheadedness you also had brought Laios down with you. Mistakes like this were exactly why you needed to leave. You were becoming a danger to yourself and others. Whenever Laios was around or on your mind you just could not focus. Why had you decided on one last trip? You had already agreed to the new job? You knew you couldn't be trusted but you just had to follow along. But when Laios told you about the plans for this trek you just agreed, without a second thought. And now, you could die in this stupid room and no corpse retriever would be able to find you. No, you try to tell yourself, you're only on the third floor and you trust your party. As long as you stayed where you were and did not move there would be no way you could mess it up anymore.

“Well while we're here we may as well make lunch.”

“Yeah I guess.” you're an idiot

~~~

Laios went through his rations finding some dried meat and barley rice. He didn’t have enough water to soak the barley rice in.

“I think I have some backup in my pack, you can check. Oh, also I brought some seasonings along if you would grab those too” You were busy using your limited magical knowledge to start a fire.

“Thanks.” No matter what was cooked he would always stomach it with enthusiasm if it came from you but you did pride yourself on being able to make the rations a bit better with seasonings and some oil. Some people, Chilchuck, thought it was an unnecessary weight but you liked it. Plus you could tell he liked it better when you were on cooking duty.

Rummaging sounds came from Laios as he looked through your pack for the ingredients. Your fire was done and you placed the pan over the fire to start heating up.

“Here.” he handed you the water and your spice pouch.

“Thank you Laios,” you added the water to the pan and let it come to heat as you prepared the barley rice.

After a while the food was ready. You and Laios ate together. It may have been your anxiety but he seemed suspiciously quiet. Laios was rarely this quiet for this long, always filling the air with his thoughts on monsters or the dungeon, freely asking questions about his party members' lives. To be fair you were quieter lately, though he had not seemed to notice, he would have brought it up. Or would he? He wasn't very keen on social cues so you hadn't seen him confront anyone about it before.

“When are you leaving?”

“Huh?”

“I saw your notice in your bag, signed and everything.”

“Oh,” You forgot you had it in your bag when you told him to look for the ingredients. “I was planning on leaving after this crawl.”

“I… I thought you liked it, you know, with us.”

“I do.”

“Then why are you leaving, is it finances? I know we're a little down right now but if there was a problem why didn’t you come to me?”

“It’s not the money, I mean it didn’t help but that’s not it.”

“Did someone say something? Did they make you feel unwelcome or uncomfortable?” he looked worried now “Is it me?”

You had paused long enough for Laios to pick up on it.

“It is, isn't it? What was it? I… thought we got along well. That we were friends!”

“We were, or are.” You shook your head “It’s not you, you haven’t changed or done anything wrong. I just, I’ve been off and I can’t figure it out.” your heart was beating even faster, you were shaking. This was exactly the conversation you wanted to avoid.

His head tilted “Off? Like sick?”

“No, more like clumsy. My thoughts keep wandering and I make silly mistakes like getting us trapped here or like during our last crawl. Do you remember when I got sucked into that living painting and Shuro had to jump in to get me? I had zoned out looking right at it and didn't notice it moving! I could have gotten Shuro hurt.”

Laios is looking at you like you're a hurt puppy

“I’ve become a burden on the rest of the party. It’s not fair to you guys for me to stay so I accepted an offer from another party. They're giving me room and board too, so that’s nice.”

Laios seems to be thinking over your words, looking down at his now-forgotten food.

“But if you are leaving cause you’re distracted how will that be fixed by leaving? Won’t you just be distracted in a new setting? That seems even more dangerous! You don’t know if you can trust your new party members. At least with us you know we will always have your back.”

“I didn't even want to have this conversation. It would have been so much easier if we had a successful crawl and then I would tell the party I was leaving and said our goodbyes. Simple and nice. People change parties all the time Laios!”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

You sigh and look away from him, looking towards the torch on the wall. They are always lit yet they never burn out. Must be tiring “I know.” He doesn't take his eyes off of you. “I guess it’s because it usually only happens when I'm with this party. Well mostly.” You can't bring yourself to fully look at him.

“Oh.”

You breathed in, hoping he would just drop it. Hoping he would come to some kind of understanding in his head.

“But why?”

Of course not.

You buried your face in your hands. “I don't know.”

“If we can work this out then I want to try. You shouldn’t leave.”

“It’s not like I want to leave! I just, I can’t justify putting you and the others at risk because I’m afraid to lose my friendships. I just know that when I’m around the party I get self-conscious or I keep thinking weird things and I make avoidable mistakes.”

“Self-Conscious?”

“Yeah … like if I look okay, or if I’m fighting well or not. If i'm being too loud or talking too much or not enough. As if I was an adolescent again trying to make the cool kids like me.”

He takes some time to weigh your words in his head.

“Well I don’t know much about romance but that kind of seems like maybe you have a crush? Maybe? Marcille has talked to me about some of the books she read, and one of the characters acts like that around the character they want to court.”

Your heart seems to stop.

“I think the next step is to figure out who it is and then tell them. You should ask Marcille though she really likes this kind of stuff. She's been talking about it to me more lately so she must really want someone to talk about it with.”

“Oh god.” of course it’s just a crush you feel so silly. “I guess that makes sense.” But who?

Oh. Oh no.

“Maybe it’s Shuro? He is pretty cool, and strong. Or Marcille, I know some people really find elves attractive, plus she's also good at magic.”

Of course it's Him. It could never have been anyone else.

“Or Namari, you two do seem pretty close.”

Before you started having trouble your thoughts were always filled with ‘What does Laios think about this’ and ‘I wonder if Laios would be interested in that’, you had just thought he was a good friend. It was right around the time he had carried you away from an attacking dryad after it had pierced your thigh that you became more distant. He was always so careful with you and attentive. But he had never shown you any interest, not romantically. You weren't sure if he was even interested in those kinds of things. If leaving the group was bad, being rejected by Laios would be even worse. There was no way you could tell him now.

“Never mind. It’s probably best for me to leave. I wonder when Chilchuck will figure this damned trap out huh?”

“Y/N?”

“It’s already been like 30 minutes at least right?” you got up abruptly.

“Y/N.”

“Maybe we should try and figure out a way to escape. They could have been ambushed.” you were now walking around the room looking for switches.

“I don’t think so, and even if they had been they would have taken care of any monsters we were only on the third floor. Why don’t you want to talk about this?” He was still sitting on the ground

“I’m feeling restless.” your hands ran against the wall, looking intently at the grooves.

“But if we work it out then you may not have to leave? You just have to tell them.” He sounds a little breathless.

“They don’t like me, Laios. Not like that.” Your fingers find a loose piece of stone

“You figured out who it was?” He’s almost hopeful

“Yes.” you pick at the small rock

“But you won't tell them?” confused

“No.” you let it fall from the wall

“So you're still going to leave?”

The rock sits still in the place it fell

“Yes.”

“Will you look at me?”

“No.”

A beat passes

“We don’t want you to leave.”

“You don’t know that. I’m sure you can find another decent party member to take my place.”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“Maybe a Kobold, that would be cool.”

“I don't want a Kobold, I want you.”

“No you don’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I want. I don't want another party member, it’s not even about losing a party member. I just want you. Don’t leave.”

“You don’t want me Laios.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t!” you whip around to look in his direction unable to fully look at him, tears have been collecting in your water line for a while now. “You don’t want me!” A tear finally spills, you take a deep breath in and look away “Not like I want you. So just… let me go. I will be fine, Laios.” you don't want to yell at him, you don’t want to be crying. “God what is taking them so long.” putting your focus on the ceiling where you fell from.

Calloused yet soft hands touch your face, you don't know how he got so close to you so fast. Or quietly for that matter with all that armor on.

“Look at me, please.”

You sniffled, letting your eyes turn down to meet his. He, noticeably, was not crying. He was smiling, softly, a blush adorned his cheeks. His eyes took in your face and a huff of breath escaped his lips.

“It’s not funny, Laios.” scolding him. You had just basically confessed and now he was what? Amused by the fact you were crying?

“It kind of is. You see I have just realized we are probably two of the stupidest people in our party.”

“You’re not stupid.”

“No, I am. Because I have had you in front of me for how long? And I am just now realizing how much I like you. Marcille didn’t want to talk about her books. She was trying to make me realize my feelings for you. Chilchuck has been complaining about in party romances more lately, And Namari told me you were thinking about leaving and yet I couldn’t even let myself fathom being without you that I let you pull away from us, from me.”

“What?”

“And you’re stupid if you think I wouldn't reciprocate your feelings. You are so stunning and clever, well usually. You let me ramble about monsters and you always light up when you talk about cooking or other interests. Anyone would be lucky to be on the receiving side of your affection.”

“But you've never even shown the slightest interest in anything romantic before.”

He nods while wiping at your tear stained cheeks with his thumb.

“It is rare, but it has happened before. Though it was never reciprocated, after that I kind of gave up. I focused on being a soldier, and being a good brother to Falin. It seemed like I would never have a chance to love, much less be loved like that.” he looked down and away but just for a second. “I’m sorry I made you feel unwanted.”

“I can’t believe I didn't realize what it was before we fell in this stupid hole.” you giggled slightly

“I’m glad you did, otherwise I wouldn't have gotten to do this.”

“Hmm?”

He softly placed his lips on yours. It was tentative, and unmoving. You pushed back lightly, letting your lips slot in with his.

Above you the ceiling opened up, grabbing both of your attentions.

“We should get our stuff.” you say. Slowly you pull away from each other and pick up your back packs. Hiding your flushed faces from view.

~~~

It took a little bit of time but with some rope and climbing you were both able to get out of the hole. It seemed that the rest of the party also had lunch while you were in the trap. A part of you wanted to cuss them out for leaving you down there so long. The other part was grateful because now you had Laios and you got yourself back. Shuro was avoiding looking at the both of you but Chilchuck and Marcille seemed pretty smug.

Smiling, Chilchuck finally spoke up “Sorry it took me so long, it was a very complicated mechanism.” Asshole. You glared at him as Laios spoke up.

“No it’s fine, but we did loose quite a bit of time we should probably move on if we want to make it to the fourth floor.”

Everyone agreed and started to pack up and head out. While everyone was busy Laios grabbed your hand and gave it a slight squeeze. You would have to talk later but for now you felt lighter than you had in a while. You reminded yourself that you needed to rip up that notice and send out a letter to the other party. This one suited you just fine.

Masterlist

#laios touden #laios x reader #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #reader insert

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waltj · 2 months

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I was trying to figure out why this scene, which is so short and has no dialogue, stuck with me, so I thought I'd make an attempt.

To me, it's evocative of the kind of raw fragility you feel after a traumatic experience. Everything feels quieter, somehow. Your goal becomes simply to get from one moment to the next. Fresh off the death of Jane, Jesse's priority is just... survival. It's in his bare, shaven skin. His raw eyes. His unreadable expression. His gentle, cautious hands.

Of course, the act of planting a flower is symbolic of starting from the ground up, re-learning to take care of a living thing, of yourself. There's a bittersweetness in that. He's been forced back to the basics of taking care of himself. This is simple; something you might do as a kid in class. This is a task he's being given that he - someone like him - can do. The script notes that "he'd make a pretty good gardener if he put his mind to it."

Jesse's second priority is learning to navigate what he actually values in this new state of survival, now that he's not actively killing himself. He makes the decision to accept this kind of trivial task into his life, to quietly make a good job of it. In that, I see Jesse's resolve to accept who he is: the "bad guy" who can't change, and is resigned to just keep trucking along. Plant the flower. Do things for the sake of doing them, even though you don't see the point. Jesse in S1 might find this demeaning, or blow it off, fight it as a way to reject other people's expectations of him and assert the image of himself that he wants to project. S3 Jesse has no option left but to accept this into his life. To make of it what he can.

#t.#jesse pinkman #breaking bad

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celestialprincesse · 2 months

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𝟏. 𝐀 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞

Part One of Foreigner's God King Simon Riley X F! Faerie Reader

WC: 2k

Sunlight fractures through the leaves of age old oaks and ancient pines, dappling against your back, weaving through long strands of untamed hair to brush a kiss against your thinly clothed shoulders, spiders silk and gauze just barely fluttering on a phantom breeze stirred by the muted clopping of horse hooves on the forest floor. The mare beneath you holds tension in her withers, matching the unpleasant knotting of the muscle between your shoulder blades. She knows what’s coming just as well as you do.

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt anxiety this way. It’s the kind of gnawing, unsettling feeling at the pit of your stomach that comes only from venturing away from the safety of the trees and caves, brooks and hollow roots you call home. Your people call home. You force yourself to swallow down the fear - remind yourself that you’re doing this for them. Without this sacrifice, your sacrifice, the woods and forests which serve as sanctuary for your entire species, would be gone. The sick feeling in your stomach refuses to be soothed.

In an attempt to calm yourself, to tear your mind away from the images you’ve conjured of what may await you on the forest edge, you focus intently on every slow stride of your companion. You draw your thoughts to counting every rhythmic movement of her shoulders, the way they gently jostle your hips as you follow each motion of hers with one of your own. A push and pull of a gentle tide. She and you melt into one being, acting and reacting in such effortless synchrony, such enviable elegance. An innate ability for which your kind are revered.

Humans long lost touch with nature - shunned it in favor of such rapid growth, such vast power. They burned the trees to make room for their sprawling palaces, dug up the earth and all of her riches to build their roads, to grow their crops, never once wondering what she could provide had they simply respected her instead. Your people had never done such a thing, and for that, you’d been blessed. She’d provided you with everything you could ever have needed, and all you’d ever had to do was provide for her in turn. That balance, that equilibrium, is what humans have long since forgotten. Compromise, to them, is an impossible thing. To you and your kind, it’s an intrinsic part of life.

At this moment, you feel that perhaps you know compromise better than any.

The journey so far has been painstakingly long. On the one hand, it’s something you feel grateful for, that you’ve time to prepare yourself for the life that lies beyond the treeline. On the other, however, it’s excruciating. To ride through the forest, down the path away from the only life you’ve ever known, to mourn something you’ve not yet even lost. Every blazing orange dusk is another grain of sand dripping through the fingers of time, and every golden lighted dawn a death knell. You wonder if your sisters miss you the way you miss them. Your mother, too. Maybe they sit in quiet solitude, wondering what you’re doing at any given moment, or maybe they cry tears of frustration and anger at the fact that it could’ve been anyone else. Anyone but you.

The days before had been spent in a resigned sort of mourning. You’d saved your tears for the first days of your voyage.

You still so vividly remember sitting with your mother as she twisted up your hair, pinning it with flowers as she reminisced upon the girl taken by the last king. She’d been only as old as your youngest sister, Ophelia, when it had happened. Once every generation, every two, if you were at all lucky. You, unfortunately, were not. She’d spoken of how silent everything fell when the girl had been sent away - the strange, pained feeling that had settled over your people as they’d watched her go resigned into the trees. She’d never come back, of course, a fate that you too share. The small hope flickering like a fading ember at the bottom of your heart sings songs of longing. Such a foolish thing it is, holding out that perhaps the man who waits beyond the woods will love you, guide you to him with coaxing words and the gentlest of touches. You feel pathetic even thinking of it.

You never had quite outgrown your childish fantasies of love, and in turn, had given the humans holed up behind their cold stone walls another innocent heart to break.

When the sun shrinks back to nothing but a hazy golden glow, like that of a dying fire or burning star, you realize that more for your horse’s sake than your own, that it’s time to stop, to rest before you carry on with your journey. A day or two more and you’ll have reached the place where the canopy dwindles and the roots which cover the forest floor grow sparse, travel under the earth as though to hide from the human feet which march upon them. You hope for at least one more blissful sleep under the stars, moss under your head and night creatures watching your rest with vigilant, unseeing eyes.

Settling aside the small pond where your horse bends at her withers to drink, you lay up against the gnarled stump of a fallen tree, which yields to accommodate your body, just one of the many perks of being so connected with nature. You’ve no need to set up a campsite when the forest welcomes and provides for you with such ease. It’s not easy to forget the fact that the forest probably recognises the way you’re feeling - sympathizes with your predicament.

As you drift off into a fitful sleep, under the comforting twinkle of the stars, A king is waking. Behind the fortified stone walls of the palace, the revelry celebrating the lead up to King Simon’s wedding has lasted for days. To most, it’s an opportunity to celebrate. Their cold, reclusive king finally taking a wife. When the betrothal had been announced, the sigh of relief collectively exhaled by the nation had been palpable. He hadn’t wanted to do it - marry some wild forest thing and rut her full of little fat wailing babies. Johnny had been the unfortunate soul tasked with convincing him - reminding him that since Tommy passed, so did the soul heir to the Riley line. With enemies poised in the south, ready to exploit any weakness they could find, Simon hadn’t exactly had much choice. His being backed into a corner, however, hasn’t made him the most pleasant to deal with during the preamble to his rapidly inbound nuptials. For not only his sake, but also everyone else’s, he hopes that his bride-to-be is at least reasonably tame. With his luck? Highly doubtful.

His closest men had shared their theories and fantasies of some nymph-like creature, lovely and demure, happy to bend to Simon’s every whim, less wife, more well trained pet. Whilst he can appreciate a beautiful woman just as much as any man can, he keeps his expectations low - pleasant to be around and a decent conversationalist is enough for him.

He’s tried to expel the thoughts of marriage from his mind for as long as possible. He’s far too busy to be distracted with silly fantasies of rose petal decorated aisles and which rings he’ll select for his betrothed. Keeping a kingdom running and the vulture-like men that are his enemies at bay is no mindless thing. Simon barely has time enough to sleep, let alone celebrate a wedding he doesn’t want, nor to take the day-long trek to the agreed meeting place to collect his new wife. To collect his new wife. Parade her on horseback like some exotic acquisition to be flaunted, to grow bored with when the novelty inevitably wears off.

It’s impossible to ignore the way his knees creak as he rolls tiredly from his bed, the fathomless cold embedded in the very core of the flagstone floors seeping into his bare feet as he dresses himself. In spite of his status as King, Simon keeps his appearance reasonably simple, his tunics plain and armor scarcely decorated. Easier to dress. Simon Riley is a man of convenience, the bells and whistles of being monarch are nothing but a hindrance.

The celebrations have thankfully quieted, all of his courtiers and castle residents undoubtedly tired, hungover and sore from the days of singing, dancing and drinking - days which he’s mostly spent holed away in his study, playing chess with wooden carved soldiers on battle maps, giving the occasional go-ahead to wedding planners and burying his nose in any literature on strategy he can find. Today, unfortunately, his kingly duties outweigh his reclusiveness. He’ll only travel with Price to the meeting point - having originally wanted to go alone so as to make your initial meeting less intimidating, a point to which the head of his Kingsguard had made his disagreement abundantly clear. Yes, Price knows that Simon is fully capable of looking out for himself, but he sure as hell isn’t giving him any chance of proving that. He’s also desperate to get out of the castle and away from the mothers attempting to shove their daughters at his feet. So, with huffed complaints about the weather, and the threat of oncoming rain, signaled by the gritty gray clouds blotting out the starlight, the two men set off. Hooves beat thunderously across stone, dirt and grass as they make their way past the walls of the city, through the dwindling suburbs of thatched roofs and smoking chimneys and out into the vast plains of the countryside. The fresh air is a welcome reprieve from the smoke and burning metal of forges, the grassy hills and fields stretching for miles a refreshing break from the towering monoliths of stone that make up the palace. He can see why people would like it out here, away from the banal chatter of gossip and the unrelenting noise, left to grow stagnant within the confines of winding alleys or houses packed so closely together. Simon hasn’t even met you, and yet he already finds himself sympathizing for the adjustment you’ll have to make.

You, meanwhile, feel surprisingly more grounded following your nap, having allowed both yourself and your horse to rest for a while before continuing your journey. The gnawing anxiety in your stomach is soothed by the handful of blackberries you’d found and snacked on as you continued through the slowly more sparse woodland, and although you’re still wallowing, at least you’re not wallowing on an empty stomach and no sleep.

The sun slowly inches west behind the cloud cover, which quickly replaces the forest canopy you’ve always known, and tells you that in your mental absence, another day has nearly come and gone, and with that, the mileage covered which draws you closer to your inevitable fate. The birdsong has long since gone quiet, and there’s no longer movement indicative of life in the shrubbery. Just you, and the parapet on which you seem to endlessly walk.

Until the forest seems to stop entirely. The trees halt their growth at some invisible boundary, wildflowers cease their spread with an unnatural abruptness and your stomach goes lurching. Like you’ve jumped from a cliff. You’ve jumped from a cliff, you’re about to hit the ground, and everything in you is screaming for time to stop, for fate to twist, for the inevitable to be somehow avoided.

You could turn back. You could still turn back, and the forest would welcome you home with open arms. You could go home to your sisters, to your mother and the magic woven into everything you’ve ever known.

You could turn back - but in turning back, you’d only shatter the fragile peace forged so weakly between your own people, and those who’ve come to take you away.

“Looks petrified.” Price observes from where he and Simon stand proud upon the hill, watching as a faerie on a white horse comes emerging tentatively from the treeline. You do, you poor, delicate thing, Simon thinks to himself as he, Price, and their imposing black friesians make their way to greet you.

Happy Foreigner's God day to those who celebrate 1.8k and 2k are basically the same so pls enjoy the 1st chapter 💕

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pin-k-ink · 2 months

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fated // dazai osamu

tw: mention of death and violence, one night stand, a small teeny weeny age gap

wc: 2.1k

a/n: this was more of a self-insert than an x reader fic

Dazai was a man who scoffed at the notion of fate, rejecting the idea that some invisible force could be guiding his life's trajectory. He preferred to attribute his successes and failures to his own decisions and actions, a belief system forged in the harsh realities and tough choices of his upbringing. Raised in a world where relying on fate was a luxury he couldn't afford, Dazai learned early on that he had to carve out his own path in life.

His disbelief in fate stemmed from a childhood marked by instability and uncertainty. Growing up in the Port Mafia, he witnessed firsthand the randomness of life's outcomes. There were no predetermined paths for him, only the constant struggle to survive and shape his own destiny. It was a world where the strong thrived, and the weak perished, and Dazai had no intention of being the latter. He had clawed his way to the top, relying on his wits, cunning, and sheer determination to overcome every obstacle in his path.

Amidst the chaos of his surroundings, a familiar face caught his eye, pulling him from his thoughts. It was her, his little pupil whom he had taken in along with Akutagawa years ago. However, the woman standing before him was a far cry from the timid, scared girl he had once tried to train. Back then, she was a scaredy-cat, a fragile little mouse in a den of lions, who would pass out at the mere sight of blood. Dazai had practically given up on her, considering either passing her along to someone who would take care of her or putting her out of her misery himself. He doubted she could survive in the mafia or even make it on her own outside of it.

He remembered the countless hours he had spent trying to toughen her up, to mold her into someone who could withstand the brutal realities of their world. But no matter how hard he pushed, she seemed to retreat further into herself, her wide eyes filled with a terror that never quite seemed to fade. It was as if she was too pure, too innocent for the life they led, and Dazai had resigned himself to the fact that she would never be cut out for it.

Ultimately, Dazai had left the mafia shortly after, without having to make that decision. He had never given her much thought after that, assuming that she had either found her way to a safer, more peaceful existence or had met a grim fate at the hands of the unforgiving underworld. But now, seeing her here, he realized just how wrong he had been.

The scene before him was a bloodbath, with dozens of dead and mutilated bodies scattered at his feet. The air was thick with the coppery scent of blood and the acrid smell of gunpowder, a symphony of death and destruction that would have made even the most hardened criminals recoil in horror. And yet, there she stood, in the middle of it all, idly wiping her gun clean before holstering it with a nonchalant air, as if this was just another day at the office.

As she lifted her head, her face was indifferent and devoid of emotion, a stark contrast to the carnage that surrounded her. She raised her hand in a small, casual wave, as if greeting an old acquaintance. "Oh. Hey, Dazai-san." Her voice was flat, almost bored, and it sent a chill down Dazai's spine. There was no mistaking it; this was definitely her, but not the her he had once known.

Dazai found himself gaping as she coldly stepped over the bodies, making her way past him with a pat on his shoulder, as if he hadn't been sent there to detain her. For a moment, he was too stunned to react, his mind struggling to reconcile the girl from his memories with the ruthless killer that now stood before him. But then, on an impulse, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her forward, finally regaining his composure. "My, how you've grown, my little flower. I didn't think you'd even make it into your twenties."

"I'm... eighteen, Dazai-san," she replied, her voice flat and matter-of-fact. There was no trace of the timid, stammering girl he had once known, no hint of the fear that had once consumed her. Instead, there was a coldness in her eyes, a hardness that spoke of a life filled with pain and suffering.

"Right, right." He paused for a moment, his mind racing. Why had he stopped her? What did he want to say? A thousand questions burned on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't seem to find the words. Finally, he settled on the one thing that felt safe, the one thing that might give him a chance to unravel the mystery of the woman standing before him. "Wanna grab a drink with me?"

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, hanging in the air between them like a lifeline. Maybe it was second nature for him to ask any beautiful woman out on a date, or perhaps he hoped to unravel the mystery of his once-hopeless pupil's transformation. Either way, he found himself holding his breath, waiting for her response.

He watched as she stared at him blankly for a couple of minutes, her expression unreadable. It was as if she was weighing her options, trying to decide whether he was worth her time. Finally, she nodded. "Sure."

And with that, the two set off, leaving the carnage behind them. As they walked, Dazai couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the girl he once knew, and what had shaped her into the woman she was today. He had a feeling that this drink would be the start of a very interesting conversation, one that might just challenge his long-held beliefs about fate and the paths we choose.

But more than that, he found himself curious about her, about the life she had led since he had last seen her. What had driven her to become so ruthless, so cold? What had she seen, what had she experienced that had hardened her heart and turned her into a killer? And why, despite everything, did he find himself drawn to her, to the mystery and the danger that seemed to surround her like a cloak?

As they made their way to the nearest bar, Dazai couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than just a chance encounter. Maybe, just maybe, there was something more at play here, some invisible force that had brought them together after all these years. And while he still didn't believe in fate, he couldn't deny the sense of anticipation that thrummed through his veins, the feeling that something big was about to happen.

For now, though, he would focus on the present, on the woman walking beside him and the secrets she held. He would buy her that drink and see where the night took them, and maybe, just maybe, he would find the answers he was looking for. Or perhaps he would simply find himself drawn deeper into the web of mystery and intrigue that seemed to surround her, a willing participant in a game he didn't yet understand.

They settled into a booth, ordering drinks and making small talk. But as the alcohol flowed and inhibitions lowered, the conversation took a deeper, more personal turn. She began to open up, sharing glimpses of the life she'd led since he left the mafia - the struggles, the triumphs, the choices that had shaped her into the person she was today.

Dazai found himself drawn in, captivated by her every word. There was a magnetism about her, a sense of danger and mystery that called to something deep within him. As the night wore on and the drinks kept coming, the air between them grew charged with a palpable electricity.

Perhaps it was the alcohol coursing through their veins, or the weight of the secrets they'd shared, but at some point they found themselves stumbling out of the bar, hailing a taxi to Dazai's apartment. The ride passed in a blur of heated glances and barely restrained touches, the anticipation building with every passing block.

As they stumbled into Dazai's apartment, the tension that had been building between them all night finally reached its breaking point. Dazai's eyes roamed hungrily over her figure, drinking in every curve and contour that had been hidden beneath her clothes.

She had grown into a stunning woman, a far cry from the scrawny girl he'd once known. Her body was lean and toned, honed by years of training and combat. But there was a softness to her too, a feminine grace that made his fingers itch to explore every inch of her smooth, supple skin.

She seemed oblivious to his heated gaze, too focused on removing her jacket and shoes. Dazai took the opportunity to admire the way her shirt clung to her breasts, the swell of her hips in her tight jeans. He could practically feel the warmth radiating off her, beckoning him closer.

Unable to resist any longer, Dazai closed the distance between them in two quick strides. His hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him as his lips sought hers in a searing kiss. She let out a small gasp of surprise before melting into him, her arms coming up to wind around his neck.

The kiss quickly turned heated, Dazai's tongue delving into her mouth to tangle with hers. His hands slid lower, cupping her rear and pressing her closer still. He could feel every inch of her body against his, supple curves and firm muscle setting his blood on fire.

Breaking away from her lips, Dazai trailed kisses along her jaw, down the column of her throat. She let out a breathy moan, her head falling back to grant him better access. The sound shot straight to his groin, his already painfully hard cock throbbing in the confines of his pants.

Impatient to feel her skin on his, Dazai tugged at the hem of her shirt, yanking it over her head and tossing it aside. His eyes immediately fell to her breasts, encased in a lacy bra that made his mouth water. Reverently, he traced a finger along the edge of the delicate fabric, marveling at the contrast against her skin.

She shivered under his touch, her nipples pebbling against the thin material. Dazai couldn't resist dipping his head, placing an open-mouthed kiss to the swell of her breast. She gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair as he laved attention on the sensitive flesh.

Growling low in his throat, Dazai reached behind her to unhook her bra, letting it fall away. Her breasts spilled free, perfect handfuls topped with rosy peaks that just begged for his touch. He obliged immediately, palming the soft mounds and rolling her nipples between his fingers until she was arching into his touch, little mewls of pleasure escaping her kiss-swollen lips.

Lost in a haze of lust, Dazai walked them backwards towards the bedroom, unwilling to stop his exploration of her incredible body. They fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, hands roaming and mouths fused as they frantically removed the rest of their clothing.

And then she was laid out before him like a feast, miles of creamy skin and toned limbs, a flush of arousal painting her from head to toe. Dazai took a moment to just look at her, to marvel at the absolute perfection of her form. She was a goddess, a siren, and he wanted nothing more than to worship at her altar for the rest of his days.

Starting at her ankle, Dazai began to map her body with his hands and mouth, determined to learn every dip and curve, to catalogue every spot that made her gasp and moan. He kissed his way up her legs, nipping at her inner thighs until she was writhing beneath him, begging for more. He laved attention on her breasts, sucking and biting until she was a keening mess.

By the time he finally settled between her thighs, she was dripping with need, her hips canting up in search of friction. And as he finally placed his mouth on her pussy and tasted her, as he felt her shatter apart under his skilled touch, Dazai knew that he would never be the same. She had ruined him for all other women, had branded herself on his very soul.

And as he slid into her tight, welcoming cunt, as he lost himself in the slick slide of their bodies moving as one, Dazai couldn't find it in himself to care. Let the world burn, let fate do as it willed. In this moment, in her arms, he was exactly where he was meant to be.

#bsd x reader smut #bsd smut #bsd x reader #bsd dazai #dazai smut #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai x reader smut #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x reader smut #dazai osamu smut #bungou stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 2 months

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Ed has resigned himself to the fact that he's not going to be getting a happy ending. He's bored with his art and unsure if he can be the kind of person he wants to be, and he's tired of trying and of waiting around to see if his life gets better. Just when he's started to plan on not being around for much longer, enter Stede Bonnet. It's still not easy to choose to live, but…with a little help, maybe Ed can give it a go.

A fic about learning to love being alive, even after you've long since given up on it. Rated E, probably going to wind up around 50k words.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd fic #my fics #this one starts out dark but trust me i promise they're going to be so happy

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inbarfink · 9 months

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Goddam, just seeing Simon in these last two episodes is really flooding me with so many conflicting emotions.

Because, on the one hand, after his lowest point in Episode 4 - resigning himself to death in the hands of the Scarab - he’s clearly finally doing better. Just look at him making plans

And showing off his smarts

And finally genuinely smiling and feeling happy

And being so glad to meet the alt versions of his friends

And getting excited about his nerdy shit for the first time in glob-knows-how-long

And cracking goofy geeky jokes

And offering others the same grace and kindness he was given when he was trapped under the curse of the Magic Crown

And trying to be comforting and fatherly and give Fionna advice and cheer her up

He’s so clearly doing a lot better now, he’s rediscovering aspects of himself that his depression has torn away from him, he found a meaning and purpose in his life again. And it should warm my heart, and on some level it does....

But it also sends a chill down my spine knowing that this purpose that brought back the light into Simon’s eyes, the purpose he finally found is sacrificing his mind and identity again for the sake of Fionna’s happiness and her world.

He’s throwing himself right back into the miserable existence and the trauma he tries so hard to move forward from. He’s dooming himself because he honestly believes now that he’s always going to be miserable and lonely and fucked up so he might as well have be the kind of miserable and fucked up that is not lucid enough to know how miserable he is all of the time. The kind of misery that at least fits into his world.

Because he started to romanticize being the Ice King in a twisted kinda way, and now he has found the excuse to turn it into a selfless, noble act. Because the only way he feels like he’s useful and like he has worth is by protecting and helping and sacrificing himself for the sake of others.

(And like, especially in light of how he was trying to resign himself to death just moments before coming up with his plan. Not to get extremely dark, but.... suicidal people often seem to ‘get better’ just before the try to kill themselves. Because they feel like they’re finally ‘doing something’ and their misery is almost over. That kinda feels what Simon is going through right now? Becoming the Ice King again is not literally death, but it is a sort of death for Simon Petrikov’s identity.)

And this new sense of purpose in saving Fionnaworld by dooming himself is clearly blinding Simon to so many obviously telegraphed signs that this is a horrible idea.

He saw hints of just how badly Farmworld Finn has been dealing with his own Magic Crown Related Trauma

and maybe if things would’ve been different this could’ve been something they could have commiserated over. Simon could’ve had someone who understood a bit of what he has gone through, and seeing a version of Finn, of all people, face similar struggles - maybe could’ve helped him feel a little less Uniquely and Irredeemably Fucked Up. (For bonus points, they're ALSO both dealing with the grief of losing their Significant Other)

But his newfound obsession that Everything Will Be Better Once He’s Cursed again was making him totally ignore all of this.

And then there’s their little adventure in the Winter Kingdom. Which had both the Candy Queen/Princess Bubblegum as a perfect reminder of the suffering and pain involved in being trapped in the Madness of the Magic Crown

And the Winter King as a reminder of the harmful and twisted things he was capable of doing as the Ice King.

But instead he basically refused to learn any lesson from that Universe that’s not just ‘Fuck That Version of Me Specifically’ and tried to advice Fionna to do the same.

But well, while I am still worried about Simon’s mental state, his improved disposition does give me a little bit of hope. Hope that maybe he himself will notice that he is doing better and won’t be quite so eager to sacrifice his own sanity. Or maybe more likely, hope that now that he’s not just a miserable sadman screaming at their faces

Fionna and Cake are growing to appreciate Simon Petrikov for who he is and will simply refuse to let him sacrifice himself for their sake. Because, yeah, Simon tried to tell Fionna to not worry about all of that Winter Kingdom stuff, that it was just that Simon was ‘messed up’ - but since when does Fionna Campbell do what she’s told?

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thefandomlesbian · 6 months

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Inspired by the post by @oddlittlestories about Wilson touching House's sensitive points--specifically, the mention of the strongyloides patient and the afterlife. This is something I've been stewing on for awhile.

I don't think House's issue with the afterlife and the strongyloides patient was solely stemming from his own personal obsession or ongoing issues with suicidality related to his disability.

4x03, 97 Seconds, is only four episodes after 3x22 Resignation, in which House discovers Wilson has been taking antidepressants and it's implied Wilson has been struggling with his depression and simultaneously refuses to tell House anything about it, no matter how House pries. House makes his own inferences, that this is either a new thing or a change in prescription because of worsening depression, but Wilson deflects when he tries to ask. It's one of Wilson's sensitive points. We learn (and House explicitly observes later) that Wilson shuts down particularly painful topics, mostly relating to loss, and this is one that he shuts down hard and fast by accusing House of not caring about him.

House, true to character when it comes to all things Wilson, assumes the worst. We don't know what Wilson is actually going through, that's left to be guessed at by the audience, but we do know that House has been effectively shut out while continuing to be concerned.

And then, only a few episodes later, we get two different patients: a man who experienced cardiac arrest and replicates it in front of House for the thrill, and a physically disabled man who discusses being free of his mortal body. We see House and Wilson have exchanges about both of these patients. First, about the knife in the outlet patient:

House repeatedly tries to draw Wilson back to the topic of suicidality, why? how? what was the plan? and Wilson repeatedly avoids the topic until he gives up and leaves the scene sooner than have the conversation. My read: The implication is that Wilson at some point in the past (whether or not this is recent past or long past, we don't know) dealt intimately with suicidal ideation that makes him uncomfortable, either personally or with a family member (maybe his brother). House takes this as confirmation.

So then, this scene is followed up later in the episode, where Wilson and House together are with the disabled strongyloides patient, who is telling them he does not want cancer treatment. The patient says death will be a relief--in front of Wilson, House looks at him before he addresses the patient. It triggers a knee-jerk reaction, anger.

House recognizes he oversteps and leaves the patient, but the argument continues between him and Wilson in the hallway. It goes much deeper than trying to talk a terminally ill man into living a few months longer, because the argument isn't really about him; he's just a narrative vessel for this conversation between these two characters.

The most popular read for this exchange is that House is arguing for himself, that he thinks misery isn't a good enough reason to take his life and he is telling himself that death isn't a worthy escape (which is definitely a valid read of the scene). But given the recent context of Wilson's depression, his utter refusal to share anything with House and therefore the audience, his complete discomfort with the suggestion of suicidal ideation and all the big questions like why and how and what for... I don't think House's actions after this scene are for House.

We have this argument where Wilson is arguing in defense of a man who is passively suicidal. "You don't know death isn't better, you can't know, death could be better. There could be a solace after all of this, you don't know." If this conversation is framed in context of Wilson being depressed and having potentially been suicidal, he's not defending the patient--he's defending himself, for having had those thoughts. And House is arguing with him, against those thoughts. Wilson's conclusion is you can't go to the afterlife and see how much it sucks.

Of course House's conclusion is to go to the afterlife and see how much it sucks.

This is the song playing while House contemplates what he needs to do.

Starting over anew without a partner, not knowing how to make sense of things, becoming a new terrified person in lieu of someone who is supposed to be there--that's where his mind is. He goes to look at the electrical outlet patient, just staring in silence. What could be so good that it needs to be revisited? He must be wrong. (Note that at no point does House ever share with Wilson that the electrical outlet patient's claim that death was the best 97 seconds of his life--he asks Wilson why but never follows up with the answer.)

So House pages Amber and tries to try to kill himself, as convoluted as it sounds, so he can know the afterlife isn't good. So he can have proof. So he'll have evidence. He'll know it sucks, even worse than Detroit, they can't have this argument again.

House says it explicitly. "You insisted that I needed to see for myself." He had to know.

House wants to talk about what he experienced. He deliberately seeks out someone who will understand, asks for that person specifically, he wants to share. But with Wilson, he digs in his heels. Entrenched. We see that Wilson is generally the person House shares personal things with, such as the suspected identity of his biological father, he goes directly to Wilson after Dominika leaves in S8, he seeks him out throughout the Stacy arc in S2, pesters him while the fellows are fleeing in S3 even after the Tritter arc, his soft place to land during and after rehab in S6--Wilson is House's number one confidant.

Not on this subject. He refuses to say anything, except, "I love you." He doesn't respond to Wilson's criticism that he's already had near-death experiences before; he doesn't bite at any of the bait. Not talking about it. The person he wants to share with isn't there, so he doesn't share, not even with Wilson. The only thing we get as the audience is his dialogue to the corpse at the end of the episode.

This is also not something he shares with Wilson. Too much of a sensitive spot, too tender.

But all leading to my conclusion that... House didn't put the knife in the electrical socket for himself. As Wilson points out, House has had multiple near-death experiences. He doesn't need to almost die to find out what happens. He's already seen it. He already knows.

The character who has most recently displayed new depressive tendencies in this context isn't House. Wilson is the one refusing to discuss his mental health, ostensibly taking new psych drugs or minimally increasing the dosages, becoming uncomfortable with conversations about the difficult questions of suicide, and verbally defending a man's desire to die to end the mortal coil.

House didn't put the knife in the electrical socket to fight release for himself. He's been in chronic pain for a decade at this point, it hasn't changed, he has treated patients with self-destructive tendencies in the interim with no impact to his own mental health. This event didn't strike at a vulnerable time for House; it struck at a time when House knows Wilson is struggling, specifically when he has already tried to offer help and Wilson accused him of not caring. He had to do something.

House put the knife in the outlet to fight for Wilson. To have evidence, to talk him down. "See? I proved it. There's nothing. Now you know for sure. Now you have to stay with me."

That would be too saccharine. But he says, "I love you," and that's what he means.

#house md #hilson #house x wilson #meta #spencer speaks #this is obviously entirely my opinion and my own interpretation of the text #tw suicidal ideation

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toriangeli · 2 months

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Final trailer stuff, not in order bc fuck it.

This is looking like Lestat was acting as a vampire, unlike in canon, because look at the eyes.

Definitely having feelings about Nicki. Very strong ones. So strong, I wonder if this is him finding out about his suicide.

Very thirsty Armand.

OKAY BUT YOU CAUGHT THIS, RIGHT? Claudia swore to obey all the coven laws. This is *right after* they say the coven master has the power of life and death. She never took an oath like this in the book. I feel like these are the plans the coven has for her, which Armand alludes to. They got her to swear to be under their power so they can claim they were just following the rules.

Not sure how I feel about this tbh. In the book I liked that it didn't matter whether Louis and Claudia were part of the coven; the coven was going to come for them anyway because that's how vampires are. They don't need a technicality. They do what they want. They don't give a fuck what your laws are. You're lucky they're even bothering with their laws.

"The coven master has the power of life and death." This appears to be after Armand comes back from watching Lestat's show. I think he's leaning against a dead body here.

So about the dialogue here, I'd think this would rule out the idea that Louis never knew Armand was responsible for Claudia's death. If he's been told about this, he knows no one but Armand could have given the word. If it's meant to be something he remembers later, I don't think it would be in the trailer, since it wouldn't exactly be a twist.

AH a close-up of this outfit that was so impossible to see before. "Vampire Amish" popped into my head. A few historical details: I think he's wearing a regular frock coat like a cape, not an unfamiliar garment. Note not everything is the same shade of black. The brownish black (which would probably look proper black if it weren't up against the other black) is the "cheap" kind of black in this day and age; the black-black was way harder to dye and keep. We can see him in a waistcoat and neck stock, so he's fully dressed, and any bit of white is fully covered, so I think this is a rule the Children of Satan must have about what they wear.

Daniel smells a goddamn rat and it is, in fact, one of Santino's pets. Louis looks so crushed here when Armand lightly suggests they take a break and Daniel sees all.

"I'm listening." This is not in response to Louis' statement in the previous shot. It's daytime here, for one thing. It's also the same shot we got opposite Armand in a previous trailer (I don't have a screen grab rn). I think Armand is about to come clean about some shit Daniel is not prepared for, and I think I know what it is.

Definitively not Alessandra, a speculation I heard, since Louis and Claudia are standing behind her. Definitely a revenant.

There's Lestat and Nicki, but WHERE IS GABRIELLE? I mean, Armand hates her in canon, so I can see him being petty and leaving her out. It would just be nice to see my wife.

This tunnel makes me think of the one that leads to Armand's cell in the book, but this Armand sleeps in the same room as the other vamps, so I wonder where they're headed and if this is the same scene where Santiago starts swooping in all menacingly.

"You've remembered." No surprise at all. No fear, either. Not that Louis could do much to Armand.

I think whatever this revelation is, it has to be about Claudia's death, but not about him having the final say about her death, because Louis has to already know. It's definitely about something Armand has done, because he seems resigned. Like he knows this is the end for their relationship. I'm guessing Louis remembered the condition Lestat arrived in and has realized just how involved Armand was in the process. What he did to Lestat. Also the fact that he broke his promise not to mess with Louis' mind again.

EDIT: Although Louis is suggesting he has forgotten a lot more than stuff about the trial. Jesus, Armand, wtf did you do?

#iwtv #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #louis de pointe du lac #claudia de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #armand #daniel molloy #costume stuff ig #assad being the armand of my dreams

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discount-shades · 1 year

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Contract Spouse Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Living the Lie

A/N: to quote M*A*S*H “War isn’t Hell. War is war, and Hell is Hell. And of the two, war is a lot worse.”

Pairing: Jake Seresin/Reader (nicknamed Pip)

Warning: Angst, war, PTSD, civilian deaths, child death, nightmares

Length: 2100 ish

Summary: Jake and Pip settle into living together.

Previous Masterlist Next

Two weeks after you had settled into Jake's house in San Diego you were on the phone with Sami. Your almost daily phone calls with Jake had been replaced by phone calls to Sami. You look up from the pasta you were stirring on the stove as Jake walks through the side door. He goes to greet you but cuts himself off when he sees you are on the phone.

“Who is it?” You read his lips as he mouths the question and you mouth the answer back. “Hi Sami,” he calls out.

“Jake says hi,” you say with a resigned sigh. Relaying a conversation between the two siblings when you were on the phone with Jake had started very soon after the wedding and now that you were living with Jake, the habit had immediately resumed in reverse and you had long since given up trying to get them to talk to each other. Jake now sports a smile identical to the one Sami always had on her face during these conversations.

When you finally hang up the phone you roll your eyes at Jake. “You guys are ridiculous, I hate you both.”

“No you don’t,” he grins as he heads to his room to change out of his work clothes “You love us.”

“That's the problem.” You mumble to yourself as you dump the pasta into a serving dish and set the table before sitting down to dinner.

“I got two more quotes on redoing the roof,” you tell Jake between bites of alfredo. “I think we should go with the second, they’re more expensive but have better reviews and can begin sooner.”

“Whatever you think is best.” Jake shrugs, relieved you had taken over the repairs he had been too busy to arrange.

“And the contractor for the hot water tank called, he had a cancellation and can come replace ours tomorrow.” Jake just nods in confirmation and you fight a sigh.

The house that Jake had bought a few months ago, though overall in good shape, had needed a few updates and you had quickly taken over organizing them. Talking about hiring contractors over dinner makes you feel more married than you have ever felt before. The monotony of cohabitation made slipping into the rhythm of life together automatic.

Living with Jake was easy. You worked together seamlessly, easily dividing household chores and responsibilities. Chatting in the evenings, watching tv, or just sitting in silence reading. The two of you just fit together. He had even tolerated you reorganizing every drawer and shelf in the common spaces with minimal cursing over not being able to find things.

Life continues in the same thread. You and Jake grocery shopping, going for walks, cooking, and doing dishes, just easily living together. But as time went on you were finding it harder and harder.

Everyday you had to stifle your imagination as you pictured him coming through the door and giving you a kiss. The little part in your heart that you could never squish down was still hoping that one day Jake would look at you and fall in love.

The logical part tried to keep your breathing steady when Jake would brush past you in the kitchen. Tried to keep you from melting into his touch when he placed his hand on your lower back when you were walking together in public. Tried to keep from staring when you were together.

It didn’t help that Jake frequently walks around without his shirt. Whether it was first thing in the morning, after a shower, or after a run. You loved and hated it. When you said goodnight and went to your separate rooms you wanted to follow him into the master bedroom and finally end your embarrassingly long dry spell. You should have hooked up with your cute neighbor in your final days in Austin. Maybe that would have made things easier.

– – –

“Jake,” your voice startles him out of his sleep. He can hear you tapping gently on his door before easing it open. “We have a problem.”

“What's wrong?” he mumbles sleepily as he sits up in bed, squinting in the hall light shining through the open door. The rain from earlier is still lightly falling outside. “What time is it?”

“It’s a little after midnight, The roof is leaking.” You tell him, hair pulled up into a sloppy bun and pillow creases on your cheek. “I woke up in a puddle, it's coming through the light fixture above the bed.”

Jake mumbles curses. He had been sleeping soundly and would have likely been able to sleep the whole night if the roof hadn’t leaked. He helps you move the bed and set up a big rubbermaid bin under the leak to catch the dripping water while you strip the wet bedding off the mattress and throw it in the bathtub. You flip the breaker and he carefully removes the light so the water can fall directly into the bin without pooling, you dutifully hold the flashlight.

After you follow him into the attic to see where the leak is. Fortunately it is only in one spot and the rain has slowed to a stop. Using the towels you had so neatly organized, you help him mop up all the water you can. You place another bin under the main leak but it has slowed to a drip. Working next to you in the dimly lit attic, Jake realizes he never would have noticed the leak so soon if not for you.

“When are they supposed to fix the roof?” Jake asks you.

“Monday,” you say sadly and he sighs. “If you leave all the information for me I’ll call the insurance company tomorrow.”

He follows you down the ladder with the wet towels and throws them into the washing machine. You follow with the towels from your room. Your teeth chattering and he looks at you for the first time and notices that your pajamas are soaking wet.

“Pip you're going to get sick, go change.” You roll your eyes at him but comply and grab a dry pair of pajamas and head to the bathroom so you can leave your wet ones in the tub. When you come out of the bathroom he meets you in the hall. “I dumped the bin in your room, we should be good to go back to sleep.” You nod but don't follow him; grabbing your pillow you turn to go into the living room.

“Where are you going?”

“The couch.” You stare at him in confusion. “My mattress is soaked.”

“Yeah but mine's not.” You stand there staring at him and he suddenly feels like he has overstepped. The look in your eye is unreadable but you just agree quietly and follow him. When he reaches the bed and you crawl in beside him he feels his stomach clench. He can't remember the last time he slept next to someone, it's been years, definitely before the nightmares started. What if he moves and hits you, or says something he doesn’t want you to hear?

It’s awkward. As soon as he lies down beside you he feels the need to move and eases himself over to his other side. He can hear you rolling over when he does. You don’t say anything but he can tell you are tense. Maybe he shouldn't have insisted you share his bed. “Do you want to build a pillow wall?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You roll over again and he can feel your eyes on him. “Good night Jake.”

“Goodnight.” You stop moving but he can tell you are not asleep by your breathing. He listens and tries not to move but he can’t sleep if you are awake. He feels the bed shift every time you move and shuffle your feet. He stares into the dark hyper aware of you beside him, pretending to sleep before he finally breaks the silence. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“My feet are cold,” you tell him. “I can’t sleep with cold feet.”

Jake bites back a sigh and says the thing he doesn’t want to do. “You can put them on me.”

Your soft laugh almost makes it worthwhile. “I don’t think you mean that,” you counter. And he reaches down to feel your feet and immediately regrets his decision when he feels how icy they are.

“Come on,” he says resignedly and urges you to roll over so you can press your feet to his warm legs. When you settle he finds himself focusing on your cold toes to distract himself from the warmth coming from your body lying beside him.

As your feet warm he can feel the tension leave you as you relax into sleep, your breath slowing and evening out and soon he finds himself drifting off as well.

– – –

Maverick is carrying a lifeless Rooster in his arms. He is standing in the desert. Rubble and fire from a destroyed building around him. Blood is dripping down Rooster's extended arm and steadily falling from his fingertips and onto the dry sand. Jake stands, blood pounding in his ears with every drop that hits the ground. Maverick is speaking to him in a language he can't understand, repeating the same phrase.

When he realizes it’s weird to see Maverick cradling Rooster so easily everything seems to blur and when it clears there is now a father holding his young son in front of him. The boy's eyes are open and staring blankly at the sky. The man speaks but it is Maverick's voice he hears, “You shot at the wrong time, his death is your fault Hangman.” The man advances towards him brandishing the body of his dead son repeating the words in Maverick’s voice, becoming angrier and more grief-stricken with every repetition as Jake retreats, his heart pounding, unable to escape.

– – –

“No!” Jake sits up gasping. His heart is hammering wildly as he tries to breathe. He feels like there is a weight on his chest, contracting his lungs and keeping his ribcage from expanding. The image of the boy burned into his retinas.

“Jake?” The soft sound of your voice startles him and he flinches when he sees you move before pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Trying to rub away what he saw. Your hand is hesitant as it brushes against his back, gently moving and pressing his t-shirt into his sweat soaked skin. He wants to tell you to stop, that he doesn’t deserve comfort after what he did. He wants to get up and leave, but he doesn't. He just sits there frozen and focuses on the feeling of your warm hand smoothing over his spine as his breathing steadies. When the chill sets in he strips off the sweaty shirt and lies back down on his back.

“Nightmare?” you ask quietly already knowing the answer. He nods even though he is not sure you can see him. He’s told you about the nightmares, never why or what he sees but you know he has trouble sleeping. You're the only one who knows.

You lie on your side and he can feel your eyes in the dark. Unable to rub his back you place your hand on his chest and resume the relaxing motion. But the feel of your hand on his bare chest is too much and he stops you, flattening your hand to his heart. When you go to pull away he reaches up with his other hand and clutches your wrist, unwilling to let you go.

“Don’t go.” The words slip out before he can stop them and he clenches his jaw to keep from speaking more. He can feel you nod you head beside him. You slowly begin flexing your fingers and he relaxes the hand flattening yours and you begin to gently scratch his chest with your finger tips. He finally lets out a shuddering breath and shifts his grip on your wrist so he can feel your steady pulse.

“Breath with me,” you whisper. “Focus on my breaths.” he lies beside you and listens to you breathe and focuses on the feeling of your warm hand pressed to his heart and the gentle caress of your finger tips. He feels the butterfly kiss of your lips on his shoulder and his skin burns. Your soft breaths moves over his skin and his heart aches.

When your fingers stop moving he knows you are asleep but doesn’t let go of your hand, eventually he falls into a dreamless sleep listening to your soft breaths.

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin/reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman #hangman/reader #top gun hangman #top gun fanfiction #topgun maverick #topgun hangman #top gun x reader #hangman topgun #topgun

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