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mwolf0epsilon · 6 months

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The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 19: Hypnosis

Summary: The infected troopers start to move the captives into the unfinished hive for temporary storage. Obi-wan attempts to reason with them, but comes to a disheartening conclusion on what he must do to disrupt the parasite's control.

Warning: Slight mind manipulation (the morality of using Jedi Mind Tricks is put into question)

Dogma's design should give a vague idea of what Cody looks like since they belong to the same cast

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[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

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In many ways the infected moved as if they were one singular creature. Their coordination and timing (things which most clones already had fine-tuned due to years of training) so incredibly in sync that it felt like watching an actual hivemind at work. One single entity with several bodies that worked on a precise set of tasks, like a conveyor belt in a factory line.

In reality, Obi-wan knows that's not it. The adaptations forced upon the men were ones he recognized on species of eusocial insects, that relied heavily on different kinds of pheromones to communicate. The infected are purely going off scent and hierarchy rather than an actual mind-meld. But their boosted cooperative skills are still impressive nonetheless.

That said, he really wishes that were not the case...

Especially not when he and the remaining healthy troopers were being carted off for storage. Set aside for whenever (if at all) Tup returned. Bound and unable to do anything about it. Their attempts to bring the sick to reason going on deaf ears.

Or, if they annoyed the mutated troopers just a little too much, they would get a low growl or a threatening hiss for their troubles. Sometimes the quick snap of jaws as well, but mostly they were ignored completely. The infected's devotion to their new leader far outweighing any familiarity they might have had with their healthy vode.

The parasites controlling them keeping far too firm a grip.

Obi-wan could, in a way, understand why such a creature would evolve to be this insidious. In as hostile an environment like Umbara, survival of the fittest meant doing just about anything to make it out on top. These parasites, the Umber Blight, had become some of the most naturally cruel arthropods he ever did lay his eyes upon. But, as understanding as he may be of how evolution worked, the Jedi could not bring himself to forgive these beings's true nature.

Not when they had used the troopers, his friends, in such a horrific manner. Starting off by relying heavily on the insecurities and fears of a rookie to spread their influence, and then making all of the men who'd fallen victim become mere mockeries of their true selves.

Identity was everything to a clone. Obi-wan had learned this early on, when he was still getting acquainted with helping to lead an army. Had done everything he could to deserve to get to know the fine young souls that he would be working with regularly, and that he'd slowly become endeared to. Been as openly supportive of their expressions of self, when he'd found out just how oppressive their upbringing had been. So seeing these loyal and kind-hearted soldiers lose that part of themselves, was like having a hot knife stabbed deep into his ribcage. And then subsequently watching those who still had their minds look at their vode with such distress, was like having that blade twisted and turned until everything it touched was torn into fine ribbons.

The unnecessary cruelty made his blood boil. His thoughts racing as he tried to reign it all in.

A Jedi did not submit to rage after all. They mulled over what upset them, processed that particular pain, and released it into the Force. Cleared their thoughts of all ill will and let themselves be guided towards a better solution.

Striking in anger would not benefit anyone. Least of all the victims of this disease.

"Cody..." He tried to speak calmly. Not wanting to come off as far too firm or condescending, when everyone else was relying on him being able to get through to the Commander. "My dear friend, I understand you are bound by honor to complete your duties towards your... Hive... But I must implore you to see reason. You know this isn't right."

The mutated Commander's antennae twitched as he spoke. A sign that he was listening, but not necessarily hearing what the Jedi had to say. Just aware of the noise coming from his direction.

It was a far cry from how he usually behaved.

"Spreading this to the others won't do them any good." He continued, hoping that if he insisted, that eventually he might get through to his second in command. "That is just what the parasite wants you all to think."

9 pairs of eyes turned to regard him with blatant disinterest.

The split in the middle of Cody's bottom jaw widening as he proceeded to yawn, giving the Jedi a nice view of his mouth. From the silk glands that lazily dripped thick strands of webbing, to the elongated and split tongue with protruding spikes, down to the bizarre proboscis-like appendage his esophagus had turned into, the Commander's wide articulated maw was nothing if not intimidating to look upon.

An attempt at a facsimile set of insect jaws that just came off as disconcerting when attached to a clone's otherwise human face.

"Am I boring you?" Obi-wan asked, sounding somewhat amused as he did so. "You seem tired..."

Instead of responding, Cody simply carried on with his current affairs. Most of which revolved around wrapping each and every one of the captive uninfected troopers in strong silk. Not enough to cover them up in cocoons (Cody most definitely did not produce that much silk of his own, nor had Obi-wan seem him spit up the same yellow adhesive Tup seemed to be able to naturally produce), but definitely enough to keep them immobilized during transport.

Each trooper that he'd bound up having then been carried off by one of the other infected, who's forms were distinctly different from the one Cody had taken on.

Lighter in build with less spikes or a stinger of their own. Still very much their natural height instead of the noticeable boost the Commander had gained. Unable to fly as they did not possess a set of wings. They also only had a total of 5 eyes whereas Tup had 7 and Cody had 9. Most likely because they were meant to remain indoors at all times, rather than traverse outside where good vision would be most needed.

Each cast definitely had their own set of specialties, as he noted some of the men who'd fully transformed had stomachs that were slightly larger than the average build of a standard clone trooper. For those mutated men in particular, their gasters were also rounder and larger instead of being heart-shaped and evenly sized.

They were also mostly just watching the proceedings with mild curiosity, instead of helping the others transport the prisoners. Perhaps unsure of what to do if they were not currently tasked with doing what they were most likely 'designed' to do.

At the very least their inactivity didn't seem to upset the others. Some of which checked up on them and very gently chirped as if to give reassurance. Obi-wan at least assumed this was the case, as he watch as a transformed Crys nudged an equally transformed Reed, taking the slightly rounder trooper by the hand and guiding him along.

"I think they might be Repletes." Canivete murmured from just slightly below him. At this point, only Obi-wan, Canivete and Waxer remained attached to the web. Cody had just managed to pin down Tacet to begin wrapping them up. "In ant societies, the repletes are essentially living food storage compartments, that remain in the nest to feed other ants. They fill up their social stomachs with so much food that the gaster swells to about the size of a grape..."

"That's nasty..." Waxer grimaced. He was hanging to Obi-wan's right, one of his boots the only thing in his line of sight. "How big do you think a vod could get if they followed the same logic?"

"Given the fact ants get as big as they get? From the larger bellies and gasters alone, I'm pretty sure they could put a puffer pig to shame." Cani mused. "I doubt it's gonna be a comfortable experience..."

"Stars..."

Cody passed Tacet onto the nearest trooper, moving on to grab at Waxer to begin yet another flurry of wrapping. None of the lieutenant's words getting through to his brother either. There was no talking sense into any of them... So long as the parasites had full control, the men would be forced to obey their new leader's orders.

The power of their suggestions simply too much to work around.

"..." blinking a few times, Obi-wan hummed and furrowed his brow as he began to contemplate that thought.

"You doing ok, sir?" Canivete asked as she noticed the change in his demeanor.

The parasites certainly had a powerful hold of the men's minds. Of that, he had no question. But could they withstand a Force Suggestion if he were to give it to them? They seemed to rely heavily on the men's own mental faculties to understand certain social constructs and ideas. Perhaps if he used a Jedi Mind Trick on the men, it might temporarily disrupt the hold the parasites had?

"General?" Canivete insisted, the medic sounding concerned for his sake.

"I believe I may have an idea..." He told her, frowning as he thought of the consequences implementing said idea, would later bring. Mostly, he knew he would be crossing a line with the men. Especially with Cody, who he'd once discussed this specific ability with. "But it is not one I'm particularly proud of..."

"Whatever works..." The web was slightly tugged, which he assumed was from Canivete shrugging. Or attempting to.

Waxer was already being dragged off. Cody was approaching. It was now or never...

"You will stop what you're doing and listen carefully to what I say." The Jedi tried to keep his voice as clear and even as possible, watching with bitter sadness as the Commander paused in his tracks to stare up at him clearly confused. "Now you will let go of the Commander and sleep for a little while..."

At that, Cody stood up ramrod straight in the same manner he'd done when Tup had first roared. Claiming control over the newly infected and setting them against the healthy. Pitch black eyes widened in mild shock, the mutated clone's mandibles beginning to click in distress. Antennae, arms and wings twitching as control was wrestled out of the parasite's grasp.

And then Cody let out a sudden gasp and violently shook his head.

"Was that a karking Force Suggestion?!" Canivete yelped, clearly horrified at the idea of her General using something of the sort on her siblings.

"It was the only thing I could think to try..." Obi-wan sheepishly admitted sheepishly, trying not to think too hard about it as he looked back to the shaking Commander. "Cody... Are you alright?"

".̴.̶.̸.̴.̶" Cody opened and closed his mouth several times before glancing up at the two of them in question. He regarded them for a couple of seconds before glancing down at his own body. Multiple emotions surging across his face before he regained his composure and looked back up at them again. "T̷h̶a̸t̶ ̶w̷a̷s̸n̷'̷t̵.̴.̶.̷ ̶G̶r̶e̸a̴t̴.̷.̴.̷"

"Oh crap, it worked..." Canivete sounded astonished.

"It seems to have, yes..." Which meant he'd need to do it for every single one of the infected men. Which put Obi-wan ill at ease, since he didn't like to do this sort of thing to anyone he was fond of.

Least of all to the troopers who considered trust to be everything.

Needless to say, he'd need to have a serious conversation with a lot of people once this entire mess was over. And perhaps maybe arrange a visit to the Mind Healers, since he was more than certain this entire ordeal would haunt him for the foreseeable future...

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #whumptober #Umbaran Pathogen AU #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #clone trooper waxer #clone ocs #clone medic canivete

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sins-of-the-sea · 6 months

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There was another pause in the Maestro’s voice, but not as long as the last. Well, if he was going to give a speech, he should show his face, eh?

The snake unwedged himself from where he was hiding. For a moment, it was just a ribbon of light, standing upright in a cobralike manner, before expanding into a man’s form. Forte took his human form in a matter of moments.

“It has been some time since we’ve properly spoken, face to face.”

The wispy old Maestro decided not to include how upset he’d been that he hadn’t been consulted for advice. Or that he thought Guy ought to leave behind the bastard who nearly took his son away. Seemed… like a bad time for all that.

“I just want to give you a, as they say, a pep talk. You know that what they all say about you is bullshit, don’t you? None of this is your fault. That is all lies. Vicious lies. You shouldn’t feel guilty simply for living, nor punished for having emotions. I know that. I understand that. If ever you doubt your worth, then you come straight to me.

“Now, I know you are strong. I want you to act like it. I can’t sit by and continue to watch as you are unable to stand up for yourself. So, raise your head son, and know truly you are deserving of happiness. Bite back.. if you must. Can you do that for me? It’s the goal of the world to break people like us… but we REFUSE.”

[never-took-a-lesson]

Guy almost drops the tea he was preparing. "Olalalal!! Kwasan?! You were-

"….That explains why Monsieur Cogsworth was asking about you…

"…..And why none of us have died to a snakebite yet despite just letting you slither around freely. Seems it's a good thing Phoebus was afraid of you on principle, snake or no."

Guy hasn't come to Forte for advice or just any other talk lately… simply because he's afraid of exposing him to the Master more, even though the Maestro can likely hold his own just fine. But that is no guarantee for Guy. Seeing how he is so willing to come forward for times of strife, however, Guy thinks twice about his anxiousness to approach Forte for anything. Perhaps he can give advice regarding the mistakes he made. Maybe he knows what can be done to subvert a greater evil. Maybe he knows how to save a lost loved one.

….Or he can confuse Guy over what he's saying. Sure, a lot of things said about him are shameful and disdainful, but….

"…I thank you, good sir??" Guy replies once the speech of fighting back and deserving happiness is complete. "What brought this on? I am thankful for this, I assure you--there are many times I feel I deserve the worst coming to me. And I have been cutting people off who make me think that way. Too much, I think. I'm starting to feel more and more alone…"

He does feel more and more alone. Lately all the antics he's been doing with his Crew are either just typical lollygagging among shipmates at sea, or very self-serving actions that put everyone in danger. Like his attempt at a solo raid. With everything going on, he is praying the Crew won't fracture further despite the Master's demands they remain a coordinated unit.

He understands now where the Maestro is coming from. But G-d in Heaven, it's so hard.

"I'm trying, Maestro. I really am. I'm so very sorry…. I want to believe that. I want to believe what I am doing is right and deserving of happiness. But it seems all I'm doing is driving people further away in seeking out my own. I don't want to abandon myself to please the people around me… but I don't want to destroy them in pursuit of myself either. I don't want the people I care for to keep crying for me when I am the one hurting them."

"Oh, Maestro…. what am I doing wrong??"

#vile how dare you #never took a lesson #[Guy Duchamp]#snakes tw

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everafterkeiji · 3 years

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Hi can i request a hcs for itadori,megumi and gojo react to their s/o death?.

Please Feel free to ignore this request if its triggering or u don't feel like writing it! Thank you<3

i love angst requests so it's really okay with me! thank you so much for requesting (ngl i did cry thinking abt yuji) and i hope u have a lovely day even if this was incredibly sad

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇

PAIRINGS: JJK BOYS x gn!reader

CHARACTERS: Itadori Yuji, Megumi Fushiguro, & Gojo Satoru

WORD COUNT: 2.7K

WARNINGS: heavy angst, character death, mentions of blood and panic attacks, as well wounds and bruises. mentions of Shibuya arc/implied location in Shibuya during that arc.

⟡ 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 eyes dared to erase the sight ahead of him, his body was frozen—every sense began to fail for its purpose and nothing else was responsive except for the shout of your name that echoes through the battle field, the level of immensity to his voice that covers his throat with pain as every pace towards you was a step leading to a waste of a second that terrifies him the more his being tugged away by his own fears.

Dropping to his knees, he was numb to the sensation of the ache overwhelming his legs while he craddles you in his arms as every part of him shook with uncertainty, his hands didn't have the courage to hold you with as much as strength as he should've.

"..Y/N?" He whispers, a croak to his voice as if it was barely alive with droplets created from his sorrow began to trail down your cheek whilst your blood paints his hand in a hue he never expected to come from you. His mind was in the midst of being empty to a havoc that wanted to deny every rage in his system so he could love you even if he could tell how your chest wasn't rising the way it was supposed to do.

"Love?" Yuji calls out one more time as your eyes flutter subtly, signalling him not even an assurance for your state. His hand falls to your cheek, not caring if he couldn't hold you weakly because what matters more is that you held onto him. He painfully leans his forehead on yours, a loud sob escaping him with a struggle to catch up with his breath.

"Don't let me go, don't ever leave me, I beg of you, God!" He shouts as the gods grow concerned of the boy whose heart was wrecked to every piece as the sky began to cry with him. "Save them— God— Please! Stop taking everyone that I love and let me come with them." He begs, as he pulls you more as if the distance could've helped him better because even when you were close to him, he knew you were already at the farthest place that he couldn't reach. All that could be heard from him were screams where he forfeited ever begging for your life when everyone around seems to follow in your path.

"I'm so sorry, my love." Itadori confesses, arms tight around your figure as every beat of his heart began to die with you when all the seconds that he seemed to waste without you by his side began to haunt him. If he had gotten there sooner, maybe then he could've reminded you one more time that you were the energy—the surviving light in his life for him to exist without being told of his faith.

"I love you—so much so please remember that even when you're away." He couldn't even explain how his words manage to fall in such a manner, he could've sworn a second ago he only wanted to let time freeze so he could deny the view of your lifeless body that he miserably failed to save from the hands of death.

"I promise you, in the end, I'll be with you soon, Y/N." Itadori places a delicate kiss to your forehead, having no courage to leave the contact of your skin to his as his eyes went with the rain that poured over the two of you. He intertwines one of his hands with yours, shivering at the temperature he faces but with the other hand, he rests it on his cheek. Maybe if you looked at him now, you'd want him to smile because if you were the source of his reason to exist, Yuji's smile was the one to let your hearts worries disappear but sadly, the source has been removed from him and nothing else in the world could ever bring the joy in his smile no more.

"All I've ever wanted to do was to love you, so I hope you're willing to wait because when I see you.. I'm gonna embrace you with everything I've got," He then kisses the hand intertwined to his before he achingly pull his hand away and the regret closing on him but he had no other choice.

"And love you again and again, Y/N. Always and.. forever—like what we promised." Yuji, as torturous it was to let you go, he sets your hand that was on his cheek to your chest just like he did with the other before he ends his goodbye with a lasting kiss to your cheek.

"Stop crying, Yuji! C'mon smile for me, will you? I didn't come here to see you all gloomy."

And with the remaining memories left for him, it began to be the weak strings for his heart to compose itself because if he knows one thing that you hated, it was the sight of him crying.

So he smiles, the everlasting wish of yours being granted even if his body was corrupting as the love of his life enters a new realm where forever was possible for the both of you.

"We'll meet again, my love."

As he stood up, he hesitates to turn his back on you but once he does, the sun never looked the same to him ever again.

⟡ 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 encounters a feeling that he's been through before—a course of emotions that has his body in a tight hold but now, it seems the hold on him was deadlier than the first time. Your name had left his lips, draining him of his exhaustion to run to you before you could fall, every fiber in his body was holding on to his fear. He didn't need to feel the ache in his legs that were covered in wounds because his mission was for you to perfectly land in his arms even if he had to risk getting more injuries.

His heart began to pace in frantic pace when he catches you, there wasn't a split second of joy that entered him just because he made it in time. Instead, his eyes widen in trauma at the sight of your dull eyes that looked above to the heavens sky.

"Hey—hey!" He shouts, trembling hands feeling every bit of your skin and ends with it down to your cheek. "Talk to me—anything, please!" Megumi pleads as a drop of your blood that came from your forehead started to flow onto his skin. He gulps with his breathing unable to coordinate with him as his head frenetically looks up, any sign of help could've been the better reach but they were just in the mere corner of a building in Shibuya.

"Y/N? Please say something." He whispers, furiously wiping his tears while he despises the warmth of your blood that paints his hands. "C'mon please, let me hear your voice one last time." He sobs on your shoulder, embracing you with every corrupting piece of his heart, looking for a beat from your rather cold ones. His hands go to your hair, caressing it so lightly that he felt it resembled glass from how careful he was. Your head was buried in his neck, eyes barely awake for him to ever find that heartbeat.

"I love you, did you hear me?" Megumi says, gulping in the grief. "Say it back to me like you always did, please?" He doesn't know that begging would've been his lasting choice—maybe someone up above would take some time to listen to his pleads and eventually bring the life to his lovers body once again for you to say you love him back a thousand times more.

"Hug me one more time, will you? You told me you loved to do that." He desperately wishes your arms could just return to the place he loved, wrapped around his neck as his hands were to be on your waist or to your cheek with a smile to your lips. Unfortunately, your arms were covered in their own bruises—latched with dark purple hues and tints of red from the debris of buildings and cursed spirits.

"We have to go, Megumi!" One of the sorcerers shout, he didn't even have the time to decipher who it belonged to but he sniffles, reaching for his phone typing a quick message to the others to be able to take you out of this place with somewhere more deserving of a beauty that has passed.

"I'm not going to say goodbye because I know you'll always be with me, right Y/N?" He takes your hands, placing it on your chest on top of each other as his tear lands on your temple. He softly wipes it away before he kisses your forehead, closing his eyes shut at his misery.

"I wish I could've saved you. I really wish I did." He sobs, forehead in tact with yours but he seems to receive a sensation to his body at the wind that came his way.

"You've saved me the minute you met me, my love." You wish you could've whispered to him but he took it as the wind was the only embrace he'll ever get now.

"And you saved me too." Panda walks in to this horrid scene as he feels the sympathy rush to him. Megumi looks up at him with the liveliness dying along with you as your lover delicately holds your cheek one last time before kissing you on your temple muttering one more time,

"I love you always."

Standing up was the second hardest thing he had to do because turning his back to you came at first as his knees threatened to fall but alas, he has to do continue on because that's what you would've wanted right?

"I love you, Megumi. I'll be here waiting for you."

And the upcoming battles for him to face were laced with rage and the never ending bitterness that love seemed to haunt him with.

⟡ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎's phone rang as while he stops to stare at the caller. It was odd for him to receive a phone call from Megumi at this hour but he supposed it was probably for some guidance since they were sent to a mission. Being aware of their location, he didn't hesitate to transport as fast as he could to get there but there's this calling to him how it wasn't bound to be what he expected.

Panting heavily, Megumi ran with life on the line as he carried you in his arms without the ability to pace your breathing the same as his.

"GOJO-SENSEI!" He shouts with every power in his lungs the second Gojo had appeared, who stood stunned at the boy who was approaching him with a familiar figure.

"Y/N?" Satoru says, uncertain of what he just saw but when Megumi reached him, out of his breath as Nobara and Itadori followed behind him. His student places you in your lovers arm as he kneels down with a hand to your chest, alarmed at how your heartbeat was nowhere near notice. Fushiguro could see the worry in the mans eyes as he bites his lip in sympathy before telling the two to spare a moment for the so called strongest sorcerer who was now on his knees for only one person.

"We saw them being followed by a cursed spirit but they led Y/N to a trap." Megumi briefly explains as Gojo could only spare him a nod as your eyes would flutter once a while as the three students let them be.

"I warned you, didn't I?" He says, a low whisper as your hand weakly reach for his blindfold while Gojo's own rhythm of a heartbeat began to ache. Once he felt how you raised it with a cough of blood spoiling his uniform as his expression grow more frantic with every second.

"Hey there, pretty. You mind staying with me for a little longer?" He asked as if your ears were as attentive as it were before when his eyes stared back at your dazed ones. You didn't respond which was troubling him, what more was that your hand immediately dropped to your chest when he finally looked at you. A shakey sigh leaves Gojo while he rose, ready to fly you anywhere as long as you promised to stay.

"A little more please, can you do that for me?" He begs of you but instead, your head fell unconsciously in his arms with the threat of your eyes to close before he could ever look at you again, not too mention the flow of blood that came from your stomach that didn't seem to stop. He hasn't had the confidence to look at your body before because the fear on Megumi's face made him certain of how the damage had been rough on you. Up this close, he can see two massive wounds to your lower body as well as scratches on your forearms with some bruises on your wrist, hinting how their grasp on you was too strong compared to someone who was powerless.

The hue of his eyes appear to be less saturated than before and for the first time in the life of the honored sorcerer, his heart was irreparable and no amount of technique can reverse the way love his love for you had been the fault for your end.

Unknown to his own senses, his tears fall to your cheek as he pulls you closer like an embrace that didn't bring him his usual amount of comfort.

"Satoru, stop messing around!" You said as he spun you around, tight arms around his neck as he flew in the air, not bothering to listen to your protests of putting you down.

"I won't let you go, how could I ever do that to you?" He assures you, with his own arms tied to your waist with a bright smile on his face.

"And if I fall?" You asked him, glancing at the heights below you but Gojo only tucks a piece of hair behind your ear as you looked at him with the sun in your eyes since two lovers were up in the sky to reach for the clouds.

"I'll be there to save you."

But where was he when you fell from the skyscrapers?

"You hate me, I'm sure." He says biting his lip in agony as he buries his head to your chest, silent sobs and unsteady breaths coming from the sorcerer.

"I love you so much." Satoru breathlessly said. The head that was once on your chest began to move away when he heard nothing more than the silence that came from your heart. They were out to get you, how stupid was he to let you out of his sight just for a second? Maybe then he could've danced with you one more time, up in the sky for the two of you to conquer the heights of being in love.

"I'm so sorry, darling." He then kisses the side of your lip as his feet met in contact with the floor as the rest of the Jujutsu tech as Shoko lets out a saddened sigh.

"Wait for me okay? I'm not done loving you yet." He whispers to you one last time while he hands you over to Shoko as Megumi spares him a glance to notice how wretched his mentor looked.

"I have some things to do." Gojo announces, withstanding the grief to plot revenge to the ones who took you away from him as the rest didn't bother to object knowing there was no possible way to stop a man who had lost the love of his life in revenging your death. He disappears in a split second as the rest of the students didn't notice the tears that kept flowing from the person they look up to.

How can he be the strongest when he failed to protect his only weakness?

Until then, Gojo Satoru could only look at the sky to remember you since his infinity that he swore was to be spent with you died in his arms along with his lover.

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the-dimitrescu-seamstress · 3 years

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I Won’t Be Long - A rather long one shot

(I have been working on this, what I call “Magda’s Worst Day”, for a while, and I only recently was inspired to finish it. Hence why I’ve been rather quiet in terms of posts. I can only torture my muse so much.

Basically, this story came about because of the “What have you done to my daughter?!” line. Alcina was in her chambers while saying that, therefore unable to see or know that Ethan was outside. So how did she know what happened to Bela, and who told her?

My answer? Magda.

I did my best to follow the game’s timeline, but there might have been some condensing or stretching in order to make things fit. I’ve also included some brief cameos from other OCs Magda has interacted with.

Please note, this is not an “Ethan Hate” story. Magda is simply reacting as one would in their given situation. Is this a sad story? Yes, in parts. Will you hate me for writing this? Maybe. Will you still enjoy reading it? I hope so.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You must hide. The man is a danger, and I wish for you to be safe. Do your best to keep out of all this. If he approaches you, play the helpless victim. Do not help him, but please do not hinder him either.”

“But I want you to stay safe.”

“You know that I always do, dearest. He is nothing but a man.”

“You literally just said he was a danger.” The press of Bela’s lips against Magda’s was enough the hush the smaller woman and soften her demeanor. “Kissing me in order to maintain the last word is technically cheating, you know.”

“True, but I did learn it from you,” the witch smiled. “I won’t be long.”

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That conversation happened a little over an hour ago. Since then, Magda had quietly paced the floor of her workroom, occasionally stopping to listen for any sound outside her door. She prayed she’d hear the familiar drone of flies, but nothing came. Everything was unnervingly quiet. Magda did her best to reassure herself. She kept telling herself that the man was outnumbered three to one, that the girls would work together and remove him as a threat, that they couldn’t be killed.

The sudden barrage of nearby gunfire and shattering glass ripped away any comfort she had tried to retain. It wasn’t terribly close, but then again it wasn’t terribly far either. Worse yet, there was no celebratory laughter that accompanied the silence that soon followed. Worry gnawed at Magda’s insides, and she did the one thing that Bela had asked her not to do. She unlocked the door to her workshop, and left her hiding place.

Magda went through the halls in sock feet, wanting to make as little sound as possible. The last thing she needed was to run into the man by accident. Thankfully, the courtyard was deserted. Freezing, especially without shoes or a coat, but it was empty. Even better, the door leading to the dining room was still locked. That meant the intruder had not found a key or harassed one of the few servants who had a skeleton key to the various entryways. Magda was one of those servants. Being a seamstress, and a trusted one at that, gave her a few perks.

As much as she wanted to rush in, Magda knew better. She turned the key slowly, as the locks were heavy and made a distinct and rather loud click when undone. The door she also took time opening, just in case there was an armed madman standing on the other side. Finding none, she closed and relocked the door behind her. Best to keep him confined.

Cassandra’s laughter coming from the Main Hall signaled that she was keeping the intruder well occupied and, rather than risk an interruption, Magda turned to the much plainer door which lead to the kitchen.

Normally the kitchen was a warm place, full of the sounds and smells of cooking food for the human staff, but the rush of cold air that blew in as she entered confirmed a fear she had. Hurrying past the preparation table and ducking under the cuts of drying meat, Magda stopped short in the doorway to the connected storage room. What she saw squeezed her heart like a vice, making it difficult to breath.

Shattered glass and the remains of broken boards framed a large, collapsed pile of frozen flies. The room wavered and suddenly felt hot, despite the open windows. Maybe… maybe this wasn’t Bela, she tried to reason. It wasn’t Cassandra, as she had heard her laughter not moments ago. A small, hateful voice in her head whispered that this was Daniela, that Bela was still alive inside the castle, perhaps happily carving up the man with her sister, and what laid before her was Daniela. Magda hated to even think that, but right now she was mental begging the powers that be for that to be the truth.

Step by hesitant step, she approached the pile, acting as a windbreak when she knelt between it and the broken window. Tears began to cloud her vision as she saw pale yellow flies mixed in amongst the brown and black insects. Again, her heart wrenched inside her chest. Her skin burned and the walls of the room closed in as her anger grew and burst forth in a ragged scream of rage, sorrow, and anguish.

Why?! Why did he do this?! How did he even know?! Did he just get lucky with a stray bullet breaking a pane of glass? Why did he kill her? Why did he go after her? The cold would have been enough to stop her! She would have stopped the chase, and he could have gotten away, but he still decided to kill her! He killed her while she was hurting! He killed her while she was cold, alone, and separated from everyone. He killed Magda’s stea mică… her little star…

He didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone.

Magda’s guttural scream was echoed by a rasping, undead one crawling up from the once boarded up passageway that led to the dungeon. In her emotional state, she hadn’t put two and two together. The boards were smashed going into the storage room rather than out into the passageway. The man had come up from below, meaning he had created a potential access point for the thralls to get upstairs.

“Căcat!” she cursed, scrambling as quickly and as quietly for a container in the other room. It would take the thralls a bit of time to coordinate and stumble their way up the stairs, but they would eventually make it and Magda was not about to let those disgusting things trample all over what was left of Bela.

She would also need to tell the Countess.

Grabbing one of the large basins used to hold drained blood, as well as any discarded towels or cloth she could find, Magda carefully moved every single fly she found into the container, scouring the floor for any the wind may have blown about, but always keeping a careful eye on the dungeon passage. The last thing she needed was to be attacked by those damn thralls as she finished.

The basin was… not as heavy as she thought it would be. That knowledge made her stomach sink and made her feel that much worse. She was carrying her love’s body, and it wasn’t heavy. It needed to be. The woman was seven feet tall! It should have been heavier! These stupid, unimportant thoughts made her tears start to once again fall as she returned to the dining room. “Dammit. I’m sorry, Bela,” she mumbled as a few hot tears fell on the flies.

One twitched in response.

Magda stopped at that. She was seeing things. In her grief, her mind was clearly playing tricks on her. Bela was dead. The cold killed flies. She was dead and the tear hitting the fly only made it look like it moved.

That was when the worst feeling in all of creation latched itself onto her.

Hope.

Leaning in close, she breathed a few times on a small clump of flies, letting her warm breath roll over them. And then she waited… Her heart pounding in her chest as she watched for something. Anything.

…A leg spasmed.

It was small, almost imperceptible, but Magda took it as a sign. A possibility. A tiny one at that, but she grabbed onto it and refused to let it go. Hope was evil like that.

Covering the basin to shield the flies from the cold, she ventured back across the courtyard and towards Alcina’s chambers, locking any and all doors behind her because fuck this man and his doings. Make his shit life harder.

The Countess’ chambers were empty, which sent a chill of dread and terror down Magda’s spine. Had she fallen to the man as well or was she simply hunting him along with her daughters? Should she wait for her to appear? Right now, searching the castle was not the ideal thing to do, as she was unarmed, human, and she had no idea if the intruder would have mercy on her if she encountered him. Thankfully, her questions were answered as familiar heavy footfalls were heard coming up the stairs. Now all she had to do was explain to Alcina what she thought was possible. And hopefully not die in the the telling.

“If I can’t, I’ll do my best to bleed on you as I die, sweetness,” she told the basin of flies, trying to make a joke and do her best to smile. The latter crumbled as soon as the chamber door opened.

“Countess?” Magda’s voice was weak and shaky, full of fear, and she immediately regretted opening her mouth due to the look on Alcina’s face. It was one of surprise mixed with displeasure, which made sense as Magda should still be locked in her sewing room, not running around as she was currently doing.

“Are you not aware of our current situation, Magdalena?” Her tone was cool and reserved, as if she were waiting on Magda’s answer in order to decide the best manner of action to take.

“I am very much aware of the situation, Countess. Which was why I came here as quickly as I could.” she replied, uncovering Bela’s remains. The candelabra the taller woman had been holding streaked towards Magda’s head and the seamstress barely had time to duck.

“What have you done to my daughter?!” she roared, lunging forward and grabbing Magda by her neck. For a moment, fear and terror filled the seamstress’ mind, but she somehow managed to find her voice despite the vice-like grip upon her throat.

“It wasn’t me… the man… did this… the flies… not… not dead…” Darkness had started to creep around the edges of her vision before Alcina finally released her. Landing on the ground hurt, but the deep breath of fresh air she took afterwards was incredibly sweet.

“Explain yourself,” Alcina growled, stretching out those two words in a low and menacing fashion, one not at all suitable for a woman of her standing, but perfect for a mother seeking justice for her child.

“I heard the fight,” Magda rasped, throat still sore. “It was in… the kitchen. I found… Bela. I thought she was dead… but some flies reacted to my tears…. and warm breath. There’s a chance. That cold state they go into. She told me about it. Bela might not be dead. Only hibernating. If she can be warmed, maybe she can be saved.” Magda watched Alcina, eyes never turning away or blinking too rapidly. She didn’t want to give the woman any excuse or reason not to believe her.

The quiet between them lasted for what seemed an eternity, only to be interrupted by a low rumbling and draining of liquid coming from the next room over. They both heard it, though Alcina only gave the most subtle of glances in its direction. The pool in the Hall of Ablution had been emptied. The Countess’ iron grip was suddenly around Magda’s arm, pulling her back to her feet.

“You will take my daughter back to your workshop and you will keep her warm,” she hissed. “You will not leave her side, not even for a moment. Should I find you disobeying my instructions and wandering these halls while that impudent wretch is still in my castle, your life is forfeit. Is that understood?” Magda nodded, fear in her eyes. She picked up the basin, replacing the cover before being roughly escorted out of the chamber.

Once safely back in her workshop, Magda set about gathering her thickest fabrics; the wools, flannels, gabardines, and anything else heavy she had. She removed the blankets and comforter from her bed and did what she could to form a nest or bed for the flies. For a moment, she even considered cutting her forearm and dribbling some blood onto them, but if they weren’t moving then they weren’t feeding, and the last thing she wanted to risk was them somehow drowning in her own blood.

Magda did her best to obey the Countess’ instructions, as she was not about to risk Alcina’s wrath, not with her life on the line. However, if she did end up being wrong about Bela, maybe it would be better to join her in death. What was she thinking? Magda likely would die anyways. But, in terms of when, it would just depend on Alcina’s mood. So, the seamstress sat in silence, waiting and praying to hear the soft buzzing of fly wings as they slowly warmed up.

Instead, she heard someone faintly plinking the keys of the piano in the Opera Hall. Rather badly at that. Naturally, the all too familiar footfalls of an enraged Alcina soon followed. He must not have realized she was hunting him, Magda thought. Because what idiot would actually take the time to play the piano if they were actively trying to stay hidden? The brief retort of gunfire seemed to prove her point. Although she could only hear what was going on, Magda still had a brief chuckle as she imagined the man scrambling for his life away from Alcina.

Not that he had many places to run to. It was either to Magda’s workshop or the library, and as the noise of confrontation began to distance itself from her hiding place, she breathed a sigh of relief. The library it was then.

“How has this man managed to survive this long?” she softly asked Bela’s remains. As if in answer, gunshots rang out once more and the seamstress stood, wondering who he was fighting now. The previously reassuring knowledge that bullets couldn’t harm anyone in this house re-entered Magda’s head… but it was quickly dashed to pieces as she glanced back at Bela. Who had he gone after now? She needed to know.

For five long minutes, Magda stood at her sewing room door, with it cracked open enough to listen. But she heard nothing. No footsteps, no gunfire, no sounds of anyone.

If Alcina caught her, it would be death, a voice in her head reasoned.

So she simply would avoiding getting caught, another replied.

The distance to the library wasn’t far, and she could easily hear the Countess’ footsteps well in advance, allowing her to hide as she approached.

“I’ll be back soon, stea mică. I won’t be long,” she softly told the flies. A few seemed to twitch in response. God, she hoped that she was right in the foolish ‘not dead, only hibernating’ theory. Basin and flannel cloth in hand, Magda made her way to the library, hoping she wouldn’t need what she carried.

Her heart sank upon feeling the chilly air inside. Papers were scattered, vases lay shattered, and, near enough to be in the light cast from the glass skylight which acted as a central decorative point for the room, was another large pile of immobile flies. Magda actually needed a moment to sit and collect herself with this discovery. Little flies, whose bodies glittered in the light, matched Daniela’s hair color.

Alcina will weep, Magda thought as she did her best to keep her own tears from falling once more. Gathering up these remains took longer than Bela’s, but not because they were scattered about. No. For as messy and wild as Daniela was in life, she had collapsed in a neat little pile. It was the weight and knowledge that this was the baby of the family which made this such a long and arduous task.

“You’re not alone, Dani. I’m not letting you be alone. I’m taking you to your sister. You’ll be safe in my sewing room,” She told the flies. Could this have been the first sign of madness? After all, Magda was talking to a container full of potentially dead insects. She recalled the character of Renfield from Dracula. The man went mad in an effort to serve and worship his vampire lord. Perhaps she was becoming something along the same lines. Perhaps she was already dead; killed by the intruder, and this was her own personal hell of gathering up mounds of flies throughout the castle for the rest of eternity, all the while avoiding Alcina. If Bela’s nest was not in the workshop when she returned to it, Magda figured this terrible thought would be reality.

Thankfully, upon opening the door to her workshop, the comforter and blanket that Bela was nestled in was still where the seamstress had left it. So maybe she was not dead and this was not hell. Little miracles were all she could hope for right now.

Magda took her time making Daniela’s nest, listening for anything that would signal they were victorious and this man-thing was dead and gone. She shook her head a little as she used that term. Normally, Magda did not join in on calling men that, but this was a special case. This individual didn’t seem human. The fact that he could best two of the daughters worried her, and a dread feeling that, unless mother and daughter combined forces, Cassandra could fall as well filled Magda’s stomach like a lead weight.

The daughters were monsters, yes. By the classic definition, that’s what they were, and Magda did not deny any of it. Blood stained dresses, screams and laughter coming from the dungeon, or even the rare times when Bela’s kisses had a slight hint of copper or something raw tasting to them. They weren’t normal. Alcina was also a monster; perhaps even more of one. The height, the claws, the gray skin that she hid beneath layers of foundation. All four of them shared that same inhuman appetite for blood and flesh. But, they also had human tendencies. They laughed, they cried, they screamed in fright the odd times they were scared or taken by surprise.

Then again, humans could be monsters as well. History showed how terrible they could be. Magda was certainly no angel, and she had the odd feeling that this man wasn’t entirely a good person either. Maybe she was wrong. Magda didn’t know. All she knew was that she was trying to save the small group of friends and family she had left in this world.

Minutes ticked by and still her wing of the castle remained quiet. The longer it stayed quiet, the more she worried. If the man was dead, Alcina would have come to her workshop to see to her daughter. But if the quiet persisted? Magda didn’t want to think on that.

“Should I go out and search?” she asked her charges. Of course, no reply came. Magda thought she saw more movement from Bela’s flies, but she had no idea if they all needed to be restored to a proper temperature, like a hive mind, before they could respond. With the way Magda had layered everything, they would warm up slowly and naturally. No artificial heaters or fires were being used, as she didn’t want to risk damaging them. After watching both mounds for a few minutes, the seamstress nodded, knowing once more what she had to do.

The castle had an unusual quietness, a stillness she had never felt before. There was always at least some sort of background noise; the shuffling of servants, the daughters’ laughter, the general noise of a home being lived in. Where was everyone? Had the man killed them all? Or were Sylvia, Andre, Samuel, Bianca, and the rest hiding in the servant’s quarters, having barricaded themselves in? Vulga likely would have escaped into the walls upon hearing the first gunshot, so she was probably safe.

At least there would be some survivors of Castle Dimitrescu.

Finding Cassandra took a long time. Besides hiding from both the constantly patrolling Alcina and the seemingly trigger happy mad man, Magda had to think like the middle child, who had the tendency to spend time in the oddest of places. While Bela and Daniela could be found in seemingly normal locations in the castle, Cassandra explored. She found hidden areas that were unknown to most of the inhabitants, hard to get to, or simply dilapidated enough and impossible to access unless you could fly. Magda assumed she enjoyed being hard to find.

The seamstress had searched damn near every room, after having briefly hidden for a few heart-pounding minutes in one of the dressing room wardrobes upon hearing Alcina’s approach. Currently, she was sitting in the back hallway, taking a moment to try and mentally collect herself. Magda hated failing, and right now she was absolutely in sync with the idea that she was a failure. Cassandra, as far as she knew, had simply disappeared. Had the man shattered a window and thrown her outside? If that was the case, then the chance of finding the young woman dropped to impossible odds. The castle was surrounded by woods and cliffs with sheer drops. Maybe… if the snow and cold somehow preserved her through the winter, Cassandra would show up in the spring, like crocuses.

At that thought, Magda let slip a sharp little laugh while, at the same time, her eyes began to water. Cassandra would hate being compared to a flower. She would absolutely have hated it. And for as much as Magda wanted to continue to both laugh and cry right now, it would certainly draw unwanted attention from one of two parties currently in the castle. Possibly both.

Wiping her face with her sleeve, she allowed herself a few calming breaths before pushing herself back to her feet and continuing this fruitless search.

The slight draft blowing on Magda’s hand from beneath the door stopped her. Yes, castles were drafty, but not this one. Alcina made certain to insulate everything as best she could so her daughters could survive the winter in relative comfort. But, there was a definite bit of air movement coming from under this door.

Opening it, Magda found the Statue of Pleasure…. with an animal skull in place of the sacrifice’s head. Not even Cassandra or Daniela would be foolish enough to ruin one of their mother’s statues. So, on top of being a murderer, this man enjoyed defacing both art and private property. What the fuck was wrong with him?

The indignity aside, the windows in this room were intact, so where was the draft coming from? The only other option was the fireplace, but if the chimney was that badly cracked, why wasn’t it sealed? Crouching in front of it, the reason quickly became apparent as the entire back of the fireplace has been removed, and the hole led to a set of stairs.

“Cassandra, you little shit.”

Crawling through the passageway, Magda entered what looked to be the remains of a hidden armory, or at least a place to stash and work on things a certain daughter didn’t want her mother to learn about or her sisters to interfere with. It would have been a lovely little room had it not been for the gaping hole in the wall, letting in all the cold air. And there, near enough to the stairway, laid what was left of Alcina’s middle child.

“At least you were smart enough to fight him in a room without windows,” Magda commented as she gathered her up. Cassandra was vicious and violent when she wan’t to be, but she was also calculative and observant. Perhaps that’s why she lasted as long as she did. Had she sacrificed her sisters in order to study this man? If Magda were the girl’s mother, they would definitely be having a talk about that later.

With the last of the Dimitrescu daughters safely bundled up, Magda began to make her way back to the workshop. As it was nearly on the other side of the castle with no direct route, she took great care to move as quietly as possible. She paused repeatedly, and scanned the Main Hall, looking for signs of the the woman in white. For as large as she was, Alcina was a stalking beast. She could be incredibly quiet if she wished to be.

As she crouched in one the small balconies, Magda heard movement coming from below her on the floor of the main hall. However, it didn’t sound… right. It couldn’t have been the intruder, unless he was gravely injured. But If that were the case, Alcina wouldn’t have been far behind, and Magda didn’t hear her at all. Speaking of the Countess, it certainly wasn’t her, as the noise was far too small to be anyone remotely her size.

Chancing a look, Magda peeked over the edge, and a soft gasp of surprise, sounding so devastatingly loud in this silence, escaped her lips as she saw what was beneath her. Luana, the castle’s head servant, the personal watchdog for the Countess, laid collapsed on the marble floor, clothes stained red with blood. Where had they been all this time?! Magda had scoured entire castle… Had they been outside and only just now managed to get in? This just made her life ten times harder. Not only did she have Cassandra to carry back, but now there was the issue of Luana as well.

She could have left them where they were. She could have. After all, Magda was currently disobeying orders and Alcina was already displeased by her previous actions. She should have taken Cassandra back to her workshop and then returned. By then, perhaps Alcina would have discovered Luana herself and… done what? She was hellbent on hunting down the intruder. Would she even have stopped and tended to her servant? Magda couldn’t say. She also had no idea what would have happened if the man found them first. Would he finish the job he clearly started? In all likelihood? Yes.

Tucking Cassandra safely in an out of the way corner by the top of the stairs, Magda made her way down to her fellow servant, glancing into the Hall of the Four as she went.

The doors leading to the Temple of Worship were open.

In all her years there, Magda had rarely seen those exterior doors stand open as they were now. The Countess was strict in her orders about that portion of the castle being forbidden to everyone save herself, and now the seamstress was watching her tall figure ascend the temple stairs. An unknown fear filled Magda with dread at that sight, and she hurried towards Luana.

Rolling the head servant over onto their back, Magda gave them a quick look over. Buckshot, and a few normal bullet holes, peppered Luana’s blood soaked torso. A normal human would have been dead from such injuries and blood loss, but Luana was thankfully not fully human, rather a Lycan-cross. They usually preferred not to speak of their heritage, but Magda hoped they would be happy to have it just this once.

“Luana? Luana, dear, can you hear me?” she asked, opening their eyes to check for any sign of life. She was met with slurred, half-conscious Portuguese. “You know damn well I don’t speak that, but right now any response is a good one, so I’ll take it.” The bleeding had stopped and their breathing seemed normal from what she could tell; no gurgles, bloody froth in the mouth, or sounds of difficulty.

“…Apologies…” they said in Romanian, doing their best to sit up.

“You’re fine. I’m just happy to see someone else, aside from the Countess, alive,” she replied. Their uniform already ruined, Magda removed Luana’s jacket and began tearing off bandage strips. Or at least she started to, as a distant crash and a devastating roar from outside quickly stopped her efforts. Whatever injuries seemed to be afflicting Luana were momentarily forgotten as they did their best to stand, only to collapse almost immediately. As they attempted it a second time, Magda moved to support them. She didn’t even say a word or caution them to take it slow as the two of them made it to the open doorway.

And what they saw? There were no words.

It was huge. A great beast, vast and terrible, with an immense wingspan, lashing tail, and a toothy, gaping maw circled the top of the temple tower; sometimes flying, sometimes crawling along the stonework. It was pale white with streaks of pink flesh, slick and glossy looking as the sun hit it. Muscles bulged as if barely contained by the skin, as tendrils curled and whipped about in an independent fury. It looked both cancerous and incomplete while at the same time horrifically beautiful and awe-inspiring in some inexplicable way. And to top it off, as if in an absurd gilding of the lily, Alcina’s upper torso, looking flayed and monstrous, erupted from between the beast’s shoulder blades. Her voice was distorted, both by rage, vengeance, and sorrow, but also by this transformation. She was lost in this madness, fully given in to it.

Magda’s knees gave way, and she fell to the floor, unintentionally bring Luana down with her. The seamstress was lost. How was this even possible? How had Alcina become this gargantuan beast? Could she change back? A sudden sick feeling rolled over her as all these questions and more filled her head. She was sure Luana was thinking similar things.

All they could do was watch this battle as it unfurled. Stonework and roofing tiles fell freely as the dragon creature did its best to pursue its quarry. Gunfire was heard regularly as Alcina taunted, threatened, and cackled in her torment. The fight moved steadily upwards, with more and more of the building being destroyed until a bloodcurdling shriek was heard and something structural gave way.

Multiple somethings.

Large plumes of dust, broken window, and cracks forming in the side of the building were the indication that the dragon had fallen through all of the interior floors of the temple, landing with a massive crash.

Magda and Luana looked at each other and then back towards the temple. “How about we wait and listen for movement?” the seamstress started to offer, but the head servant was already stumbling towards the building, trying desperately not to once more fall onto their face. They didn’t get very far before collapsing, but Magda was there to lift them back up. “How about a compromise? We get to the temple door and listen before barging in?” At that, Luana nodded a little sheepishly.

If Magda had thought the castle had been quiet, the inside of the temple was a veritable tomb. She just hoped it wasn’t a literal one. At least not for Alcina. Let the man be buried under all that rubble. Unfortunately, her wish was not yet granted, as she saw the limping figure of a man leaving through the lower level door. All she needed was a gun. Why didn’t she or Luana have a pistol? One bullet through the back of his damned head, that’s all that was needed and all this terribleness would be over with.

But instead, Magda just stood there, watching him leave before her gaze turned to Alcina’s body. It was still that dragon creature, but she had just come to accept that this was the Countess. Luana was already making their way down to her, carefully using the broken rubble as a stairway. Magda reluctantly followed suit.

The beast may have remained, but the human torso that was Alcina? That was gone, crumbled to ashes. The body was also still. Seeing that, Magda sat down hard, shocked by it all. Luana at least made it to the corpse, but they soon collapsed as tears began to fall.

Theirs was an ugly crying, one that Magda had never heard from them before. It was a full body shaking, heaving from the gut sort of crying. Luana had been serving House Dimitrescu since they were a teenager, and they saw Alcina as a mother figure, so Magda could only imagine what they were going through.

Letting them grieve for a few minutes, Magda eventually stood and walked over to Luana, placing a hand on their shoulder.

It was then that the beast took a great, shuddering breath.

Instincts quickly took hold and Magda scrambled backwards, not wanting to risk being eaten, while Luana did the opposite and moved closer, overjoyed to see some sign of life coming from the creature. She expected to hear a scream or cry of pain from Luana, imagining the creature lunging forward and devouring the head servant in one or two gulps. But instead, when the seamstress looked back, she saw Luana petting its head, saying soft things to it in Portuguese as it just laid there, barely making any noise.

“You are either very brave, very trusting, or very stupid to be petting that thing,” Magda hissed, keeping her voice down low, as if raising it would trigger the beast to attack them both.

“It knows me… us. It won’t hurt us,” Luana replied calmly.

“How do you know that? How is it even still alive?! Alcina’s torso is gone! The thing should be dead!” In response to Magda’s outburst, the thing growled, slightly turning its head in her direction. “… All right, I’m clearly wrong in my assessment of life and death. But that still doesn’t explain why or how.”

“Separate functioning systems? Maybe it all… pinched shut when the torso disintegrated? Like a limb or a tree branch that’s dying? Save the main body?” Luana offered.

“I would have thought Alcina would have been the main body. Can she regenerate from this?” Magda asked. Luana simply shrugged.

“We take her back to the castle and see what happens over the next few hours or days.”

“Easier said than done,” Magda replied, gesturing to the rock they scaled down and the all too small door was the only other exit.

“If it is a simple creature, then it will respond to simple things like food. She will need to eat anyways. We lure it back with food,” Luana reasoned.

The kitchen was thusly raided and a good bit of the meat that was there removed; both cured and what was still fresh. Amazingly, despite having heard the shrieks of the thralls earlier, the kitchen was now devoid of them. Had they wandered back down into the dungeon after finding no prey? Or were they all dead? Magda could only wonder as she glanced towards that corridor, her eyes wanting to linger on the spot where she found Bela. No, she thought. No, Bela was safe in the sewing room with her sisters. Magda had made a brief detour to deposit Cassandra there, as well as retrieve a pair of shoes for herself, before joining back up with Luana in the kitchen.

Along with the meat, they also brought along two barrels from the tasting room, placed at strategic points along the route back to the castle, in case extra bribery was needed for the beast. By the time they had finished setting everything up, the Alcinadragon… for what else would you call it?… was on its feet, clumsily walking around its temporary enclosure. Naturally, after throwing down the first piece of meat, with it being consumed in a single bite, the beast’s attention snapped to the two of them as it began the effort of climbing its way up towards freedom.

Magda knew better than to run. After all, doing so would likely trigger hunting and chasing instincts. But still, once the massive forelimbs appeared and the beast pulled itself up and over the lip of the hole, she made sure to be a good distance away, keeping Luana between it and her.

While this was something she normally would never state, on pain of death, it was rather easy to lead this version of Alcina around by her stomach. So long as they had a trail of food, she was easy to please and keep relatively docile. In the end, they only needed one barrel as a treat, though it wasn’t quite that. As they passed it on the bridge, the creature must have smelled the contents, or perhaps recognized the shape…. but how that was possible, Magda had no idea, as it had no discernible eyes right now. Either way, the tooth lined maw easily engulfed the barrel and bit down, splintering the wood and draining the contents quickly. Afterwards, the creature seemed more agreeable.

Maybe it had just needed a drink.

By the time they had entered the Hall of The Four, the remaining castle staff had emerged from their hiding places. There were no reprimands or excuses given, only looks and sighs of relief. Bianca, Sylvia, and Mihaela quickly flocked to the form of the Countess who was currently gorging on wine and meat. Samuel latched themself onto Magda with a tight hug; one that she was not exactly ready to receive, but she was also not about to deny them this comfort. Vulga also soon joined in, likely in an effort to make Magda feel even more uncomfortable.

“If you two insist on being this close to me, I will be putting you to work,” Magda told them both before taking them to her workshop and retrieving the three sisters. Sam took Daniela, Vulga carried Cassandra, and Magda held Bela close. The urge to place the daughters next to their mother was great, but caution won out instead. Who knew if or how the Alcinadragon would react to seeing her children as nothing more than collections of flies? Yes, they were becoming more active, but there was no indication they were on their way to reforming back into their human shapes. They just need time, Magda thought. That’s all. They’ve been through trauma, and they just need time to recover.

Even though it was not yet midday, It was decided that everyone would spend the night in the Main Hall. It was the inner most room, central to most of the castle, and it was big enough to house all of them comfortably, even a dragon with a massive wingspan. There would be safety in numbers.

“Do you think he’ll come back?” Magda asked Luana quietly.

“No. As far as he is concerned, everyone here is dead. Whether that is true or not…” They paused, not wanting to say the unthinkable. Understanding, Magda nodded and finished their sentence.

“…It’s best to keep up that appearance.”

“Precisely. We keep everyone centralized for the time being. Close off and safeguard the exit points, stay quiet, and wait. With any luck, things will be different twenty-four from now. Or at least there will be an indication of a difference.” The look the two of them shared was one of tiredness and threadbare hope. There wasn’t much left to run on, but so long as the lady of the house still drew breath, no matter what form she took, they still had their duties to attend to.

“Even if the man isn’t coming back, no one is going down to the outer gatehouse and drawbridge by themselves. One of the lords is currently weakened, you are still recovering from being shot multiple times, and while my mind may be playing into the medieval hierarchy of things, I wouldn’t put it past other things going wrong and our current situation being taken advantage of. We’ll go together. It’ll be faster that way.”

Despite initial outward appearances, the castle was rather impenetrable once locked down. A drawbridge, three heavy doors of varying designs dividing the exterior gatehouse, a massive portcullis at the Carriage Gate, and a smaller, but just as fortified, portcullis on the interior of the entrance hall that kept the front doors closed from the outside. For all intents and purposes, they would be safe and secure.

More of the staff wanted to assist in the closing of the gatehouse, but they were dissuaded by a few other duties; securing the door leading to the temple, keeping an eye on Alcina, and gathering up any supplies they would need for the night. They were also greeted by another unexpected task upon opening the castle doors.

In the middle of the Carriage Gate rested four crates; three of a similar size and one that was noticeably larger. Nothing had been ordered, and the Duke had packed up his caravan, vacating his usual spot some time during the battle with Alcina. Yet the note tacked onto the larger crate was in his elaborate, flowing script:

I’d wager these treasures are of more use to you than I. Think of this as a thank you for your years of patronage, as well as a farewell gift for the time being. Keep them safe.

Bonne chance,

The Duke

The lids came off easily, and inside, nestled amongst packing material were… statues? Odd ones at that. Beautiful, crystalline, and perhaps a bit macabre, they were three busts and one massive torso with what seemed to be very familiar proportions. Either the Duke had a sick sense of humor or this was something else.

“Take these inside,” Magda instructed, still a bit confused as to what they were. “Be careful with them. Don’t damage them.” She then hurried to catch up with Luana who had decidedly not stopped to investigate the crates.

While neither of them ventured out into the village, the lack of the noisy day to day life that would normally filter up from it was obvious and more than a bit unnerving. Yes, there were the occasional barks and growls from whatever lycans were still prowling around the buildings, but there were no sounds of people. That lack of background noise twisted Magda’s stomach and made her raise the drawbridge that much faster.

“Tomorrow… Tomorrow, we will search the village. Look for survivors,” Luana reassured her.

“I don’t think there are any other survivors,” she replied morosely, as her thoughts immediately went to the one person outside the castle that Magda actually cared about. Stay safe, Donna. Please God, keep her safe.

With each barricade put into place, Magda felt both safer and more alone… cut off from everything. But this was what needed to be done. As the final portcullis fell into place in the entrance hall, a burden lifted from her shoulders. There was still that sick feeling in her stomach, but her back felt lighter.

Why? She didn’t know. She didn’t deserve to feel better.

Everything was starting to blur together, and she didn’t care anymore. Magda remembered entering the Main Hall and seeing the Alcinadragon curled protectively around the crystalline torso that shared the measurements of the Countess, growling at anyone who came near it. She didn’t care or wonder why. Someone called out her name as she climbed the stairs, but she ignored it, legs carrying her faster and faster as she went. She didn’t want to talk. Her head, neck, and chest felt hot. She felt smothered and unable to breathe. She needed to get away.

By the time she was in the Hall of Joy, Magda was running. The library was a blur, as was the opera hall. Her eyes were open, but they saw nothing, as if her brain was on automatic. All she cared about was getting away.

She slammed the door to her workroom shut, turning the lock as well in order to keep herself physically, mentally, and emotionally away from everyone. She managed to go a few steps into the room before her knees gave way and she collapsed into a heap. That’s when the floodgates of emotion just opened up. She screamed and wailed, tears falling uncontrollably. All the pain and the burdens accumulated from this day, from these past few hours, came roaring out.

She had no idea how long she cried, nor how many in the castle heard her. She didn’t know if anyone knocked on the door to check on her, nor did she care. She would have ignored it anyway. At one point early on in her anguish, her stomach heaved. Only bile came out, as she had eaten nothing this entire day, but the wretching continued until even that was entirely discarded from her system. She cried until her tears ran dry; until only hiccuping breathes and weary, burning eyes remained.

Throughout all of this, there was one constant in Magda’s mind. She knew that if anyone, and she did mean anyone, interrupted her in this moment, there would be hell to pay. The staff had seen her mad and frustrated before, but they had never seen her rage. If anyone tried to comfort or hold her right now, they would be met with punches, thrown objects, and a slew of filthy, hate-filled words that she would likely regret at a later date. Perhaps even shears to the intruder’s throat, if she could reach them in time.

She didn’t want comfort. She wanted this pain. She wanted to hurt.

But most of all, she wanted her Bela.

Eventually though, the pain did subside. It slowly dulled and dissipated. To say it was completely gone would have been a lie, but it had settled for the time being. Magda’s body ached, as did her head. The floor beside her was a mess, but she made an effort and took the time to clean up the bile. She couldn’t stand having such a thing lingering in her workshop, no matter her mood or the circumstances. The process also helped the seamstress return to a semblance of herself.

After a change of clothes, a quick washing of her face and brushing of her teeth, Magda made her way back to the main hall. Samuel was lingering in the hallway, shuffling around a bit in an effort to entertain themself while probably waiting for Magda to re-emerge.

“Hey, Magda? Are… are you okay? Do you need anything? A hug maybe?” they asked, holding their arms open. Magda just shook her head and continued on. “Ice cream, maybe? We could sit and watch a movie together Not a scary movie or anythin’, but I’ll sit and watch something you’d like if it makes you feel better.” At that, Magda just sighed.

“Sam? Right now, what I want? I can’t have. So, please? Just let me go sit in peace next to what is left of the woman I love. All right?”

“Yeah, um…. about that? Okay, so we brought the statue things in like you said, but as soon as we did, the dragon thing that Lady D turned into? Yeah, she got real defensive and grabbed the big statue and isn’t giving it up. So, we then took the smaller ones and the fly piles got really active. Like super, super active. I mean, they’re not buzzin’ around like normal or human, but-“ Magda didn’t even wait for Sam to finish. Once more, she was off and running.

The daughters were on the opposite side of the fireplace from the Alcinadragon, though pretty much everyone was on the opposite side from her, as she took up an entire length of the hall. Samuel had actually been right, as the flies were more active since the last time she saw them. While not swarming, they were crawling over the statues, or rather, individual statues. Now that she was able to look at them properly, Magda could discern the shapes of the daughters in the torsos. Bela’s she knew well enough, and Daniela was a bit slighter than Cassandra… and all the while the appropriate flies were crawling over the appropriate statues. She still had no idea what they were for, but clearly they held some importance.

Whether it had been intentional or not, someone had set Bela in the alcove under the stairs, allowing a bit of privacy and seclusion if it was needed. Obviously, Samuel or someone else had taken Magda’s breakdown into consideration. Normally, the seamstress did not enjoy having special things done for her, but at the moment, she was not about complain.

Sitting on a blanket with her back against the wall, Magda actually managed to take a breath and relax for the first time that day.

They were alive.

Whether due to the added heat, time to recover, or whatever these odd statues were, the daughters were alive and moving around. They would be all right. The Alcinadragon had a forelimb curled around her own statue, surrounded by her favorite maidens, and was practically asleep, if her breathing was any indication. She would be all right. None of the servants had been gravely injured in the long term. The current state of the castle was an odd miracle, but it was a miracle nonetheless.

Looking at the crystalline statue beside her, Magda gently placed her fingertips upon it, in hopes that it would pulse or feel abnormally warm. That wasn’t the case, but one of the pale yellow flies that had been idly traversing the torso’s clavicle almost immediately changed direction and climbed onto her hand. Smiling, either from happiness or exhaustion, she brought the insect closer as it proceeded to march into the palm of her cupped hand. It happily buzzed and bumped its head against her skin, settling down in the warmth as Magda gently stroked it.

As if energized by her touch, the fly took to the air and landed in the hollow of the seamstress’ neck, where it buzzed and bounced around more; its little wings tickling her just enough to elicit a soft laugh from Magda.

“Hi, stea mică…” she said softly, body instinctively relaxing to that sensation. Magda wasn’t sure if it was her exhaustion or something else, but as her eyes closed and sleep began to take her, she could have sworn she heard Bela’s voice in the drone of the fly.

I won’t be long.

EPILOGUE:

“Magda? Magda, wake up. Somethin’s happening,” Sam’s voice cut through the blackness of sleep. The seamstress groggily rubbed her eyes and looked around, remembering where she was. Instinctively, she looked over at the Bela statue, worried for a moment at that she would find. The concern was unfounded as it was mostly covered by a swarm of flies, more than what she had seen prior to falling asleep.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked, standing up. The Alcinadragon was still asleep, her harem of maidens still tending to her. If it was possible, she too looked healthier.

“There’s something goin’ on in the village. Luana told me to get you. They’re in Lady D’s bedroom.” That made sense. The Countess’ chambers had a view that overlooked the village. It was a smart place to scout from.

Making her way there, Magda discovered that night had fallen, meaning she had slept most of the day away. Why hadn’t they woken her up sooner? She didn’t need to have her sleep schedule even more messed up. However, the not so far off explosions made her decide otherwise, as she quickened her steps up the stairs.

Luana was out on the balcony of Alcina’s chambers, watching a veritable firefight going on in the village. Massive waving tendrils were erupting from the ground, knocking what looked like military helicopters out of the sky as explosions and gunfire rocked what was left of the buildings.

“Have they come towards the castle?” Magda asked after taking it all in.

“No,” Luana replied.

“Then unless they come towards the castle, it’s not our fight. I’m not about to start something with a group that has guns, explosions, and…” An airstrike briefly interrupted the seamstress as she talked. “Whatever the hell that is!”

“I simply thought you would like to be made aware of this. It was wise that we closed up everything when we did.” Magda didn’t know why Luana was making her seem more important than she actually was. They were the head servant. She was just the seamstress.

“…… You’re going to sit out here until it’s over, aren’t you?”

“Of course.” At that, Magda sighed.

“I’m not staying out here all night. It’s too cold. I’d suggest that you come in from the cold as well, but you’re just as stubborn as I am. I’ll be inside on the chaise lounge if you need me. Please don’t freeze out here, Luana. I’m not about to lose you after keeping you alive.” With that said, Magda went back inside and made herself comfortable on the Countess’ furniture, something she’d never do normally, but this wasn’t exactly normal circumstances. Come to think of it, the large hole in the floor was also out of the ordinary. That hadn’t been there earlier today… What had happened here after she left with Bela?

She must have fallen asleep, since the next thing she knew, Magda was woken up by the sudden slamming of a door, followed almost immediately by being rocked off the chaise lounge by an earth shattering explosion. Broken glass rained down on her as the shockwave smashed the windows. For a brief moment, she thought a nuclear device had gone off and she waited for the incineration wave to burn her to a crisp. When none of that happened, and the castle remained standing, she looked around.

Luana was crouched against the door leading to the balcony, covering their head out of instinct. Brushing the glass from her hair, Magda cautiously stood up and looked out the window. Smoke filled the air, but as the wind carried it away, she could see a decently sized crater in what had been the ceremony site. There was nothing left of the tendrils from last night, just like there wasn’t much left of the village.

“What in the hell happened?” she mumbled. “Do you even now think there are survivors?” she asked Luana. In response, they simply pointed to the distant shape of a quickly retreating helicopter. For a moment, anger blossomed in Magda’s chest. If that man was on that thing? How dare he be able to escape so easily after causing all this destruction. But the feeling and hatred vanished along with the helicopter. If he was gone, then so much the better. Better for him to be gone and forgotten than to remain a problem for them all.

“Goodbye and good riddance, stupid man-thing,” Magda said, before turning her back on the sunrise and returning, with Luana, to her family.

#drabble #one-shot #LONG oneshot #bela dimitrescu #Ethan Winters #alcina dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu

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reidsconverse · 3 years

Text

memories • spencer reid

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: none! just 4000 words of pure angst

This was an old fic reworked to be about around spencer so its taking a lottt of creative/artistic liberty with the character, so it kinda sucks im sorry! 😁

Every moment you had with him was one to be remembered and cherished for better or worse.

It had been a few weeks since Spencer had officially ended things, he had moved all of his stuff out of your apartment and now it seemed as if he had never even existed in the same place as you, as though you two were strangers. That is had it not been for the images of memories the two of you held. So, here you were sat alone in your room, your only company the half-empty bottle of wine and photographs of the two of you which sat strewn carelessly across your floor.

You picked up a picture and stared at it realising you both looked so happy. His arm was wrapped around your shoulder, a cup in his hand and his signature grin sitting across his face. Your head was leaning against his shoulder, the smile on your face reminding you of how free you had felt that night, you had never felt happier and you recognised that night as the night you realised...you were so in love.

"We should have a party," Spencer yelled despite there being no one else other than the two of you in the room.

"Right now?" You looked at him as if he was insane, not only was it completely out of character for your boyfriend but also, it was 1 am on a Wednesday and although your friends weren't those with a regular schedule you presumed most of them would decline a house party in the middle of the week.

"Yeah right now, c'mon doll I'll call Derek and some of the others and you call your friends." His hand was already on his phone texting Derek before you could protest so you followed his instructions and went ahead and invited your friends before getting up and preparing for this impromptu party.

It had only been 10 minutes when you heard Derek and some others open the door shouting for Spencer and you walked over with a grin on your face, "Hey D, Spencers being a diva and redoing his hair, he'll be right down." You said, rolling your eyes as Derek pulled you into a hug, he may have been Spencer's best friend but he thought of you as a sister and always treated you as such.

"Well I have look good for my girl," You heard Spencer say from behind you quickly placing a kiss on your cheek before doing his weird handshake with Derek, "Hey, thanks for coming'."

The three of you made your way to the kitchen to grab some drinks and greet some more guests who had congregated in that area and before you knew it, you were 4 shots in, feeling way past tipsy and in the mood to dance.

"Hey Spence," You said walking over to where he was now sat, a cup in his hand as he held a conversation with JJ and Emily about something that you didn't care too much about. You waved a quick hello to the girls so as not to be rude and then placed your head on his shoulder to let him know of your presence.

"Hey darling, you feeling good?" He turned his face and flashed you a wide grin before wrapping an arm around you to pull you close to him. He enjoyed being near you whenever he could, when he was away he would long for the days where all he did was sit and hold you close to him regardless of what the two of you were doing, so now whenever he had the chance he would hold you close.

"Feelin' great Spence.. wanna dance with you..." You said pulling out of his hold and grabbing his hand leading him onto the 'dance floor', which was just the open space in your living room. He laughed and quickly finished his drink, discarding the cup somewhere in the room and held you as you both danced to the music playing through the speakers.

After a couple of songs, you both made your way to get another drink and get a break from the crowd, you sat at the kitchen island and passed him a drink."You know, considering you're a genius, I would've thought you'd be able to coordinate a bit better." You said teasing him about his choice of moves which had essentially been him waving his arms in the air attempting to be in tune with the music.

He looked at you in fake shock and scoffed, "Yeah well it was still better than whatever you were trying to do." Referring to your horrendous attempt at trying to be sexy which in truth was never going to be anything but embarrassing. You stuck your tongue out in a childish manner causing him to laugh and quickly move to place his lips against yours giving you a soft kiss.

You jumped down from the counter after pulling back as a couple of your friends walked in and struck up a conversation about nothing interesting yet you made the effort to look engaged as Spencers's arm slipped over your shoulders and you placed your head against his shoulder.

"Hey guys, look here." You both turned to see your friend Harry, as always with a polaroid camera in his hand. You and Spencer gave each other a quick smile before grinning wide for the camera, both your faces full of love and happiness.

You sat there thinking about how quickly things can change, the people in the image you held so young and naive to the struggles the future would hold. Taking another sip of your wine you skimmed through some more pictures before stopping at one that held a bittersweet meaning. A picture that was taken a few days after what had been your worst fight, you both looked happy but all you could think about the events leading up to the image being taken.

It was your and Spencers 5th anniversary and he had promised he would make it to dinner. You hadn't seen each other in weeks because he was away on a case but he had promised he wouldn't miss this day, he had asked for permission from Hotch to leave for a couple of days so he would be there. "No excuses, No ifs and buts...I'll be there babe. I promise."

But there you were, alone at a table for two. The look on the waiters face held nothing but pity as he walked over for the fourth time to ask if someone would be joining you. Finally, you gave up and shook your head to let him know you would be leaving and would like the cheque. You had never felt so humiliated walking out of the restaurant head held high but tears building up in your eyes and so you cried. You felt so broken, almost as broken as all those promises Spencer had made you. The word promise and sorry had lost all meaning in the last 5 years, simply a courtesy rather than meaningful.

The minute you got home your phone began ringing, it was Spencer.

"Hey doll, I'm so sorry I couldn't make it, the team wanted to go out last night and I kind of missed my -." He began to explain causing you to scoff, 'no ifs or buts' my ass.

"How could you?" Your voice cracking as you tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill for the second time that night. "I waited for 2 fucking hours Spencer, I felt like a fucking idiot."

"What? What are you talking about?" His voice was full of confusion. "Didn't you get my text?"

"No, I fucking didn't. I didn't get a fucking text. But that's not the fucking point, You should've been here, you promised you would be here."

"Babe, I'm so -," He began but you knew what he was gonna say. The only conversations you seemed to have were stuck on a loop like a broken record.

"Save it. Don't say you're sorry when you don't mean it, stop saying sorry and show it instead."

"Look, I'll get on the first flight out. I'll see you in a few hours, I'll make it up to you I prom-." You hung up the phone before he could continue, his promise worth nothing to you anymore. Walking over to the couch, you fell asleep the minute your head rested against one of the many cushions populating the seat.

You woke up to keys jingling in the door, yet you made no effort to move from where you were. The sound of his footsteps got louder as he approached.

"Babe? I know you're up." He said, kneeling beside you making you sigh and sit up. "Babe, I'm so sorry. I fucked up."

You just stared at him, it might have been petty but you didn't want to give in to his apologies just yet, he had to understand just how much he had hurt you first.

"I couldn't care less anymore, Spencer. I just need to remember that I'll always come second to work and that's fine, it's important to you and I understand that." You got up and walked over to the kitchen to gather yourself.

"Babe you are the most important thing to me, I'm sorry-."

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. "Here we go again, Spencer there's only so many times you can say you're sorry before it loses all meaning. I'm sick and tired of this, I don't know if I can do this anymore. You're never here, you make promises you can never keep and I'm pretty sure you've told me you're sorry more times than you've told me you love me."

"Please don't do this. I love you." His voice was shaking, breaking down at the thought of you leaving him. He moved over to you and turned you so you were facing him. "I know this means nothing to you but I am so sorry. I've been so shitty to you and I know it."

"Spencer, I deserve better than this and I'm sick of forgiving you and acting like I'm fine with how you treat me, you might not mean it but it fucking hurts. I love you so much and I know you love me but would it kill you to put me first for once in your fucking life."

This annoyed him, the lack of sleep and being overworked leaving him less patient and more irritable, "That's not fucking fair, you knew what you were signing up for when you started dating me, I'm doing my fucking best. I go to work for US, to support US. If I could devote all of my time to you if I could, but I can't and it fucking kills me. You can't understand how much I miss you when I'm not here."

Tears welled in your eyes seeing him breakdown, unable to keep up the unbothered facade you had on, "I just...Spence, I miss you too. It hurts not being able to be near you and so when you're not there when you promise you will be, it hurts it really fucking hurts not to mention it's terrifying, how am I supposed to know you're ok if you do shit like that."

He pulled you into his arms as you sobbed into his chest, all the emotions you'd kept bottled up during the argument letting go. "I know baby, I'm so sorry I hurt you. I promise, and I mean it this time, I won't let you down again. I love you." He mumbled into your hair, slowly kissing your forehead whilst consoling you and holding you like he never wanted to let go.

The two of you went to bed that night in silence, not a word was spoken until the next day wherein Spencer switched off his phone and dedicated the whole weekend to you and only you. He kept his word once he had to leave, always fulfiling his promises, never pushing you to the side and communicating with you always. The two of you felt strong again, you were happy.

You put your glass down and walked out of your room and began pacing around the living room, pictures of you and him still up on your walls, the walls that no longer belonged to the both of you. You thought back to when he asked you to move him, how nervous he was and how excited you were.

It was movie night at Spencers house. Each week he invited everyone over to watch a film, everyone taking it in turns to select a film. This week Emily had chosen Midsommar, a film you were yet to see so you were excited. You were sat beside Spencer on the loveseat, his arm around you and your face resting against his chest, a blanket covering you both for extra comfort. You looked up and saw Derek and Penelope lay spread across the floor whilst JJ and Emily sat on the sofa. Bowls of popcorn and sweets were scattered around the room and beer bottles were piling up. It was nights like this that you wanted to treasure forever, for the first time you felt like you had a family, people to call your own, people you could trust.

"Watcha thinking about?" Spencer asked, glancing at you and realising your mind wasn't directed at the movie anymore.

"Nothing, just really lucky to have you in my life," You reached your hand up to hold his face and gave him a soft kiss. "I love you."

He pulled you in closer if that was even possible, "I love you too."

"Ugh, get a room." Derek groaned making you both chuckle.

Spencer responded by throwing some popcorn at him, "Aw is someone jealous, don't worry you'll find someone soon enough."

Derek murmured a quiet, "Fuck off" before turning his attention back to the movie, making everyone laugh.

The movie ended shortly and everyone was discussing what to watch next, you were in the mood for a comedy but Derek wanted to watch Die Hard for the millionth time. After several minutes of slight arguing, you finally decided on rewatching Moana for the 12th time.

Everyone was pretty much settled, drinks refilled, popcorn replenished and everyone back in their positions. Emily was about to press play before JJ stopped her, "Wait before you start I'm kinda cold can I borrow a sweater?" She asked Spencer.

"Yeah sure, take one from our room." He said casually like it was normal but it made your breath hitch in your throat, did he just say our room? As in, yours and his. Unofficially he wasn't wrong, it was your room as much as his, you spent pretty much every night here making having your own apartment redundant, but he hadn't yet asked you to move in with him. You couldn't help the small blush on your face and the way your lips turned upwards at his words. It made you happy knowing he thought of it as something for both of you.

"What has you so happy?" Penelope asked in a teasing tone, she'd picked up on Spencer words and knew exactly why you were smiling.

You just stuck your tongue out at her and looked up at Spencer, "Our room huh?" You asked making him smile.

"Yeah I mean, you're here every day, maybe more than I am. You should just move in at this point." He let out a little laugh after he said leaving you confused as to whether he was being serious, so you just laughed along and waited for JJ to come back so you could start the movie.

A couple of hours later almost everyone was half asleep, everyone apart from you and Spencer. You began making your way to his room followed by him carrying the blanket he had taken from his bed. The two of you went about your night routine, Spencer had insisted on keeping at least half of your things at his place hence why you never had to leave. You quickly changed into one of his shirts which fit you just right and climbed into bed where he was already sitting, reading a book.

"Spence, were you being serious...earlier when you said I should move in?" You asked him, making him put down his book and look at you.

"Would you like that? You don't have to say yes but I would love it if you moved in. The mornings when I wake up and you're still next to me, are the best mornings. Honestly, knowing I'm going to wake up next to you makes falling asleep easier. Plus Tesla and Edison love you, maybe even more than they loves me." He asked, the mention of his fish making you laugh despite the fact your eyes were welling up, what had you done to deserve the sweetest man to walk the earth.

You shifted yourself so you were straddling him and held his face in your hands, "I would love to move in with you." You answered placing a soft kiss to his lips.

"I love you so much," He said as you moved back to laying down next him. "You make me the happiest man alive and I'm so lucky to have you."

"God, Spence you gotta stop before I start crying, I love you too." You said, as he laughed and pulled you into a comfortable sleeping position.

"Goodnight love." He mumbled, already falling asleep.

"Goodnight Spence." You responded, closing your eyes and beginning to drift off but not before saying, "By the way, the fishies definitely love me more."

You hadn't realised you were crying until a tear fell onto the frame you were holding. The image just as blurred as the memories it held. You carefully placed the image face down onto the table rather than placing it back up. Making your way to the sofa, you got your phone out and glanced at the image that had left you in this state. A picture of him and her, his hands holding hers as tight as they once held yours, the grin on both of their faces wide. He was happy, only it wasn't because of you anymore. You closed your eyes again, remembering how it all ended.

He had been distant since he had come back from this last case, he had been away for almost two months trying to catch this unsub and you had thought he'd be more excited to come back to you and finally be home. But he hadn't spent more than 10 minutes with you, the only time the two of you were in the same room for longer than that was when you fell asleep. Recently that had also stopped, he spent more nights away from home and at clubs with Derek and Emily , only coming back once he knew you weren't there. It was killing you but every time you questioned it he shrugged you off, telling you he loved you.

You wanted to scream at him if he loved you why isn't he showing it, why does he refuse to acknowledge you. You knew he was lying to you, he didn't love you anymore, you could see it in his eyes, how he never looked at you as he used to, he never held you like he used to. It was killing you and you knew you should ask him but you also knew that would lead to conversation you didn't want to have, an ending you didn't want to happen. So you kept quiet, went about your day and didn't question his actions, you had decided you would rather have the worst of him than not have him at all.

But that didn't last long. A few weeks later something happened, something you could ignore. Spencer had barely been home, only coming back to grab new clothes and leaving again often returning at 4 am or not all. The nights you spent alone, his side of the bed going cold broke your heart bit by bit. But you weren't ready for it to completely shatter, the images Penelope sent you of him holding that girl, a little too close, a little too tight, a little too much, start to fill your screen causing a lump in your throat and tears threatening to spill. You walked to the kitchen, surprised to see him there, he was sat at the counter head in his hands and a coffee in front of him.

"Spencer, what fuck is going on?" You all but shouted.

"Shh, my heads killing me." He said, burying his head in his hands attempting to block you out.

"You fucking asshole." You screamed at him, the pain and hurt evident in your broken voice as you tried your best not to cry.

This made him look up, far quicker than he should've causing his head to fill with pain and throb, but he didn't care, the memories of last night were coming back he knew he had fucked up. "I-I'm sorry, I was drunk and she was just there, nothing happened.

"You're sorry? Are you fucking kidding me?" You said, moving away from him as he got up to come closer to you. "No, don't fucking touch me. I'm done."

"What? No look I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I love you." The words were said, but the tone held so much uncertainty you couldn't tell if he was trying to convince you or himself.

"No you don't Spencer, not anymore. I know you don't and I've been lying to myself, saying that I'm ok with it when I'm not. I love you so much but I can't keep hurting myself by pretending like we're fine, We're not fine, we haven't been for a long time. Yes that fucking hurts, I thought we were forever, I thought we were going to grow old together and have kids and show them that we were soulmates. I thought we were perfect but we aren't."

"I never wanted to hurt you, I love you so much but-" He started with a sigh.

"You're not in love with me anymore..." You finished for him

"I'm so sorry. I wish things were different, I wish I could control how I felt. You were everything to me, I really did picture a future for us but things changed, I don't know why and I don't know how. You don't deserve this, I'm so sorry."

"I know Spence, I know." You moved closer to him and he held you like it was the last time... because it was. "I'm sorry too."

You pulled away from him."I'll grab some stuff and go stay at my mom's for a few days. I just need to find a new place to move my stuff to." You said, trying to brush some tears away but failing as they kept falling.

"No, it's fine. I'll go, this is just as much your home as it is mine. I'll stay with Derek for a bit, you take your time sorting stuff out ok?" He said, using his thumbs to attempt to wipe away your tears. You sighed but nodded knowing he wouldn't take no for an answer.

You sat down as he went to the room to gather some things, your mind reeling from the last half hour. How could so much change in such a short period of time, years spent together thrown away so quick.

"I'm done, I'll get going ok?" He said placing his duffel bag down beside by the door.

"So this is it huh?" You said, with a sigh. You felt him walk towards you and take a seat next to you.

"The last 10 years have been the most incredible time of my life, you put up with so much of my shit and loved me unconditionally and I can't thank you enough for giving the eager 25-year-old who wanted nothing more than to impress you a chance. I'm never going to stop loving you, you know that. I'm never gonna forget about you, my first love, the first woman to capture my heart. I'm so sorry things didn't work out like how we'd imagined them. If I could change how I feel I would, I wanted nothing more than for this to be a silly phase, for me to wake up one day and feel how I felt again. But it didn't happen and it fucking sucks."

"I get it, Spence, you have to do what makes you happy and I'm not gonna stop you. I'm just sorry it wasn't me that could give you want and need, but you're gonna make some girl out there very happy if you're even half the man you were when you were with me." You gave him a soft smile as he stroked your hair and kissed your forehead.

He stood up and walked to the door. "Call me when you're ready ok? I love you." He turned and gave you a soft smile before picking up his bag and walking out the door.

You just broke down, you don't know how long you sat there sobbing your heart out but it felt like forever. Everything hurt so bad you didn't think you'd ever feel any emotion other than heartbreak for as long as you lived.

You took a deep breath as your hand hovered over the delete button on your phone, it was time to move on just as he had. As you released the breath you were holding, your finger pressed against the button, deleting all the pictures you had with him and you felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders and the realisation sunk in.

You loved him so much, but he wasn't yours to love anymore.

He was just a memory.

tagged: @gcblers @187-reid @mgg-theprettiestboy @mggbler @snitchthewitch

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer fluff #my works!

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Text

just know that i will be with you

@911lonestarangstweek day 1 - c is for...crutches, cry, care

title from moon by jonah kagen

follow on to the meetings for those in my wake

ao3 | 1.5k | recovery, hurt tk, supportive carlos, brain damage

Carlos chews on his lip as he parks the Camaro outside the 126, glancing nervously over at TK. It’s been six months since the attack that almost took him away from them, three since TK was discharged from the hospital, and the first time either of them have been here during that time. Carlos had wanted to wait even longer, but TK had insisted, and it’s always been hard to refuse him anything.

It’s even harder now; coming within a hair’s breadth of losing him has only made Carlos more willing to give TK anything he needs. Even if that includes bringing him to the place his life had, metaphorically and almost literally, ended.

“I called ahead to tell your dad that we were coming,” he says softly, keeping his tone low so as not to startle TK. “He says the team are looking forward to seeing you.”

TK smiles at that, a little lopsided, breaking his gaze from the window to look at Carlos. It’s clear how excited he is; though the team have been visiting frequently both while TK was still in hospital and since he was discharged, Carlos knows TK has missed being at work and hanging with them at the station. It’s been an adjustment for sure, and it was hard for TK to accept that he’d never be able to return to his old job again. They’d had many a conversation about it, most of them ending with TK getting angry, then breaking down in tears in Carlos’s arms, his emotions harder to control since the incident.

Hopefully, when TK’s more independent, he’ll be able to find something to do, but for now he’s mostly stuck at home, and it’s been wearing on them both. Carlos is glad to get out, even if this is the last place he wants to bring TK.

“You ready?” he asks, smiling as TK nods enthusiastically. He quickly jogs out of the car and runs to the other side before TK gets any ideas about trying to get out himself—yet another ‘conversation’ they’ve had too many times—and grabs TK’s crutches from the back seat. If Carlos had his way, TK would still be using the wheelchair regularly, but on some things, it’s better to admit defeat than to push.

That doesn’t stop him from packing it in the trunk at all times, just in case.

TK scowls at the crutches but accepts them without complaint, slowly levering himself upright with Carlos’s help. He’s getting better at walking now, and Carlos can’t help but smile with pride as he remembers how hard TK has worked to get where they are.

It’s been a long, long road, and sometimes it’s felt never-ending. But seeing TK’s progress these past months, how much better he is compared to those first few days when there was still the fear that his body could give out at any moment… Well, Carlos considers it nothing short of a miracle.

Both the ambulance and the firetruck are parked in the bay when they enter the station and it doesn’t take too long for them to locate the team, all gathered around the kitchen counter. The new paramedic, Lukas, is there too—and this is one of the parts that Carlos had been worried about.

In truth, Lukas has been with the 126 for months, ever since it became clear that TK wouldn’t be able to come back even if he did pull through. He’s a good guy and fits in well, but he’s also TK’s replacement, so this meeting could go either way.

The team call out greetings as they approach and Lukas stands up, a wide grin on his lips. “TK, right?” he says, holding a hand out. “I’ve heard loads about you—man, I’m so sorry for what happened, really. It sucks.”

Carlos winces at the mention of the incident and watches TK carefully for his reaction. He stares in confusion at Lukas’s hand for a long moment before his brain seems to work out what he’s supposed to do. He takes his left hand out of the crutch, Carlos taking it and steadying him as he does so, and slowly shakes Lukas’s, eyeing him warily.

“H-Hi,” TK says eventually, Lukas’s good mood apparently infectious as he starts to smile. Carlos sighs in relief, then helps TK over to the counter and into a chair, fussing more than is probably necessary to make sure he’s comfortable. “Carlos, I’m fff-fine,” TK protests, though he’s grown more than used to Carlos’s protective behaviour by now.

Carlos just leans up to kiss TK’s forehead. “I know,” he whispers, stroking his cheek before sliding into the chair next to him. “I know you are.”

He’s pleasantly surprised by how smoothly things go from there. After all this time, the team are more than used to TK’s condition and Lukas learns quickly, adjusting his tone and mannerisms when he notices TK flinching at the louder noises and sudden movements. Seeing TK’s smile and his obvious happiness at being around the crew allows Carlos to relax too, and he finds himself pulled into a conversation with Paul and Marjan on the merits of chunky vs. smooth peanut butter.

Of course, things can never be simple for them. Carlos is about to suggest they get going—he’s noticed TK starting to flag, though he’s been making a valiant effort for the team’s sake—when the alarm starts blaring through the station and the crew jump into action.

It’s a scene TK has known his entire life, but the blows to the head he’d taken during the attack left him more sensitive to certain things, unable to process them as quickly as he used to. Judging by the panic that floods his face and the way he claps his hands to his ears, this is clearly one of them.

TK’s shock has him scrambling to get off his chair and out of the firehouse, but his diminished coordination and the fact that his hands are otherwise occupied send him pitching forward instead. Carlos is off his own seat in an instant, catching TK and holding him close to his chest, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

Lukas catches his eyes as he runs past and he pauses for a moment, eyeing TK. “He okay?” he asks worriedly, and Carlos nods.

“It’ll pass.”

And it does; five minutes later, after the engines have pulled out and the noise has died down, TK starts pressing on Carlos’s chest, a sure sign that he needs space. Carlos steps back willingly, though not before making sure TK is steady on his feet. A bright flush colours his cheeks and he won’t meet Carlos’s eyes, and Carlos knows what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth.

“I’m s-s—” TK frowns and breathes slowly, concentrating hard. Carlos stays silent, knowing that this is something TK needs to figure out himself. “I—”

He growls in frustration, his eyes welling with tears. For all the progress TK has made, his recovery hasn’t been linear, and after a scare like the alarm just now, it’s harder for him to connect his brain and his mouth. They’ve been trying to take this one step at a time, but it’s been hard for them both, and TK always feels like he’s failing whenever he struggles to get a word out or when his fingers fumble over an everyday task.

Carlos has tried to tell him that it’s okay, but his husband is so stubborn that sometimes it feels like a lost cause.

TK’s hands are clenched into fists so tight that his nails must be cutting into his palms, so Carlos steps forward and takes them in his own, telegraphing his movements clearly.

“Hey, hey,” he says softly, worming his fingers in between TK’s. “Don’t do that. You’ll get there, it’s okay.”

TK sniffs, still refusing to look at Carlos, and snatches one of his hands back to wipe roughly at his eyes. Too rough, but Carlos isn’t able to stop him before a bright red scratch appears under his left eye—whether it was deliberate or not, he can’t tell, but it doesn’t make much of a difference. Carlos catches his hand again and holds them tight, pulling TK into his side.

“Let’s go home, huh?” he says, knowing that more reassurances will likely lead to more resistance from TK.

Thankfully, TK nods, and he allows Carlos to support him as they walk out the station. He stares despondently out the window once he’s situated, but he looks over when Carlos gets in too, which feels like a win in itself.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice clear, and Carlos can tell that the feat even makes TK a little happier.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Carlos says, leaning over to kiss him. “I’m proud of you.”

And, if TK’s bright grin is any indication, Carlos knows that he’s proud of himself too.

#911lsangstweek #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #lone star #911ls #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #userbones #userjillian #tuserpaige #tuserjamie #reyeslonestartag

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dontatmethanks · 3 years

Text

Title: Baby Fever

-Modern universe / Gang AU-

Summary: Hange wants a baby, Levi is resourceful about it because he loves his mess of a wife.

———

“I want a baby!”

Levi choked, a bit of whiskey went up his nose as he broke out into a coughing fit. He stared in disbelief at his wife who giggled at his reaction, Moblit hesitantly reached over to firmly pat on his boss’ back.

“Wha-“

“I want a baby, Levi!” Hange slurred.

Ah, she was already drunk off of her stupid ass.

She made a whining sound at the back of her throat and leaned her head down on the wooden surface of the bar table. The lot of them were having a little meeting amongst themselves to discuss business and they may have allowed Hange to order a few too many drinks.

“Um..” Nanaba blinked, hovering her hand over her inebriated friend’s back. She flinched when Hange’s head shot up and she pouted at Levi, scooting over in the booth to hug his arm.

“A little one, like you…that would be so cute.” She cooed and leaned her head on his shoulder.

Eld glanced at Abel from across the table and mouthed- ‘Oh my God.’

There was a snort and Levi shot a glare in Mike’s direction as he tried to pull his arm free from Hange’s grip but it only tightened.

“Get a grip four eyes, the meeting isn’t over.” He hissed.

“But this is important-“

“We’ll talk about it later.” She sighed and loosened her grip slightly, reaching over to grab his glass of half drunken whiskey. He quickly intercepted her hand and moved the glass away.

“You’ve had enough.”

“You’re so mean to me you know.” The brunette deadpanned with one of her angry little pouts which he would’ve found to be cute if his entire squad wasn’t around to witness it.

One of the waitresses from the bar wandered over to collect the empty glasses, she blushed a bit when Oluo made eye contact with her from the other table beside the both. He and Gunther were cleaning their guns, Oluo made a show out of it when she arrived. She smiled and shook her head, turning to the booth.

“Can I get any of you anything else?”

Levi glanced up at her and shook his head. “No thank you, Petra, we’re fine for n-“

“A baby, I want a baby.” Hange cut him off, staring at Petra dead in the eyes.

“O-Oh?” The ginger haired waitress blinked in shock and both Oluo and Gunther burst out into laughter, Levi could feel his eye twitching.

“What’s funny?!” Hange whined and threw her head back, there was an audible thump from when the back of her head connected with the seat of the booth. She winced and Levi clicked his tongue as he sipped his hand over her head to massage the tender spot.

The one who had been silent this whole time, Erwin smith- the Don of their organization- cleared his throat to bring everyone’s attention back to him.

“..Patrols tonight, Gunther and Eld take the east side, Moblit and Abel west, Mike and Nanaba south, Keiji and Oluo take the North.” They all nodded and began to get up, checking their guns and other weapons as they began to shuffle out of the bar. Erwin watched them leave before sliding his gaze back to the last pair in front of them, Petra scampered off to continue working.

Hange was tugging at Levi’s shirt collar so she could press her lips to his neck, he tried to pull her off but it seemed as if all of the alcohol she had consumed had given her some new kind of strength.

“Christ Levi, take her to bed, do us all a favor and knock her up already.” Erwin shook his head as he got up, resisting a smirk at the last part.

Levi grumbled curses directed at the man as he walked out of the bar. He huffed and glanced down at his wife who was mumbling some nonsense about babies as she traced a finger down the lapels of his suit jacket. He sighed and helped her out of the booth, she stumbled on her feet a bit but he held her firmly against him so that she wouldn’t fall flat on her face. It was a convenient thing that they lived in the flat above the bar- she moved in as soon as they had gotten engaged. He had quick access to his bar and it made sure that they made it home safely.

Hange grunted when he dumped her onto the bed and began to unlace her boots so he could pull them off. She squirmed and huffed, pulling her feet out and sitting up on her knees. The brunette gave him a sultry look- it would’ve been effective if her glasses weren’t sitting askew on her face- he grinned and he plucked her glasses off.

“We could make one now.” Hange chirped as he set the glasses aside. She gripped the front of his suit jacket and pulled him close.

“Han-“

She nearly ripped the jacket off of him and began trying to unbutton his shirt, although her hand to eye coordination was subpar due to her drunk state. He clicked his tongue and gripped her wrists, pulling her hands off of him and pushing her down onto the bed.

“No, you’re way to drunk. Time for bed.”

A drawn out whine left her and she pulled Levi down with her, he had to catch himself with his hands on either side of her face so he wouldn’t crush her- as if that were even possible.

“Please Levi-“ She slid her arms around her husband’s neck and hooked a leg over his hip to press him closer to her.

“I love you.”

His breath hitched when she whispered into his ear and shivered when she tugged his lobe between her teeth in a teasing manner, grinning at his reaction afterwards. His eyes fluttered shut for a brief second as he sighed softly, she took this as permission to pepper his jaw and neck with open mouthed kisses. It was quickly cut short when Levi pulled back and took her face in his hands.

“Hange, I love you, but I’d rather not a make a decision this important while you’re pissed drunk.” He spoke softly, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone.

His words seemed to sober her up a little, she nodded and let him finish undressing her for bed. Once she was just in her shirt and underwear, he dressed down to his underwear as well and rejoined her on the bed. Hange smiled, blinking sleepily as she reached out to him with grabby hands. He obliged and settled into her arms, wrapping his own around her middle.

“We can talk about it later.” She mumbled into his hair once he settled his head on her chest. He hummed in agreement and reached over to turn off the lamp on their bedside table, flooding the room with a comfortable darkness.

•

A few days later, sometime around noon, Hange was working on her laptop in the bar which was pretty much empty. It was a Tuesday, not a lot of people went day drinking on Tuesdays anyways. She decided to work from home that day in favor of spending more time with Levi when he got back from a warehouse operation that Erwin organized. Petra was keeping her company, the two had become pretty close ever since she had been employed at the bar. The ginger didn’t mind listening to her work ramblings, she quite liked Hange’s animated side.

Hange thanked her when she prepared her a sweet drink, but frowned when she took a sip. “There’s no alcohol in this.”

Petra gave her an apologetic grin. “After the last time you were day drinking Levi gave me specific instructions to keep you sober unless he was around.”

The older woman rolled her eyes and took another sip. “I break one chair, one time…”

“And you nearly fell off the bar counter and split your head open.” Petra deadpanned.

“Okay, fair.” Hange chuckled and turned her attention back to her work.

A while later Levi showed up, Hange saw him enter the bar from the corner of her eye and waved without looking away from the screen of her laptop. She heard Petra greet him, her tone was surprised which was odd because she knew that he would be showing up. At her tone, Hange glanced up at her and then followed her gaze to Levi who was approaching her at the bar.

“Hey-“ She paused when she saw what was in his arms.

“Um…Levi?”

“Yes?”

“Is that…what is that?”

“A baby, Hange, you’ve seen these before.”

He was indeed holding a baby in his arms along with what seemed to be a baby blue diaper bag with elephants on it. The baby was of course very cute, he had soft brown hair and big green eyes- oh he had the chubbiest cheeks, how dare Levi do this to her.

“Yes, okay, but why do you have it?”

“He, four eyes, his name is Eren.” Levi corrected her in a matter of fact tone as he adjusted his grip on the baby.

“…Levi, did you kidnap that child? Tell me the truth.” Hange closed her laptop and slowly got up from the stool she was sitting on to approach them.

“Don’t be an idiot, I didn’t kidnap him, he’s Carla’s kid.”

She sighed in relief, placing a hand over her chest. Carla was the wife of their doctor, he usually patched them up if anyone were to get injured, which happened quite often with the kind of business they were in.

“Okay… and why do you have her son?” She tilted her head, unable to resist a smile when Eren reached a tiny hand up to Levi’s face.

“Her and Grisha are both working and their sitter fell sick, and since we’ve been discussing babies I thought that this would help figure out if we really can really commit to having one.” Levi shrugged, gabbing Eren’s hand before he could poke his eye out.

“Oh Levi..” Hange’s smile widened and she shook her head. Seeing him with that baby was making her stomach flip like crazy.

“Here, take him.” He said as he held the baby out to her.

She nodded eagerly and took the child in her arms, cooing softly while she pressed her cheek against his chubby one. Eren chirped happily and gripped the loose strands of her hair, tugging them as he flapped his arms.

“Hello to you too!” Hange laughed, prying her hair out of his grip with a wince.

Levi set the diaper bag on the bar counter when his phone began to buzz with a call. He fished it out of his pocket and answered it, pressing a kiss to Hange’s cheek before excusing himself to the back. A small whimper came from the baby when he watched Levi leave, Hange bounced him a little to cheer him up.

“That must be an important call, Erwin probably.” She smiled gently and brushed a hand through his hair, inhaling softly. “So this is what babies smell like…It’s quite nice.”

Eren only babbled some baby nonsense in response and Hange found it to be one of the most fascinating things in the world. With her work forgotten and left to be continued later, she walked over to one of the farthest corner booths of the bar and settled down with the baby on her lap. Petra joined her to fawn over him as well, the two women were absolutely entranced. Eren was enjoying the attention, smiling a toothless smile and letting out gleeful giggles when they would tickle his belly or blow raspberries on his cheeks.

That’s how Levi found them after finishing his call, he suppressed a smile and made his way over to the booth.

“There was an emergency at the meet up with Zeke’s crew, they drew their weapons, Abel was hit.”

Both Hange and Petra sat up straight with wide eyes, the brunette held Eren close to her chest with his head laying on her shoulder as he chewed on his fist.

“Is he okay? How bad is it? I should go with you-“ Levi held his hand up to stop her.

“He’s okay, it isn’t critical, we’re bringing him to Grisha’s. Stay here with Petra and the kid, I’ll be back soon.”

Hange’s brows furrowed with concern but she nodded, handing Eren over to Petra so she could get up and follow him out to his car.

“Be careful, please.” Levi paused and turned to face her, keys in hand. His coat shifted at the movement, she caught a glimpse of his gun holstered at his side.

“I will.” He promised, reaching up to cup the back of her neck and pull her head down for a kiss.

She smiled against his lips, despite her worry, and cradled his face in her hands. Her thumb stroked his cheek gently, holding the kiss for as long as possible- or until Levi pulled away. She nearly pouted but let go.

“Get inside, take the kid upstairs with you when Petra leaves.” He told her before getting into his car and driving off.

#levihan #snk #aot #levi ackerman #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #hange zoe #hanji zoe #levi x hanji #levi x hange #levihan fic #levihanfanfic #levihan fanfiction

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senadimell · 3 years

Text

The Mysterious Benedict Society as an adaption

So far, The Mysterious Benedict Society adaption feels very faithful to the books. There are definitely changes (Constance, for instance, has been aged up, and likely has a different background. This is understandable. It would be nigh impossible to portray her as she is in the books in live action format--for example, none of the kids in the book suspect she’s a toddler, let alone two years old). However, most changes have all felt reasonable and add to plot and pacing.

I especially enjoy the additions: showing the adult side of the team, for example, or Ms. Perumal’s growing concern about Reynie’s whereabouts, or the girls’ nighttime conversations. Some changes are more extreme. The Mr. Curtain of the books is clearly a villain. He’s condescending and rude, and the only people who like him are bullies. Mr. Curtain of the show is much smoother. It’s easy to see how he’s managed to influence people. Similarly, the L.I.V.E. curriculum is much less obnoxious in the show (not just memorizing nonsense by rote), and as a result, the school’s students seem less stupid and cruel. You can see why they enjoy attendance.

I’m particularly pleased that Number Two’s weirdness has been amplified. Mr. Benedict’s found family is delightfully strange, and I love watching their unusual rhythms. It will be easy to believe when (or if) it’s revealed that the women have been legally adopted into Mr. Benedict’s family.

Similarly, I love how they intensified the quirky feel of the setting and characters. Of course Number Two built a house in the woods in a day because she has a woodworking hobby. Of course there’s secret tunnels and drawers and compartments in Mr. Benedict’s house. Of course Milligan’s disguises and mannerisms are wackily memorable instead of just matter-of-fact. The books themselves have a stylized feel at times (they kind of remind me of Lemony Snickett’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, though with none of the grimness).

I love the overall aesthetic. When I first read the books, they didn’t strike me as being set in the past, but the vaguely vintage feeling works excellently. (I was also a fully grown adult before I realized that the Incredibles wasn’t set in the present, so...) The color schemes, costumes, and sets have distinctive feelings and coordinate well. The effect is stylized rather than naturalistic, which is appropriate and amplifies the tone of the scenes. The bright colors and rough textures of the wooded hideout and its inhabitants’ costumes contrast nicely with the clean lines of tL.I.V.E.’s vintage-pastel interior and sleek exterior.

I also enjoyed the way they did Kate’s flashback as rough home footage. Similarly, I enjoyed the way they showed four kids solving problems on the same screen, how they illustrated Reynie’s thought process with overlaid sketches of the problems, and the way words show up on the screen during the tests for emphasis. The combination of animations, showing multiple things at once, and creative angles for emphasis did a great job conveying the feeling of the tests. (Unfortunately, I lack the vocabulary to describe the techniques they used here).

There’s two things I didn’t enjoy. The first was killing Sticky’s parents to make him an orphan. It mattered in the books that he felt rejected by his own parents. Making it his aunt and uncle who (seemingly) care more about money and fame than the child they’re raising feels a little too much like the wicked stepmother trope. I don’t know why the showmakers decided that Of Course They’re All Orphans, because while most of the book characters are orphans, Sticky isn’t, which serves to show that you can feel rejected and hurt by your parents even when you’ve got an ordinary, non-abusive nuclear family. It’s about feeling isolated, whether or not you’re technically alone.

Secondly, all the wheelchairs have been removed from the adaption. I’m not sure why this was done. Sticky’s mother has bad arthritis and requires a wheelchair. In the books, this was done without fanfare; it was as normal as anything else to oil Ms. Washington’s wheelchair in damp weather, or load and unload it from cars in later books. She was more of a background character, so it didn’t affect the plot, but the casual background representation was a welcome contrast to many books that assume being disabled is strange and uncommon, and that disabilities only exist when they’re plot-significant. The aunt who replaced Ms. Washington used no mobility aids, which disappoints me, especially as the woman she replaces in the books is ultimately shown to be a flawed but loving parent who’s dedicated to making up for her mistakes.

The other person missing their wheelchair is Mr. Curtain, the villain. I’m also not sure why this was removed? It could be to avoid the Evil Disabled Villain trope, but in the book, I didn’t feel like his disabilities were treated as a moral flaw or an excuse for his villainy. He shares his narcolepsy with the unquestionably benevolent Mr. Benedict, so it didn’t feel like his condition was used to vilify him.

He and Mr. Benedict act cope with their condition differently: Mr. Benedict relies on trusted family members for support and chooses to sit on the floor and avoid positioning himself in tall places from which he could fall, whereas Mr. Curtain disguises his narcolepsy by wearing mirrored glasses and using a wheelchair that secures an upright posture, so that no one knows when he has an episode. He does use his wheelchair aggressively, banging through doors and zooming around and forcing people to jog and keep up, but it felt like his use of mobility aids grew naturally from his character.

The books also include a scene where he shocks the children by leaving his wheelchair to chase them. They assumed that using a wheelchair=completely unable to walk, a common view in US society. Importantly, I didn’t feel like the scene was framed as particularly deceptive, like he was lying to them by using a wheelchair when he could walk. Rather, it fit into a pattern of Mr. Curtain managing assumptions and expectations: he doesn’t want people to take advantage of his weaknesses, yet wants to hold a few cards close to his chest. He doesn’t have to lie to people, just let them see and hear and assume what they will.

I don’t use a wheelchair or have narcolepsy, so I’m not in a position to say whether or not the books have good representation. Maybe the fact that Mr. Curtain is evil, and also zooms around and bangs through doors, is uncomfortable. Maybe the fact that his nefarious devices are wheelchair-accessible and in fact designed around his chair sends the wrong message. Maybe using mobility aids to conceal a disability sends a bad message, or maybe it would be better if the good guy was the one to use a wheelchair to cope with his disability. I don’t know. I do know that Mr. Benedict’s condition is played for laughs in both the book and show, and that might be uncomfortable. I do think it’s worth noting that Mr. Benedict’s narcolepsy is seen less and less as funny as the books go on, and grows to be seen as an endearing quality that emphasizes how much he loves people, since his attacks usually underscore with strong emotions and convey worry for his loved ones or joy at their company.

My own sense is that both approaches to narcolepsy make sense, and neither is shown to be inherently faulty. Rather, it’s Mr. Curtain’s character that’s to blame for his villainy--his arrogance, condescension, and mistrust. Both characters feel well-developed and consistent, and their disability is only one part of them. Their disability is colorful, but it’s colorful in the same way as the main characters (Sticky’s anxiety and memory, Kate’s gusto, eye for measurement, and bucket, Constance’s precociousness, etc).

As for why Mr. Curtain’s wheelchair was cut, I’m not sure. Maybe the show writers just didn’t want to deal with the ramifications of depicting a villain in a wheelchair, and decided to cut it altogether (a lazy reason, I think). Alternatively, it seems like they’re depicting narcolepsy without cataplexy, eliminating the need for a wheelchair (a better reason).

On the other hand, Mr. Curtain’s attitude and mannerisms bear the least resemblance to his book counterpart of all the show’s characters. They’re incorporating some backstory from the other books to build a secondary plotline, and I’m not sure how it’s going to play out. From what we’ve seen of him so far, S. Q. Pedalian is also drastically different (shy, cloistered, and openly acknowledged as Mr. Curtain’s son, instead of the gregarious, bumbling, misfit Executive of the books). The TV dynamic between him and Mr. Curtain is largely unrevealed as of yet. Since these changes constitute departures from the book, I’m not sure how the future story’s going to play out around them, and what that reveals about why the wheelchair was cut when it was so characteristic of Mr. Curtain’s mannerisms while other things (like Mr. Benedict’s use of plaid) were included.

Still, it does disappoint me that two wheelchairs were erased, and no one in the show uses one, not even background students.

Overall, though, apart from the orphan and wheelchair situation, I’m very pleased with this adaption and think that the pacing works wonderfully. It’s a near-ideal format for a video adaption (I think animation would be best, but this is a close second).

#the mysterious benedict society #the mysterious benedict society adaption #tv adaption #the mysterious benedict society show #ledroptha curtain

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litenmyra · 3 years

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Shrunken Kyoka Jirou being cuddled/manhandled by short-circuited Denki Kaminari - This is almost entirely fluff! A bit of attempt at humour too, I wished to practice my writing, and I do love these two QwQ I felt the dynamic of a short-circuited electric boy may be interesting to try my hand at.

Warnings: None.

oooo

He was drooling, she noticed with a sneer, hands on her hips as her boot beat at the dirt in a nervous impatience. “Whe- whey…?” She could not for any money decipher what the fuck he was even trying to say, but the tone was confused. Had he tried with a question? “What do you want? Huh?” Kyoka made no attempts to step any closer to the teens’ towering form, the distance between them was very, enough. Frankly put, she was more than very off about the whole shrinking thing. To be truthful, Denki was almost terrifyingly big as she looked up at his lost face. The two had tried to work as a duo against a gang of teens their age, and perhaps she got a bit ahead of herself. It left her brushed by the deceptive finger of a delinquent with some sort of shrinking quirk. She witnessed, helpless to do anything, as the idiot before her had tackled the dude down then short-circuited, only that the target had friends who had carried him off; leading to now, as he sat in the grass, glancing down at her, oblivious to the strangeness of this predicament, while subconsciously going back and forth with his thumbs, as per usual. Kyoka groaned, rolling her eyes.

‘If only you’d stayed smart.’ “Hellooo? Earth to Jamming-Whey.” She tried. Which only earned the girl indifference from his eyes, not calming down his erratic hands. Of fucking course this had to happen, and to her too! The girl turned around, stomping as hard away as she could as she just tried to think of anything to help their situation. They weren’t in any immediate danger, just unsupervised. Mr.Aizawa would surely arrive soon, the others had been messaged info of their whereabouts, so maybe about half an hour from now-

All of a sudden she was enveloped by fingers taller than herself. With no time to react Kyoka let out a “Hey!” of surprise, eyeing frantically at the imprisonment, till she turned and raised her head to face the blond captor. Expecting some sort of explanation. Denki’s eyes were however only dazedly eyeing his friend, brows creasing his forehead, as if in a worried state of mind. ‘What is going on inside that empty space?!’

“Hey, Whey-man!” She tried kicking herself loose once more, “Let me down, Denki!”

He wasn't being rough, actually, his grip was surprisingly gentle, but she hated the thought of being in his grip. Tiny, and to top it off, unable to stop whatever antics he would come up with. The blonds brows just furrowed together even further, almost disclosing a look of hurt. Damn, she did not like seeing this big baby-guy sad. Kyoka ceased her kicking, sighing in a defeated manner. Her world shifted a bit as the hand around her was brought closer to her friend’s chest, cradling her protectively against him. He radiated heat, but it was not too bad. A shadow was over her in a few seconds, the back of the other hand being wiped under Denki’s chin, bringing the drool with it. He was just about to bring the other hand around the one holding the girl, but no, nonono, she wanted nothing to do with his spit. “Ah, ah! Denki! Wipe that off first!” God, she had to baby this giant boy. She mentally dragged a hand down her face. His own hand froze at her words, his throat making some strange humming as the arm limply fell to his side. At least he was not completely lost to his drawback. No other choice but to relax, somewhat at the very least, she untensed her body. She had not noticed it before, but as all fell quiet, she felt and heard the strumming of his pulse. Though, what worried Kyoka was the occasional skip or jitter it gave off. She guessed a powerful quirk like being able to freaking electrocute stuff was not in any way easy to deal with. A sad sigh flared her nostrils, just to save her he had once again lost a few brain cells. She also noticed he had calmed down since he had snatched her up. His breathing slower, and his hands still. Was it sheer willpower to restrain that restlessness, or did the predicament bring him content? Her heart swelled a bit. Kyoka supposed Denki was not all that bad. Annoying at times, but sweet all the same. Especially as he sat there in the grass with her… while she was miniaturized... Held protectively against her wishes. Though, it was humouring. “Big doof.” She snorted. “K- Kyo-” The blond started up again, trying with words “Ka… S- Safe.” He seemed to be leaving it at that. Sight rolling back up to stare at the clear hues of the evening sky.

A smile eased onto her normally frowny face, closing her eyes. Maybe... She didn’t mind it that much, not for now.

Bonus: Denki sensed that sobering feeling slowly letting on his brain, blinking a few times as if to encourage it in more. His memories were a bit fuzzy, like, he had had a dream about Kyoka. Being tiny. He was sitting in that same grass-patch that he had dreamt about, and his hand- He whipped his head fast to look down on his occupied hand, shaken to find his dream less of an actual figment of his crazy imagination. In his hand he held his friend, actually shrunken and dozed off. Awe entered him, only interrupted when- when she snuggled her resting head further into his fingers. His heart swelled at her action, but he figured she could not be super comfortable in his fist. Still a bit shaky from the dizzy spell, he opened his hand over the other, cupping it as he gently let her lie onto it. Being more than careful not to rustle the girl around too much. He could see a small smile fall onto her face, once more burying into his skin, as if napping in a comfortable bed. Ahh! She is so cute!

He heard a buzz, raising his head and reaching into his pocket to fish his phone out. He saw a multitude of missed calls and notifications, but the most recent one was from his teacher himself! Asking for the coordinates of their whereabouts. Denki quickly sent them, putting the phone back into his pocket.

Looking to check on the girl again, he was not expecting to meet her two glaring eyes. The boy nervously chuckled.

“What is it?”

Shouta walked into the forest, Hizashi waiting in the car at the road in front of the clearing. He was just about to look back at the coordinates Denki had sent to his work-phone, but did not have time to open the map as a screeching voice made its way to his ears.

“Denki! This was the hand you wiped your nasty drool with!” “S- Sorry!” There was the shortest of pauses. “It tickles, but the amount- amount of power you put into hitting me hurts me so much, Kyoka!” Yeah, this was starting off easy. He thought as he trudged on, knowing he had some lecturing to do.

#g/t #litenmyra writes #my writing #gt #giant tiny #giant/tiny #bnha g/t #bnha gt

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imaginesandinserts · 3 years

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Irreverent Pt. 47 - Seven Devils

Title: Irreverent Pt. 47 - Seven Devils

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~11K

Irreverent Series Masterlist

You'd just arrived at the airport when you got the call from Clyde informing you that there was a terror alert across the EU and flights were being grounded. He'd coordinate agents on the ground but there wasn't much you could do from the States, so you were off the hook until things got figured out.

Great, now what? *------------* Aaron walked towards the plane with the rest of the team, with Reid already spouting facts around unsubs who preferred to shoot their victims from a distance rather than up close. He climbs up the steps and turning, is greeted by you, seated in your usual chair. "Hey, what're you doing here?" He walks up towards you, the rest of the team following close behind, equally surprised to see you. "EU terror alert," you explain while he stashes his luggage away, nodding hello to everyone else. "Clyde said I'm free for the time being and I was already at the airport. Garcia read me in." "Well, it'll be good to have you, kid." Rossi takes a seat in the aisle across from you guys. "Seems like an all hands on deck sort of situation." Everyone settles in and you can't help but notice the small smile that seems to linger on Aaron ever since he saw you. The two of you had only had the past three days together and throughout that, you'd had a soccer match for Jack, a birthday party for one of his friends, and you'd spent Saturday night with the girls; needless to say, it had been tough to get time together for just the two of you. "Was Jack okay?" you ask, turning to Aaron after everyone had finished talking through some of the case details and started to build a preliminary profile on the Unsub. Aaron nods, but your question catches JJ's attention, who looks to you with her eyebrows raised, the puzzled expression on her face imploring you to explain. You're unable to help the smirk that plays at your lips as you do. "We had a - um - staff meeting this morning that Jack wasn't invited to. He wasn't too happy that the door was locked," you explain, biting your lip and barely stifling your giggles. "A staff meeting?" Emily raises her eyebrows at you and you can just imagine the dirty thoughts running through her mind along with the Wow Y/N only soccer moms call getting railed a staff meeting. You meet Aaron's eye and you can see the soft blush to his cheeks that only you would notice. "I simultaneously regret and appreciate my choice of words there," you murmur to him as he shakes his head in amused disapproval. Derek barks out a laugh in reaction to Emily. "Uh huh. Was it a successful meeting?" he asks, wagging his eyebrows at you, toeing the line at ribbing Aaron as well. "I think both parties were pleased with the outcome. At least according to my notes." You turned to look at Aaron, mirth flitting into your gaze. "Would you concur?" He has a small smirk on his face mirroring yours, no doubt thinking back to the fifteen minutes the two of you had caught together before you had to get ready to leave for the airport - once against the aforementioned locked bedroom door and a second in the shower, before you begged him to relent, otherwise you'd be late. He'd been intent on a third. "Some good points were made. However, we might have to do a follow up to ensure we're still aligned," he drawls, getting far too much enjoyment out of the effect his words and low voice would have on you. You lose it at that, unable to keep a straight face. Follow up indeed. "Gross. I feel like I just watched my parents flirting." JJ groans, pushing up from her seat to go rummage around for snacks in the back. She was due anytime now and would be gone on maternity leave starting the following week. She was already mostly out of the field, staying in the precinct and managing the team from there. You knew, that as a result of that, Aaron was actually out in the field a lot more because he trusted JJ to handle the emotions and politics of local officials far better than anyone else. "Morgan, could you check if we're stocked on the M4 ammunition?" Aaron switches gears towards preparing for the landing, a quick brush of his hand to your thigh in promise that there would indeed be a follow up to this morning's activities. Derek nods and gets up, checking on the rifles stock that was brought along. With an Unsub like this, the team would need to be equally equipped to handle any situations that might arise, especially in a sprawling Texas city where guns were aplenty. "Guys," Spencer pipes up, "I don't think I'm actually allowed to use those." He glances around at the rest of the team apprehensively, as Derek and Aaron share a calculated look at his admission. "You're not," they both tell him almost simultaneously, drawing a snort from both you and Emily while Rossi merely smiles and shakes his head, turning his head back to his notes. Reid looks offended and turns on you at that. "Are you certified to shoot those?" His tone implied that he highly doubted you. "I've been shooting since I was six years old," you inform him, a superior look on your face. "I actually set the Academy record for most weapons certifications earned by a trainee." Aaron presses his lips together to keep from smiling while Emily shakes her head with a laugh at you goading Reid. "I didn't know six year olds were allowed to handle guns." "If you're rich in Connecticut, you can do pretty much anything. Just look at the Kennedys." "Touché."

Spencer grumbles to himself a bit more, slouching into his chair. It was his one weak point and he was getting better at it, really. On pretty much everything else, you're sure he'd have you beat.

You turn towards the research you'd been conducting on your own case with Clyde, in your downtime. Things were starting to fit together in an unexpected manner, and you'd had to bend a few rules to start putting all the different pieces in, but you were finally making some headway. It would definitely be faster and easier if you could enlist Garcia's help or bounce ideas off of Aaron, but your hands were unfortunately tied due to the high level of clearance you'd had to obtain to work this case in the first place.

Aaron watches as your head is bent in concentration, his own focus flickering away from the case ahead. You'd only been home for three days but you'd mentioned that your assignment at last had an end in sight. He's hopeful that that means things will be calming down - the two of you would be around one another more again. While Jack had so far done a good job of keeping the secret, he also gave his father a very telling, excited look anytime he saw you, and Aaron could often see Jack's eyes going to your hand where he hoped a ring would soon sit.

*------------*

All of the bodies thus far had been found at the grounds of various places of worship around the city - a few Churches, a Temple, and a Mosque. It would appear most of the actual killings had happened at a different location and the bodies were then moved and left to be found the next morning by unsuspecting worshippers, children, and groundskeepers. The Unsub was an equal opportunity killer - no discrimination in the religious leanings of his victims.

So far the victimology was all over the board - a college student, a local politician, a priest, a housewife, and a video game developer were the five victims so far. It read like the beginnings of a bad joke. A rabbi, a priest, and a horse walk into a bar…

The Unsub had left the bodies of each victim at their chosen place of worship. That, in itself, felt highly personal so there was a chance that the Unsub personally knew each of their victims. This was supported by the methodology - killing the victims from afar was easier on this particular Unsub's constitution.

The team had been spitballing; attempting to establish a connection between the victims. Reid and JJ were working on the geographic profile. Well, Spencer was at least. JJ kept having to leave to go to the restroom every five minutes. In that moment, you definitely did not envy pregnant women. Bearing children wrecked one's body.

The obvious religious themes were all in scope. The theory at the forefront was that each of the victims was being punished for a perceived sin, and Garcia was doing a deeper dive into their finances and online history while the rest of you got to know the families and the victims personally to wrangle out the truth. This was the most difficult part usually - even if someone was an awful person whilst alive, most people became reluctant to speak ill of the dead.

Trusting JJ to handle the centralized headquarters that the team had set up, Aaron left with you to do one set of the interviews. He wanted to speak to the parishioners of the church where the priest had been found, his body jutting out of the confessional booth. You both noted that it was on the opposite side from where the priests would typically sit, symbolically speaking to the fact that the Unsub considered the priest to be a sinner.

"I mean, he's a priest in a Catholic church," you said as the two of you walked up the pathway to the entrance. "The obvious definitely comes to mind."

Aaron agrees with a grimace. Father Patrick had led a youth group and had been doing so for the past decade. There was a high chance the Unsub could be a current or prior victim of sexual assault at his hands. He could also be someone whom a potential victim had confided in, so your suspect list was pretty wide open for the time being.

As suspected, every conversation you had - with church docents and members alike - was highly complimentary to Father Patrick. He was good with the children, kind to the female staff, had a fairly middle ground interpretation of the Bible; an all-around pillar of the community.

"Hopefully Morgan and Prentiss have better luck."

You nod, buckling in your seatbelt and commandeering the music, electing to actually play the White Album for once, drawing a smile from Aaron. He pulls out of the parking space and heads back towards the precinct. You smile to yourself as Aaron's deep voice croons along to Dear Prudence, his fingers tapping along to the beat against the steering wheel while you look out the window at the twilight Texas sky.

*------------*

"So, the girl, Rachel - total know-it-all, not unlike someone else we know…"

Reid glares at Emily as she trails off with a smirk. Her and Derek had gone to do another set of the interviews at the local university and had talked to classmates and professors to learn more about the first victim.

"We all have our suspicions about Father Patrick, but nothing conclusive there. The Councilwoman was taking bribes to block the legislation around the city's free internet policy per Garcia's research. That leaves Mrs. Abad and Ryan Cohen, the designer. We can't tell what their secret might've been, besides some high balances on a credit card for Mrs. Abad."

The team nods at Hotch, confirming his summary of the case so far.

"JJ and I have narrowed down the field to three epicenters across the city." You're surprised that Spencer gave JJ any credit at all for the work they'd done together. JJ had confided in you upon your return, that she'd told Spencer she was going to the bathroom and had instead taken a twenty minute power nap in a supply closet. Her maternity leave could not start soon enough, and you're glad that she's handling this pregnancy in a much more relaxed manner than the first, allowing herself the time off properly.

"Based on the current cadence, we could have another victim in the next couple of days." Rossi looks around the room grimly. You're all well aware that the window to catch the Unsub before another victim materializes is closing quickly. It also usually tends to speed up once the team arrives on the scene. Makes Unsubs nervous. Eager to finish the job faster.

"Would you say Councilwoman Crane was guilty of the sin of greed?" Derek's brow is furrowed, the beginnings of a concrete thought evident in his question.

You nod, encouraging him to continue.

"Pride for the first victim, Rachel."

You agree again, but this time the rest of them are also following along.

"Seven Deadly Sins," Spencer surmises from Derek's trail of crumbs.

"What are all of them?" Emily asks, looking between Derek and Spencer.

Derek shifts from one foot to the other. "Pride, Greed," he lists off, counting with his thumb and index finger.

"Lust, Envy," Aaron supplies, tacking on to the end of Derek's sentence and prompting him to continue the count.

"Gluttony, Wrath, and Sloth," Spencer finishes, turning to write them all down in order on the whiteboard.

The team was finally making some headway.

You stand towards the back of the room looking at the victim board, arms crossed across your chest, leaning against the back wall. "So, let's assume its Lust for Father Patrick. The excessive shopping could be indicative of Envy from Mrs. Abad. You guys did say she lived in a posh neighborhood. Keeping Up With the Joneses lifestyle."

"That leaves Gluttony for Cohen. Kid was pudgy." Rossi had been the one to visit the Medical Examiner, so you all trusted his assessment there.

"They're all in order. Could it be that simple?" Aaron questions, leaned forward in his chair, looking at the board with each of the victims' names listed next to one of the sins.

You contemplate his question as does everyone else. Could it be that simple? An Unsub working down the list of deadly sins, picking out victims that aligned with each one. It would stand to reason, given the working profile - you'd all decided that the Unsub must have an Orthodox religious upbringing, in a militant household.

"Occam's Razor," you answer finally, meeting his eyes, a grim set to your face. This meant there were at least two more victims planned. "The simplest explanation is usually the right one."

*------------*

In the past couple of days, the team had narrowed down the scope of the case, having realized that the Unsub had met all of the victims through various volunteer activities. The working theory was that the Unsub had deemed the victims to all be hypocrites - claiming to be doing charitable works while sinning on the side.

Garcia had cross-referenced volunteer activities between the various places of worship and had come up with charities that all of them supported throughout the city. From there she'd catalogued registered volunteers across all of them, against activities each of the victims attended, however hadn't been able to narrow it down enough.

So, here you were manning the precinct late at night with Aaron, Derek, and Emily. The team was taking it in shifts to see if any missing persons calls came in, with victims fitting into either of the final two remaining sins - Wrath and Sloth. Unfortunately, there were simply far too many options for you to be able to determine who might become the unwitting victim in this Unsub's crusade.

It was calm and quiet, only the whirring of the fan and ambient sounds of the printer filling the silence. The four of you had already eaten and were all nursing hot cups of coffee in order to stay awake in the otherwise empty station. Public statements had been made and hotlines set up in case anyone could provide even a hint as to who the Unsub might be.

Emily was slouched over at the table, her arms cradling her head as another yawn escaped her. Bleary eyed, she looks at you and you weren't much better off, only barely keeping your eyes open, tilting back in your own chair in order to simulate the feeling of tipping over; effectively scaring yourself into staying awake. Derek was seated in front of the laptop, with Garcia on video. The two of them had been playing some game, however it appeared that she'd tired of it, being nearly two hours of a time difference ahead of the rest of you. So now, Derek was just watching her snooze, head bent down to her desk.

You look at Aaron, reading the notes Reid had left behind in order to try and make some sense of everything - uncover something that had slipped through the cracks. His brow is furrowed, head bent in concentration. He'd shed the jacket a while ago and despite the time of year, the Texan climate had forced him to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing delicious swathes of forearm for your perusal. His hands - so large compared to your own, the veins prominent as he flips a page, muscle tensing and flexing as he does. You have to bite your lip to suppress a moan. It was the sleep deprivation. It was getting to you. Yeah, that's it. Not your big, strong boyfriend looking all serious and focused and handsome as he tries to hunt down a serial killer. Nope. Not at all…

You stand up suddenly as your chair tips forward, all four legs finally hitting the ground with a soft crash, cushioned by the carpeted flooring. Loud enough, however, to get Aaron's attention, as he turns to look up at you, the Are you alright? plain to read in his eyes.

"Need fresh air. Gonna go take a walk around the block or something," you explain, shaking your head of the cobwebs that had formed over the course of the past two hours, as the night had slipped into what could better be classified as early morning.

Aaron sets the papers down and turns to Morgan, indicating that he was going to join you. If you thought he was letting you go out alone, at this hour, with a killer on the loose, you were certifiable.

He watches as you slip on your blazer but he doesn't bother with his own. It would be quick and it wasn't too cold anymore. He follows you through the precinct and out the front doors, down the steps, matching your shorter pace easily - he's used to it by now.

"You sure you're alright?" he asks, once the two of you have reached the street. You merely hum tiredly and nod, so he grabs your hand in his, and walks in step with you, turning the corner past the precinct.

It is a little colder outside than it was inside, but his larger hand encompasses yours entirely, making you feel like a child swathed in his warm embrace. The cool air filters through your nostrils, reinvigorating your mind, giving it the jumpstart needed to function once more.

The two of you don't talk as you walk hand in hand down the sidewalk, him walking on the outside as he always does. Only the streetlamps are on, little pockets of light between stretches of darkness. Your mind is at peace. You aren't thinking about this case or your other one. You aren't thinking about any responsibilities and obligations. No worries. Just silent. It's so rare for your mind to be quiet that you relish in it. Allow yourself to bathe in the soundless symphony occupying the chasm in your brain.

As you approach the final turn that will lead you back to the entrance of the station, you find yourself watching Aaron again. He'd been so patient with the entire case with Interpol, despite it taking a toll on him. He'd been pulling double duty - doing all the things he does while also subbing in for everything you're unable to do at home. Him and Jack had sent you a cooking video of the two of them last time you'd been away, as Jack bossed Aaron around in the kitchen and helped him make your chocolate chip cookies for the bake sale at school. You'd sent Aaron detailed instructions, as he'd have to be the one to help Jack brown the butter and ensure he didn't burn himself. You knew he must have been frustrated with the extremely particular list of ingredients you'd sent him, down to the brand of salt flakes (the pièce de résistance of the entire experience) that got sprinkled on top. Yet, he'd tackled it all with aplomb, not complaining to you even once. Jack had confided in you afterwards that Aaron had had to go to three different stores because the salt flakes were a rare item and not every branch of the nicer grocery store carried them. He'd done it though, and Jack had told you they'd turned out exactly like yours. Even Emily had texted you to validate this, asking if you'd come back without telling her when Aaron had brought a batch in for the team the following day.

Aaron feels a tug on his hand right before the turn. You'd stopped and his hand was still holding yours, forcing him to stop as well. You're stood in the shadows, right between two patches of light, your face immersed in darkness, and before he can say anything, he's lightly pushed against the brick wall exterior of the police station building. He lands with a soft oomph. You lean up against him, pressing yourself along the length of him and going up on your toes - utilizing the entirety of your ballet training - your lips meeting his in a heated kiss. He groans into your mouth, hands wrapping around your hips on instinct alone, tongue tracing your bottom lip before gently nipping at it, taking advantage of your resulting gasp to make his way into your mouth, licking every part of you available to him. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around him and turns to hold you against the wall instead, pressing into the inviting warm juncture of your thighs.

"What brought this on?" he hums, moving from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone.

You shiver at his efforts, a flip in your stomach as you feel the edge of his teeth, followed by the soft bite at the bend of your neck. Unable to answer him, lost in the feeling of his lips and teeth against your skin, your hands mussing through his hair, softly pulling and drawing vibrated groans from him.

At the absence of an answer, he pauses, looking up until he has your full attention, meeting your darkened eyes contrasting against your bashful expression. Your breath hitches when his eyes meet yours. "I love you," you muster with some concentration, soft and blissful, pulling his face back down to meet your sweetly puckered lips once more, drawing him into the cacophonous sea of feeling along with you.

By the time the two of you make it back to the conference room that Derek and Emily were sat in, Emily has stood up, leaning flat against the back wall. Derek has moved as well, taking residence in your old chair, leaning backwards much the same way you had.

"What about you guys?" he asks as you and Aaron enter.

You avoid Emily's knowing look. "What about us?"

"This whole thing - case - heaven and hell. You believe in it?"

"I went the agnostic route," Emily adds, stretching and arching her back like a cat. "If it exists, great. If not, no skin off my back."

Derek looks at the two of you expectantly.

Aaron nods quickly, returning to his old seat, feeling a lot lighter than before. He'd grown up Catholic - heaven and hell were ever-present concepts in his home.

You shrug, grabbing your lukewarm cup of coffee and dropping onto the couch. Your family had been more religious for the sake of appearances and connections rather than any true faith-inspired feelings.

Derek chuckles lightly. "Okay, so if they do exist," he says, turning back to Emily who had sunk down to the floor, seated with her legs stretched out in front of her. "Where you think you're headed?"

"Let me guess, you think you're going to heaven," Emily taunts, a mocking grin on her face.

"I do good, I am good," Derek replies assuredly. "Everything else is up to God. Right, Hotch?"

Aaron breathes out half a laugh along with a raise of his brows, which was about as much agreement Derek could hope for there.

"What about you Princess?"

You look at him, slight roll of your eyes to the ceiling. "Pretty sure patricide rules me out for a ticket to heaven," you respond, your words coated with sardonic dismissal.

Heaven. Hell. What did it even matter when you're dead?

It was a good thing that you hadn't looked at Aaron at that, because if you had, you would've noticed an entirely odd expression on his face at your words - he decides to pin his thoughts for a conversation at a later time. Once the case was wrapped up.

*------------*

"Anything you know could help us identify your husband's killer. Were you able to get a good look at him?"

JJ and Derek are running the interrogation on the latest victim's wife while the rest of the team watches from the other room. The body had been found at the edges of yet another church's grounds, marking it as the sixth victim. However, this time, a witness had emerged. The Unsub had taken Dylan Rogers from his front yard at gunpoint and Ashley Rogers, his wife, had seen it all happen from the living room before calling it in to the precinct.

"She seems tense - her shoulders have been hunched this entire time. Her facial expressions have varied from somber to haunted almost." Reid shifts closer as he profiles Mrs. Rogers, studying her body language.

"Morgan said it seemed like he might have hit her. He saw some bruising when she went to the house to pick her up," Prentiss adds, her voice grave.

Aaron acknowledges both Reid and Prentiss with a nod, his eyes fixed on the interaction taking place in the other room.

"Would fit into the umbrella of Wrath." Rossi mused from beside Aaron. All of you continue to watch while JJ brings in a sketch artist to help Mrs. Rogers construct a likeness of the Unsub.

"It must be killing her - if it's true. Having to help find his killer. Imagine the number of times she must've dreamt of hurting him in the same way he hurt her." All of you turn from Emily back to Mrs. Rogers, thinking on her statement.

"She could've left," Reid reasoned distractedly, his expression casually appraising Mrs. Rogers still for any signs that she might be concealing anything.

You find yourself bristling at that, and you've spoken out before you could stop yourself. "You know, it's funny how whenever we see cases like this. Cases where a man continuously beat up his partner, that's the question on everyone's lips. Why didn't she leave? Why did she stay?"

Reid turns to you, his mouth open and ready to contradict you or apologize, you're unsure, but you continue. "We never ask, why didn't he stop?"

Emily snorts from beside you, her lips pressed tightly together as you both watch Mrs. Rogers working with the sketch artist. She turns to Spencer after a look at you. "Because we accept men as monsters. That is their natural state. Those of them that didn't give in to it - we exalt them. We call them good men. Better men. Because they didn't beat us and hurt us and watch us bleed."

There's a tense silence but this is a sentiment that none of them are unfamiliar with. Reid should've known better.

You see Spencer shift uncomfortably, obviously apologetic for his earlier statement. You shake your head slightly and offer him a small smile, reassuring him that he's alright. This kind of stuff, just hits closer to home for some of you.

Your eyes meet Aaron's and he's looking at you with the question in his eyes that you'd expected as soon as you'd opened your mouth. You shake your head at him too, before turning your gaze back to the front.

Aaron watches you for a beat more, his eyes trained to the side of your face, your unwavering eyes set upon Ashley Rogers and your words swimming in his mind. His eyes had asked the question that he already knew the answer to unfortunately. Yet another reason for him to despise Matthew van Doren's entire existence.

"You know, there was a time I thought he was the love of my life." You all can hear Mrs. Rogers talking to JJ as the sketch artist wraps up. "We had that love - that wake up Sunday morning with pancakes and lose yourself in each other under white sheets kind of love. I don't know when it all went wrong."

*------------*

With the aid of Mrs. Rogers' description, Garcia was able to run a digitally enhanced version of the sketch against all known volunteers who had been at most of the events attended by each of the victims in the weeks prior to their deaths. After that, apprehending the Unsub was just a matter of tying together the identified man to each of the victims directly.

The team was able to prevent the final murder, and while that was of little solace to everyone, there was a tiny part of you that felt happy for Ashley Rogers in all of it. Sometimes the exit route we need arrives in the most unexpected of manners, and it is on us to recognize it and seize it for ourselves. You really hoped that Ashley would claim a new and better destiny for herself.

Since it was late, Aaron was unable to get the jet to fly back the same night, so the team was huddled into a corner of the hotel lounge with drinks in hand. While you're thrilled that you were able to prevent the final victim from being taken, this wasn't the best case the team had worked. You can see it in everyone's eyes, the way they hold their drinks, the hushed whispers contemplating if there was something that would've pointed to him sooner.

You feel bad that you aren't even really thinking about this case anymore. Your mind is preoccupied by the contents of the file you've left upstairs in the hotel room. You nod along to Emily and Derek's conversation, glass of wine held languidly in hand while you mentally collate the work you'd done so far. You know you're contributing nothing to the current conversation, and mercifully both of them have left you to your thoughts. Knowing there's not much chance of you being able to distract yourself tonight, you stand and bid good night to them before walking over to Aaron and Rossi, seated over a chessboard with Reid. They were playing two against one and Reid was still the favored choice to win.

"I'm going to head upstairs." You lean in and whisper softly to Aaron so as to not disrupt the game.

He turns his head to look up, brow furrowed ever so much. It wasn't like you to turn in early when there was a chance to socialize with the team. "I can come with." He grabs his drink as though to finish it, but you stop him with a hand to his shoulder.

"It's alright. Stay." You brush a kiss against his temple before nodding good night to the rest of them, intent on making some progress once you reached the room.

By the time Aaron gets upstairs, it is much later. Reid had won but Rossi had insisted on a rematch. Rossi just wanted to see Reid beat just once, however Aaron was wise to not bring attention to the fact that you've never played him. He knows that Reid has asked you, but you've made up excuses to not play. He'd always wondered about that, and having seen the chessboard in the New York apartment had made him realize that there was actually a good chance that you could beat Reid if you wanted to. Reid was a genius. That fact couldn't be denied. He knew everything about everything. You were different from that. Reid was driven by his pure drive for knowledge - that desire to understand the world around him better. You learned with more purpose, intention - with the need to add knowledge and skills to your toolkit, ready to whip out and be unleashed upon your opponents.

He enters the room just to see you exiting the bathroom, a robe wrapped around your body. He can't help but sigh internally at the sight. His soft, fluffy, perfect little personal teddy bear. He couldn't wait to just crawl into bed, already fearing that you'd be on another flight out the following day.

You acknowledge his presence with a smile, while toweling your hair dry.

"Who won?" There's a crooked smile on your face as you watch him take off his jacket and tie. As if you didn't already know who would win.

"Reid. Rossi wants another rematch on the plane." He shakes his head, walking further into the room. Closer to you.

You laugh softly as Aaron reaches you, looking exhausted from the long week and yet, he seems alright. All in all, this case hadn't been absolutely terrible. "Hasn't he learned his lesson by now?"

"He's a glutton for punishment." He steps forward, grabbing the towel from you and prompting you to turn around as he takes over drying your hair with soft tussles, allowing the cloth to absorb water all the way from root to end.

You hum at his actions, letting yourself to be lulled into the peaceful, floaty state that you always enter whenever he plays with your hair. It just felt too good.

"You should just give in and play him sometime." He knows he's pulling at that little thread there, curious as to how you'll react at him having deduced something you hadn't told him upfront.

You merely chuckle softly, seemingly unsurprised that he'd worked that out for himself. His profiling skills no longer surprise you much, especially when it comes to yourself. He could read you like none other. "We wouldn't want Spencer to cry, now would we?"

Aaron bites his lip, preventing a smile threatening to sneak out at that. It was nice knowing he'd been right about that. He'd have to make you play him at least. He needed to see how good you were for himself.

You turn around, halting his actions. You'd gotten a call from Clyde when you'd gotten upstairs and you were already set to fly out tomorrow on a red eye. You'd booked the ticket, making the necessary upgrades on your own dime.

"Tomorrow?" he guessed, noting the expression on your face when you looked up at him, drawing yourself up on your toes and wrapping your arms around his neck, the towel slipping from his hands and onto the floor between your feet.

You nod with a sigh, before coaxing him down, and he's quick to meet your lips with his own, knowing the two of now only have tonight. Tomorrow would be spent on the plane and then you'd have to fly out before he'd get even another hour alone with you. His hands instinctively find your waist, drawing you in flush against him. He deepens the kiss when one of your hands moves from his neck to cup his cheeks, thumb brushing over the peaking stubble around his jaw. You hate leaving like this. You can't wait for it to be over. For there to be no more goodbyes layering his touch and yours.

Aaron hugs you closer, wrapping his arms around you fully, the plush robe giving him far more to grab on to. Your lips against his, moving softly, insistently. You break away, struggling to be on your toes for much longer, so he moves, pushing you up onto the desk and coming to stand between your legs as your lips find their place once more against his, this time hands working at the buttons to his shirt as well.

"Wanted to talk to you about something." He breaks away, allowing you to pepper kisses down his jaw and the column of his neck. If the two of you only had today, he didn't want to risk forgetting and having the issue go stale before bringing it up again. He can feel your mouth, sucking, teeth lightly grazing the skin at his collarbone, undoubtedly leaving marks for him to admire afterwards when you were gone. At your hum, he continues relying on your ability to multitask. "Did you mean it, when you said you aren't going to heaven?"

You pause, looking up at him curiously and being reminded of the question Derek had asked. You hadn't realized it had affected Aaron, and yet thinking back on it, of course it had. Your answer had been entirely flippant. He was so serious when it came to things like this. "Yes. I did." Your voice is measured as you answer him, eyeing him carefully to watch his reaction. Even still, his hands have managed past the tie on your robe and his hands are caressing the bare skin of your sides, drawing a soft sigh from your mouth at the sensation. "By any definition of heaven and God and the Bible, murder isn't exactly condoned."

Had this been a few months ago, Aaron knew that this would have been an entirely different conversation. He could appreciate how entirely blunt you're able to be about how you've framed this for yourself. He might not agree with it, but he can appreciate the honesty. "Bible also says an eye for an eye." He raises an eyebrow at you, indicating that he wasn't about to let this go. Not when it came to the matter of your immortal soul. This mattered to him.

A gasp escapes you as his hands travel up your sides more deliberately, causing shivers against your sensitive skin at the feel of his roughly calloused fingers skimming, exploring, claiming. That's what his touch always felt like. A claim.

You try to focus as you think of a response, hands resuming unbuttoning his shirt and undoing the buckle to his belt. You can see he's already hard and as your fingers ghost over the bulge, he exhales sharply, eyes focused on your hands.

Realizing he wasn't getting an answer from you immediately, he helps you out by undoing the button and lowering the zipper on his pants, taking them off as you watch. You're a little confused by the conversation taking place, but you also knew this going into a relationship with Aaron. Like it or not, he was religious. Your family simply hadn't been much. It wasn't the same religious orthodoxy that Aaron had grown up with, at the very least. He wasn't by any means stringent about it, but some beliefs were innate. Good people go to heaven. Bad people go to hell. As far as he was concerned, you were a good person.

"Heaven and hell - I didn't grow up with that. But that whole eye for an eye thing, I don't think that really applies when it comes to taking a life." You help him slip the shirt off of his shoulders as you speak, the material slipping and falling to the ground as well. Aaron actually undoes the tie to your robe this time, pushing the material off of you almost roughly, eager to expose skin that he couldn't wait to taste. His hands move up to cup your breasts, kneading the flesh - the air in the room and his attentions causing your nipples to pucker, teasing him. He's unable to resist bending down and taking one into his mouth, gently sucking as his fingers tweak the other into submission as well, drawing a keening sound from deep within you, distracting you from your train of thought as you're drenched in the warmth of his touch.

You're entirely bare before him as his mouth moves to the other nipple, hands traveling down, grazing over your stomach and down your thighs, causing them to tremble. He pushes your legs apart, letting go of the nipple, his mouth returning to yours with a renewed fervor. His fingers pick up the evidence of your arousal around them, and he caresses your folds, before entering you with two fingers, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing over it as his fingers scissor inside you, locating the spot that has you arching your back, moans escaping you into his mouth.

Aaron releases your mouth so that he can watch you. Your hands scramble for purchase, bunching into the robe beneath you that soaks up your juices as he continues to work you up. Higher and higher. Your breath panting, breasts thrust up as you can feel the orgasm threatening to overtake your body. It only takes another circular motion of his thumb and the ask to Let go by him, for you to go crashing under the waves, your walls pulsing around his fingers. He watches you fall apart, your arms going up to hug against your breasts as you arch and shake and moan for him, his name falling from your lips repeatedly as he continues his machinations against your sensitive bud, intent on drawing it out. He loves to just watch you like this. Begging him to keep going, your breathy voice urging him on, your gorgeous face, mouth falling open - all for him. His beautiful little princess, entirely at his mercy.

He kisses you again as you come down, your earlier conversation entirely wiped from your mind. But not his. Never his. Aaron could focus and keep track of things in amazing order. He hated that you thought you weren't destined for heaven. It shouldn't matter - such an abstract concept and who even knew, really. But in the off chance it did, he didn't want you to think you'd be excluded. You couldn't be.

Your jelly arms and legs wrap around him and he's already worked down his boxers, revealing his thick, hard cock, eager to be buried inside you. He gathers you up in his arms, pulling you to the edge of the desk, before lifting you up and moving the two of you to the bed, managing to drop you onto it sideways, before quickly climbing on top.

You move your hands to card through his hair, watching him, his lovely brown eyes looking down at you, causing a flurry of emotion in your stomach. He leans down and slots his lips against yours once more, allowing you to get lost in the feel of him. You release him with a gasp, finding it difficult to take in air, and he allows you to breathe as he moves and presses a kiss to your shoulder, entering you in one quick thrust. "Genesis 9:5 says, for your lifeblood, I will surely demand an accounting."

What? You couldn't believe him. He was quoting the fucking Bible while buried in you to the hilt.

"Aaron - "

You're cut off as he moves out, the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit, distractingly. Perfectly. Fuck.

He enters you again, harshly, his cock finding that spot inside you as he does. His voice deep and guttural, a groan falling from his mouth as he invades you fully once more. "From each man, I will demand an accounting for the life of his fellow man."

He was still doing it. How could he even remember to quote the Bible right then?! You couldn't even remember your own name.

You don't have the words as Aaron continues, pumping into you, his hand finding your clit to help you reach your peak faster. Neither one of you would last long. You're already a trembling, shuddering mess beneath him, back arched up, feet planted against the mattress for support, your hands traveling and touching any skin of his they could reach.

You can feel his breath hot against your ear, the weight of him on top of you as he ruts his hips against yours, and you can tell he's close. So very close. His hips stutter as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling softly, just enough. "Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed." He was intent on fucking the verse into you. You release a broken cry at the feel of him. At his words. The passionate, gravely quality of his voice. He finishes with a loud groan, spilling into you, his ministrations against your clit paying off, propelling you towards the precipice as well. Your walls squeeze his cock, pulsing, clenching at the feel of his release inside you. He groans again, dropping on top of you, his hand going down and wrapping your thigh around him, pushing himself further into you still.

He lays on you for a moment longer, the only sound in the room being your breath and thudding hearts, beating in sync.

You're entirely drowned in ecstasy, even as you try to grasp onto the threads of the conversation the two of you had been having. You run your fingers through his soft hair, brushing back the sweat from his forehead, not minding the weight of him on you. He was crushing you entirely and you wouldn't exchange that for anything. No death could be better. Sweeter.

He rolls off of you after a few more moments, dropping next to you on his back, his legs dangling off the side of the bed.

You breathe deeply, before flipping over to lay on your back. You can feel the evidence of both of your releases inside you, but you can't be too bothered to care right then. Your hazy mind has managed to remember the conversation, and you turn your head, tucking your arms underneath to support it as you watch Aaron. He's laid on his back, one arm under his head, eyes closed and chest rising and falling, slowly settling into a steady state.

"If I wasn't going to hell for the patricide already, I'm definitely going to hell now for finding that far too hot." Your voice comes out low and whiny, a near whisper being all you could manage.

Aaron releases a breath of a laugh before he turns to settle on his side, drawing his legs up, moving closer so he's right beside you. So you can feel his skin against yours.

You reach out, your hand cupping his face and he leans in all too willingly, kissing you softly, completely. As he pulls back, you can feel his eyes examining you - searching. Trying to figure out what exactly it is that had you so thoroughly convinced that you didn't belong in heaven. Because he knows you and while at the time killing your father had been awful, he knew that you believed it had been right. Otherwise you wouldn't have done it.

"Can we accept the premise that killing your father isn't a dealbreaker?" he asks cautiously, his hand reaches out, settling into the curve of your waist, fingers curling into the skin. "What is it really?"

You blink, moving into his embrace, hands fidgeting slightly. You're nervous and you're sure he can tell. However, you know you need to tell him. Tell someone. If anyone should know, it's him. You lick your lips and sigh, looking up into his darkened eyes. "You've met my father. If you had to profile him, how would you do it?" Your voice is quiet, timid, unsure.

Your question is met by some apprehension. Aaron isn't certain, however he hesitantly answers you. "Control freak. Narcissist with a God complex."

You nod at his blunt assessment. "Did you ever wonder why my father - why he let me get away with so much?"

He hadn't.

"I broke off an exceptionally advantageous engagement. He did nothing. I cashed out my trust fund and ran away - slutting it up - " He flinches. " - on the cover of every trashy editorial. Crickets. I joined the FBI and he tried to take me out for dinner. Does he seem like the kind of man that tolerates that kind of insubordination?"

Aaron realizes that he should've thought about these questions. He should've thought to protect you from this back then. It was a miss. Especially after finding out what he had about Julian's death. And yet, there had never been anything in your father's interactions with you to suggest that he would do anything to truly harm you. Despite your fear of him.

"Do you remember what you wrote - in my recommendation letter to McKinney?" you murmured, your face right against his. If he moved a millimeter closer you'd be able to feel your nose against his.

Aaron watches you, his brow furrowing, wondering where exactly this was headed. He nods. He remembers. Your skin under his hands is starting to develop goosebumps. Without a word, he grabs you, shifting and maneuvering so that the two of you are laid together, heads at the headboard finally. He pulls at the blankets, draping them over you both and draws you back against him.

You place a quick kiss to his chest in thanks, fingers brushing over the scars that have persisted. Over time, he's become a lot more comfortable having his shirt off around you. It's still not something he will do in public, but around you, he feels comfortable enough. After all, you'd seen them back when they had been much worse.

He nods at you to continue. He has a need to know now. He has to know.

"The night that Matthew proposed to me, Julian and I got into a huge fight," you confess, legs tangling with his as your fingers trace the mapping of lines down his chest and stomach. "He revealed to me that my father - that the proposal was orchestrated. That it was part of some deal between our fathers. That - ." Your voice breaks and Aaron is quick to run his hands soothingly down your back, whispering soft encouragement in your ears, his lips following your hairline. You sniffle and continue on. "He told me that our father gave me away. Without asking. Without talking to me about it. He sold me."

It's Aaron who is lost for words this time. Out of all things, this - this he could not possibly have prepared for. All things considered, you're holding up remarkably, while his mind reels, putting everything he knows about Matthew into context with this new piece of information. He's struck by a tornado of anger towards your father. How dare that man - that awful, cruel man, treat you like property? To be traded and sold at his whims as if you weren't a fully fledged human being of your own.

You find yourself rubbing your hands up and down Aaron's arms, knowing that he must be processing everything all at once. You've had nearly a decade to deal with it and it still feels overwhelming at times.

"I didn't want to believe it, but it made sense."

Aaron opens his mouth to speak - to say something helpful but no words come. You shake your head, reassuring him that it was alright. He needn't say anything.

"So, I woke him up. We talked. I told him I wasn't about to waste my life - being the perfect daughter and the perfect wife. I couldn't."

He nods. He expected nothing less. You weren't some trophy wife.

"Matthew didn't want me to work after we got married. But I wanted something to work towards. Something that would be mine. It wasn't fair that just because Dominic was the eldest son - that he would get it all. Everything. The entire empire. It was the one thing Matthew could never deny me. He wouldn't have dared."

Aaron's eyes widen as the realization begins to sink in. He takes in your gaze - blazing with renewed fire and fury at the situation you'd been in. The fervor within to escape, be your own person within the confines of the life you were in.

"My father - he fought me on it. Because the thing is, sons inherit the earth. Sons and not daughters." You take a deep breath, watching Aaron who appears to have followed along marvelously, because you can tell that he knows exactly what you're trying to say now.

"I showed him, however -- " You nod your head shakily "-- how I had built connections with all the right people. How I was smarter, would work harder, be better than anyone else he could possibly hope for to fill his shoes."

"You'd take over." His voice is low and the words feel reluctant on his tongue. Resigned despite the truth of them.

You nod. There it was - it was finally out there. Your worst secret that no one else had ever known. This secret had gone to the grave with your father. You hadn't even told John, knowing how disappointed he would've been in you - especially so soon after Julian's passing.

Aaron looks at you, taking in the guilt behind your eyes, the fear at revealing this to him. He knows too, that you're right. That if you had applied yourself to that, even half as well as you did to your job, you would've done it brutally well.

"That's why you think you aren't going to heaven," he concludes, his hands still rubbing up and down your back. He can feel your heart beating rapidly against his chest. It wasn't killing your father. It was this. "Sweetheart, you didn't do it, though. You didn't."

"I would've," you argue. "If Uncle Robert hadn't told me, even with Julian dead, I would've. I signed up for all of it Aaron. He trained me. He groomed me. Those things that you wrote in your letter to McKinney - all about how I'm adept at reading people. Because I can manipulate anyone into doing anything I want. He taught me how to do that. That I have an aptitude for navigating politically nuanced situations - because he showed me how to get close to the people that really matter. That I am exceptional at tactical planning - because from that day onwards, he planned out my entire life. And I let him. I helped him. Everything I did, anyone I spoke to, was all part of it. Part of his plans. So when I left, he wasn't ready to let go. He wasn't ready to waste his investment in me." The words leave you like a storm - evidence in the case you'd been building against yourself, carved from marble and sitting heavy against your heart for the past decade. You hated how much of him you saw in yourself.

You're breathing really hard and there are tears clinging to your lashes as Aaron continues to hold you, pulling you in even closer, if that were possible. He couldn't even imagine how long you'd carried this with you. Nearly a decade of guilt and for what? For something you hadn't even carried through with.

"You didn't actually do it," he repeats himself, brushing his lips against your forehead, knowing that right then that's what you need. All the reassurance that he doesn't see you any differently. That he never could. Especially not for this.

"Aaron, I would've been someone the Bureau goes after. Someone you'd have gone after. But the difference is, I would've never been caught."

Again, he knows you're right. Aaron isn't even surprised really at your entire confession - it stood to reason that you'd want the keys to the kingdom. From what he knew of you and your siblings, you really would be the person who was most capable, despite the dubious nature of the job. He's not naïve enough to think you couldn't have done it if you wanted to. You would've been exceptional at it. But you didn't. Given the chance today, you wouldn't. For him, that's what mattered.

He brushes the hair out of your face tenderly, sweeping away all the wisps and baby hairs, holding your face in his hands. "You need to forgive yourself, Y/N. You need to realize that there is a difference between signing up for something and actually doing it. What you actually did, that's what matters. Regardless of the circumstances. That's what truly happened."

You're quiet, so he holds you. He can feel the tears trickling down your face, onto his chest as you bury your head into him once more.

It was an upheaval, telling him all of this. It's Aaron - and despite everything awful that you've revealed just then, he's being kind, compassionate, and understanding. You just told him that you'd essentially signed up to do every evil job known to mankind and he was comforting you. Making sure that you wouldn't beat yourself up. That you forgave yourself. He didn't even - it was as if it didn't even matter to him. How could it not, though? How could it not claw at him, being tangled up with someone he knows to be entrenched in evil?

"You are a good person, Y/N. A wonderful person. This - this one thing doesn't define you. Being good is a series of decisions and choices in that direction. One thing doesn't derail it entirely. That's what amends are for. What forgiveness is for. To show us that no matter what, we always have a chance." Aaron could only hope that you saw yourself the way he saw you. As someone who tried to be good. As someone who was good, through trying alone.

You want to believe him. You do. It sounds peaceful. But how do you know if you've made enough amends? How do you know if you've done enough?

He knows you're struggling to believe him. He wants to convince you, paint it into your skin, emblazon it onto your soul in a manner so unmistakable that you'd never question it again. You're a good person. He needs you to believe it. Desperately.

Aaron tilts your face up by your chin, his lips meeting yours intensely. "You are a wonderfully good person, Y/N" His whisper falls against your lips, forcing you to swallow in his words. Breathe them in. Taste them. Let them settle into your stomach.

He places another kiss to the turn of your neck, tongue peaking out to lick at mark he'd left earlier, soothing over it. "You're a hero. You save people." He will make you believe it.

You watch in awe as he shifts, placing another kiss to the swell of your breasts. "You take such good care of me and Jack." He will make you believe that you're the good he sees in life. Through all the horrors he sees day in and day out, he looks to you and he sees goodness and purity, laughter and joy.

You can feel the tears welling up again in your eyes, for an entirely different reason as you watch him. Watch this man, make his way down the length of your body, reminding you that you conquer monsters for a living. Remind you that you took down your father and in turn prevented him from doing more evil. Impress upon you the importance of everything you've accomplished since then - all the people you've saved, all the happiness you've brought, all the people you've loved.

You can't help but press yourself to him. Closer to him. Because his touch is the forgiveness you can never seem to give yourself. His touch is pure. His touch is good. It is divinity itself. Maybe if he touched you enough, it could make up for it all. Letting his essence cover up everything that came before.

Aaron draws up on his haunches, having just kissed your clit, causing your eyes to roll back into your head. You taste like what he imagines sunshine might taste like. He moves you up with him, into his lap and waits until you've met his mouth of your own volition, before pulling you down onto his cock, seating you fully against him.

You can taste yourself on his lips. You can feel him inside you so entirely, consumingly, fully. He clutches onto you, the drag of him inside you so powerful and potent, the bubbling euphoria encasing you. Your arms curl around his shoulders, fingers in his hair, as his wrap around your hips, helping you ride his cock exquisitely. Vastly, painstakingly slow.

Aaron watches you in his lap, taking him in - his. Mine. Mine. Mine. A chant on repeat in his brain as your wet, velvety walls grip him like a vice. Your beautiful pink lips parted ever so slightly, eyes half lidded. In his lap, against his body, taking his cock. This - this was goodness. You were the source of all pleasure, delight, and happiness that he feels. If that is not goodness, then what is? If the God he calls God didn't recognize you as such, then what kind of God was he? Because he would gladly worship at your altar instead, if need be.

His hands grip you excruciatingly tight against him, unwilling to leave even the semblance of room between the two of you. It was as though he began where you ended and you ended where he began. "I don't care if you believe you're going to heaven or not," he declares, watching you take him. "I'm going to believe it enough for the both of us."

Before you can say anything in response, he draws your attention downwards, forcing you to watch. Watch as he exits you, wet and shiny, drenched in your arousal. Watch as he brings you back down, entering you immeasurably slowly and causing you to clench and flutter around him. His.

You look back up, meeting his warm brown eyes, shining with love and compassion and the utmost respect. Everything that made you fall in love with this man. You watch as he pushes into you, moves you just so - so as to perfectly hit that spot inside you. You tilt your head back on a moan, your body shuddering and your back arching once more, pushing you closer and closer against him. When you return to face him, he looks at you. His eyes fixed on you. That look on his face, was nothing short of reverent.

You come achingly fast, teeth sinking into his shoulder as you shudder around him, taking in his release. He continues through it, pushing his cum back into you in the process, keeping it there, mingling with both of your earlier release.

You're entirely weak as you sit in the cradle of his arms, balancing on his thighs. Your mind is far away and present at once. Present only in him - his touch, his feel, his lips, his words - surrounding you thoroughly.

You are both unhurried in your movements as you clean up together, no need or desire to speak further, content in the silence of one another.

Aaron cleans up the bed, making sure there are fresh sheets, as he watches your tired body put on the small slip you'd left out earlier. Your hair was wet again and he grabs a fresh towel, drying it once more as you lean against him, unable to stand on your own for much longer, your body still sore. He can see the marks he'd left behind blooming and he takes extra care as he urges you towards the freshly made bed. You slip in to your side as he lifts the duvet, quickly climbing in beside you and tucking the two of you into the covers - swaddling your body against his own. He places a gentle kiss to your lips, murmuring his love against them, the echo of his words reverberating against them. You fall asleep first, entirely spent, physically and emotionally. With any luck you'll enter a deep, dreamless sleep. He can hear your steady and even breaths paralleled with the slow rise and fall of your chest, persuading him to join you in slumber.

Even if you didn't go to heaven - if for some God forsaken reason you were denied entrance - he'd willingly, gladly, go to hell with you.

With that final thought, he gives in to the call of your warmth and the sound of your breaths, allowing himself to be drawn into sleep beside you.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #irreverentseries #hotchner x you #hotchner x y/n

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queenofcats17 · 3 years

Text

The Ink Demonth 31

Last day and it’s Illusion

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“Whatcha doin’ kiddo?” Bendy asked, peeking over Charlie’s shoulder.

“I wanna learn magic,” Charlie mumbled, their focus on the cards they were shuffling in their hands.

Bendy frowned. “Don’t you…already know magic?”

“Not actual magic,” Charlie clarified. “Stage magic. Sleight of hand. Stuff like that.”

“But why would you wanna do stage magic when you can do real magic?” Benrey persisted, walking around to stand in front of Charlie’s wheelchair. He knew it was kind of a stupid avenue of questioning to be going down, but he was curious.

Charlie rolled their eyes and continued shuffling their cards. “It’s just a hobby, Ben. And it’s a good way for me to keep up my coordination. Besides,” they added. “Turning into a cat isn’t super impressive.”

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.” Bendy shrugged. “I think it’s pretty cool.”

Charlie’s cheeks darkened with a blush, although they tried to hide it. They were in that teenage phase of trying to act cool all the time. Geez, it seemed like just yesterday they were an excitable 12-year-old.

“Thanks,” they finally mumbled.

“No problem.” Bendy gave them a big grin. “Anyway, how’s it goin’ so far? Know any cool tricks?”

Charlie rolled their eyes again, this time with fond exasperation and a small smile. “I’ve been at this for, like, two days, Ben.”

“Alright. Fair, fair.” Bendy nodded in a faux professional manner. “Any cool tricks you wanna learn?”

“Mmm…” Charlie leaned back in their chair, frowning and stopping their shuffling. “I’m not sure. Dad and Mom took me to get a book on stage magic a couple days ago, but I haven’t really gotten that far in it.”

“You know you’re gonna be focusing on card tricks though, right?” Bendy pulled a stool out of hammerspace and sat down.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna be doing any Houdini type escapes,” Charlie laughed, shaking their head. “I’d probably tear a ligament doing that.”

Bendy winced. “That’d definitely be bad.”

Charlie nodded, gaze flicking from the cards to Bendy. “Do you know any card tricks, Ben?”

“Do I know any card tricks?” Bendy scoffed, folding his arms. “Of course I do! What kinda entertainer do you take me for, kid?”

“I thought you were the studio manager.” Charlie grinned.

Bendy narrowed his eyes, snatching the cards away from Charlie. “You’re just as much of a smartass as your dad, y’know that?” He grumbled.

“I learned from the best.” Charlie’s smile only grew. They looked exceedingly pleased with themselves. No doubt Sammy would proud to know his child was following in his footsteps.

“Alright, watch this,” Bendy said before beginning the card trick.

It didn’t take long for Charlie’s cool façade to give way to genuine awe and interest. For all their teasing, they really did thing Bendy was incredibly cool. The little demon certainly had a way of holding the attention of an audience.

After finishing his first trick, Bendy launched into another. Then another. Then another. In the end, he basically performed an impromptu magic show for the young Lawrence.

“That was amazing!” Charlie exclaimed when Bendy finally finished. “You have to teach me how to do some of that!”

Bendy couldn’t help but preen a bit under the praise. He was a creature that thrived off attention, after all. “Sure! I’ll see if I can carve out some time and we can do lessons. That sound good?”

“Yeah!” Charlie nodded enthusiastically, all concern for looking cool completely abandoned out of excitement.

“Great!” Bendy handed Charlie back their cards. “Now, uh, if you’ll excuse me, I should prolly make sure Joey’s not doing anything he shouldn’t.” He then quickly charged off, muttering under his breath that Joey better not have tried to summon another demon.

Charlie turned their attention back to their cards, unable to keep from smiling. This was going to be awesome.

#bendy and the ink machine #the ink demonth #fanfiction #bendy the dancing demon #charlie lawrence

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pastelchris · 3 years

Text

shotgun.

PAIRING: jeon jeongguk x kim taehyung

GENRE: heavy angst.

WARNINGS: major character death, mention of blood, mention of weapons, cursing, mention of wounds and heavy heavy angst.

author’s note: hi!! i’m back with something different this time! i’ll keep it short because it’s almost midnight and i have school tomorrow. i’ve had this story in my notes for years now, it’s one of the first i’ve ever written and today since i didn’t have the strength to write something new, i decided it was time for her to be translated! so here she his, just something i couldn’t stop thinking about after watching not today’s mv for the first time. the pure wave of panic in jeongguk’s eyes when he hears the shotguns and turns around has been in my mind since 2017. said that, i hope you’ll enjoy this as much as i did when i wrote it!

ashes and snow mixed with each other, becoming one, as they slowly fell back on the boy’s pitch black locks and sweat dripping face of jeongguk, hiding behind a car, the rifle well clasped in his hands, ready to be used.

that was going to be the final match,

they had sent him the live coordinates, and the team had immediately left to the suburbs, armed from head to toe, determined to capture once and for all the gang that had been haunting their city for months now.

click.

in the silence of the night, light up only by the moon and the streetlights, as well as the various led lights of the abandoned building, the sound of a weapon being loaded echoed.

jeongguk clawed his ears, indicating the others to follow him, flattening against the vehicle, he begun to walk to the source of noise, stepping out in the parking lot in front of the building, whom was completely empty If not for a single figure, quietly dangling in the middle of nowhere, a gun in his right hand and a red hair band between his ashy blonde hair, locks comfortably falling on his eyes and cheekbones, he looked like the most dangerous of angels.

he had always been like this, as far as jeongguk could recall, his aurea would make the most turn their gazes away, they feared him, and yet were so fascinated by the presence of that tall, beautiful creature, radiating such confidence and power, there were rumors going around the campus that a gaze of his would be enough to light you up and leave nothing but ashes behind his back once he was gone.

as their eyes met, jeongguk felt the ground under his feet almost disappearing;

that look of his had been the cause of his destruction, so deep and expressive, seemed to be constantly staring into his soul.

he saw him grin, perfectly conscious of the positions of his, and jeongguk’s allies.

the dark haired turned around, stumbling into a bundle of pink locks, none other than his first officer and best friend.

« jesus, jimin! » he hissed,

« Quick, go to the other side, we’ll take care of this mess, take seokjin with you, if the situation gets complicated here, come back, if not, stay there, got me? »

jimin nodded before slipping silently in the night, side to side with the oldest, who took a last glance at jeongguk before he disappeared into the darkness.

once he was sure that they had obeyed his order, the raven haired returned to pay attention to the figure, which in the meantime was looking at his nails, waiting for some sign of him, which didn't come, forcing him to speak.

« damn jeongguk, years of living together and you won't even say hello? »

he flicked the tongue on the roof of his mouth, disappointed, as he added:

« have they not taught you manners? or did a cat feast with your tongue? yet when we were together, you’d always have so many things to say....» he let out a short laugh, no hilarity, and then went back to looking at him, eyes lost into the darkness of the parking lot.

« well then I'll have to teach you everything again i guess. »

and from there it was complete chaos.

his comrades came out from the shadow, hair bands in head and guns in hands, they started shooting.

being repaid by the policemen, who jumped out of the cars, the black bullet vests dirty of snow and ashes and the guns ready tightly between the hands.

but taehyung wanted him,

and he wouldn't waste his bullets on anyone else.

there he was, standing there in the corner, leaning over a car, he waited for jeongguk to arrive, who didn't delay to please him, popping out of the car, his dark eyes on the oldest, who stared back with an excited, curious look in his ones, like a young sherlock holmes who was presented a stimulating case after months of withdrawal.

jeongguk armed the gun, ready to fire, sweat was dripping on his face, from the forehead where dark hair stick, to his chin, biting down his cold lips, he closed his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the situation, he dissociated by reality for a couple of minutes;

as he came back to his senses, he froze to the spot, taking in the sudden silence around him.

as he suddenly came back to reality, dropping his weapon, starting to turn around, he realized that he was alone, his mates, twenty, twenty-five brave men like him, were laying down in pools of blood that dyed with crimson red the pearly white snow.

at that moment, chest quickly rising and falling and head spinning around,

he thought that if the expression "the sky fell on him" really existed, then by then he would’ve already been dead under the weight of the dark deep sky.

he fell down on his knees, hot tears making their way from his burning eyes to his dirty cold cheeks, followed by sobs, which gradually turned into a rag, then into a scream.

he screamed until his throat started to ache, until he felt like he had no more voice to let out, tearing the nocturne silence apart.

once he recovered a little bit of lucidity, getting a hold of himself, he looked up, eyes full of hatred, towards the blonde boy, who was already looking at him, feeling almost sympathy for that child who had just lost his entire team.

he approached him, kindly laid the barrel of the gun under his chin, followed by one hand on his shoulder.

taehyung lifted his face with the weapon, causing their noses to touch, he gulped, conscious that what he was about to do would only complicate the situation, but unable to hold back.

he softly laid his lips on jeongguk’s, capturing them in a kiss that soon led to despair and anger, leaving the younger in a total state of confusion;

jeongguk felt ashamed, he felt absolutely an ass as he kissed the other back, choosing to forget for a second everything that was going on around them.

taehyung’s lips still tasted the same, they weren’t sweet, nothing of his was except for his face; it was more as if a lightning bolt just fell over him, it gave him goosebumps and made him feel free; taehyung had this power over him, of making jeongguk feel like the freest of people, it made everything seem possible, even the most far things.

jeongguk sighed into the other’s lips

returning to when they were two completely normal high school kids, to when they were on the same side and their biggest problem was what movie they were going to see at the cinema on the weekend.

he closed his eyes, letting the other swallow him into the kiss, feeling tears stain his cheeks with their transparent, warm liquid.

he thought that if that was his end, then it could have been way worse.

click.

the magical aura of that moment was abruptly ripped out by a hiss, followed by a whisper, then blood.

jungkook's arms trembled, stretching out with around the older, trying to hold him, face crossed by the panic of someone who had never faced that situation, not on his skin.

he started calling for help without realizing, embracing the blonde's body in his arms, who in the meantime was looking at him through his eyelashes, face contracted in pain.

he stretched his hand out over jeongguk’s cheek, wiping out a tear, then turned it down to his lips, releasing them from his teeth.

« j-jeez, how many times have I told you to not to bite your lips? you're just gonna ruin them. »

his voice put some lucidity back in jeongguk, who shifted his gaze back over him, grimace getting slowly replaced by a slight smile.

« good boy. »

the dark haired tried to speak, but not a sound came out, leaving him hanging on a painful sigh, while the sirens of the police could be heard in the distance, he was unable to think of anything else except the body that was growing colder and heavier in his arms, staining him with musky red blood.

« t-taehyung?» he said, voice high key shaking, receiving a positive sign from the other, who slightly nodded, struggling to let out any words over the growing pain.

« yeah gguk, im pretty sure that’s my name. can you /please/ smile for me? i deserve it, don't I? if I am to die, I want to take your beautiful smile to the afterlife.»

but jeongguk couldn't, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't smile, he chuckled off a sob as he felt him grab his hand and lay it on his chest.

he saw him look up on the night sky before speaking once more, his voice reduced to a flexible whisper.

« Isn't she beautiful?»

the younger looked up, meeting the presence of the moon, who looked at them quietly from the dark sky.

he nodded, charmed.

« yes... yes, it is, it is beautiful. »

he unconsciously put his head on the older’s chest - growing colder and colder by the seconds - he crouched by his side, grasping him as if his own life depended from it.

his chin started trembling and silent tears wet the fabric that was completely red on which his head was laying.

he felt the older’s heartbeat slowing down over and over and over, until it became almost an imperceptible sound.

then every noise stopped, the moment the blond parted his blueish lips, letting one last word out, which he had taught to him the full meaning years before, and that had been suspended between them for years.

« i love you. »

and he died.

quietly, while the battle was raging around them, and jeongguk cried silently, without knowing that in the distance there were other people doing the same thing, including namjoon, who had been for years like a father to taehyung, and couldn't stand to lose him like that, along with hoseok and yoongi, who, respectively, sobbed and watched the scene, cheeks wet and burning eyes.

and so, on that cold night of february, the moon became silent viewer of the massacre, whose worst loss was without doubt the love of two boys, the victim of fate, as unpredictable as cruel.

a week later.

he looked in the mirror, fixing his tuxedo and the last buttons of his shirt, sticking his jacket and fixing his tie.

jeongguk sighed, passing his long finger over his eye bags, a memory from the previous heavy and tiring week.

he sighed, repeating an encouraging mantra in his head, hoping it would work.

« come one jeongguk, you can do this, you have to do it.»

then he came out, finding, parked over the gate, seokjin’s black car and the latter, which slightly waved at him, followed by jimin’s wide encouraging smile, the pink hair combed with gel.

« come on, gguk, we'll be late!»

seokjin started the car, not even waiting for the other to fasten his belt, heading to the cemetery.

he had the smart idea of putting on some music, distracting the younger from all the thoughts that were nagging him, making that journey unfairly carefree.

he parked silently in front of the dark gate, removing the keys from the car and getting out, followed by the pink one and at last by jeongguk, who, a little reluctantly, abandoned the tepor of the car to dive into the cold air of March, slipping his hands into the pockets and locking the car, reaching with a few falcats the entrance of the cemetery, observing the two colleagues who, having preceded him, were already halfway across the street confabiling each other.

he got lost looking at all the plates covered by ivy, climbing to the trees, without realizing he'd reached his destination.

to wake him from his thoughts, it was the sudden appearance of three other figures, as elegant as them, who were approaching him, the bandana replaced by a fancy hairstyles held in place with gel.

« thank you for coming.»

the tallest of the three, what jeongguk remembered being namjoon, gave him a brief look, full of meaning, before he joined seokjin and jimin, followed by the guy with mint hair, yoongi, and the one with red fire-locks, hoseok.

they sat there in silence waiting for the seventh component to arrive, which jeongguk found himself carrying, head in the line, gulping heavily as he tried to hold himself together until they reached the freshly made hole, in which the mahogany coffin would’ve been buried in a matter of minutes.

at that point, tightened in their suits, the six boys, too young to go through all that, melted into sobbing and crying, leaving jeongguk alone with his thoughts.

251228

the snow was gently falling on the rooftops of the city, decorated by coloured lights and christmas carols, who accompanied jeongguk, held tight in his black coat, to the place which he visited every christmas.

he kneeled next to the marmorean plate, cleaning it out of snow and laying a deck of black roses, the rarest ones he could find, and their favorite from day one.

he gulped, squeezing in his jumper.

« hi.»

jeongguk breathed in. it was always as hard as the first time.

« long time no see? i guess. i actually see you everyday, everywhere, everytime i close my eyes you’re there, smiling at me, teasing me, and more than everything, gasping for air between my arms.

jeongguk spoke up, voice getting louder by the seconds.

« jesus christ i fucking miss you alright? yeah you’d say, of course i do! of course you already know right? as if i hadn’t been telling you the same thing for over than eight year...funny. it’s just that...jeez it’s not easy to stop missing someone, and i just...i just can stop missing you, it’s feel like a crime to wake up and not think about you first as i wait before opening my eyes... oh baby i’m a wreck without you, can’t you see? i need you here to stay, i need you here again, and it hurts so fucking much sometimes i’d rather not wake up, even if it meant dreaming of your pale skin and blueish eyes. darling when i’m fast asleep i see this person watching me...saying, is it worthy? well damn i don’t know anymore. there is something and there is nothing in between and in my eyes i only see you, and everytime i try to embrace you you disappear and it’s getting so hard to bear--» he gasped for air, breathing in and out slowly to try and calm himself down.

« are you you enjoying yourself there right now? do you have a family? did you find someone to share your destiny with? i hope so, because, you see, I tried, I have a family now, of course, it's not like having you, but you have to settle sometimes, right?» he sighed, feeling stupid. « jesus....remember that promise we made ourselves? that we would walk together to the end, well, here I am, even if you can't answer me, I am here walking next to you... Merry Christmas taehyung, i...i love you, i still fucking love you so much and it’s killing me day by day.»

gulping, he rose up, dusting the snow from his knees and walking to the gate, tears prickling in his eyes and chest painfully rising up with every breath he took.

he started sobbing, hiding his face behind the sleeves of his coat as he walked away, unaware of a figure who had watched him from behind a tree the whole time, his translucent lips bent over a blurry smile, eyes full of imaginary tears of those who had never stopped dreaming, of those who had never stopped loving.

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