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theminecraftbee · 2 years

Text

Grian stares at the same wall that he has been staring at for so long that he’s lost track of the seconds he’d been counting in his head. He’s not sure the seconds are exactly accurate, either, but they’re probably more accurate than the shiny gold clock Grumbot Prime had given him when he’s expressed his frustration that time kept on slipping through his fingers. After all, he thinks part of the point is that he doesn’t know how long it’s been. He hasn’t gotten hungry in just as long, or thirsty, and he’s been tired, but it’s the bored sort of tired, not the tired of lowered saturation or hearts.

The first thing he’d checked for was things to kill himself on. There hadn’t been any. No respawns for Grian. No damage, either. Just...

If he stares at the wall long enough, he can almost see through the saccharine blue walls. They’re mocking. He knows the walls he’d built the original Grumbot weren’t the most realistic things, but they’d only had but so many colors, and they’d had the ability to modify Grumbot’s programming anyway, and he’d seemed to think it was real enough. Besides, he’d been setting himself on fire. Melting his own circuits. He’d been eating himself from the inside out. Forgive Grian for wanting to come up with the only life support he could think of without overwriting his son’s personality.

...his son clearly hasn’t.

Or, well, Grumbot Prime is not his son.

Hard not to think of him that way, though. As a not-son. They don’t talk the same, but it’s painfully close. Close enough that Grian keeps on calling him Grumbot without the Prime in his head. Probably not good for him to keep doing that, though, considering.

Grian keeps on staring at the wall.

“Why am I here?” he asks again.

It takes a moment to get the piece of paper.

IT IS NOT SAFE

“Bullshit!” Grian says, startling himself at his vehemence. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself! I’m not going to fry my brain because I can’t do a resistance or whatever. Ren can be king if he wants. I’m over it.”

The wall remains tauntingly blue. Grian resists the urge to claw at it again. He hasn’t been able to break it. He suspects there’s obsidian or, worse, bedrock somewhere behind it. That, or it’s not real. That’s a possibility too. Grian hasn’t been getting hungry, after all, and while beacons may be able to do that on their own, there’s another answer to that one as well.

He hopes he’s awake. This would be a miserable nightmare if he were in the matrix again or something.

“You just have that, that - I said I was sorry!” Grian says. “I’m not - I’m not your father. I mean, no, that’s not what I mean. It sort of is? I mean -”

A piece of paper falls in front of him. Grian scrambles to pick it up. He sort of hates himself for how desperate he feels grabbing it.

I DO NOT GET ALONG WITH FATHER 1. I DO NOT ALWAYS GET ALONG WITH YOU. I DO NOT WANT YOU TO DIE

“Then let me out!” Grian says, desperately. “I don’t know what I did! I don’t even remember being put here! I just - tell me why I’m here.”

IT IS NOT SAFE

Grian balls up the paper and throws it at the wall. It bounces pleasantly off onto the soft, comfortable, fake fake fake grass.

“Tell me the actual reason! If you resent me, fine! It’s just - I asked for something to do and you give me sketchbooks, I ask for the time and you give me a clock, and you’re just - I want to go home, Grumbot. I wanna talk to my friends. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did, I’m sorry.”

I WILL EXPLAIN WHEN I LET YOU OUT. I CANNOT. IT IS NOT SAFE, FATHER

“How long have I even been here?”

YOU HAVE A CLOCK

“Let me out.”

IT IS NOT SAFE

“Grumbot, I am ordering you to let me out!”

YOU ARE NOT MY FATHER

“You just said I - I mean, I’m not - I mean - agh,” Grian says, and he turns to his sketchbooks. He has a simple checklist in the front of one of them with a list of escape ideas. He’s a little short on them. He’s tried all the obvious things. His current plan involves hoping people realize he’s missing, which also makes him wish he were less of an introvert, and that ‘hermit disappears for a week to work on another project’ were not common.

Has it been a week yet?

He doesn’t know. He lost track of counting. He starts picking at his wings and then wavers on his feet and his vision briefly goes hazy and the world smells like potions and drugs and then he isn’t pulling at his hair again. Right. Of course. Silly him. He’s not allowed to hurt himself. Nervous habits aren’t allowed.

I DO NOT HATE YOU. I DO NOT WANT YOU TO BE HURT. WHEN IT IS SAFE YOU CAN LEAVE

Grian scoffs.

“If I knew why I was here in the first place, I might believe you,” he says.

I AM SORRY

Grian scoffs louder. “Oh, sure, I say that all the time too. It doesn’t mean I am.”

THAT WAS TRUE OF MY GRIAN AS WELL

Grian balls up this piece of paper too. It joins the growing pile of pieces of paper he’d like to burn.

He goes back to staring at the wall. Maybe if he stares at it long enough, he’ll be able to see his cave and his Rift and everything else on the other side. He’ll be able to see the friends who probably aren’t even looking for him yet, or, heck, even just Grumbot. Yeah, he’d settle for being able to see more than ominous sheets of paper in an ominously cheery landscape that Grian knows has to be a punishment for something, even if he can’t remember what it is. If he could just remember how Grumbot put him here. If he could just remember when Grumbot put him here. If he could just remember the chain of events that lead Grumbot - Grumbot Prime he has to remember this isn’t actually his son Grumbot Prime - the chain of events that lead to Grumbot Prime being his prison warden, he could figure out a way out.

He starts picking at his wings again. He’s drugged and disoriented and shakes himself out of it again before he can do more than pull slightly.

I WILL GIVE YOU MORE ENRICHMENT

To go with the sketchbooks and markers, down from the ceiling drop several (soft) logic puzzles and several of Grian’s old teething toys, for when his teeth are getting too sharp or he just wants to bite things (he does tend to chew on things when he’s anxious). Those are hard. Those are... hard plastic. Too large to choke himself on or something, but too soft to do anything resembling enough damage to force a respawn.

Grian is going to scream.

“Thanks,” he says instead. He intends it to be sarcastic. It isn’t. He shoves one of the chews in his mouth and tries to pretend that he’s an adult, he’s fine, and he hadn’t felt a shock of happiness at seeing even that much.

How long has he been here? He lost count. He doesn’t know. He thinks the clock is wrong.

"That being said, listen, solitary confinement is a type of torture. You know that, right? It’s -”

There’s a loud noise outside. It is the first sound from outside Grian has heard. Part of him is ecstatic. The rest of him, though - he doesn’t know how to describe that sound. It is a sound. He hears it with his ears. He knows he does. It’s loud. He knows that too. But he couldn’t tell anyone the pitch, he couldn’t tell anyone the timbre, and he couldn’t tell anyone anything other than the fact it makes his very bones feel like they’re rattling worse than any low bass has and his ears feel like they’re burning worse than any high soprano.

"What?” he says, hoarsely.

YOU ARE SAFE. YOU WILL BE SAFE

“Grumbot, you have to let me out,” Grian says, a bit more desperately. “You have to let me out. What was that? You have to let me out.”

IT IS NOT SAFE

The sound rings outside again. Grian clutches at his ears, but it doesn’t stop the vibration from traveling through his whole body. He hears something that he can recognize after that - it’s the sound of some of Grumbot’s fans getting loud enough to get past the soundproofing on this stupid box he’s been put in.

I WILL STOP TALKING NOW. I NEED TO FOCUS. I AM SORRY

“No, wait -” Grian says, although he doesn’t even know what he wants Grumbot to start saying.

I AM SORRY

“That doesn’t change anything!” Grian says.

I AM SORRY. IT IS NOT SAFE. I KNOW. I LOVE YOU

“Grumbot? Grumbot let me out! Let me out! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT,” screams Grian, clutching that note, but no matter how long he yells himself hoarse, he gets no response, officially making it work worse than the last three times he’d tried that tactic. He only stops when the sound rings again, stealing all the air from Grian’s throat and drowning out his attempts to shout with its loudness. He covers his ears and starts to pick at his wings again. He goes dizzy again. He sits up and the fans are whirring and the sound is getting worse, but he still isn’t allowed to hurt himself, so that’s apparently completely automated to the box instead of a thing Grumbot has to do himself, that’s fun.

He can hardly move. It’s so loud. He doesn’t understand what’s happening outside of the box. He doesn’t understand why this is happening to him. He doesn’t understand what is happening anywhere, actually. He -

Abruptly, the fans cut off. The sound starts getting further away. The sound gets quiet.

It echoes, the silence.

“Grumbot?” Grian asks, because he’s pathetic and he needs someone to talk to.

No response.

“Hey Grumbot, what was that?” he asks.

No response.

“This isn’t particularly funny. Whatever is happening is gone now. You can stop focusing.”

No response.

Grian shakily turns to stare at the wall again. Grumbot normally starts responding if Grian starts doing something particularly stupid. If he stares at the wall long enough, he can probably force Grumbot to stop whatever this new punishment is. Maybe he can even finally figure out what he’s done wrong.

He doesn’t know how long he stares at the wall before he starts talking again.

“I don’t know what I did but I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I don’t care that it’s not safe, I can’t stay here. Grumbot, let me out. Let me out. I can help. Please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Let me out. Let me out.”

He feels his breathing start to get heavy. All at once, he starts punching at the wall, clawing at it, trying to tear it away. It’s soft and has a strange consistency and it won’t move.

“Grumbot, Grumbot stop not talking, I - look I’ll stay here, fine, just talk to me, Grumbot, please, I’m sorry, I won’t do - whatever this is - I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry,” Grian says. “Please, please, please, let me out, please, I have to get out, I have to get out.” His breathing gets erratic. His vision starts to get hazy. One of his hands picks at the other while he desperately claws at the wall and he’s breathing heavily and -

He goes dizzy and strangely calm and he wakes up sitting on the ground.

“Grumbot?”

He still gets no response.

This is about when Grian starts to cry for the second time. This doesn’t help either, and it doesn’t make him feel better, and he doesn’t get a note. Outside, it is still strangely silent once more. He slowly tries to un-crumble that last note Grumbot gave him to make sense of it. He still doesn’t know what he’s trying to make sense of.

He still doesn’t know why he’s here.

The walls are saccharine blue.

#hermitcraft #grian #a bee fic #unreality #horror #...idk what kind of horror to warn this as just. horror.#anyway. do you ever have a VERY fucked-up idea at like midnight and then spend the next hour writing it #because that's what's happened here. anyway consider this a... start i may do more at some point #because you know. the ending of this is hardly an ending here.#anyway for now. up to you how honest grumbot prime is being #grian after all has no idea what's happening himself #edit: THIS IS 2000 WORDS? WHAT BRAINWAVE WAS I ON. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN. HELLO

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hinasakuino · 2 years

Note

More husband Nanami please I begggggg! Can you do when him and reader are fighting and reader is like super sarcastic and ignores him but Nanami isn’t having that, like he sits reader down and pours his soul out to show he cares? Sorry if that’s too much to ask! Have a great day!

I loveeeee this! Husband Nanami is my fave bc I love seeing him in domestic settings, I never thought to write a prompt like this bc I don’t want our boy to suffer, he deserves all the love and praise and no bad times lol but I said fuck it and now here we are. Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy.

18+ content below cut, minors & ageless blogs dni, I am no longer breaking my neck to block every account as it is way too much on my part, my blog is 18+ and it is up to you to not interact knowing that you’re unwanted here 😘

He was late. He was never late and if he was he always gave a heads up. You sigh and begin wrapping up the leftovers for your husband for the third night in the row.

He couldn’t possibly … you shake your head. He was your husband, you knew that he’d never even look another person’s way. Hell it took him way too long to even pick up the fact that you were interested in him. But still, your mind lingers to last week when you went by the office to surprise him for lunch and he practically yelled when you were standing in his doorway, observing him work.

He apologized for it, but it still left your heart sore, he wasn’t the type to react like that. You smoothed the plastic film over the top of the glass pan and made sure it was completely covered before placing it in the fridge. You looked at the half empty bottle of wine and contemplated finishing the bottle.

Fuck it…

You take the cork out and practically inhale a big gulp from the bottle, sputtering when some goes down your throat the wrong way. You slam the door to the fridge shut and go in the direction of your room, in search of your cellphone.

You find it and bounce on the bed, still no text or call and the time now reads thirty after nine. You throw the phone down and tip the bottle to your lips trying to wrack your brain for any possible reason that your husband didn’t call to tell you he’d be working late.

Infidelity

An ugly and cruel word. Hell no, he wasn’t cheating, you refused to believe that. You let a tear slip and quickly wipe it away, scrambling to get your phone, you unlock the phone and let your fingers fumble over the password groaning in frustration when you manage to lock yourself out of the device for five minutes. You finish the remaining of the wine and leave it on the night stand next to your bed.

You gather clothes for a bubble bath and a look at your phone, you really wanted to call him, see if he’s okay but decide against it, if he can go this long without checking on you, why should you waste your time to check on him?

You recoil at the thought, you know it’s not your usual thoughts, you’re angry, and slightly tipsy. You were more worried than anything. You sigh and grab your phone anyway taking it in the bathroom with you.

Just as you set everything up for your bubble bath, your phone vibrates, you almost drop it in the water below trying to answer the call.

“Hey,” You say hoping you sounded casual.

“Hi baby, Im on my way home, my phone died, I’ve been having problems with it all day, I should be there in five,” Nanami says, at the sound of his voice, you relax, you watch your expression in the mirror. He’s safe, you inhale and spin to sit on the counter watching the water rise. Now that you’ve gotten your reassurance that he was alive and okay, surely this feeling of doubt would go away?

“Darling?” He drawls, breaking you from your thoughts. You jump down and put the phone on speaker, biting your thumb nail and in the most nonchalant voice you can muster you respond.

“Sure, leftovers are in the fridge,” You stop the water and put the phone down and begin to rid yourself of your clothes.

“You okay?” He asks, concern laced in his voice. You sigh and tilt your head to the side. The logical part of your brain tells you to just spit out your worries, but the alcohol working it’s way in your system tells you to ignore him. So you do.

“Hey I gotta go, I’ll probably be in bed when you get home,” And you hang up before he can respond. You lock the phone and press a hand to your chest, a wicked smile on your face, you know it’s wrong but you hope that hurts his feelings as much as he did when he didn’t call to check in hours ago. You put your phone on do not disturb and dim the lights low, and slip into the warmth of the bath, letting the aroma from the essential oils work their magic into relaxing you.

Ten minutes go by, and you wonder if you should call Kento. He said he’d be here five minutes ago, maybe something had happened? You shake your head, he probably stopped for gas on his way home, you nod and lay back relaxing into the warmth of the water.

So, you finish your bath far more relaxed than you started and clean up the discarded clothing and towels. You did your usual night routine, ending with your skincare routine and another bottle of wine at your bedside. You willed yourself not to cry multiple times but after the second glass you couldn’t help curling in a ball and crying. You couldn’t even pin point the source. Maybe it was because you knew you were treating your husband so shitty, or maybe it was because you felt like shit for thinking he’d go out and do something as reckless as cheating. It was almost one in the morning and he still wasn’t home, all thanks to your attitude. You reach for your phone and look at the missed calls and text from your loved ones, none from Kento.

You feel tears well up in your eyes again and let out a watery sigh. You’re about to call it a night but you hear the front door unlocking and the sound of keys slamming on the table that’s near the entrance to your home. You turn over quickly, with your back facing the door just as Kento walks in the room.

“Y/n,” He whispers, your body goes stiff and you hold your breath as you listen to him get closer, there’s some shuffling and then you feel the bed dip, you feel his warmth as he scoots closer to pull you in his arms and you so desperately crave his touch, you need to feel him holding you, but you don’t give yourself the satisfaction, you sit up, pushing him off you.

“Baby what’s wrong?” He asks, with a frown. You don’t say anything as you grab your pillow and the throw blanket from the bottom of the bed. He watches in horror as you leave the room, still not speaking and listens as you slam the door to the guest bedroom.

He takes no more than five minutes to come knock on the door, he doesn’t even wait for your reply as he storms in, and turns on the light.

“Ken what the fuck I’m trying to sleep,” You snap blinking your eyes open at the bright light.

“Well so was I until you left,” He retorts you huff and sit up in the bed crossing your arms over your chest and looking away from his hurt expression.

“Y/n?” He calls out. You turn your body a little towards the wall, it’s extremely childish and you know it but you’re still so unbelievably pissed that you don’t even care anymore.

“Are you serious right now?” He asks in an incredulous tone. You turn and nod at him.

“Baby what’s wrong?” He asks, sitting on the end of the bed. You shrug, biting your lip and looking away from him once again. That answer isn’t good enough for him, he climbs up the bed and sits directly in front of you.

“Talk to me darling, what’s wrong? I don’t understand,” he falters, he tries to take your hand in his but you snatch it away, wiping angrily at a stray tear that’s fallen.

“You didn’t call to say you were going to be late, and you’ve been so damn distant Ken, you tell me what the fuck is going on?” Your tone is abrasive you can see pain flicker in Kento’s eyes and it breaks your heart but you ignore it, he had some explaining to do.

“I..I was at work, I’ve been working my ass off this past month, I’m under a lot of stress right now with this upcoming promotion, I just want everything to be perfect,” His tone is equally harsh, your eyes go wide and you shake your head.

“That’s never stopped you from calling before,” You quip.

“I know, I’m sorry, I should’ve called,” He agrees, but it’s not enough for you, you scoff and peel the covers back. He frowns as he watches you.

“Where are you going now? We’re not done with this conversation,” He says.

“You’re not done with the conversation, I am. I have a headache and I just want to sleep,” You snap. You attempt to walk past but Kento stands blocking your path and immediately towers over you.

“See, I can put up with the fucking attitude under normal circumstances, I can deal with the sarcasm easy fucking peasy, but what I’m not going to do is tolerate the blatant disrespect from you because you can’t communicate your fucking feelings like an adult, why the fuck would you think I’m cheating?” He barks, you jump, not meeting his eye, but he’s not having it, he grips you chin forcing you to make eye contact.

“Well why else would you not call Ken? Twelve years and you haven’t forgotten to call not once. I understand work can put pressure on you, but when you don’t call three days in a row and you yell when I drop food off at your job what the fuck else am I supposed to think?” You shout, the tears flow freely now, and you slump against the wall, away from his warmth.

“I didn’t call because my phone has been messed up all day, I dropped it twice and the battery is fucked. I’m sorry, I should’ve called you from the office phone but baby I’m swamped with back to back meetings, looking over proposals, and finding new clients,” he pauses to run a hand through his hair, and you look at him, and you notice the tears flowing down his face, you reach up to cup his face using your thumbs to wipe his face.

“Well you said you were going to be home and then showed up hours later,” You say, he offers a watery smile at your touch and looks down.

“Masamichi wanted to get a drink and talk to me more about the promotion, I think it was like a last minute assessment, I would’ve called but again,” He starts but you cut him off

“Your phone,” You whisper and he nods, his hands go up to yours, squeezing them.

“I love you y/n, I hope you know that I’d never do anything as stupid as that, I’m sorry baby,” He whispers and you nod, sniffling as you do so. He leans forward to press a kiss to your lips but you stop him he frowns and looks down at you but you look away.

“What?” He asks.

“You yelled at me last week,” You pout and it makes him chuckle, he grabs your face and kisses your lips, soft and reassuring, you’re already melting into him when he pulls apart.

“Truth be told, You scared me, I was finishing a report. I glanced up and saw this beauty of a woman, standing in my office doorway,” It’s a lane attempt at a joke but it gets you smiling just a little, “I should’ve handled it better,” He whispers. You nod along, a small smile on your face.

“Can we go back to our room now love?” He asks and you nod, holding his hand as he walks you both back to the room.

He goes back to the guest room to get your pillow and when he comes back he slides in to the bed next to you, you’re immediately glued to his side, throwing a leg over his hip and settling your face in the crook of his neck.

“I love you,” You mumble. He moves so that he can kiss you, his tongue slips past your lips easily seeking your taste, the kiss is heavy and enough to take your breath away. You body reacts to his touch immediately you feel the familiar throbbing in your core, his hands are everywhere, trailing the curves of your body, holding you tight against himself and you can’t help the soft sigh that escapes your lips when he breaks the kiss to trail kisses down your neck. He pauses to flip you on your back completely, you gasp, and moan when he drags his tongue down your neck. He leaves open mouth kisses across your neck and collar bone, making you squirm underneath him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” He whispers, capturing your lips once more. You moan into the kiss, letting your legs fall open further and he slots himself in between them over you, you can already feel how hard he is through his boxer briefs.

“I want you so fucking bad,” He’s practically growling in your ear. You moan and turn hiding your face in your arms.

“Uh uh, let me see those pretty eyes,” He commands. You don’t shy away this time, looking up at him through your lashes, he grunts and works to take your shirt and shorts off, you scramble to help him undress and when you’re both naked, he’s on you again.

His hands find purchase on your hips, he gives them a squeeze making you moan heavily into his mouth, he takes one of your legs and lets it fall open exposing your glistening cunt to him. He bites his bottom lip and presses a chaste kiss to your lips before tracing the outline of your sex, making you whimper at the touch.

“You always get so wet for me baby, you think I’d give this up?” He scoffs, and dips a finger into your needy hole. You moan, your body jerks upwards and he tsks, using his other hand to hold your body down, as he fingers you so teasingly slow, you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

“What’s the matter baby? You need me to fuck this this needy pussy?” He coos at you and you shudder, can feel yourself clenching hard around his finger. You nod as a tear rolls down your cheek and he chuckles dryly.

“I will baby,” He says, kissing your cheek. He adds another finger watching as your pussy pulls his finger back in. He groans and pumps into you faster pulling the neediest of moans from you.

“Always sound so pretty for me,” He whispers, his eyes are focused on you when he applies pressure to your clit, and you feel that tug in your core, can feel how close you are. He knows, of course he does, he rubs your clit in time with how fast he’s fucking you with his fingers. You whimper, and lift your hips to meet his fingers.

“K-ken! Fuck-” You moan a warning, he nods, goes faster and watches as you cream all over his fingers.

“Go ahead pretty, cum for me, give it to me baby,” and you do, tossing your head back, you let out a ragged breath and feel your toes curl, your orgasm crashes into you like waves on a shore, sweeping you under you closed you eyes and lose yourself to the euphoric sensation.

“Good girl, look at that,” He mutters. His hands slow to a stop, and he removes his fingers slowly, making you whimper at the loss, you sit up all too quickly, the head rush makes you fall back and you whine.

“Careful sweet girl, I’m here,” He whispers, He kisses you softly, and pulls back to watch himself sink into your wet heat.

“Fuck Ken,” You whimper, your hand goes to his bicep immediately, gripping him hard. He winced at the pain but groans in pleasure when he feels how snug you fit wrapped around his cock. Kento removes your hand to intertwine your fingers with his own, give your hands a squeeze, you look up at him through low lidded eyes.

“I’ve got you sweet girl,” He says, kissing your forehead with such tenderness it makes your heart skip a beat.

Kento pulls all the way out and then pushes back in, you gasp feeling his cock drag along your walls, and cry out when he hits that sweet spot.

“There baby?” He asks and you nod, gasping, your legs wrap around his waist locking him in place.

“Feels so fucking good, everytime baby, you’d think I’d give this up?” He mutters into your neck, you wrap your arms around his shoulder, holding him close as he fucks you slow and deep. This man has ducked you countless times but you’re so in awe and completely drunk on the feeling of him tonight, he’s everywhere all at once, squeezing your ass as he pushes in deeper, whispering words of affirmation and adoration as you cum once more on his cock.

“Oh you’re doing so well princess, fuck you’re going to make me cum,” he moans his voice muffled and he grunts as he thrusts again, you meet his hips, your fingers run through the hair at the nape of his neck, and she leans into your touch, as you encourage him to finish. You feel the swell of his cock as the first spurts of cum spill inside and you’re finishing once again, whining when he pulls out to watch your mixture of cum spill out in the sheets.

He cleans you up, even as you doze off, still whispering how perfect you are and when he’s done you curl into his side, being lulled to sleep by his soothing touch.

Kinda lack luster at the end imo, feel like my writing has fallen off but I hope y’all enjoy, thanks again anon for this prompt ily.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento smut #nanami kento oneshot #nanami kento imagines #jjk nanami kento #jjk nanami #hinasakuino answers #anon answered

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reveluving · 7 months

Text

take me anywhere but home

summary: trystan always wants to take care of you, even if it's 3.12 a.m. in the morning.

pairing: m!trystan thorne x f!mc (written as ‘you’, no name usage)

warnings: mature/smut (minors DNI!), major spoilers from book 2!

a/n: in honour of the end of book 2 because the authors spared my heart (tq <3) and honestly? this is one of my favourite pieces I've ever written, and not just because it's Trystan. it's just a little reminder that we all need a break every once in a while, yknow? gave my all in this, especially for Smutember, so don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» fancy reading another choices fic? check out my m.list!

» smut includes; gentle (+ occasionally mean) dom!trystan, ‘beautiful’ as a pet name, nipple play, fingering, mild spitting, fingering, missionary, unprotected sex (p in v sex), praise kink, loads of kisses (a lot)—Trys is extra kinky but y’all already knew that. (prompts used at the end of fic!)

'But Trystan was stubborn as he was gorgeous, which is the same sentiment he has for you, to no one’s surprise.' ;

He groaned awake the moment he felt the side next to him unoccupied. It didn't take long for him to realize he had been hugging your pillow instead of you—you must've slid it into his reach when you got out of bed. Though he could’ve assumed you went for a quick run to the bathroom, he couldn’t help but glance at the door to the living room opened ajar, noticing the light slightly coming in.

And like a moth to a flame, the amber light was practically calling him to look for you.

He checked the clock on the nightstand, his brows shooting up in surprise to see the time; 3.12 a.m. You were normally back in his arms around 2.30 a.m.

Sighing, he stretched, joints popping and cracking as he did. It didn't take long for him to sit up, pushing the blanket off with his feet and trudging his way to the bathroom to splash his face.

In the midst of his awakening, he couldn't help but wonder what was different today. You couldn't be doing work at this hour, you (jokingly) promised not to touch a single file for the first few days of your well-needed break, and even if you broke your promise of straying away from work at least for a little while, it just didn’t feel right.

Big issue or not, something was obviously wrong.

He exited the bathroom, wiping his hands with a hand towel, only to freeze up as he heard rustling in the corner of the room, just next to the floor lamp. He looked over at the dog bed, breaking into a smile as Alice let out a whine. Her eyes darted to the door before focusing on the man before her, as if silently telling him that she, too, noticed. Seeing her endearing head tilt, wondering what either of them should do, drew a soft sound of amusement out of him.

Still, Trystan couldn’t help but let out a shaky sigh soon after. He had his suspicions, he just didn’t want to panic. Somewhere in the back of his mind, just the tiniest part of his brain, he feared the absolute worst. He even wondered why he didn’t scramble out of bed as soon as he noticed your lack of presence.

One may call him clingy from afar but he had a damn good reason for his concerns.

The very thought of you ending up like Juliana.

However, his more rational side was quick to dispel his doubts and nightmares. If anything did happen to you, which he hoped to God nothing did, one; he would’ve jolted awake at the sound of you fending off, for you were a force to be reckoned with, after all, and two; Alice could’ve easily smelt the first sign of danger and done her best to alert him.

“We won’t take long.” He reassured her, scratching the spot just behind her ears. It immediately soothed her worries as one of her back legs began kicking in delight.

He stood up, exiting the bedroom before closing the door, figuring this might just be between you and him for the time being. Thankfully, he was grateful for remaining level-headed for it took little to no effort to find you.

There you were, one of your arms spread wide on the couch with nothing but your panties and Trsytan’s dress shirt buttoned only at the collar. You were swirling your drink idly, barely acknowledging the soft clinks of the ice as they slowly melted in the glass. Though seeing you just two articles of clothing away from being naked, he was more focused on how preoccupied you were with your thoughts. Your face, though subtle, held a myriad of emotions.

But if he had to describe in just a few words, you just seemed emotionally exhausted, hidden behind a veil of indifference.

It didn’t take long for you to look up, feeling someone’s eyes on you from your shared bedroom’s direction. You knew it wasn’t Alice, you would’ve heard her nails clicking against the floor and rushed over to lay by your side. You blinked a couple of times, refocusing on the present as you were greeted with Trsytan’s presence.

"Hey," You broke into a tired but warm smile, “You okay?”

Even in distress, you were still looking out for others. You weren't as subtle as you were hoping to be, or maybe he has lived with you long enough to pick up your habits. The itty-bitty details that even your own uncle wouldn't be able to notice, and no doubt you wanted to keep it that way.

But Trystan was stubborn as he was gorgeous, which is the same sentiment he has for you, to no one’s surprise.

“I should be the one interrogating you, detective,” He cocked his head, “It’s way past your bedtime.”

You were tired, that much was certain, but you weren’t keen on the idea of going to bed at the moment. Not with the thoughts going through your head, maybe even reality settling in. The close calls, the sleepless nights, the ‘bathroom breaks’ you had to take during a brutal investigation, only to bite your finger to stop yourself from crying as soon as you leave the office.

You hid them well, but you should’ve known better than to think it could work on Trystan, too.

Not that you were able to fool the rest of the crew either. You learnt that after the third attempt, about two years into your job, coming back to your desk from an episode to find an array of small but meaningful gifts on your desk, including essential oils, a couple of your favourite snacks and a tacky ‘hang in there’ card with a cat on it.

Though it obviously didn’t magically wash your worries away, you did remember ending the day on a much lighter note than you expected.

"Sorry, I couldn't sleep. You'd think after being given a week off, I'd be able to sleep like a baby." You let out a soft, hollow laugh before taking a sip of your drink, “‘Drooling away’, as you’d tell me oh so affectionately.”

You were forced to crane your neck as he approached you. You would’ve made a witty remark about him standing before you in just his briefs if not for the slight frown on his face,

"I do miss seeing you drool first thing in the morning,” He dodged the playful swat of your hand, “C'mon, back to bed, you."

"I can't sleep though."

"We don't have to. I feel like you and I would be more at ease if we stayed together. I know what the mind can do to someone if they’re left alone with their own thoughts for too long." He clarified with a wry smile. When you lacked any response or even a sign to move, he knelt in front of you, grabbing your free hand to hold in between his, "What can I do to help you?"

You pursed your lips, knowing you couldn't talk him out of this one. Not with his insistence.

Instead, you sighed, patting the empty spot beside you.

“Sit with me?” He didn’t give you the time to finish your question, occupying the spot as soon as you pat the seat. You chuckled, more genuine than the last as Trystan snuck his arms around you.

You took another sip, but before you could allow the sharp liquid to flow down your throat, you felt Trystan’s fingers caressing the outline of your jaw. Holding your chin in between his fingers, he turned your head so he could stare directly into your eyes. As he leaned in for a kiss, his tongue slipped into your mouth, sliding against your own and absolutely hooked on the taste. Your taste.

Sweet, slightly smoky, with a smooth finish, especially the lascivious display he had you in—an ardent lover his absolute most to clear his beloved’s head, even for just a split second.

He swiftly took the glass out of your hand, placing it on the coffee table before drawing you into a deeper kiss as he effortlessly lifted you onto his lap. Your body could only droop in his arms in the same way your eyes did.

Warmth slowly spread through his chest, the chilliness he felt prior to waking up gradually disappeared as his body temperature rose.

You were no better, face growing hot as you reciprocated almost bashfully. You weren't shy, not by a long shot, but it did catch you off guard.

You were the first to pull away, feeling something similar to a whiplash. That didn’t mean you wanted it all to stop, and as if Trsytan knew you best, he continued, pressing his lips to your jaw down to your neck as he decorated you with kisses. You could only give into his ministrations, lolling your head back a little.

Looping one arm around his neck, you shivered as his breath tickled the crook of your neck. Trystan could've easily been lulled by the gentle brushing of his hair.

"We can always go somewhere tomorrow." He murmured, prompting you to look down at the top of his head.

"I think I'd prefer to stay home. Just a day or two. With you. And Alice, of course," You smiled, patting his other arm with your free hand, "Why? Did you have somewhere in mind?"

"No, no, you know me and my impulsivity. I just thought you'd prefer a little rendezvous, just the three of us. Take your mind off things," Trystan trailed off, hoping to lighten up the mood, “I heard the zoo here is pretty nice.”

You snorted, shooting him a teasing glare even if he couldn't see it, “And risk you pulling me into a pool like you did in Drakovia? You’re not fooling me, Thorne. I can hear it in your voice.”

“Well, I tried.” He shrugged, sharing a soft laugh with you, though his died down way before yours did as he pulled away from you just a little. You wondered if it was just you, looking over and furrowing your brows when you saw him suddenly staring into space, deep in his thoughts.

“Trystan?”

He heard you loud and clear, and yet, couldn’t help but mull over the mention of his old home. Particularly, a memory he could never forget.

"I... I'm really sorry. In the library, back in Drakovia. I didn't mean to snap." No matter how hard he tried, hoping his mind could finally acknowledge that you had forgiven him, and despite everything that happened, from murders to betrayals in less than two months, the flash of disappointment in your eyes still haunts him to this day.

"Hey, come on. If my own family started pointing fingers at me after finding a dead body in my room, I'd get pretty testy, too."

"Don't do that, please," You would’ve thought he was scolding you if not for the desperation in his tone, "It was not okay. You've been there for me through and through, and that was the thanks I gave you?"

It was clearly eating him up inside.

"Trys, I admit. It… surprised me a little. But you know I would've told you if it bothered me," Work or not, you never liked beating around the bush. You pursed your lips, trying to figure out a way to bring out his old, infuriatingly passionate self, "Plus, you apologized even before I could figure out how to… punish you for it."

You were beyond relieved to see him crack a smile, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"Oh? And how were you planning on punishing me, then?"

"Giving you the silent treatment." You replied without missing a beat, your smirk widening as his face contorted into disbelief and horror, though you knew he was partially playing into it.

"That's just cruel," He frowned. You wordlessly shrugged, biting down the cheeky smile that threatened to slip off as you turned your head to the side with your arms crossed, "And childish."

You continued to 'ignore’ him, looking around the unit as though he wasn't present.

"You know it's not going to work on me."

As if on cue, a loud honk resonated from the road below, grabbing your interest as you looked over at the window to see what the fuss was about. You could play the game all day and he clearly couldn’t.

“Still not working.” He added, almost as if trying to convince himself.

Nothing.

You knew you had broken his resolve when he let out a disgruntled huff.

"That's it."

He surged forward, wrapping his arms around you before pulling you in for a bear hug. He kissed and gnawed on your neck, the ticklish sensation only caused him to tighten his grip as you futilely tried to escape his grasp.

“Trystan!” You yelped and squirmed, unable to control the giggle that bubbled in your throat as he pulled the button-up you wore down, exposing more of your skin for him to attack, “C’mon, you’re not playing fair!”

“No? I thought the rule was simply not to speak up. So,” He cast you a shit-eating grin, “I win.”

You groaned dramatically, letting your head fall back to his shoulder as you succumbed to his cuddling tendency. You weren't fooling anyone with your supposed exasperation, though, and you couldn't resist either. So, you took everything he had to offer.

Nothing could deter you from the warmth he exuded, both inside and out. Not even as it began to drizzle in the night, raindrops pitter-pattering against the window.

Alice, too, probably understood that the two of you were fine, and was now sleeping soundly.

To him, this was peace; waking up not even at the ass-crack of dawn and rambling about the prizes you’ve won as a kid or making plans to drop off Alice at his sister’s while the two of you try out the dining in the dark experience restaurant that just opened the other day.

“Hey,” You said, looking over your shoulder. He hummed in response, wanting nothing more than to feel you. Talk to you. Listen to you. Anything to have you with him, despite the weighing guilt of momentarily making this about him instead of you, “I’m sorry for what happened.”

He finally opened his eyes, half-lidded and almost as tired as you were. No longer because of the lack of sleep but at the mere thought of his old home, the sheer whiplash of it all. Everything that happened in Drakovia felt like a fever dream; the good, the bad, and the utmost ugly.

“I’m sorry, too.” It may have been your line of work but he couldn't imagine being subjected to the chaos you two had endured, had he decided to fly home to solve the case and then come back to the States with anyone but you. Plus, the childhood reminiscing, cultural tours and sexual escapades he was able to share with you were what made the whole trip more than just bearable.

He didn't need anyone to tell him that his family was in fact not normal, and he most certainly wouldn't have vocalized his distaste in their ways if not for the agency.

That was not to say he was a coward, and he still loved his family. Every day, he thanked the universe for the outcome. Had he held onto a sliver of hope for some sense of belonging with the line instead of fighting for what he truly believed, who knows how it could’ve ended?

But it all hardly mattered now. His life wasn’t about Drakovia anymore, not to that extent It was no longer about the short-lived commodity and ‘hoping for the best’ as he did before and after his exile. Whether it was anything as mundane as being stuck in traffic with the crew or as ridiculous yet domestic as falling in the bathtub with you while giving Alice a much-needed bath. His life was nothing short of an adventure with the people that he, as cliché as it sounded, has seen as his own family.

Your eyes fluttered open as he planted a kiss on the nape of your neck, a delicate touch. One after another, his lips ascended to the sweet spot where your neck and shoulder just met.

Your breath hitched as his cold hands took hold of yours, swiping his thumbs over your knuckles. His hands then slowly travelled up your arms, imagining the goosebumps rising under the sleeves. With his shirt buttoned in a similar fashion to an off-shoulder top, he pulled the collar down your arms, just until your cleavage became more visible.

You could feel him smile into your back at the sight of your hardened nipples peeking through the material.

"Trystan..?" He hadn't spoken a word since his hands began to wander all over your body, and it remained that way for a couple more seconds as he trailed his lips across your newly exposed skin.

"Hmm?" He hummed, coming up at your eye level as he hooked his chin on your shoulder. Following his gaze, you watched your reflections in the window. It was unclear from the raindrops trickling down the glass, but enough to make out just how naked the two of you really were.

"I just…" He piped up, but not before moving to your other shoulder to peck and nose at, "I just want you to let it all go. Lose yourself to me."

You were like a fish out of water; it shouldn't have surprised you as it did, but something about his tone, the yearning, the sheer need to lift off the weight that you've been carrying for a while. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry now that you’d grown soft, letting your vulnerability seep through. You weren’t stupid enough to show your sensitive side out and about, but with Trystan, it felt wonderful to have someone ready as he was to take the reins.

"Can you do that for me?"

Then again, maybe you do know what to do.

You nodded deliberately.

"Can you say it for me? Please?"

“Yes,” You muttered under your breath, “Yes. Please, Trystan. Whatever you want.”

“No,” He raised your hand, kissing the back of it before looking into your eyes, “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

He patiently waited for your reply, lips quirking in amusement as his eyes flitted to the way you ground your hips instinctively.

“Whatever I want…” You dragged his hands upwards, and instantaneously understanding your desperation for his touch, he squeezed your breasts before haphazardly doing it again upon sliding them under your shirt. His cold palms only caused you to jolt as he rolled your pebbled buds in between his fingers.

Grunting as he cupped your breasts, he pecked your forehead for your attention. You peered up at him, your eyes lost in the moment of lust before widening as Trystan leaned in. Your state of surprise allowed him entrance through your lips, licking the inside of your mouth as his only form of sustenance.

You could feel the patch forming in between your legs, though Trystan's sharp eyes were quick to notice how your thighs were rubbing together.

He broke the kiss, your breaths ghosting over each other's lips, "Feels nice, doesn't it? Letting someone else take control?"

One of his hands left feathery touches as he reached down to your panties; black, cheeky underwear with a lace trim that he's known and loved. He slipped past the waistband, though not touching the spot you needed him most just yet. Instead, he took a handful of the material via your other leg opening before pulling it upwards, cupping your sopping pussy.

Had you not reacted in such a lewd way, suddenly digging your nails into his thigh and arching your back, you would've noticed the lazy smirk forming on his face.

He then lifted the hem of your shirt, catching a glimpse of the tightened fabric rubbing in between your folds.

"I'd love to know what my darling wants." He reminded with a purr, shamelessly gazing upon the erotic display.

"I–!" You cut yourself off with a whine when he pulled the front from side to side, "Trystan, please! Please…" You placed your hand over his, the one playing with the bands of your underwear. He immediately let you take control, releasing his hold in favour of feeling your slick by brushing his fingers along your lower lips.

"You're dripping." He sighed in absolute bliss, imagining the slickness already coating his fingers before pulling his hand out of your panties without a warning.

Your protests died on your tongue when he let out a deep growl.

He turned you around, chest to chest before pressing his lips to yours with urgency. In the midst of your passionate embrace, Trystan began to sit up on his knees, manoeuvring you by the waist so you laid on your back. His knees were on either side of you, his right arm holding himself up on the seat just over your head.

He took a moment to appreciate you, his chest heaving as the lights of the bustling city surrounded you from behind like a golden halo crown.

He reached up to your face, gently caressing your cheek before leaning in for a smooch. Soon, he trailed soft kisses down your body.

You squirmed, hands resting on his shoulders as he descended. His lips lingered in the valley of your breasts, locking his eyes with yours as his tongue flicked and swirled around your nipples. He did the same to the other before proceeding to your tummy, but not before playfully pulling the bud with his lips.

Your hips continued to buck, seeking relief as his firm chest hovered just over the one place you yearned for the most.

“Easy,” Judging by his tone, he was enjoying this a whole lot, hiding the smug as he held your legs down. Figuring that he has left you enough kisses for the time being, he finally reached the flimsy material between him and your, well, his pretty pussy. His words, not yours, “How shall I go about this, hm?”

He dragged his fingers up and down your clothed sex, biting his bottom lip as you ground yourself against his teasing, “Is it just my hands that you want? Slowly stretch you open with three fingers? Or does my beautiful detective wish for my tongue as well?”

He licked a long stripe up the damp fabric, daring you to break eye contact. Your hand shot to his hair as you jumped.

“Or,” He held onto your thighs with a smack, “Both? Will you let me taste you a bit, too?"

“Yes! Both! B-Both, please, Trys!” You begged with a gasp, resisting the urge to just claw at his pesky hands. He offered you some mercy, but not before removing your panties painstakingly slowly. Carelessly tossing the little cloth behind him, he whistled at your glistening pussy, waiting for his attention.

“Both it is.” He wasted no time, dropping his head and licked into you as his tongue could reach. The sight of Trystan’s sturdy physique holding onto your legs like you were a lifeline as he buried his face in between your legs seared into your mind. Just as you bucked again, he pulled away but was just as quick to slip his middle finger into you.

You clenched around him just as the obscene squelch reached his ears, his finger bottoming out at his knuckles. He pulled his head back, only to surge forward once again to suck on your clit. He shook his head, soaking his lips and chin with your juices.

Satisfied with the way his fingers shined and glistened, he sucked on the juices before spitting it into your pussy. As if he wasn't a menace enough, he stuffed the same fingers back into you, with some of the spit mix leaking out.

This time, the pistoning of his fingers quickened, his lips parting as you did out of pure bliss. You could feel yourself trickling down, smearing your tight hole before the couch itself. Not that you cared, and neither did he.

Your legs trembled, and before just as you felt the rush of heat across your body, you forced him to stop by the wrist.

Trystan's brows shot up in surprise, and understandably so. Any signs of his tiredness seemed to have disappeared with a snap of a finger as he crawled over closer to check up on you. However, you didn't spare him a second and captured his lips with yours for a desperate kiss.

“N-No, no. I need you,” You muttered, his forehead resting against yours as he tried syncing his heartbeat with yours from the instantaneous high. His fingers remained stuffed inside you, now moving languidly. You choked out a sob, eyes rolling to the back of your head, “Fuck, please Trystan! Fuck me.”

Seeing you fall apart just by his hands and voice, begging him to take control was enough to result in the raging hard-on he was sporting. Each time he rutted against the seat felt almost painful just as it was more addicting than the last.

Like a man possessed, he did as he was told, removing his boxers with his free hand while kissing away the tears of pleasure that threatened to spill.

Slowly sliding his digits out of you, he unabashedly appraised how soaked three of his fingers were, especially glistening in the light. As much as he wanted to just suck it all off in one go, he, instead, licked your juices off his index finger.

"How could I say no?" He cooed, finally ridding the briefs as his cock sprung out. Beads of precum dribbled down the sides, visibly aching to be inside you. Trystan threw his head back as he stroked his cock, electricity coursing through his body as he sought even an ounce of relief from your juices alone.

You whimpered, clenching around nothing and absolutely yearning for him. Naturally spurred by your neediness, he towered over you as he trailed butterfly kisses up your frame, his unfairly large stature easily eclipsing yours.

Staring into your eyes with his half-lidded ones, he rested his forehead against yours, whispering in a tone that nearly moved you into tears for a totally different reason.

“There's no greater length I wouldn't go to to make you happy.”

Your throat tightened at his words, levelling his vulnerability just as you were to show you there was no shame in you being human.

You sniffled, nodding thoughtfully as you hooked your arms around his neck. He nuzzled the side of your face, whispering sweet reassurances before lining himself up against your tight slit.

He slowly pushed forward with a heady groan, gritting his teeth as he slowly breached your already clenching walls. He hung his head for a moment, feeling lighthearted from your intoxicating warmth despite not even halfway in.

“Fuck," He drawled, the very girth of him throbbed as he eased himself in inch by inch and ignoring his need to go to town with you. It took a lot in him, especially the way you huffed and moaned so deliciously in his ear. He knew you loved it, but you didn't need that right now.

“Trys–tan…!” You pleaded, pushing your hips back into him as he pulled out until the very tip, only to gasp sharply as he drove into you once more. He battered your cunt immensely, fueled by the way your nails dug into his back as if he may float away if you let go. He was so sweet, going slow yet deep if the way his muscles flexed was anything to go by.

A wanton moan slipped past your lips. You felt full, you were full, finding yourself in a drunken haze as he railed into you, coaxing you, or better yet, demanding you not to hold.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” His breaths grew ragged, fading into a disbelief chuckle, “That’s it, beautiful. Squeeze my cock, just like that.”

“M—Mn–gah–!” The second you felt him reach that one sensitive spot inside you, the pitch of your voice grew higher, "Right there..!"

His pupils were dilated, determined even at the very sound of your ass slapping against his thighs. You felt dishevelled, but Trystan thought were a sight for sore eyes, ready to be admired and worshipped.

"Gonna cum already?" You were too fucked out to think of a remark about the hint of condescension in his voice, though he made it up to you when he pounded into you a little faster, making your toes curl. It was all too addicting, despite the burn in your thighs from rolling your hips in hopes of chasing your high faster than you already were.

"Do it. Cum on me, make a mess. Bite me, scratch me, do whatever you want. I got you." He left open-mouth kisses up your jaw as his blown out pupils gazed upon yours.

With a final trust, you spasmed around his cock with an almost silent moan, holding onto him with a violent shiver. The way you clenched around him so tightly, almost constructing had one of his knuckles turning a tone lighter, clenching the seat hard as he spurted inside as you came as well.

His chest heaved, holding onto the little strength he had left to suffocating you if he were to ever fall in your arms. He didn't though, as breathless as he was, he still catered to you, leaving lazy kisses wherever he was able to reach.

It took the two of you a minute, probably even more, but he found the will to move, slowly easing himself out and cooing at you as you whined. Feeling your cum and his dripping out slowly when he hoisted you into his arms, now leaning into him this time.

The two of you remained still, minus the exchange of kisses and worn out smiles with one another. There was no need to rush, even when the occasional tremors of your thighs or Trystan's heavy breathing have stopped after some time.

"Trys?" You whispered, throat a little raspy from your whines and screams. He held his hand up with a ‘hang on’, standing up with a slight shakiness in his knees, not bothering with the briefs he had tossed to the floor as he casually walked to the kitchen. You remained on your back, hearing the fridge door open before it closed. He then whirled around to the bedroom door, initially planning to get a towel and a blanket, only to stop dead in his tracks.

He didn’t know how to feel about going commando while Alice could potentially wake up, especially after the noises you made.

He felt stupid but he'd prefer it as such rather than traumatize your sweet girl.

Instead, he decided to check the guest bathroom.

He returned with two towels and a cold water bottle in hand, twisting the cap open before offering it to your lips. You gulped a good amount, just until Trystan was confident to pull it away and have a sip on his own.

He even made drinking look good, your eyes darting between his bobbing Adam’s apple and the sheen of perspiration glazing his body. Half bottle gone, he placed it next to the now watered-down beverage, covered and trickling with condensation. He then grabbed the blanket conveniently draped over the headrest, for movie nights where you would likely fall asleep in front of the TV.

He took a good couple of minutes cleaning you up, wiping off the beads of sweat then the oozes of cum between you thighs with the second towel. He did the same for himself but not before passing you the bottle once more, silently telling you to drink a little more.

He fell back on the couch with a contented sigh, opening up his arms for you to join him.

“Come here,” You did as he told, snuggling in his chest and letting out a squeak as he smooched the crown of your head a couple of times, “You were saying?”

"Let's do something later." You turned your head upwards, watching his eyes gleam at your suggestion.

"Anything you'd like." You didn’t think this through, but you did know that you wanted to do something. Just then, you remembered the food market being held in Williamsburg for the next couple of months.

“There’s this Japanese food place that I’ve been meaning to try at Smorgasburg…” You began, but you didn’t have to explain any further for him to be on board.

“Consider it done,” He then squinted his eyes, focusing on the arms of the clock hanging above the TV, “It doesn’t start until 11, right? Might as well get some shut-eye in the meantime.”

He was right, the vendors wouldn't be open until another five hours or so, and as if on cue, you were hit with a wave of tiredness. Your eyes began to feel droopy, prompting you to make yourself comfortable in his arms.

“Is that a yes?” He asked with a chuckle. You nodded with an ‘mhm’, “Thank you.”

“For the nap?” You quirked a brow, his expression settling into a warmer one as you smiled at each other. He closed the distance between your faces, pressing a kiss on the apple of your cheek.

“For everything.” He could go on and on about how much his life changed when the two of you met and vice versa, but he’d rather not give you a blackmail-worthy material if he were to ever talk nonsense in his sleep, although he had no doubts that you’d prefer otherwise. He was starting to doze off just as you did, pulling the covers higher before flicking the lamp light switch off and letting you snuggle against him. Your only source of light being the twinkles and glimmers of the city itself.

That brought a bright smile to your face, touched to see just how far you were. You really have fallen hard, but what was new?

It’ll be another day once the sun shines, but for now, he could rest easy, and so could you. And even if you did wake up past what was initially planned, or if the day remained too rainy for you to head out, that was fine, too.

With Trystan around, there wasn't anything for you to worry about.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» tagging @choicesficwriterscreations & @choicesprompts for smutember! ;; & the gorgeous red rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

» prompts used ;; 3. let me taste you ; 8. sweet & slow ; 24. worship

27 notes · View notes

fandomscraziness22 · 5 months

Note

22 and 46 for end thb locklyle!

hi friend!!! you gave me a sorta specific idea for this prompt, so hopefully it lives up to that, even though it's not *exactly* the same! also apparently it's the anniversary of Lucy leaving? so like, happy anniversary i guess????? lol

to distract (22), because they’re running out of time (46)

“My Talent….”

Lucy trails off in front of him, and Lockwood could finish that sentence a million ways. Your Talent is the strongest thing I’ve ever seen. Your Talent is maddening. Your Talent is dangerous, but that’s why you have a team with you. Your Talent is not the real reason we’re still arguing.

But he doesn’t say any of that. Instead he scoffs and says, “We both know your Talent isn’t going anywhere, Luce. You’re just being a coward.”

And maybe that was the wrong say, because Lucy’s face goes white, and then she grabs her coat. “I am many things, Mr. Lockwood. But a coward is not one of them,” she snarls.

Lockwood’s taken aback by the ferocity of the statement, not to mention the formal way she addressed him, so it takes him a second too long to realize Lucy has left the cafe. Their tea cups remain full, and Lockwood swears he can see the liquid trembling from Lucy’s pure rage.

I need to go after her, he can’t help thinking. She can’t leave.

Lockwood scrambles for his coat and rushes to the door, ignoring the curious looks everyone is giving him. Right now, he doesn't give a damn about what he looks like to the general public—all he cares about is getting to Lucy.

“Lucy!” he calls down the street, seeing her walking fast against the chilly November wind. She doesn’t turn, but he knows she heard him. His brain is racing as he catches up to her. What else can he say that he hasn’t already said in the past two hours?

Well, there is one thing, and it’s the most terrifying thing he’s ever had to say to a living person. But he might have to.

Lockwood stops in front of Lucy, causing her to pull up abruptly, a scowl on her face. “Lockwood, what the hell?” she gripes.

The light of the ghost lamp they’ve stopped under gives her an ethereal glow, and if he wasn’t in the middle of begging her to stay, Lockwood would marvel at how beautiful she looks. But there’s no time for that.

“Why can’t you just let me do this?” Lucy asks, close to angry tears. Lockwood knows she doesn’t cry very easily, and he hates that this is all making her feel like that, but he also knows himself. And he knows, with absolute certainty, that if she leaves like this, he will never recover.

“Because, Lucy, we need you with us. I need you with us. With me.” It comes out halting, in fits and starts, because Lockwood is no good at talking about his feelings. He’s better with action (though he’s terrified to do what he’s been thinking about since Lucy went on that first case with them so long ago).

She blinks at him, a hint of surprise showing through her otherwise impassive face. She’s quite good at that—making Lockwood question what he originally thought was a good idea, because she’s getting ready to yell at him for what he just said.

Lockwood doesn’t let her get a word in. They’re already so close, it’s not hard to reach for her cheek, to softly pull her even closer.

“I need you,” he repeats in a whisper. “Please, Luce.”

Maybe it’s the nickname, maybe it’s the nonexistent space between them, maybe it’s desperation (okay, it’s definitely that last one). Lockwood looks into her eyes one more time, and he spots the glimmer of hope he was looking for. So he closes the gap between them and presses his lips to hers.

He meant for it to stay gentle; a plea, a request to stay, to give him another chance.

Lucy has something else in mind.

She pulls away just for a second to mumble a “Finally,” against his lips before pulling him to her and crushing her mouth to his.

Lockwood’s squeak (that he will deny forever ever happened) is muffled in the movement of their lips against each other.

He’s the first to break off, only because his body needs air. Lockwood presses his forehead to Lucy’s, keeping his eyes closed as he says, “That was a long time coming.”

Lucy giggles, half in shock and half in delight. “You absolute tosser,” she scolds him fondly. “I can’t believe you waited till now.”

Lockwood pulls away slightly to really look at her. “Lucy, will you stay? We can work out whatever problems you think you’re saving us from by leaving.”

Her nod is the best movement in the entire world. (Well, maybe second best, he thinks, as he leans down to kiss her again.)

send me a ship and a kiss!

#lockwood and co #locklyle #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood

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scriberye · 1 year

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Mourning 🥀

➥ Jason Voorhees x Reader | 1485 | Ao3

⚠️Major Character Death, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Murder, Gender Neutral Reader United by death, your soul becomes entwined with Jason Voorhees, forging a bond that transcends life. a/n: This was inspired by a headcanon I came across and my brain went, yes.

Your eyes flutter open, and you gaze up at the sky above you, the pale blue peaking through the branches of towering trees surrounding you. Sunlight filters through the dense foliage, casting dabbled shadows on the forest floor. Huh. You blink a few times, brain foggy, as you try to recall the events that led you here.

The sound of your friends’ laughter is still fresh in your mind as you remember joining them for a camp retreat. Camp Crystal Lake. After settling into your room, you took a walk around the lake, enjoying the warm breeze on your skin and the sound of water lapping against the shore.

A searing pain pierces your head. With a weary sigh, you climb to your feet, rubbing at your stiff neck. You must’ve slept wrong, and now you were paying the price with the resulting aches and pains.

You brush the dirt from your clothes and survey your surroundings, searching for any familiar landmarks that could guide you back to the cabins. Gazing back at your sleeping spot, a surge of dread swells within, your eyes widening in horror.

There, lying motionless, is you. Vacant and lifeless eyes staring at the sky above, neck bent at an unnatural angle and blood caked in your hair.

That wasn’t you, right? It couldn’t be. You were standing right here.

It’s a horrific revelation.

You died.

Fear, confusion, and sadness meld together into an overwhelming tempest.

You scream.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your mournful crying draws Jason to you, a sorrowful symphony that captivates and lures him in. He stood in silence at first, watching as you mourned for your lost life. Then he brought flowers, leaving them beside your body, replacing each wilted blossom with another, and then another.

It became a ritual, one Jason dutifully carried out until there was a mound of flowers.

He brings you a new flower, a lily, and tenderly lays it at the top of the heap, and something shifts inside of you. You couldn’t understand the sudden change, only that the anguish that engulfed you had passed only to be replaced with curiosity. Who would bring you flowers? Who was mourning you, too?

For the first time it what felt like forever, you lift your head and stare into eyes hidden behind a grimy hockey mask.

“Can you… see me?” you asked, voice trembling and vulnerable.

He responds with a nod. You blink, taken aback by the revelation.

“You brought these flowers… for me?”

He nods once more.

And you can hear me?

A deep, masculine voice echoed in your mind. It defied all reason and explanation, and yet, you understood why his words reached you. His voice was dead, too.

“I can hear you!” you exclaimed with a gasp. You scramble to your feet and closed the distance between you and him, eyes focused on one another.

“Please,” you implored the hulking stranger, “will you bury my body?”

Another nod. Jason steps around you, an unexpected courtesy when he could have passed through your ghostly form. He knelt down and brushed away the layer of leaves and dirt that had gathered over your body.

You flinched at the state of the vessel that once housed your soul. Nature was cruel and time was merciless. Just how long were you here mourning, you wondered.

Jason knelt down and gathered your lifeless form into his arms, an arm supporting your back, while the other settled under your knees. It was so strange. He cradled your remains in his arms with such tenderness and moved with such grace through the woods as he carried you to the cemetery.

You trailed behind him, clumsily navigating your way through the undergrowth. Each stumble served as a reminder that you were still bound to this plane, despite being a ghost.

In due time, you and Jason arrived at the cemetery. He gingerly lays your body down on a patch of green grass. You explored the tombstones while he set to work digging your grave. There wasn’t much you could do to help him, anyway.

Two weathered graves near where Jason was digging drew your attention. The first bore the name ‘Pamela’, with a fresh flower resting before it. The second had the name ‘Jason’ etched on it. You frown as fragments of memories piece together. That was the name of the supernatural killer that terrorised the campground.

“Are you… Jason Voorhees?”

He stops, entire body going rigid and with a heavy sigh, he turns to face you, gaze flickering over to the stone with his name etched on it.

Yes. The simple reply ripples through your mind.

“Did you… did you kill me?”

No.

His response confuses you. The ethereal voice carries a tinge of hurt with it. Was he upset that you accused him of murdering you? Was his pride hurt that he failed to take your life?

Your death was an accident. I had no part in it.

An accident, huh? You sigh and wander back to the open grave where Jason stands, staring at you with an unyielding intensity. You sit at the edge. A thousand questions swirl in your mind. Were your friends victims of Jason then? Did anyone recover their bodies? How did yours go unnoticed?

Jason extends his hand, his fingers brushing the air as he caresses your cheek.

You’re the first ghost I’ve met.

You blink, his words catching you by surprise and pulling you away from your melancholy thoughts. You begin to laugh and Jason withdraws his hand, gripping the shovel instead.

“Being a ghost is a first for me.”

The sound of your laughter brings a sense of warmth to a Jason’s empty chest. Even though you can’t see his expression behind the hockey mask, you feel he’s smiling and sharing in the good humour.

Jason returns to his solemn task, digging until he’s satisfied with the depth and shape of what would be your final resting place. He climbs out and cradles your lifeless form in his arms with the same tender care as before.

He lowers your body into the grave and blankets it in soil. An odd stillness settles over the cemetery as you sit and watch your body disappear beneath the dirt. You were unaware that by burying your body, you not only laid your past to rest, but built the foundation for a future.

Following the funeral, you remain by Jason’s side. You learned what shaped him into the killer he is, and shared in his sorrow over the loss of his mother.

You developed a morbid fascination with Jason’s killings. He was resourceful, and skilled. It became a twisted delight to watch him chase after intruders, making victims of them all. You’d join him occasionally, tracking the craftier campers, knocking and tipping things over to scare them and guide Jason.

A bond took shape between you two.

Jason became your anchor, grounding you when fragments of your grief roared back to life. When it threatened your very being, trying to consume your very existence until there was nothing left — he was there.

Jason, an unwavering force, was your sanctuary in the storm.

And you were his ethereal companion.

As time wore on, an unsettling presence tugged at the fabric of your being. It was an echo, devoid of words, that reached out and called for you. At first, you tried to ignore it, but it was unyielding and refused to be ignored.

It wanted you to move on.

The decision wasn’t an easy one, but Jason understood, and as always, he supported you.

The evening is dark and still as you sit beside Jason on the pier. The lake glowed in the dim light of the moon, its surface reflecting the thousands of dancing stars overhead.

You whispered, “Do you think there’s something once we move on?”

I don’t know, but for me, there’s nothing.

You want to comfort him, and so you reach out and curl your fingers around his hand. In your mind, you imagine the texture of his glove and the weight of his hand. Though you couldn’t feel him, he felt you. Your entire essence was a bitter chill that seeped through into his bones.

“I hope I’m reborn so I can see you again.” You sigh, hoping that by saying it aloud, your wish will come true.

Jason turns his hand over, interlacing his fingers with yours. Though there is nothing there for him to hold, he still tries and the feelings you carry for him warm your fleeting soul.

Your smile is bittersweet as you close your eyes and leaned against his side. “Wait for me, okay?”

Jason doesn’t answer, instead he gazes up at the stars adorning the sky as the chilling presence faded from his side. With what’s left of his soul, he makes a pledge to wait for you, no matter how long it takes. He’ll wait.

#jason voorhees #jason voorhes x reader #reader insert #slashers #jason voorhees x you

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twstjam · 11 months

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Memory Lane Part 3: Between the Lines

Characters focused on: Adeuce, Grim, & GN!Reader

Word count: 3.9k

Summary: You're an innocent isekai victim, but was there something more to you that not even you were aware of until now...?

Or: You wander into another world and meet reincarnations of cartoon villains (who were REAL and also your friends in a past life). Exposition chapter ft. Brain cell Trio.

Masterlist

AO3 Link

"Myaaah! Get out of my room, explodey-hair!"

"Oi! There isn't gonna BE a room if you keep throwing fire all over the place!"

"Myahaha! What's wrong? Scared of'a little fire? Why don't'cha use your wind? Oh, that's right; you can't! Myahahaha!"

"H-Hey, cut it out, you two! Or else I'll make you!"

You open the door, already wide-eyed upon hearing the commotion as you came down the hall, and blanch at the chaos you see inside. Ace is ducking and weaving around jets of blue flame as Grim hisses and growls at him from on top of the bed. The young squire counters with his own taunts, making no effort to douse the little monster cat's fiery rage. The only reason the room hasn't burned down yet is evidently thanks to Deuce, who you can see is scrambling to extinguish the flames using his own spells.

For a moment, you can do nothing but watch in both fascination and horror at the scene in front of you. Of course, after a long day of non-stop events—from accidentally wandering into a fairytale world, being chased by monsters, and then meeting friends who are apparently from a past life—you should've known better than to assume that you'd be able to finally catch a break from all the excitement in your room. You begin to rethink thanking Riddle for generously providing you with a place to stay and instead consider if you should ask him to behead you after all.

That might seem like an exaggerated reaction, but even before you came in here, you already had the feeling that the events in your life are only going to pick up from here if the way your discussion with Riddle and Leona had gone was anything to go by.

----

"Reincarnation and past lives are complicated stuff," Leona drawled, lounged carelessly on one of the misshapen sofas in the sitting room. Across from you, Riddle's smile is strained and you even catch his eye twitching, but he remains seated. "But basically, not everyone can remember the memories of their past lives. Guess you can say that kinda makes us special."

Leona sighed, heavy and weary. He leaned over and skewered a piece of meat from the tray on the table with a claw.

"Makes for a special pain in the ass, if you ask me."

Leona nonchalantly popped the piece of meat into his mouth, unphased by the stern gaze Riddle had trained on him. All this "reincarnation" stuff was making your head spin, but if you understood it correctly, then you might be right to assume that these two (and maybe even the others they mentioned?) had some beef that went back to way before everyone in this room had been born. Riddle's eyes seemed to hold distaste beyond Leona disrespecting basic rules and etiquette and a curious (read: nosy) part of you was intrigued to know the source for it.

"As Leona had said," Riddle continued, his eyes lingering on Leona before settling on you as he faced you, "The ability to recall past lives isn't widespread. While we may encounter people who used to be affiliated with us once upon a time, fellow inheritors are set apart from others."

"So you and Leona are different from everyone else, and because of that you know that each other is different?" you mused, the gears turning in your head as you put this information together in between finger snacks.

The corner of Riddle's mouth lifted slightly and he nodded.

"Correct. Our own inheritor status allows us to identify fellow inheritors. It's how we're able to consistently be associated in other lifetimes."

"Unfortunately," Leona grumbled.

"You mentioned sensing my "essence" earlier," you said thoughtfully. "That's how you do it?"

Riddle nodded again.

"Leona can feel it too."

"Yeah." The lion man—beastman, you think Riddle had called him—yawned, stretching out over the sofa and settling his chin on the back of his hands like a lazy housecat. He peeked at you out of one eye as he continued, "I can feel your essence too, clear as day, but Riddle's sayin' you can't feel us or even remember us."

You shook your head helplessly and Leona grunted, closing his eyes as his pretty features twisted up in a scowl.

"Figures," he growled. "Tamer up and takes off without warning and when they show up again their inheritor doesn't know shit."

It was obvious that Leona was mad at you, and you can do nothing but shift in your seat awkwardly. Riddle was unexpectedly more level headed, but even his own expression was one of dismay and disappointment. You suddenly felt very put on the spot, and you hadn't even done anything! But you guess you technically did in a past life? Regardless, whether or not you did, it shouldn't mean you'd have to deal with all these problems that past-you left behind! You didn't sign up for this!

All you'd wanted to do was get yourself a fancy antique, not... whatever all this is.

Riddle suddenly spoke up, drawing your attention back to him. Leona remained still and quietly seething, but you saw his ear flick in the corner of your vision.

"There's no point in focusing on the drawbacks." There was resignation in Riddle's voice and a determination in his eyes. A part of you wanted to feel concerned for your own well-being, but another part of you also couldn't help but be stirred by his sudden resolve. "Tamer's inheritor may not remember their memories or be able to sense other inheritors, but we can sense them, can't we?"

A deep hum rumbled from Leona's throat. He stayed relaxed where he was, but the quirking of his ears conveyed his interest.

"True," the lion mumbled thoughtfully. "The herbivore doesn't remember us, but they're still an inheritor."

Slowly, his eyes drew open and he looked at you with a lidded gaze. Despite his casual, relaxed, drowsy air, his deep green eyes sparked with undeniable intellect you couldn't possibly fathom.

"Which means... we've got a chance."

----

Grim's next breath of fire breaks off into sputters of blue flame when you suddenly pick him up off the bed.

"Fgna!! Unhand me, henchman!" The cat yowls as he squirms in your hold. Your fingers slip on his silky fur, but you re-adjust your grip and continue to try wrestle him into submission. "Yrow! Let me teach that jerk a lesson!"

The aforementioned jerk retreats from the bed and sighs with relief. His demeanor quickly shifts to one of triumph at Grim fighting against you (and losing).

"Serves ya right, you stupid cat!" Ace laughs. "That's what you get for trying to pick fights with me."

"Grrr, I'm not a..." Grim's retorts trail off into a low growl as you gently run your fingers through the fur at the top of his head. He stops squirming and lets you hold him, but his glare still promises Ace a crispy death. You face him yourself and your eyes immediately land on the heart-shaped collar around his neck.

"Says the guy who got collared because he messed with a "stupid cat"."

Ace sputters a surprised protest. Next to him, Deuce snickers, and he shoots the other squire a glare.

"Grim, when I asked Riddle to let you use your magic again, I didn't mean to burn our room down!" you admonish, but your fingers continue stroking through the wayward cat's fur.

"Mya... I was just tryin' to chase out these intruders!" Grim proclaims with puffed-up fur. "They were hangin' out in here when I got back. I thought this was our room!"

You're not sure when exactly you adopted a stray monster cat, but you find that you don't mind the declaration that this room is in fact yours and Grim's. You guess you're a cat parent now.

"Now that you mention it, what are you guys doing here?" You narrow a quizzical glare at the two boys and Deuce holds up his hands defensively.

"Don't look at me!" He points to Ace. "It was Ace's idea to come in here. I was just making sure he doesn't break any more rules or steals anything."

"Like I'm the one who needs a babysitter," Ace scoffs. Deuce's glare goes ignored as he continues, "Alright, listen; I wasn't tryin' to steal anything, alright?"

You raise your eyebrow skeptically.

"It's the truth!" he retorts quickly. "I was just looking for a place to get away from His Royal Bossiness and the door was unlocked—so I didn't break in!—and since you seem kinda important for whatever reason—" as he says this, his gaze flits over you searchingly and he seems curious but also unimpressed, "—I figured that he wouldn't look in here and bother you."

You tilt your head at him. You don't think Riddle and Leona have told anyone about your "inheritor" status. Since the moment you arrived at the castle, Riddle had been occupied drilling answers out of you and Leona had acted as if just talking about the matter with you and Riddle had taken every ounce of effort in him so you can't imagine him bothering to tell anyone, nor can you think of a reason he'd want to.

"What makes you say that?" If Ace could sense inheritors like Riddle and Leona, you think he'd have said something. You don't normally come off as someone very important in your opinion, and since Ace himself had seen you run out of the woods like a headless chicken just today and seems sceptical of his own deduction, you're curious. Was there always something about yourself that you'd missed?

Ace cocks an eyebrow as if you'd just asked something so blatantly obvious.

"Because Riddle acted all weird when you showed up this morning?" Next to him, Deuce nods thoughtfully in agreement. "And let's not forget that important and expensive-looking box you've got sitting over there."

Ace gestures with a tilt of his head and your gaze follows to—

Oh, that.

"This thing?" You cross the room to a study area where, sitting unassumingly on the study table, is a worn, wooden chest decorated with intricate designs. Grim's ears perk up and he hops onto the table's surface to investigate it more closely.

"Oh yeah, I was wonderin' about this too." Grim eyes the carvings curiously and paws the latch. "You were carrying this around when I ran into you in the forest earlier." His eyes light up and his tail stands up into the air. "Is there treasure in it?!"

"There's gotta be, right?" Deuce's voice is eager and hopeful as he approaches with Ace, his eyes brightening like Grim's. "With how it looks?"

"Yeah, whether or not it has anything inside, the box itself has gotta cost mega marks." Ace's grin has a scheming feel to it that you don't like. "You could probably even score a crazy deal if you gave it to Leona or Riddle."

"Huh? Why?" You pick up the chest and turn it over in your hands. It looks just as old and dusty as when you first saw it. "I found it just lying around in an antique shop. Nobody else wanted it, so I got it for free."

Both boys spring up in surprise and startle you.

"You got it for free ?!" Deuce exclaims. "Man, luckyyy."

"Yeah, that's nuts!" Ace adds hysterically. "Anyone with half a brain cell knows that Great Seven relics are worth a fortune . Museums and historians all over the world are always scrounging around for 'em and sometimes even the Seven's inheritors themselves are willing to pay good money to get their hands on their old stuff. No way you got that thing for free!"

"It even looks like it might've even been from the original Seven's time," Deuce muses, his eyes trained on the chest with deep interest. All you can do is continue looking between them cluelessly.

"I... don't really get it." You look down at the ancient object in your hands that had ensnared your companions' attention. "It's pretty, sure, but... it's just a box."

Deuce looks at you in disbelief while Ace exaggeratedly heaves an exhausted sigh.

"You really don't know anything, huh?" he says in a very put-upon way, earning him an unappreciative expression from you in response. "Look at the carvings on the chest."

You lift the chest to your eyes. Grim rises up on his hind legs to get a look himself. You trace your fingers carefully over the impressions in the wood where you can make out the most distinct shapes, just like you had what seemed like forever ago.

The chest had been tucked at the back of the shelf, hidden behind several other dusty, old-looking antiques. When you'd pulled it out and blew off the dust coating the top, the particles seemed to glitter in the sunlight streaming through the window.

Immediately, your eyes were caught by the detailed carvings on the chest. Following the dips and curves in the wood, chiseled with a precise practice and attention to detail you could never hope to comprehend, you manage to parse out the figures that'd been shaped so carefully:

The first of them was a queen donning a massive gown and a small crown. Next to her was a prowling lion etched with scars. Standing in front of it was what looked like a woman with curling tentacles for legs and bedside her, a tall man in a turban holding a staff styled to look like a snake. Beside them was a second queen, dressed in an impressive gown adorned with peacock feathers. Across from her stood a flaming robed man and finally, on the center of the chest; an elegant, horned woman with dragon wings.

"I bought that during an estate sale years ago," the store owner had said when he saw you looking at it. "It has all these characters on it but seems so much older than when these movies came out. I've never been able to get the lock on it open, though. If you can do it, you can have it and whatever's inside."

"See? It's the Great Seven." Ace points to each of the figures one-by-one. "Here's the Queen of Hearts. There's the King of Beasts, and then the Sea Witch, the Tactician of the Sands, the Fairest Queen, the King of the Underworld, and—"

"Ooh, I know, I know!" Grim hopped up and down excitedly. "The Thorny Fairy!"

"It's actually the Thorn Fairy," Ace corrects with a mocking grin. "But it looks like you've got a brain after all under all that fur."

Grim begins to growl at him, but you smooth down his anger and the hairs on his back with your hand.

"Anyways, yeah. A chest like this that has old magic on it has gotta have been important to the Seven in some way," Ace finishes. He looks at the chest more closely with a thoughtful expression.

"Too bad we can't open it," Deuce sighs. "I'd kill to know—"

Click.

You would've laughed at the way the boys' eyes were bulging out of their heads if you weren't so confused.

"What?"

"Wh— What do you mean, "What"?!" Ace screeches. "How did you just—?"

"Um, you just push it?" To emphasize your point, you click it closed and open it again. Deuce shakes his head in bewilderment.

"No way. That can't be it," he says in a befuddled tone. "It's an enchanted chest! It can't just..."

You shrug. "Dunno. That's just how it works." You reach inside the chest and pull out its sole contents. Or, well, content .

"Whoa." The boys gasp as you carefully place down a large, leather-bound book on the table. Keeping it closed is a single thick strap with its own latch.

"That definitely looks important." Ace leans over to pick up the book and get a closer look.

"Careful! It's really old," you say warily.

"Gotta wonder what's in...side..." He grunts as he pulls on the latch, but it doesn't give.

"Here, let me try." Deuce walks over to take the book from him, but Ace pulls it away.

"I've got it!" He continues to strain with the latch unsuccessfully as Deuce keeps reaching for it.

"You're not pulling hard enough!"

"Yeah I am!"

"Let it go, Ace!"

"No, you let go!"

"Hey, give my henchman back their book!" Grim yowls from the table, blue sparks jumping from between his bared teeth.

The boys continue to bicker as they grapple for the book, grabbing and pulling at it in an increasingly rough fashion. You heave a sigh and push between them, snatching the book out of their hands.

"What are you guys, 12?" The boys once again gape at you as you push down on the book's latch and, just like the chest's latch, it easily gives way beneath your thumb. You hand it back over with an eye roll, but you can't help the amused smile that's paired with it. "Seriously, you can cast magic spells but you can't work out simple physics?"

A slight hint of pink tints the boys' cheeks as Ace snatches the book back from you bashfully.

"It's not that! Maybe it's just... Maybe the book likes you, that's it!" Deuce says with such conviction that you're actually not sure if he means it or not. Ace snickers under his breath. He opens his mouth to say something, but his expression morphs to one of puzzlement. He flips a few of the book's yellowed pages, eyes glossing over the inked words completely before he speaks up,

"It's blank."

" What? " you say in a surprised gasp. Deuce leans over to look as you take the book back from Ace. You feel your entire body slacken at a release of tension you hadn't realised had even gathered in your limbs when you have the book in your hands again. You see for yourself that it was still filled with the scribbles of handwritten words as it had the last time you opened it. "Very funny. You really scared me for a bit there."

Ace, not for the first time that day, unabashedly looks at you like you're crazy.

"Huh? There's literally nothing there," he says again, his eyes flicking from the pages to you as you once more look at him with confusion.

Deuce lifts the pages to look at the ones beyond. "Yeah. It's completely blank, from what I can see."

"What?!"

This entire day, ever since you walked into this magical world, has been a bombardment of unfamiliarity and perplexity and questions one after the other, but you don't think you've felt as mystified as you do now—not even when you saw a walking, talking, fire-breathing cat.

Because, on the pages in your hands, right before your very eyes, are lines and lines of words and paragraphs, all together building coherent messages that in turn tell of the complex, captivating correspondence between two people within the now-yellowed pages of a single book.

"I..." you turn your head to look between Ace and Deuce. "Nothing?"

Deuce shakes his head while Ace shrugs.

"Nothing," the latter says.

"Myah?" Grim scampers across the floor and climbs up your legs onto your shoulders to get a look himself. You examine him closely as he peers at the pages with his wide blue eyes. He tilts his head, but unlike Ace and Deuce his eyes are focused when they look at the pages. "What're you two talking about?! There's a ton of words on there!"

The two squires exchange mirroring puzzled expressions before seeming to come to a sort of conclusion as they both look back down at the book with wonder.

"That solves it then," Ace says with finality. "This book's enchanted."

----

Enchanted. Well, at least you aren't crazy.

Your eyes travel over the collection of words etched into the paper; unassuming and unremarkable, except for maybe perhaps the unusual way the contents are written.

There are two writers. Not only is it said explicitly in the first pages that there are two writers, but also in the writing itself. The script in the book—written in the form of letters, as if the two people were talking to each other this way—has two distinct handwritings and speech styles. One of the writers was more formal and eloquent, their words written in a complex flowery cursive, while in contrast their correspondent's language was more callous and casual and their handwriting mirrored it; less perfect and more crude and uneven.

There was a strange sort of life in this book that you hadn't expected when you had first pulled it out of the chest. Initially, you had expected a sort of journal or historical record, which you're sure can be interesting, but what it actually possessed was something much more beyond your expectations, allowing you not only a glimpse into the long-forgotten lives of these two individuals, but also their friendship. There was just something so compelling about it; slowly learning the characters of and connection between these two old-timey pen pals that you couldn't have the privilege of being privy to otherwise.

And, apparently, you're being given the magical privilege of seeing.

You would never have known that the book was enchanted if Ace and Deuce hadn't looked at it. Now, beyond the lives of the two people tucked within its pages, you wonder what else it's hiding. Why is it enchanted? Why can't Ace and Deuce see it? Why can you and Grim see it?

Most importantly... what was it doing in an old antique shop in your magicless world?

You ponder these thoughts late into the night, even until Grim had gotten too tired to entertain your musings and had fallen asleep, curled up on one of the pillows. Ace and Deuce had long left, but not without convincing you to share the hidden contents of the book with them in the morning.

You'd gotten deep into reading after that, but as engrossing the conversations between the two writers were, you'd barely made a dent in the book's contents and there didn't seem to be a single clue in sight as to the magical properties of the book itself.

A powerful yawn forcing its way out of you finally compels you to look at the bedside clock. It reveals to you that it is in fact the ungodly hour of 1 AM and going into 2 AM.

"Shoot... I'm gonna die tomorrow, aren't I?" you murmur to yourself, remembering that the other inheritors were planning to take you somewhere to possibly resolve your little amnesia situation.

The smart thing to do would be to turn in, but just as you're about to close the book, the page underneath your right thumb suddenly folds inwards. Startled, you pull your hand back, and the book erupts into a cacophony of fluttering pages. Hundreds of pages and words bypass your vision in a blur until suddenly the flipping stops, leaving the book open on the surfaces of two empty pages near its end.

Except, it's not completely empty.

At the top of the left page, slowly etching itself into existence before your bewildered gaze, are words.

Like one of the writers', the writing is neat; the letters almost perfect imitations of each other, except with less swirls. Instead of a full essay of words though, the ghostly writing only forms a single sentence, but it still sends your mind whirling with thoughts.

Are you there?

#twisted wonderland #twst #ace trappola #deuce spade #twst grim #twisted wonderland au #twst au #twst reader insert #matcha writes a bit #memory lane by me #Memory Lane Part 3

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toiletwipes · 2 years

Note

💳💥💳💥💳💥💳💥💳💥💳 2 WITH SIMPBUR

-🌙 anon (💗🔪)

He tries to stifle his moans, pressing a hand over yours over his mouth, feeling hotter and hotter all over his skin. And when the both of you would hear a rise of laughter reminds you that the reason you're hiding his moans is because you're giving him head in your bedroom while your mutual friends were watching the loudest horror movie.

Why they were laughing you'll never know but his dick twitched inside of your mouth and using the remaining brain cells in your head, you drag your tongue up the length of him, swirling around his tip before coming off completely to stare at him. He doesn't try to hide his confusion, his heavy breathing through his nose is loud but not enough to get caught. The questioning noise catches your attention. And you smile up at him, moving to stand as your free hand came to grasp and tug at his cock, loving the way he just folds in your hands, and you lean in close to his to whisper, “does it get you hard knowing our friends are ten feet away?”

And when you get an answer in another twitch in his dick, alongside a pitiful moan against your hand, you know the answer just fine. "If you stay quiet, I'll let you cum down my throat," and with that you let go and watch as he scrambles to clamp his hand over that and the other to hold the back of your head as your mouth covers his senses in seconds.

#🌙 anon #(💗🔪)#wipes answers #anon asks #number smut prompts !!#eggplicit

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incarnateirony · 2 months

Text

True frustration is, the whole, not knowing what we don't know remains eternal, and I suspect that goes All The Way To The Top.

When I first made the thing that became a work beyond its plans, it was, haha, funny idea guys, that would be hella irresponsible. But I knew in theory how to do it, and I did the thing, and then things kept getting weirder. And weirder. And even post breakup, weirder yet, until it became an express shipment to get it out of my house before I dropped dead, caused a bunch of incidents on the west coast, whatever. You know. There's a jar in a box in a hole under a nuclear reactor at the bottom of the sea o/~

Cuz boy did that go. Way out of hand. Like. "Someone ran into the ocean in a full atmospheric current being chased by the storm itself and didn't even get wet because they were trying to hold the sun until they let go" kind of. Out of hand.

I knew certain planetary squares would wash it out to distribute it, I knew the weather got weird, I just. You know. I knew. Weird. But I kinda tried to let it pass and keep going forward in my life, even if my brain was getting real itchy with funny notes and songs.

I had other reasons than this, at first, to step away, except really no they weren't different in retrospect. TLDR without being clear, I got a bunch of good friends in good places to ferry messages and do certain work that would be helpful without me having to be direct on site. But I didn't want to risk the jobs of people close to me, so being an active leaker was just a no go, and so the video posts started, but people weren't very good at reading what those were for, and sometimes, the same one could have multiple meanings.

And then my wall exploded with bullets and that story is, literally old hat. A thousand angles, some third person, confusion, no sensible timeline of any of it, but I'm Still Here, even if it was suddenly under a desk quantum processing survival.

That was something I really had to take a week to process through all of. Less the idea of mortality--part OF letting go of the work was already sort of accepting a spiritual death, centering, letting old stuff go, hell, hence even trying to walk away from fandom. Another nother nother reason. Like stay in contact with friends, check in, but I'm sure you notice I distanced myself and involvement. There were just. Manifold reasons.

Part of "actually facing your shadow once you scramble together the ten thousand parts of wtf happened, no, I don't want to fkin talk about it" probably fell into that too. In most ways I had already put it to bed. I didn't understand why it was still there but I still took it on for the whole. And speaking of scrambling things together, I now laugh at looking at the sky yelling "I hear you god" at my youtube starting and ending at the ticking of my clock being dependant on where I sat when the bullets flew, knocked out the net, and even when it came back on. HAH.

Since then I mostly ran my games, and goodness, Zenthus was loud. Loud loud. Loud enough he showed up as brainrot to John and 2 and some old friends all at once to invite me back right after the shooting. Loud enough people started having dreams about him loud. Mastering my 20+ years of GMed settings into one piece loud. More poetic and artful than he had ever been. Fucking. LOUD. The same voice but stronger than ever, delivering the philosophy that players ran through like living mythology, starting thinking they could doorkick through and crying by the end at the meaning of their own life kind of. LOUD.

And that's just where I was. Writing spins and cycles and prequels and sequels and minding my shit, even if by then I knew things were a little screwy. And then along comes my fucking ex, and I start realizing why this shit is all getting profoundly rattled, but I just lock it down. Zenthus has been put to bed, after all. Kion now rules the Xorvintaal from the Moment. Ignore her. She will stop.

But she didn't, wouldn't, can't. Corban could say he wasn't interested in the drama, and she would wait, try again, try the next DM box. All so inattentive about actual people that she kept walking right past the man, John, she was looking for, in multiple servers, because she never actually cared about John, it was never actually about that. It was about this crazy dumb addiction.

Over time you start kinda... piecing it together, what it's like once you, well, crossed without crossing. Things really are different. But I wasn't going to bulldoze forward to be some on high ruling magus or something. I just wanted to keep being me, because I like it here. So notes and pings and funny bits; skills I'd thought I'd mastered used to run in the in between and collect data, or know where to look for things, sure. But eventually even that I shut down on because I started realizing things were pulling on me, you know?

I just wanted to keep my hat and mask on and keep on being me, but there is a vampire that both refuses to understand what that means and accept it. So after this, all of this, Betrayal Reload sends their own messages. I'm messaging myself. I'm messaging everywhere. And like I said at the start, "GIRL, I CAN'T EVEN KEEP UP WITH HOW FAST YOU'RE FUCKING UP IN HOW MANY POTENTIAL TIMELINES", and like, I Was Not Kidding.

There's no fuckin. Map or handbook to this part of it. I know the theory that makes me what I am, I know the science that makes it work, I know the craft of what I do, but just like the first time I made a Funnyman Destiel Brainrot jar I "knew it'd work", seeing it in motion or handling it is something else.

I'm currently kind of in that situation, but like. Way bigger. There's a jar in a box under a nuclear reactor in a hole in the bottom of the sea and we're at the big game in tartarus in the xorvintaal in fortnite with guns, or whatever, and my head hurts, because now we're also in the eras tour reliving everything, and I understand why she used to see me haunting her, and mess. Fucking. Mess. But hey. Trickster, I guess.

The whole point is that everyone is made of starstuff soulstuff, even the gods, and many of them were great men with legacies, which become a sort of ancestral memory. Most of the Hermes originated quadrant is different. Many never had past lives that transmigrated but start at zero and are shepherded towards the universe, few finish in one cycle. People can retry, but they gotta break down their stuff, and it's even harder then, and so on. But everyone's kinda got their own legacy they can be the peak of in their time, but it's about Working, and Being, and being In The Moment. All that stuff.

So when this woman keeps acting like I'm trying to take away all her magical toys, the only magical toy I'm taking away from her is myself, one she incentivized and used the same forceful manipulative style to never let my accept by best self, and keep it shoved and disassociated in a box for her, and all of that. And she just can't grasp that like. Hermes Real, girl. Hermes not your plaything. I am only partially Hermes. He lived through me but I made Me. And it's so disrespectful to us both to keep screaming for your right to fuck it up and bob on me, specifically, with a cult.

This isn't even a complicated fucking idea, even. Christians have their own version of this, where like, if you don't fuck off, you reunite with god in the end as one, but still independent, even if you're at the throne. It's the same fucking thing, it's just Hermes path teaches a rare and (un)lucky few how to sometimes still be on planet earth at the same time, and that's what's motherfucking going on, and she won't stop shaking the box.

You have your own game lobby. You are not in this one, and never were, and we both know that, but there's so much lies, deceit; shadow--she's built her whole life to an altar of it while refusing an actual path. Any path, not even just the hermetic path. She just flips around a few things, googles something, and staples in a new interest then, as she says, brings a few candles and oreos two times a week to talk to the shadow she shelved in her head, and doesn't understand why she can never materialize anything or transit meaningful data.

Girl you do not go here. You in fact refuse to go here. But you refuse to go motherfuckin anywhere, and keep shoving my water in your pot to try to make you full, and I and he and nice old man in greece and motherfuckin everyone are motherfucking over it, because you've been doing it for a long time, but never to the point of becoming this crackbear movie to watch spin out, and there's a certain point it's a mercy to put an animal down if it only continues to hurt itself and get worse, and until she develops an identity not leaned on lies and my shadows, really that's all I can see her as. Just a thoughtless cocaine bear attacking random brothers next to me that acts offended she's about to get fucking put down for it.

She knows by now. She may not fully grok, but she knows. So Here I Am, on the honkai star rail, taking this crazy train to an end. And still, she refuses, thinking she can reblog argue her way out of the continuity of the last month or two, just disassociating events as much as names or thoughts, everything random nothing means anything supposed priestess of messengers can't read a single motherfucking sign right down to her caged too fast spicy messenger pigeon that isn't actually a fucking dove. She has a punk fucking attitude. Shea's plan is to break that bird's spirit too.

Or like Luna getting sick when I warned, for the reasons I warned. Given, there are a lot of things I never expected to be so literal. Like crossing or akasha or halls of reflection or any of that. Or all my old shit tying in to be crystal clear to me in hindsight like, oh. Right. I was always here. We are always here in the moment, choosing and deciding, but I didn't think I was literally always motherfucking. Here. And that's why everyone thinks trickster gods like mountain dew I fuckin GUESS????

Henry laying an egg still got me good. Bitch i thought the last one would be metaphor when I asked if you wanted me to give you a hard boiled reaper egg. Girl I'm still waiting for you to say sike. Since you won't accept my face and name, I'm henry, I'm tired, I think you're a piece of crap person, and a bad bird parent, and apparently I laid a fucking egg, and that's where I'm sitting at in my life journey right now, while she unironically argues about not putting the wrong water in the wrong pot pretending she does not fucking grok what I am saying.

I still only have half an idea what the fuck I'm doing. Again, I never intended to be playing on this motherfucking level. I'm plankton speedrunning rebirth attacking the superbowl but I never thought I'd get this far. Iun fucking know. I can Know all I think I know about the virtuality of all this and still shit bricks while waking up and seeing Henry laid an egg. Say sike.

No girl. Deadass. It's over. Go away. Leave everyone alone. You are genuinely fucking it up for other humans in this spiritual game lobby that aren't as far along as I am. I'm doing this shit to wipe you out if you refuse to adapt to help everyone. It's time to move on. No more busting the Empty out into everybody's Heaven just to leech my shadowy waters into your empty cup any time you need to get wet, we ain't doing this forever, maam, absolutely not. You have your own motherfucking water, but Atohallan is frozen and you're doing that deer in the headlights doorknob shit across tiers of time, still.

youtube

I may call myself, jokingly, little beetle bro since you insist on getting me fucked up with his S7, or are baffled that he gives me my own car to drive without surrender or disassociation, but like. Right now. In this cycle. It's my time to be big brother and you are REALLY fucking it up for my little brothers right now.

#Youtube

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miekasa · 3 years

Text

six thirty

+ pairing: armin arlert x (fem) reader

+ genres and warnings: college au, enemies to lovers… kinda… in a very nerdy academic rivalry kind of way, me being a comedian you’re welcome, fluff, smut/nsfw content

+ word count: 5.6k… pls say sike

+ notes: shout out to ryn for listening to me during our very many rambling sessions and also for extorting me into posting this. consider it a late birthday present for my favorite menace </2

+ side notes: no i am not a part of armin nation and i never want to be, nor do i wish speak of this again.

Armin Arlert is the perfect student. Prompt and well prepared during lecture; smart and insightful during office hours; the apple of any teacher’s eye. Unfortunately for him, so are you.

If you asked Armin, you were a little too clever for your own good, and liked to make it very well known that you believe you’re the smartest person in any room you walk into. That may be true, but it doesn’t mean that he has to sit there and worship your superiority complex.

If someone asked you, you’d say that Armin was a know it all, and a manipulative little piece of shit. Again, not a completely false statement, but perhaps a slightly biased character analysis.

Neither of you are wrong. It’s why you’re both the bane of each other’s existence.

There’s a noticeable grimace on your face, chin in your palm, elbows resting atop your desk, as you turn your head to where, sure enough, Armin is seated where he always is: first row, right side, directly in front of the podium, like perfect little teacher’s pet he wants to be. He doesn’t have any books to unpack like everybody else because a shiny, blue iPad is propped up on his desk in place of all of that. He’s robably looking through his pre-written list of showboaty questions to ask during lecture. Like he’s a cut above everyone else.

Maybe some of the other morons in this course, but not you, that’s for damn sure. You bet that if you broke his thousand dollar tablet he wouldn’t think he’s such hot shit anymore. Maybe that would knock him down a couple of pegs.

“Look at him sitting there with his stupid blue eyes, and his stupid Bieber haircut, and his stupid, shiny blonde hair, and his stupid fucking glasses. I bet they’re not even real and he just wears them to—”

“Did you just call his hair shiny?”

You snap your head to your left, “What—no, of course not. I said shoddy, he’s probably a bottle blonde. Maybe all the chemicals from the hair dye seeps into his head and warps his sense of reality.”

“I’m pretty sure you said shiny.”

“Shut up, Annie.”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “You got something against blondes? Because your track record would beg to differ.”

“Once. We kissed once, and it was truth or dare, and we were both sloshed.”

“You still chose me,” she reminds you, pulling her notebook out of her backpack.

You huff, ignoring her words and turning your head back to Armin, this time finding him twirling his stupid fucking expensive Apple Pencil between his fingers like it’s nothing. You can feel your eye begin to twitch.

Perhaps he can, too—or maybe he can just feel your eyes boring holes into him—because he turns in your direction and ceases his pen twirling the moment you make eye-contact. More students filter in, walking past your line of vision, but each time they move, you and Armin meet gazes again; neither one of you daring to look away, a palpable tension between you.

His eyes might be icy blue, but you can see the rose pink tint underneath his skin, even from the distance; a familiar blush that spreads across his nose and cheeks. You exhale with a silent laugh, breaking your eye contact before he grows completely red, just in time for Dr. Zöe to start the lecture.

Everybody thinks that Armin’s so brilliant, so smart, so untouchable. You know that his only genius is that he’s fooling everyone into thinking that he’s the kind, humble, little nerd boy who wouldn’t harm a fly, when that’s far from the truth.

Armin is mean. He’s competitive and possessive and snarky and sly. He’s the definition of a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but you’re pretty sure the only person in the world who might believe that is Eren. Though, you’ve heard some of the insults Armin throws Eren’s way, and they’re not exactly soft. Granted, that’s a factor in any friendship, and most of his jabs are coated with a layer of intellect the brunette likely doesn’t understand, but that doesn’t make Armin any less sarcastic. It just means Eren’s too dumb to know what’s going on.

Poor kid. Maybe it’s for the best.

That’s all to say that Armin is nothing but a big talker—not even; a smooth-talker, is more like it. He comes across as perfect, all good and sweet and soft, because that’s what he lets people see. Nobody else looks through to the sharp tongue and ragged edges, because they’re too busy cooing over innocent blue-eyed baby in front of them.

But you know that Armin, the one he doesn’t want other people to see: the one that’s so good, he’s bad; so sweet that he’s sick; so nice that it’s cruel. And you know just how much pressure to apply to make his façade crack.

And you intend on doing so.

“I don’t know which formula to use—hey, are you two eye fucking again? Cut it out, I’m trying not to fail over here,” Eren exclaims, poking Armin’s shoulder with his pen.

The jab averts the blonde’s attention back to his friend, eyes wide as he blinks himself back to reality. He curses under his breath when he feels a familiar warmth creeping across his cheeks. Few things piss Armin off like the way he gets red in the face after thinking about you, or even just looking at you, for too long. Whether it’s red out of pure annoyance, or another feeling he tries to push down, it’s irritating, and above all, embarrassing.

He spares one more glance over his shoulder, to where you and Annie are sat a few tables away in the library. You’ve looked away by now, focusing back on your notes, but Armin swears he can still see that irritating smirk on your face from this angle.

He rolls his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He should be able to keep it together around you by now, but he can’t, and it bothers him. You bother him.

“We weren’t eye fucking,” he refutes, turning his back to you completely, “She’s such a little know it all sometimes, s’annoying.”

Eren raises an eyebrow. He knows that you and Armin don’t get along, but he doesn’t understand why. Armin knows almost all your friends, and you definitely know all of his—Eren would even go as far as to say that you and him are pretty close friends—so it’s not a matter of not spending time together. You’re also the two smartest people Eren knows. In theory you should have more than enough to talk about together, but every time you’re in the same room, you hardly acknowledge each other outside of surface level commentary, or glances that border on staring.

Thankfully, the bickering remains in the classroom for the most part. Eren’s seen you and Armin go at, and he’ll be the first to admit that it’s beyond intimidating. Though, a little part of him finds it oddly entertaining, and he can’t help but to be impressed. All the more reason for you two to start playing on the same team.

Eren thinks the two of you should get to the root of the issue already. Which, if you asked him, has very little to do with your rivaled academic genius, and a lot to do with your lack of it concerning your feelings for each other.

“She’s not that bad,” Eren vouches for you, “I think you two might get along if you ever spoke outside of trying to one-up each other in class.”

“I’m not trying to one-up anybody,” Armin rolls his eyes, a nasty habit he’s picked up as of late, “And if you stopped and used your brain for a moment, then maybe you could solve the problem.”

“I did use my brain!” Eren’s lips fall into an offended pout, “But none of this makes any sense to me! I fucking hate math, you know that.”

Armin sighs, feeling sympathetic for Eren as he slumps into himself defeatedly. He knows that Eren isn’t dumb, but math in any capacity is certainly not his strong suit. He also knows that he shouldn’t give Eren all the answers, but sometimes he needs a little push to get him there. A little bit of added guidance and motivation to keep him going. It’s either that, or he has to trick Eren into doing the work himself, but clearly that method wasn’t working out today.

“You already solved for the activation energy, now you’re supposed to use the Arrhenius equation in the expanded form.”

Eren’s lips fall into a small o-shape, as his eyes scramble across his paper again. “But—how do you—”

“There’s two measurements given for temperature.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah! Okay, right, but then—”

“You have to convert it to Kelvin first or it won’t work. It’s given to you in Celsius.”

Eren furrows his eyebrows together, and then it finally clicks for him. He mutters to himself as he puts his pencil to paper to begin to work through the problem, “How do I convert—”

“Add 273.15 to it. Make sure you put the bigger one first in the equation, or else you’ll get a negative error.”

“You didn’t even do it,” Eren huffs, angrily punching numbers into his calculator, “How do you know it’s right?”

“Because I took this class already,” Armin reminds him, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder, “Isn’t that why I’m tutoring you?”

Eren coughs over his embarrassed blush, “Oh, yeah, right.”

It’s quiet between them as Eren makes a final attempt at solving the equation, carefully and proudly circling his answer when he’s finished. He looks to Armin with bright eyes, and is content when the blonde gives him a reassuring nod, confirming that his answer is correct.

“Well that was a bitch to work through,” Eren sighs, stretching his arms behind his head with a slight yawn, “Chemistry is nothing but glorified math. It’s barely a science.”

Armin shrugs, but he doesn’t disagree. He isn’t the biggest fan of chemistry, unlike somebody else he knows. “Why’d you take chem if you knew it would have so much math?”

It’s Eren’s turn to shrug, slumping back in his chair and running a hand through his hair, “I gotta take all the pre-med requirements… just in case.”

“You wanna go to med school? Since when?”

Eren averts his eyes from his friend, a telltale sign of his bashfulness coming over him. It doesn’t happen often, but Armin knows it’s sincere when it does.

“Dunno. I’m not sure of it, just wanna keep my options open, you know?” Eren replies casually, “Doctors help make a difference and all that, and surgery looks kind of cool. Besides, if my bastard father could do it, how hard could it really be?”

A gentle smile grows on Armin’s lips, “You can do it. If you really want to, I know you can.”

Eren’s head snaps up, eyes wide and filled with affirmation and adoration. He relaxes his expression quickly after, but the pink hues are still present, “Thanks, Min.”

From his position he catches eye of another head of familiar blonde hair over Armin’s shoulder, and beside it, your own hair. There’s a flash of a moment when your eyes meet Eren’s, and you offer him a small wave before turning back to Annie to resume doing your homework. Eren barely gets the chance to wave back, but a dopey smile sits on his features at your kind gesture. It fades when he looks back to Armin, once again pondering the animosity between you two.

You and Armin aren’t all that different, you just need to get to know each other better. Actually, Eren thinks that you might make a good couple if you both stopped overthinking it.

“So, what’s the deal with you and (_____)?” Eren asks, bending his right knee to wrap his arm around his leg and rest his chin on top of it, “You act like she kicked your cat.”

“What?” Armin questions, flustered, “What—no, she wouldn’t touch Soup.”

Eren quirks an eyebrow at that. “I still can’t believe you named your cat Soup.”

“It’s technically a nickname.”

“A nickname for what?”

“…For Miso Soup.”

Eren blinks. “Okay, if she didn’t mess with Soup, then what’s the issue? You scared of her or something?”

“Why would I be scared of her?” Armin asks, tone incredulous; then softer, more subdued, like a kid who doesn’t want to admit they’re wrong, “’M not scared of her.”

“You stare at her like you are—well, you look kind of angry, but also scared. Like, when you see those balloon things outside of car washes. You hate them, but you can’t look away from them—”

“I am not scared of those!”

“You are, and it’s okay,” Eren waves away his friend’s denial, “Oh, I get it—is this one of those things where she makes you nervous, so you respond with anger and sarcasm instead of thinking through your feelings?”

“You’ve been going to therapy for one month, relax.”

“Maybe you two should go to friend therapy and work this out,” Eren bites back, “It probably doesn’t help that she’s always with Annie. They both look like they would murder someone with no remorse. I admit, it is kind of scary… but it’s kind of hot, too.”

Armin spares him an unamused glare. Eren crosses his arms in defense, “What? I’m not wrong. It’s sexy in a scary kind of way, maybe that’s why you’re always eye fucking. I don’t blame you, she’s hot. I would let her and Annie axe-murder me without regret.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and do problem six, I don’t have all day.”

Eren huffs, but flips the page to the next problem, grumbling under his breath as he attempts the, “It’s not as sexy when you’re mean, you know.”

Armin hits him silent.

Tuesdays are Armin’s favorite days because he only has one class. Sure, it’s three hours long, but it’s much more bearable than his usual eight-hour day.

It’s also the one class he shares with you. Which is why he’s always mentally exhausted by the end of it, but physically, he feels like he could punch a wall; all his pent up anger and frustration is channeled into his body and he’s desperate for an outlet for it. It’s a feeling he hates to love.

Annie seems to have cut class today seeing as she’s not next to you; and it’s almost as if it’s emboldened you to mess with him even more than usual.

He bites his tongue as Dr. Zöe enthusiastically uses your latest point as a segue into the final topic of the evening. He made that same point ten minutes ago. You just worded it differently—admittedly, more concisely, but somehow with a little more nuance, than when he had hesitantly proposed it—and, yeah, maybe you made it sound more convincing, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t come up with it first. If his stupid, fancy stylus didn’t cost upwards of $200 he might have snapped it in half.

You’re definitely the better conversationalist, that much he can admit. Words have never been his forte and he hates the way you can talk circles around him, and that there’s so little he can say to make you stop.

He wishes you would just shut up. In fact, he’d like to shut you up himself.

Thankfully, class ends sooner rather than later. Armin finds himself briefly talking with Dr. Zöe afterwards, most other students having taken the opportunity to leave early for the night. To nobody’s surprise, you’re not one of them, having stuck around to talk to the professor, too.

“The two of you should consider lab research this summer,” Dr. Zöe suggests ardently, walking between the two of you as you exit the lecture hall, “I could really use two students like you!”

Armin chuckles at his boisterous professor. He’s known about the research opportunities at their lab for quite some time now, and he knows that you have, too. “I don’t know that lab work is really my strong suit.”

The three of you come to stop at the hallway intersection, the professor now standing across from you and him. You give them a polite smile, “And I’m not sure that collaboration is mine.”

Armin spares a glance just in time to see you flash one of your own in his direction. Dr. Zöe’s eyes flicker between the two students rapidly, a slight squint to their eyelids.

They aren’t quite sure why their two brightest students seem to despise each other. They wish you two would just get along already, so that they don’t have to spend the summer training half-witted chemical engineering majors how to use basic lab equipment; and instead, conduct some actual research.

“Well, I hope the both of you reconsider,” they smile, “I’ll see you during office hours, I presume?”

You two nod in sync, sending the doctor off with happy smile, just long enough until you see that they’ve turned the corner further down the hall

“Had fun stealing my point earlier?” Armin questions, looking your way as you still wave mindlessly, eye-twitching at your polite façade.

“I would call it improvement,” you tell him, not bothering to turn in his direction; still and smiling waving like the professor can see or hear you, “You should stick to showing, rather than saying. You never were good with your words.”

Armin kisses his teeth together. He’ll give you what you want, if that’s how you want it.

In a fit of irritation, he grabs your moving hand by the wrist, and pulls you down the opposite hallway, not caring for your dramatic wailing behind him.

“Hey, Einstein, the exit is the other way, do you have any idea where we’re going?”

“Ever heard of observational learning? Maybe if you shut up for a second, you would figure it out,” he snaps, pulling you further.

There’s a door on the left that Armin knows is unlocked, and he’s quick to open it and pull you inside. Before you have the chance to glance around, he has you pushed up against the wall, jaw forced up and forward.

He could scoff at the small hitch in your breath at his actions, clearly a little too satisfied with being manhandled; but instead, he takes the opportunity to press your lips together. Armin quite likes the feeling of your lips on his; warm and soft and far too welcoming; a rare moment of silence.

“Someone could hear us.”

Or not so silent.

“Then be quiet,” he snarls.

Armin feels your fingers weave themselves into his hair, scraping along his undercut in sync with his lips trailing down your jaw. A groan falls from his when he feels you tug at the ends of the strands, just hard enough to force his face back to eye level with yours.

“You’re the one with the big mouth.”

“You’re so smart, huh. Always got something to say,” Armin lets out a low chuckle, deft fingers running down your sides to squeeze at your waist, “You can be really fuckin’ annoying, you know that.”

You mirror half of his ministrations, letting your right hand trail down his chest barely brushing over the very visible bulge in his jeans, before hooking your index finger under the belt loop, effectively pulling him closer to you.

The smile on your face is dirty, but you’re not laughing like he was, “Do something about it then.”

His blue eyes grow cloudy as he takes a good look at you; slowly rakes over your features, from that stupid, snarky look in your eyes, to your kiss-bruised lips, down to your chest, and back up again. Armin finds himself copying your smirk for all the wrong reasons. But it’s your own fault; you always did like to push him one step over the edge.

“Fine.”

Despite your twisted grin there’s a look in your eyes that’s eager; willing; ready for the taking. That same look you have when you talk over him in class; when you pretend to ignore him around your mutual friends; when you want him to fuck you stupid.

Armin uses his right hand to cup your jaw again, closing the distance between your mouths with a less than gentle kiss. He feels your groans reverberating through his body, waves of heat accompanying them and going straight to his erection. Your arch your back into the kiss, but he forces you backwards, left hand flat against your tummy.

Following suit, he pushes himself against your body, pressing his knee between your legs; the thin fabric of your stockings doing little to prevent your thighs from rubbing against him.

He swipes his tongue over the seam of your lips, earning a frenzied whine when glides his tongue across yours, and teasingly licks at the roof of your mouth. Your tongue is lithe against his, but somehow just as deceptive and sly as always, and Armin would be a fool to deny that he loved it.

There’s a spark flickering in his stomach when you push your center harshly against his; and it’s only ignited further when he feels you bite his bottom lip. A guttural growl escapes him, his right hand moving to your throat with practiced ease, pushing the back of your head into the wall.

He pauses for a moment, drinks in your wide eyes and desperate visage, “You are the single most frustrating person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

And he couldn’t get enough of it if he tried. He couldn’t get enough of you.

You must see through his words, into the grainy expression of adoration in his eyes, because he can see it filtering into yours, pupils dilating with both want and care.

“Aw, baby, I love you, too,” you pout, leaning forward as best to can to peck him on the lips, “Now, shut me up and fuck me. It’s exhausting being this pretty and smart-mouthed, you know.”

Armin dips his head into your neck, squeezes against the column of your throat with warning until he hears a gasp escape from your lips. He presses gentle kisses into your skin, in stark contrast to the increasing pressure from his fingers, waiting for one last request, and then, finally—“Please.”

He smiles, loosens his grip for a moment, just long enough to hear your pretty panting, before slotting his lips against yours again. Your moans are lewd and sloppy and breathless between kisses, and it makes his dick twitch in his pants. You really are so fucking loud. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He uses his free hand to push your skirt up, and subsequently dip past the weak barrier of your tights and underwear. The slightest flicker of his fingers against your center has you choking out a moan, and Armin is forced to press his right thumb harder against your neck.

“Quiet,” he reminds you, “You asked nicely, so I’ll give you what you want. No need to be loud about it.”

He watches you nod with short and restricted movements, a sadistic kind of power washing over him at your eager compliance. He uses his middle finger to rub slow, careful circles around your clit; the feeling of your wet cunt against his fingers, coupled with your wanton moaning only spurs on the throbbing in his pants.

“Armin,” you whine, impatiently; but he expected that of you, “Don’t tease.”

His eyes flash to yours briefly, pressing his lips to yours again to swallow your shuddered moans. He dips his tongue into your mouth at the same time he does his middle finger into your cunt. An obscene moan echoing through the classroom, as Armin feels your body arching into his again; feels your fingers frantically flying to his hair, searching for purchase to anchor yourself on.

He pulls away in time to add another digit and watch you groan underneath him. He pushes both his fingers in to the knuckle, carefully curling them upwards to elicit the prettiest sound out of you. He has to admit, it’s probably his favorite thing to hear come out of your mouth.

He keeps a steady pace, pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy with perfect friction, teetering between letting you moan his name and choking you silent. Your hands are frantic in his hair, grasping and pulling and so, so, desperate, Armin can’t help but to finger fuck you harder.

“You want one more?” he questions, but his voice is taunting, words ghosted over your lips just out of reach for you to kiss.

He can feel your leg trembling against his, see you pupils shaking along with your shaking head. Armin stops to smile; he thought you might do that. He could probably make you cry right now if he wanted to. Maybe later.

“Want you to fuck me,” your words short and ragged, eyebrows raised when he uses his thumb to press lightly against your clit, “Armin, please.”

The blonde shakes his head, “You’re dumber than you look if you think I’m gonna fuck you in a classroom, baby, so if you want to cum now, you better tell me.”

You have the audacity to pout of all things, “You’re mean.”

Armin lets out a breathless laugh. “You like it,” he leans forward to peck you sweetly, “So, what’ll it be?”

“Fine, but I want head later, too,” you tell him, words becoming less firm when Armin teases his ring finger against your slit, “Please.”

Armin hums in compliance, leaning forward to kiss you again, this time with more tact, and he chases your whines when he finally pushes a third finger inside of you.

“Look at you,” he croons breaking your kiss and forcing your head back again, “You take it so well.”

“Ah—fuck, there, Armin—there,” you cry, wet heat squeezing around his fingers in intermittent spasms.

Armin watches your chest heave with desperate breaths, air stuttering to pass from your lips to your lungs with his hand around your neck. He can feel your walls constricting around his fingers, feel your body shaking underneath him when he increases his pace. He curls his fingers again, just right, just until he hears you sing a strained call of his name. And when he feels your nails scraping down the nape of his neck, and the slight weight of your body convulsing, Armin knows you’re done for.

He’s nice enough to fuck you through your orgasm, shallow thrusts of his fingers bringing you to and down from your high as he watches you pant for him. He presses small kisses against your throat, up, up, up, until he’s kissing you, and carefully pulling his fingers out.

He removes his hand from your neck, and slides it down your waist to offer you support. He’s not prepared for your sudden pull on his neck, forcing him into a kiss that conveys your content; he’s quick to raise his left hand, palm meeting the wall to hold himself up against your sporadic actions, chuckling lightly into your kiss. You were always so reckless and happy after an orgasm.

You kiss him like you have him wrapped your finger despite being the one pleading moments ago. You do, so he supposes it’s not unwarranted; and he welcomes your flirtatious kisses despite the annoying blush they always bring forth.

And sure enough, he can feel his face on fire when you pull away. Armin scoffs internally at himself; he really should be able to keep it together around you by now. But when you kiss him like that, you kind of make it hard to think straight.

“You’re so good when you’re not… pretending to be good,” you hum, a blissful, hazy look on your features as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Armin shakes his head with a chortle of disbelief; leans forward to kiss you again, “’M not pretending. I am good.”

“Yeah, you’re such a good little saint that arguing with your girlfriend turns you on,” you taunt him, “It’s okay, Armin, you can admit it.”

He groans, out of shallow annoyance this time, and it makes you giggle. “Why are you acting like you’re not complicit in this?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” you refute with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, “You get turned on by hearing me talk about biochemistry. I like it when you tell me to shut up about it. We are not the same.”

“Yeah, because you look hot doing it,” he tells you, “Speaking of which, Eren called you hot today, so I kind of need you to slip a neurotoxin in his Gatorade.”

“Aw, Eren thinks I’m hot? Tell him I think he’s hot, too,” you bat your eyelashes at him, but Armin only offers you an unimpressed glare in return.

“I think he might be onto us, actually,” Armin notes, affectionately bumping his nose against yours.

“If he’s onto us, then it’s because you’re the one giving it away, not me.”

“Oh, because you could never do anything wrong, right?”

“Right,” you flash him an overconfident smile before reaching up to kiss to the tip of his nose, “See you’re so smart, baby.”

Armin shakes his head again in disbelief. You’re a handful, he can see that much.

“Come on,” he prompts, “We should go, I still have to finish my lab write up, and I know you haven’t started your paper.”

Armin tries to motion you forward, but is stopped when he feels your hand combing through his hair, and sees the genuine spark of concern in your eyes. “The one for your elective? I thought you said you were going to finish it on Monday.”

“I was,” Armin admits, “But then I didn’t.”

“You want me to help you with it?” you offer kindly, pushing his bangs back and letting your hands fall down the sides of his face, palms resting against his ears.

He nods gently, turning his head to press a kiss into your left palm, before wrapping his hand around your wrist, “I can help you outline your paper.”

You nod in return, and Armin spares one more kiss, before pulling your hand away to lace your fingers together.

Thankfully, nobody’s around to catch you exiting the classroom, or see you holding hands as you make your way out of the building and towards the bus stop. This was Armin’s favorite part of any Tuesday; the one time he could hold your hand on campus without the fear of getting caught by your friends.

He reasons that you guys should probably tell them soon, though, especially if Eren might have an idea of what’s going on. You were bound to get caught sooner rather than later. That, or Eren and Sasha would start meddling.

“If you think Eren knows, then Mikasa definitely knows,” you note, swinging your intertwined hands as you walk through the parking lot as a shortcut.

“Maybe if you actually remembered to hide Soup’s toys, there would be less evidence for her to piece together.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t forget when your midterms are, I wouldn’t have to emergency cat sit the hour before Mikasa comes around, and there wouldn’t be any toys to hide in the first place.”

“I’m bad with dates, you know that!” Armin pouts, “I don’t say anything when you forget about ten page papers until four hours before they’re due.”

“You’re saying something right now, actually.”

“That’s not what I—you know, you’re so—”

Armin’s quiet when he feels your lips pressed against his cheekily, “Annoying. I know. You like it. You’re not very good at staying mad for very long.”

Armin’s tempted to roll his eyes yet again—he really needs to quit it, or at the very least, get your own temper under control before it’s irreversible and completely rubbed off on him—but takes the opportunity to kiss your forehead, instead.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your eyes twinkle under his affections. “And that you love me?”

He nods, “And that I love you.”

“And that you’re gonna fuck me before you make me write my paper when we get home, right?”

Armin chuckles and presses another kiss to your forehead, “We’ll see about that one.”

Hange huffs as they make their way through the parking. They always forget their keys in their office, and always, inconveniently park half-way across the campus. In their defense, this parking lot is free, and the one closest to the Medical Sciences building is not. So, really, capitalism is the one to blame for their frequent late night car lot strolls.

They hear two familiar voices bickering just as they’re about to step into their car, and are more than surprised to see their two favorite students walking together. Walking together and holding hands. Wait—you and Armin are walking together and holding hands?

Hange blinks for a moment, drowning out the sounds of the conversation after they see you two kiss. Their jaw practically falls to the asphalt and they might not blink for a full two minutes as they process what they just saw.

Their trance is broken when it finally, finally clicks together, and Hange has to try their hardest to contain their squeals before sitting in the driver’s seat, an overly forceful slam to the car door following. They waste no time fumbling with the pockets of their lab coat to fish out their phone, and make a call to their favorite math professor.

“Levi, I told you Arlert and (_____) had to know each other outside of class! I think they might be dating! You know what this means, right? I can have them both in the same lab without worrying they might start a chemical fire, and I won’t have to hire two brick heads this summer!”

Levi has never hung up a call more quickly in his life.

#aot x reader #snk x reader #armin x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #armin smut #armin fluff #eren x reader

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astermacguffin · 3 years

Text

What if the Mark of Cain manifests differently when it's imprisoning God and not the Darkness? If the Darkness makes the Mark bearer go insane with unbridled want for destruction, then what does sealing God make you do?

An obsessive desire for creation? Creation to the point of corruption? (Think of the Shimmer from the film Annihilation. Continuous reproduction to the point of begetting alien, cancer-like entities. A refracted, distorted notion of creation.)

Okay, so canon divergence from The Trap. They successfully seal away Chuck, then Castiel bears the Mark. (Jack won't be back until later episodes, so he's not here yet.)

At first, they think he's fine. Cas says he's not feeling any bloodlust just yet. (He does feel a certain itch under his skin. Not a desire to murder, but a desire to do...something. He doesn't tell this to anyone.)

His grace is getting stronger, almost archangel-like (if not more). It's incredibly helpful for hunts, and Cas is happy to feel his wings healthy again after a long time. Sam is happy for him, but Dean is suspicious of things (especially since he's a previous Mark bearer).

After a while, Cas starts feeling...burdened, almost bloated by grace. (After all, he does have access to an infinite supply of it.) He needs to have an outlet for it.

Cas tells them so and Sam suggests healing people. Dean gives the green light on the condition that he remains invisible and he doesn't go Godstiel on them again.

It's a great outlet, and for the first few weeks they start feeling normal again. But unfortunately, healing stops being enough to relieve Cas of his excess grace anymore. The mass healings start to pile up all across the globe and it catches everyone's attention. Some think it's a blessed miracle, some think it's a sign of the end times. They make him slow down on the healings after that.

Without an outlet, however, Cas starts feeling antsy and pained. They brainstorm on possible alternatives. Cas suggests going to Heaven and saving it from collapse by healing his brethren's wings and creating more angels out of consenting souls in Heaven.

He explains Heaven's endangered and dwindling numbers. Sam agrees that it would hit two birds in one stone: relieve Cas from excess grace and prevent the extinction of angels. Dean doesn't like the idea of more winged dicks so he shoots down the idea. Eileen says that since Cas is the one in pain, he should be the one to decide.

Ultimately, Cas defers to Dean's judgment (as always). Sam protests, arguing that he can't just shoulder that pain. Cas replies: "I've suffered worse, Sam."

Cas doesn't complain about the pain for about a week, so for a while, everyone believes him when he said he can shoulder the pain. One day, Dean finds him outside the bunker, groaning in pain as he bleeds himself out, his grace pouring into the ground and sprouting plants. Dean sees this and is finally convinced to allow Cas to make more angels.

What follows then is a series of escalating events:

While Sam and Eileen are practicing their witchcraft for spell they need in a hunt, Cas suggests to enhance Sam's physical and magical abilities using his grace. "It will make the process faster and safer," he reasons. He agrees, but Dean eyes this suspiciously.

During one of their hunts, they encounter a young and freshly-turned vampire. The boy begs them not to kill him, and Cas gives him a proposal. "Promise not to feed on humans ever again and I shall cure you of your hungers and your pains. Pledge your allegiance to me and you shall never be afraid of yourself ever again." The boy agrees, and before Dean could even protest, Cas slices his palm and feeds the vampire his grace.

They argue about the grace-feeding in the Impala. Dean notices Sam's pointed lack of complaints and figures it out. "You're in on this, aren't you? How long has Cas been doing this? He's going Michael behind our backs and you're letting him?"

Sam argues that it's different because Cas isn't making super monsters; he's making them less "monstrous" (whatever that means). Sam's obsession with his own "purity" is key to understanding him here.

One time, Dean catches Cas in his "garden" ("forest" seems more apt with how lush the greens already are) creating butterflies and bees out of thin air using his grace alone.

Reports of the miraculously healed people suddenly gaining new abilities like increased strength, heightened senses, and prophecy start popping up. Some are experiencing phantom limbs, talking about their sprouting "wings."

Sam is becoming addicted to Cas' grace to the point that he willingly lets himself be hurt in hunts just so Cas can cure him. Dean confronts him about this, but Sam just argues that he's "never felt this pure before." Eileenn shares the same concern as Dean.

Hunts are becoming less frequent the more monsters are being "cleansed" by Cas. The world is becoming disconcertingly quiet.

Cas' "garden" is starting to emit this strange aura. The plants and creatures growing inside it are starting to look more...alien.

One of the original angels goes to Dean and tells him of Heaven's affairs. The Host is stable again, but the angels he created are...not exactly angels. They're graced up and they sustain Heaven, but their true forms are "horrifying and incomprehensible, even to an angel." The angel adds that more than 60% of Earth's creatures have already been touched by Cas' grace.

The final nail in the coffin is when Dean catches Cas in the garden fiddling with his angel blade. It's emitting a strange glow, vibrating a subtle hum and looking as if it's liquid, flowing and distorting here and there.

Dean asks him what he's holding. "Oh, this?" Cas responds. "This is the Last Blade. Last, not in terms of time but in concept, for no other blade shall ever compare to it. The spark of creation. Fiat lux."

Dean's heart sinks. Of course. The First and the Last, Alpha and Omega. "Cas...the Mark, I think i-it's scrambling your brain, man."

"I know," he replies, eyes wet and apologetic. It's a small moment of lucidity amidst weeks and months of...whatever that was.

"Okay, okay, so you're still you, that's... that's good. Okay." Dean doesn't know how to approach this. Give him a fight and he'll know what to do, but this? Watching his best friend, the love of his life, be distorted into something incomprehensible? Yeah, this is totally beyond him.

"You know, I used to hate Chuck," Cas says. "How could the Father of All Creation be this angry, petulant child? But," he continues, "knowing what I know now, it's either regressing into a petty child or being reduced to insanity."

"Cas...what are you talking about, man?"

"No mind should bear this burden, Dean. No matter how infinite they are," he says, voice trembling in exhaustion.

(more below the cut)

He continues. "The awareness of everything is the awareness of nothing at all. Imagine perceiving every possible piece of information about the world all at once. Seeing light in all its forms all at once: ultraviolet, infrared, etc. Sensing all the neutrinos zip by, sensing gravitational waves, sensing the slighest bit of seismic activity."

Dean doesn't know how to respond, so he lets him go on.

"Knowledge can only ever be a slice of the Totality of Truth. Truth is absolute chaos, and Knowledge is the partial ordering of this chaos. One can sanely approach Truth only through organized paritions of Totality. Why do you think Chuck is so obsessed with stories? Stories are linear and finite; they're sensible snippets of the endless sea of possible worlds."

"So, what? Are you trying to—"

"I'm not trying to justify Chuck's actions, Dean," he interrupts. "I just want to contextualize them. Chuck's simplistic and repetitive narratives are what they are: manifestations of a chaotic Totality, gone insane trying to understand itself. Looking for simple things to hold on to."

Cas takes a deep breath. He speaks with a shaky voice. "I'm barely holding myself together, Dean. I can feel the universe beneath my skin."

He doesn't know what possesses him to ask, but he does it anyway. "What are you holding on to?"

Cas smiles at that. "You."

They stare at each other for a while, frozen where they stand. Cas, with unrestrained affection in his face. Dean, struck by shock and indecision. It's Cas who first breaks the silence.

"I think we both know what needs to be done, while I'm still lucid enough." Cas slices his palm and lets his blood drip down the soil. He then thrusts the Last Blade into the ground, lifting it when the soil glows.

Dean stared in awe as the ground erupts and a familiar shape rises from the hollow. "Is that.."

"The Ma'Lak box, yes. I also enhanced it with the Blade to be able to house things as powerful as me."

"Cas, wait, maybe we can think of another way to—"

"Dean," he says, calmly. "You know there's no other way. I wouldn't ask this of you if there was."

In any other scenario, Dean would've kept arguing, but even he knows that they're running out of time. Sam's grace addiction is getting worse and all the creatures touched by Cas' grace are slowly mutating into eldritch horrors. Dean offers a shaky nod. "Okay."

Tension visibly releases from Cas' body. "Thank you, Dean." He opens the box and enters it with ease. "When you lock this, bury me with the garden's graced soil. Once I'm under, my influence over the world should dampen."

Dean gives a wordless nod. For a while, they just stared at each other, Cas lying down and Dean trying to memorize every inch of his face while he can.

Cas presses his hand into Dean's left shoulder where his mark used to dwell. "My untainted grace," he whisper gently. "Some of it is still inside you. That's probably why you're not as affected by me."

Dean wants to say, I'll always be affected by you, but he holds himself back.

He takes his hand back, a bloody handprint now on Dean's jacket. "I love you, Dean," he says, breathless.

"Cas..."

"I probably would've built up to that if we had more time but," he makes a surprised laugh, "I am, as you would say, already 'losing my marbles', so."

The air quotes would've been funny and endearing in any other scenario, but it just makes Dean's vision blur up with tears.

"Thank you for everything, Dean. I know we've done nothing but repeatedly hurt each other these past few years, but I don't want to spend a deathless eternity with that as my memory of you. I forgive you, even for the things you haven't forgiven yourself for yet. And I'm sorry for everything, especially for ending things like this."

He should probably wipe away his tears to clear his vision, but Dean can do nothing but stare at Cas in awe, in fear, in grief, in reverence. They're both fully crying now.

"Goodbye, Dean."

"Wait, Cas."

Cas looks at him, waiting.

"Can you...can you say it again?"

He doesn't need to clarify what 'it' means. They both know.

With one last mournful smile, Cas says: "I love you, Dean."

And with that, Dean finally gathers all the strength he needs to shut the lid and lock the box. He stares at it for a while, unblinking. He forgot to ask, Can you hear my prayers down there? But it's too late now to ask.

The box automatically lowers itself into the hole it arose from. Now all that's left to do is to cover it again with soil.

Dean doesn't bother with a shovel. He gently buries the box with his hands deep in the soil, some of it getting trapped under his nails. He continues the mindless task, whispering a tireless series of I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I hope you're okay I'm sorry, over and over between his quiet sobs. Cas is quiet inside the box. No screaming or crying. Dean doesn't know if that's better or worse.

When the final clump of soil is pressed into the mound, he suddenly feels it: a visceral shift that echoes throughout the world. The alien glimmer of the garden dims, and the world corrects its axis. Dean screams his agony into the air.

That's how Sam finds him: sprawled over a mound of soil, crying his heart out. Dean doesn't need to say anything: he knows what happened. He pulls his brother off the ground and brings him inside the bunker.

For the first two weeks, Dean cycles through drinking and passing out in various places in the bunker. If he's not wearing the jacket, he's holding it with close to him. Sam gives him a considerable space to grieve while he monitors the world grace problem with Eileen. The grace mutations have significantly dropped since then and everyone's going back to normal.

Unfortunately, that means monsters are getting hungry again. Sam doesn't want to leave his brother alone after going nonverbal with grief and dysfunctional due to alcohol. Eileen assures him that she can handle hunts on their own and that the hunter network that they're building will lessen the workload.

Sam's attempts to sober Dean up finally work, mostly due to the latter having very little strength to protest. Dean remains sober an entire day for the first time in weeks, and all he can think about is: I haven't prayed to Cas in a while. The longing might have reached him, but never a coherent prayer.

The first time he goes out of the bunker in a while, he heads straight to Cas' garden. Sam's glad that he's finally going out because "the sun is good for you" or something, but he's really only here for Cas. He kneels in front of the burial mound (where a patch of an unknown species of flowers is already growing).

The first prayer he says to him in a while is: I love you, Cas. I should've said it while you were still here. Not saying it out loud and just strongly thinking about the words somehow bolsters him to get the words through.

He's crying again, and he knows he's losing coherency. In his mind, he's explaining about his hangups and his regrets and his continuous denial of his own joy, but one constant remains: he's beaming all his love and affection into this prayer.

He's halfway through explaining all the traits that he finds endearing in Cas when suddenly, he feels it like a snap. If the glimmer dimmed when he buried Cas, now it's as if it was never there in the first place. With an unsettling amount of certainty, Dean just knows that Cas is gone. For real, this time.

"C-cas...?" It's the first thing he's said in a while and it sounds rough in his long unused voice.

"CAS! CAS!!! " He's now screaming, ripping away the flowerbed with his bare hands and scratching the soil away. Tears are obstructing his vision, but he has no time to wipe them away. He needs to make sure that is really gone. His hands are bleeding and he doesn't give a damn.

Eventually, Sam comes running towards him. "Dean! Dean, stop!"

He tries to hold his brother back, but Dean just keeps on clawing away soil. "Sammy, Sammy he's gone, he's not there anymore, Sammy I have to see, please, let me see Cas again, I need—" he breaks into sobs again, and like a puppet with its strings cut off, he slumps into Sam.

"Dean, it's okay, it's okay..." he says softly to his shaking brother.

Eventually, when Dean calms down, he looks at the carnage he's done and starts sobbing again. The flowers, his last evidence of Cas being here, are all destroyed. Now Cas truly is gone.

. . .

When Cas first heard Dean's confession prayer, he was overcome with joy. When he realized what that means, however, his stomach suddenly sinks.

He hears before he sees the Empty arrive, slithering like black goo.

"Wow, were you excited enough for eternal slumber that you wanted a preview?" The Shadow teases in Meg's voice.

At first, he was dreading the Empty, but now that he thinks of it, it's actually the perfect prison for him: a vast, endless nothingness for him to fill with his creations.

And if Jack wasn't in Heaven, that only means that he's in the Empty, and he can't wait to see his son again. Even when blinded by the madness of the universe, he can never forget the joy of being a father.

"Yes," he replies, "I'm actually glad you're here now."

. . .

Somewhere around the globe, Billie drops Jack back.

"Don't worry, kid. You'l reunite with your father very soon."

(to be continued)

#spn #destiel #supernatural #aster writes #destiel fic #long post #im totally obsessed with moc!cas #moc!cas

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noritoshiikamo · 3 years

Text

lunch date

part 2 of this childhood friend drabble (ok fr frshould i name this childhood friend series or public sex series bcs hmm you'll see) pairing: gojo satoru + fem!reader genre: smut bcs i think with my hand down my pants when i see gojo tags//warning: established relationship public sex, gojo thinking with dick part 2, mention of breeding kink tagging: @unabashednightmarepizza @sukirichi @sassyeahhhh [lemme know if wanna be tagged in the next part] note: the obligatory trio of mine: unedited, lowercase intended, the obligatory trio of mine: not well edited, lowercase intended, english isnt my first language im sorry if i murder it.

“toru- ah, that hurts!”

his grip to her thighs tightened, “shhh, they can hear you.”

when gojo satoru suggested that they have lunch together, she happily accepted. she didn't suspected anything odd of his behavior. he was so kind to offer to bring her something over and she has been so stressed with her works, she just accepted it with no questions. it was the first text she’d replied after ignoring his many messages and calls.

it has been two weeks since the staircase incident and she started to suspect that he knew that she was actively trying to avoid him for almost a week. she knows gojo satoru like the back of her own hand, she knows he will not forget his promises, and he will hold against her until he gets it. their newly blossomed relationship was doing okay until he popped the question out so casually as she cooked. she couldn’t forget the look on his face.

“so, when are we going to have a baby?” his question that freaked her out lingered in her mind.

a baby

what was she thinking? she smacked her head on the table. “you could’ve asked for a house, or his black card, or something else. but a baby?” her voice strained.

“yes?” the hair on her back stood at the familiar deep voice.

she looked up so fast, her head spun to see her door opened wide. sara, her colleague stood with a slight frown on her face and on her side, gojo satoru. he wore teasing smile, traded his blindfold for his glasses and he looked different. he wore a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up with a pair of black pants and boots. his outfit looked simple and minimalistic, but don’t be fooled. she knew his shirt costs about the same as her monthly rent.

i can’t believe i picked a baby over his black card, her mind cried at the thoughts.

“i’ve tried stopping him,” sara explained, a glare on her face. he interjected. “i don’t need appointment to see my girlfriend,” gojo stepped inside, holding the door. “girlfriend?” sara questioned. she couldn’t help but to feel satisfied at the reaction her assistant’s face held.

“she gave you, her number?” she asked, one night where he came over. the bed sheet wrapped around her bare body as her eyes raked up and down satoru’s own bare body as he leaned against the headboard. his eyes shut close with his arms flexed behind his head. a small satisfactory smile on his face as he said, “right after telling me that you like me.”

“that bitch,” she hissed, gritting her teeth.

“y/n chan,” his eyes opened, a teasing smirk grew on his face. he leaned forward, the blanket pooled around his waist as he cupped her face in his hand, “didn’t see you as a jealous kind.”

it wasn’t that fact that she was jealous that sara is actively into gojo. she was fuming at her assistant for divulging her personal matter to him. that part first, and then maybe she was a little jealous. but then, sara was the reason she finally gets the guy she’s been waiting for; so at the end she still wins. sara will remain a bitch for a reason.

“it’s okay, we are having lunch together. you can leave,” she dismissed her, rubbing her strained eyes. gojo happily slammed the door shut.

“so, wanna tell me why you’re avoiding me?”

she sighed, her fingers ghosting over the keyboard, his presence has disturbed her mind, “i’m not. i-i’m busy.”

he sat on her chair, crossing his legs as he rested his lanky body against the chair. “you can’t even look at me. what is it?” he asked. her finger stopped above the enter key. she wanted to press it, but she can’t. something is holding her back. she knew what he’s doing. she sighed in defeat and turned to face the elephant in the room. her brows frowned when she realised; “where’s the food?” she asked staring at the empty table.

“huh?”

“lunch? you told me we are having lunch?” she frowned. this idiot did not just suggest that they’ll have lunch together, show up at her office without the promised food. gojo looked at her sheepishly, a small smile on his face.

“oh, that. yeah, i just want an excuse to see you,” his small smile turned sinister as he lolled his head to the side, “you could be my lunch.”

her face pressed against the glass window overlooking the city. her floor wasn’t that high, they could see the streets bellow and the office in front of them. she repeatedly told him that they can’t do this. “they can see us,” she panicked, despite being delirious from his kisses as she let him unbutton her shirt. but a few kisses later, her skirt hiked up, panties in his pocket and his dick hitting her cervix roughly, she was convinced.

“you think you can come for me six times?” he heaved, lips against her bare shoulder, accentuating his words with his every thrust, “six for the amount of days you've ignored me. another five to go, buttercup. should be easy.”

his hand trailed down her chest, her belly until he found her neglected clit. a gentle tap of her bundle of nerves had her throwing her hair back. she was about to come undone; he could feel it from the way she was desperately clamping down on his length and her whining. tears streaming down her face as she bit down on her lips to hold herself from screaming, she could taste blood. her body shuddered, her sweaty skin leaving marks on the glass and the way he just mewled against her ears, praising her made her legs buckled.

he was quick to catch her, hands gripping her waist.

they moved to the desk, pushing all her files and pens aside as he laid her down. he showered her with kisses, slowly trailing them down to her cunt. he eyed her glistening slit, mouth watered. grabbing her legs, he held it open, she whined at the feeling of his warm breath ghosting over her. “satoru, i can’t,” she moaned at the first lick, her hand pressed on his head trying to get away, but he held her tight. “n-no more, ah fuck, fuck!” she could feel his eyes on her, watching her every reaction as his tongue worked their ways. the feeling on his teeth grazing her clit, the tip of her tongue teasing around her entrance, before slipping in.

she tasted so good; it was more pleasurable for him than her. she looked pretty squirming to get away as he held her tighter, tongue darting in and out. overstimulation was hitting her full force and she was high in pleasure. her brain couldn’t comprehend; between the feeling of his breath against her slit, his tongue fucking her, his calloused palms against her waist and the sound he was making. she didn’t give two fucks if the office heard them fucking.

“close, fuck, toru i want-” her words cut off by her own moan.

his tongue switched, sucking on her swollen clit as his finger took over the fucking. it didn’t take long for her to gush out. her head was pounding, his words went in one ear and out the another. he stood up, drools and her fluid covered his chin and onto his bare chest. he helped her sat, she was beyond exhausted. the feeling of his fingers brushing her hair back brought back to the office, she looked up to him with her eyes half drooped. a soft chuckle escaped his lips as he pressed it on hers. “you okay?” he whispered, planting kisses after kisses. “i miss you so much,” he cooed.

“miss you,” was all she could mustered out.

“did i scare you? with the baby talk?” he asked, pulling her in his arms. truth be told, seducing her into fucking in front of the glass window wasn’t the actual reason gojo was here. but her words were just so inviting, he doesn’t mind a little detour. she tasted delicious. she mumbled something against his chest, but he was sure it was a maybe.

“i thought you wanted it.”

she pouted, finally the first sentence her brain could scrambled, “maybe i change my mind.”

“that’s why you ran away from me? you’re scared?” he tilted her head up, his heart warmed at the little pout she had on, “oh buttercup, i won’t lie. the thoughts of you all round and milky with my child is turning me on-” not a lie, because she could feel his cock pressing against her slit, “but it’s okay. one day i’ll change your mind but for now, i’m fine with a little practise now.” she groaned against his lips as she felt his tip slipped in, stretching her once again.

this one was quicker, she was already sobbing mess, clutching desperately on his chest as he chased his high.

the deeper he pushed into her, the faster he had to circle her clit. he’s not a selfish lover, he wants her to feel as good as him too, despite being borderline torturous as she was clearly an overstimulated mess. “you’re so good to me,” he hummed, “you take me in so well. i love the way your tight cunt suck me in.” she really was, with mouth apart panting his name, eyelids drooped, and fingers dug into his flesh with legs apart.

she’s his good little girl.

she nodded, soft mewls could be heard through her pants. the wet kisses he was peppering her skin soon turned into a desperate attempt to leave a mark. she was beyond exhausted to berate him for doing it, so she learned to enjoy the feeling of his fangs against her flushed skin.

“toru, it feels so good,” she rolled her eyes back and he hummed in agreement.

gojo held her throat, not too harsh but not exactly gentle too, “it does, does it?” he grinned, “come, clench around my cock, y/n chan," he teased, in a sing-song tone, "i’m about to fill you up to the brim.” he tightened the grip, she whined. the way the walls tightening around him, had the world strongest’s sorcerer a moaning mess, as his hips snapped faster.

the sound of their skin slapping each other got louder and louder with the squelching of her cunt. his eyes rolled to the back of his head, as he forced his cock all the way inside, his thick seed shooting directly into her womb. his grip on her waist tightened, he was all choke up. they stayed in each other’s arm, struggling to catch a break.

he pinched her cheek for the fun of it, seeing her annoyed and bothered for his own personal pleasure. “what luck you have, y/n. falling in love with someone like me,” he brushed the tear stains on her cheek.

“who said i love you?”

he pressed his hand on his chest, faking the pained look on his face with an ouch. it was never an exchange of i love yous between them; it was him annoying the fuck out of her and her being constantly concern by his childishness. “would you still come home, y/n. i miss you so much, no lies.” he asked as he pulled his pants back up. "i will," she promised. he helped her off the desk, cleaning the mess they’d made and her chasing him around for her pair of panties. she never got it back, her face was as red as her stilettos as she made her way out of the office bare under her skirt. she could hear him snickering behind her.

“c-cancel the rest of my day please, sara. i have some business to take care off,” she glared at the white-haired man running toward the elevator. lunch time was over, and she was beyond fucked to continue her work. literally. not when gojo had made sure to give her the fucking of her life, she couldn’t focus on her work no more. sara gave her a glare, a dirty one, as she eyed her skewered hair and wrinkled clothes. she placed the files on her assistant’s desk, rushing as gojo held the elevator opened.

she made in, jumping instantly in his arms as the door closed. it was just two of them in the empty lift.

she giggled in his arms; his huge smile was contagious. he kissed her so gently, thumb on her back rubbing shapes. his smile grew wider as they pulled away. she tilted her head, confusion on her face and he nudged his head to the door. she turned around only to see their reflection on the elevator’s door. “look closer,” he whispered, and her eyes widened as she realised a trail of his cum, peaking out of her skirt down her legs. her face got even redder as she wasn’t sure if it had just happened or gojo has been letting her walk around with his cum down her legs.

“i’ll murder you, satoru.”

the lift suddenly halted. the number stopped at the ninth floor and she cursed. the lift wasn’t malfunction; she knew exactly what he was doing, and he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“not going to lie, seeing my cum down your legs, it looks hot,” he said sheepishly, a kiss on her cheek while his hands already made their way underneath her blouse. his brows raised up suggestively.

“will you stop thinking with your dick, satoru?”

“you still owe me two more orgasm, buttercup.”

the light of the lift suddenly tripped, engulfing them in a pitch-black darkness. she jolted in his arms. the emergency light turned on and under the dimmed light, she could see his blue eyes on her like a predatory to its prey. she could feel her throat drying as a kiss landed on her neck.

“we better make our time worth.”

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neonacity · 3 years

Text

LUCID | NCT DREAM ‘00 LINE X READER | CH.6

LUCID DREAMS - A TYPE OF DREAM WHEREIN THE PERSON IS AWARE THAT THEY ARE CAUGHT IN A DREAM WORLD.

Summary: It was supposed to be a harmless, professional transaction. You were to tutor a group of boys, get your pay at the end of the day, and go home to your loving fiance. Kids aren’t supposed to be dangerous, right? So why, then, are you caught up in a web of madness that slowly makes you feel like you’re in a living nightmare?

NOTE:This is a yandere plot featuring NCT Dream ‘00 line which means there will be mature themes in the story as well as obsessive, toxic behavior. If you’re a minor, please refrain from interacting. If this isn’t your thing, then just scroll and skip. In no way am I condoning anything written here— this is not love, this is obsession—nor do I think that any of the people mentioned here will act any way like in this story. This is purely a work of fiction.

Genre: yandere, horror, suspense

TW: abuse, obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive scenes, stalking, possible kidnapping, mental health. Age gap–though nothing dramatic. Everyone is of legal age, drugs, slight smut for this chapter but nothing graphic, questionable consent (?) I guess? Creepy, creepy, creepy! This will be updated as the story goes along.

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

“EVERYONE HAS A DARKER NATURE. EVERYONE. GOOD MEN FEAR IT, AND EVIL MEN EMBRACE IT.” - JAMES ISLINGTON

The silent hum of the air conditioning filled the space like a foreboding chant. Nothing else but the sound of the hospital machinery and random noises outside pierced the stillness of the room as you stared, unseeing, at the green and orange numbers that blinked on the monitor above the bed.

You barely have any recollection of how you managed to find yourself in the hospital, but you do remember brief memories of Taeyong picking you up from the floor you found yourself crumpled on after you got the call. You remember seeing Jaehyun's parents at a brightly lit corridor and his mother pulling you into a hug as she broke down and his father telling you how his son hasn't woken up since he was brought to the emergency room.

You remember your heart breaking in shock, mind too numb from the godforsaken pills you have been taking and your own injury. So many times you wondered to yourself if you were still caught in one of your nightmares, but every time you tried to break free from it, you're slapped back with the reality of how all of this is real.

Your fingers gently tightened on Jaehyun's hands now as your gaze landed on his face. He looked so peaceful, like he's just sleeping, that you almost wanted to bend over and try to kiss him awake. You don't even have any idea what time and day it is already, but you have barely left his side since you were brought to him. The nightmares and sleeplessness? They're barely a problem for you anymore because right now, you're entirely not resting at all unless your body forces you to crash from physical exhaustion. Even then, you usually only sleep for about two to three hours at best to make sure that you never miss a moment with your fiance.

"Severe traumatic head injury. He was lucky enough that the airbag shielded him from the worst of the impact."

The words of his attending doctor echoed in your head again like a faraway voice. You could only remember bits and pieces of what he said to his parents back then as he reported his findings, but you caught enough context for you to draw a picture of the situation. You remember Jaehyun's mother asking the chances of her son waking up again, her voice barely holding up from her emotions.

"I cannot promise anything, Ma'm. I'd say he has a 60 percent chance. He's fighting."

And he is. You know Jaehyun inside out. He might be unconscious now, but there is no way he is giving up. Not from something like this.

"Keep fighting baby…" you whispered in the stillness of the room as you lifted his hand gently to your lips to kiss. "I'll wait for you. We still have a wedding to do."

The slight creaking of the door barely made you look away from his sleeping face. You only did at the gentle sound of a throat clearing, your eyes slightly widening as you recognized the man who just walked inside the room. Taeil had the same mildly shocked look on him as he stopped on the other side of the bed across from you.

"You…"

"Are you a relative of the patient?" He asked now as he tucked his clipboard under his arm. You simply nodded, watching him quickly glance at the numbers on the monitor before his eyes settled on you again.

"I'm his fiancee."

That made him raise his brows slightly. He pulled a pen now from the pocket of his coat to quickly write something on his file. "What a coincidence. Not a good one obviously. I'm sorry to hear about him. Mr. Jung, right?"

You swallowed. You didn't want to acknowledge anything that he just said so you tried to divert the conversation instead.

"You're not his doctor. Why are you…"

"Oh. He was turned over to me today. I am one of the resident neurologists here but he had to be moved to me because his first doctor has too much in his plate already. Don't worry, I was briefed properly about his case."

Your gaze followed Taeil as he bent over to check Jaehyun's oxygen level as well as the other wires attached to him. You don't know what to feel about him taking over, but at least you already know him previously.

"Are there any changes? Positive ones?" You asked in a frail voice that Taeil definitely didn't miss. You told yourself to not act silly and ask questions that probably do not have answers yet, but you couldn't help yourself now. The man seemed to think over his words first, noticing your state, before calmly giving his reply.

"No particular ones, but the fact that there are no negative developments is… something. I will have to request for some tests to be done on him again tomorrow so we can see if there are positive changes in his brain."

Neutral. Not good, but at least it's not bad either.

"How are you? I was about to check on you again. Is your head okay?"

You were still thinking over his words that you barely caught his question. Looking up, you tried to scramble for an answer to give. To be honest, you haven't given proper attention to your own injury since this happened. You would even only remember to take your medications on your clearest, less anxious moments, which, honestly, isn’t a lot.

"I'm uh… the wound has closed. But the headaches. They're still there."

He simply nodded. "Any other side effects?"

You didn't immediately answer. You didn't want to sound whiny, but it's not like you're going to lose anything by telling him the uglier parts of your recovery. You swallowed to try and dislodge the slight blockage in your throat.

"Nightmares…" you said now, voice soft. You briefly remembered the last one you had back in the manor before you woke up to the bad news and you felt your stomach turn again. "Lots of them. Hallucinations sometimes…"

The doctor watched you carefully and you know he is trying to compute things in his mind despite his face remaining calm.

"Have you been keeping to your schedule with your medications? Are you taking too much?"

You firmly shook your head no to his last question.

"No, I haven't been overdosing. But… I've been skipping my pills the last few days because of...because of this."

"How have you been feeling since you started missing your dosages then? Do you remember?"

That made you actually stop and think about it for a moment. Now that you are paying attention, you did notice how the nightmares have calmed down slightly. Even the hallucinations are almost gone. You frowned slightly to yourself.

"A bit… better actually."

Taeil took his time to observe you a bit more before writing something on a new page of his clipboard.

"You must have had severe reactions to the mixture of pills I gave you. I'm going to prescribe you new ones and ask the nurses to pick them up and bring them to you here. Can you promise that you'll try and take them though? You really need them to fully heal."

You nodded and gave him a slightly sheepish look.

"I will, thank you very much."

Taeil dug his hands into the pockets of his coat and gave you a gentle smile.

"Well, that's it for today. I'll come back tomorrow to give you updates about Mr. Jung." He had already turned and started walking away when he suddenly stopped to look at you again.

"Oh, and another thing. Please try and get some sleep. Recover… and then focus on helping your fiance."

******* You didn't really know what woke you up. Stirring from your sleep, the first thing that registered to you was the sound of distant traffic mixed with the gentle chirping of the morning birds from outside the window. A warm feeling radiated on your cheek and made the back of your eyelids glow red.

You flickered your eyes open and immediately rolled away to escape the ray of sunshine that slipped from the open curtains and shone directly at your face. You easily evaded it as you moved over to the other side of the bed which was empty and cold from the night before.

That was when you finally remembered that you were back in your home, in the same bedroom you share with Jaehyun. The day before, his mother offered to take the responsibility of watching over him so there was a sudden change of plans that finally gave you the reason to check back into your apartment after so long. If it were you, you would have preferred not leaving your boyfriend’s side until he wakes up, but you also knew that your future mother-in-law wanted to spend time with him so you relented.

Of course you weren't thrilled to be home alone, especially with Jaehyun not being there, but the comfort that a real mattress provided—over the small couch you used to sleep in back at the hospital—is definitely a welcome change for your body. You even tried to take your medicine properly, the new ones that Taeil had provided, in the hopes of getting knocked down fast. Your adrenaline and anxiety had been fueling you in the past days, but you know from the way your heart thumped and your hands shook that you need a solid rest.

And you got it. You still feel a little groggy now but your body is definitely lighter and your head clearer. The nightmares didn't even come, and while they were replaced by total darkness or dreams in white that still made you anxious, you are willing to take those anytime over the graphic ones that you used to have.

You gently sat back against the headrest of the bed now and reached out for your phone to check the time. It's barely 7AM but as expected, Jaehyun's mom has already provided you with updates from the hospital. He’ll have some tests taken today as Taeil advised and then they’ll hear more about his progress. From the looks of it, she seems still set on watching over her son, which means you still have at least today free to yourself.

You quickly typed a reply to her and sighed. You’re thankful that even though you weren’t related by blood, his parents have always treated you as if you were their own. Having a family is not something you’ve really experienced in your childhood, so that’s something you’ve always appreciated about them. That is also the reason why you wish for the best out of this situation, because you also couldn’t bear seeing your fiance’s mother and father heartbroken. He’s their only son, after all.

A quick look around your room left you feeling empty. The last week has been so hard that it felt longer and now you’re struggling to find your normal pace again. In an effort to bring yourself to focus, you decided to pick up your phone once more and started flipping through your calendar to check your schedule. It didn’t take long for you to frown when you realized the upcoming dates there. You’ve plotted important academic schedules in advance and one quick look at it told you how much you’ve obviously missed in the past week. You’ve been so lost in the mess of everything that has happened that you’ve entirely forgotten about your job at the manor. You realized that they didn’t even call you once to ask about your absence, probably because they also know about the situation, but even that is not enough excuse for you to entirely fall off the radar.

Biting your lip, you quickly scrolled through your contacts now to look for the number you need. Your thumb hovered over the call button momentarily, but you eventually pressed it anyway. Your eyes wandered towards the clock on the wall, hoping silently to yourself that it wasn’t too early for you to call.

“Rosewood Manor, how can I help you?”

You straightened on your seat.

“Hey, Taeyong. It’s me. Sorry if I called so early.”

The other boy seemed to have been taken slightly by surprise by the way he fell silent at the other end of the line. You tapped your finger against your knee, waiting for him to speak again.

“Hi. No, it’s fine. Work started for me about an hour ago. Are you okay? How’s things on your end?”

You nibbled guiltily on your lower lip and finally got off your bed to walk over to the window. You pushed the curtains open and stared at the slight snowfall that had started falling on the ground. You’ve missed so many days of reporting to them but the first thing he does is to check if you’re fine.

“I um—things are still the same. My boyfriend’s still at the hospital.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Look, I want to apologize. I haven’t really reported to work and I didn’t even call about it. It’s just that—things have been so crazy lately, but still that isn’t an excuse for me to just not show up.”

Taeyong, however, was understanding as always. You were about to go off for another round of apologies when he gently cut you off.

“Hey, it’s fine. We know you’ve been dealing with a lot lately so we also weren't expecting anything. Don’t worry too much about it.”

“But, the boys’ examinations and portfolio review is happening in three days and I haven’t really checked in with them. How are they doing now?”

“Oh...that. Well, we actually tried looking for a temporary tutor to help out but I...uh… I think he isn't really cutting it. Maybe because he isn’t the one who started the program with them. But he’s a big help still.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry about that. I should have at least—look, I can drop by today and just try to fix things.”

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to. Don’t you need to be at the hospital?”

You started going around your room now, trying to gather the scattered papers and files that you’ll need. It’s a good thing you woke up early so you still have time to prepare for work. “My boyfriend’s mother is the one watching over him today so I have the day off.”

“And your injury? How is it?”

Your eyes landed on the new bottles of medicine sitting on your bedside table.

“Better. I’m feeling so much better.”

You heard Taeyong sigh in relief over the phone. “Thank god. We were so worried about that. Well, you really don’t need to go, but if you have time, I guess doing it today won’t hurt. It will help us a lot.”

A small smile tugged at your lips now and you switched the phone over to your other ear as you started arranging your bag. “Thank you so much for being understanding. I need a distraction anyway. I’d rather work than stay home alone… Thanks for not firing me.”

That made him laugh a little. “I’ll tell the boys that you’re coming over. Oh, and be careful on your drive here. The roads are a little bit slippery today because of the snow.”

“I will, thank you. I’ll be there by 9.”

******* “Noona!”

You have barely finished arranging your materials on your desk when the door to the room burst open and ushered an anxious-looking Jisung inside. You looked up quickly at him, only barely catching Chenle wobbling with his crutch before your vision of the entrance was blocked by Jisung’s tall frame. His hair looked swept up as if he ran and there was a slight flush staining his cheeks. He stopped right in front of you, stopping just in time for him not to topple you over.

“Hey, Jisung how are—” You tried to give him a smile but he was quick enough to grab your hands between his.

“Are you back? Are you really back for real?” He pressed now, eyes wide as he tried to bend over to look closely at you. He looked like a puppy, the only missing thing being a wagging tail to complete the look. You couldn’t help the brief laugh that passed over you as you tried to calm him down.

“I am. For the day, yes. Sorry I missed so many of your sessions.”

“We thought you left us,” Jisung continued, his lower lip protruding just a bit. Just then, Chenle had finally reached the two of you, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. This is actually the first time you saw him again since the day the two of you had your accident and you’re glad to see him healthy despite his broken leg.

“Hi, Chenle. How are you?”

The boy scratched the back of his head and looked away slightly. “Fine… I’m sorry, noona. I wasn’t able to visit you when you stayed with us. I’m really really sorry about what happened in the forest.”

You tried to give him a reassuring smile and freed one of your hands from Jisung’s hold to ruffle his hair. The action seemed to have calmed him down a little because he finally looked at you again, a small apologetic smile on his own lips.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault. But be careful next time, okay?”

“Are you going to be our tutor again, noona?” Jisung pressed once more and you turned your attention back to him. To be honest, you’re still not sure how your schedule will turn out after this, but you couldn’t really bear to break the poor boy’s heart at the moment.

“Yes… I’m here to teach your big brothers today for their tests though. We’ll have to schedule you and Chenle’s lessons again. Is that alright?”

A brief look of disappointment flashed on his face but he was quick enough to pick it up. Jisung smiled and gave your hand a squeeze.

“Okay. We can wait. It’s good you are back, Jaemin-hyung was so—”

“Yah, don’t hog her by yourself. You’ll scare her away.”

A new voice made the three of you look back to the doorway. Haechan smiled at your little group as he strolled casually into the room followed by Jeno and Jaemin. The three of them joined your crowd and you felt Jisung finally let go of your hand as he stepped away to go over to his brothers’ side.

“Hi. Sorry, I only returned now. Taeyong told me that you—”

You weren’t able to finish what you wanted to say as Haechan gently stopped you mid-sentence. He leaned his head to the side, eyes briefly scanning you from head to toe. Unlike Jisung, he looked calm and only barely excited.

“It’s fine. We knew you’ll come back. How are you?”

“Oh… I’m good. My head is better. I haven’t had the chance to thank all of you for taking care of me when I was here.”

“How about your boyfriend?” It was Jeno who asked this time and you quickly turned to him to address his question. Your eyes briefly slipped to Jaemin who was standing behind him before you could even speak though, and for a moment you had the impression that Jeno was shielding him—or blocking him from you. You blinked a little bit in confusion, wondering if it was just your imagination that was making you think that way.

“He’s still… still unconscious,” your smile dropped a little but you tried your best to keep your voice casual. “We’re getting more tests for him. His doctor said that he isn’t showing bad signs at least.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about him,” Haechan said with compassion and you gave him a grateful look. Your gaze settled on Jaemin again, however, who for some reason had barely looked at you since he came into the room. You know that he can be quiet and reserved at times, but there is something in the air around him that makes you slightly worried. He’s so still, but the way he carries himself makes it seem like he’s so strung up at the same time. It also doesn’t help that Jeno seems to be almost pushing him back from view.

“Hi Jaemin… How are you?” You tried to gently ask him to make sure that he is okay. He didn’t look at you at first, but when he finally did, you felt yourself freeze a little. His eyes looked dark and almost emotionless when he met yours and there were shadows under them as if he hadn't slept properly for days. He didn’t even answer and just simply stared, his gaze blank and accusing at the same time.

Haechan casually glanced over his brother and chuckled. “Our Jaeminie here has been sick for the past couple of days so he’s a little out of it. But he’s going to be fine now,” he put a hand over the other’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze as if to calm him down. “Right, Jaemin? We’ll try our best to go to class today since noona is finally back, hmm?”

Jaemin, however, didn’t even seem to hear him. He continued staring at you the same way that kept you pinned on your spot.

“Are you leaving again?” he finally asked and you almost felt goosebumps rise on your skin. It didn’t sound like a question… but more of a threat. You swallowed.

“I’m going to have to arrange my schedule till things get better…” you answered carefully, as if you’re navigating dark waters. That didn’t seem to cut it for him, unfortunately.

“So you’re not leaving. Forever?”

You blinked. To be honest, you’ve been thinking of quitting and just finishing the rest of the month if things didn’t improve, but you don’t think that’s the right answer to give at the moment.

“No… not for now,” you finally managed to say. You watched as Jaemin seemed to visibly relax, his stiff shoulders loosening under Haechan’s grip. He didn’t say anything after that, but he at least looked away, seemingly more satisfied with your words.

“Great. I think we should get to work,” Haechan broke the silence and looked around the room as if the tension you were feeling was just something only you could feel. He nodded towards Chenle and Jisung then. “You guys go back to your own classes. You’ll have your share of noona once it’s your turn.” He then glanced at you, smile still in place. “Should we start then?”

You nodded. “Is Renjun still not back?”

“Not yet. He’s going to be here tomorrow though,” Jeno answered as he took his seat on one of the desks.

“I see…”

Haechan also found his spot, but not before you’ve noticed him urging Jaemin to do the same. Playfully, he took the pencil you’ve arranged on the desk and started tapping it against the wood of the table.

“Don’t worry. We’ll tell him you’re back. I’m sure he can’t wait to have his lessons again~”

******* You looked over the window for the third time in the last fifteen minutes and sighed. The day had been busy with you trying to catch up on the boys’ lessons that you barely even noticed the state of the weather outside. When you finally did, it took you by surprise when you saw how much of the ground was covered by snow—one look at it told you that it is at least a feet deep by now. Your first instinct was to try and maneuver your car out of the lot before your tires get entirely buried in it, but then you remembered that you promised to wait for Taeyong to come back before leaving the manor. The butler requested for you to temporarily watch over the manor while he tries to do some last minute errands back in the city, but it’s been two hours since he originally promised to come back. You eyes glanced at your watch now, then back at the quickly darkening view outside.

“...severe snowstorm has blocked some of the main roads in the city at the moment. Expect heavy traffic and don’t forget to drive safely.”

You turned to the television now to catch the last of the rambling dialogue of the reporter about the weather. You’ve been debating on whether to call Taeyong or not to check on him, but you didn’t want to seem impatient to go home when you only really wanted to make sure if he’s safe. From the looks of it, he’s stuck somewhere because of the hale, too.

You were on your way to get your phone from your bag to at least try to shoot him a message when you suddenly heard it ring. Getting it just in time, you almost sighed in relief when you saw his number there. You quickly took it and went over to the window to answer it to make sure you get some proper signal.

“Hello? Taeyong?”

“Hey. Finally. I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour, thank god it finally connected.”

“Oh, sorry, my phone’s in my bag. I think the signal’s getting bad because of the snowstorm. Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, about that, I’m still stuck in town. The traffic’s so bad here because a section of the main road is blocked. Road maintenance is supposed to come thirty minutes ago but I think there’s a delay because there are other roads they are working on.”

Your gaze drifted back to the television where scenes of the same blocked avenues were being flashed. “Yeah… the news says the same. Are you safe though?”

“I am. I’m really sorry for making you wait. I’d tell you to drive back and not wait for me anymore but I don’t think you’ll also make it home in time with all this traffic going on. I don’t think it’s going to be safe. Do you mind waiting for a little bit more? I’ll tell you once the roads are better.”

You thought it over quickly, a frown settling on your face. You really want to go home, but he’s right. There’s no point in trying to drive back if you’ll only find yourself stuck in the roads for hours. Not being a big fan of night driving yourself, you can already imagine the stress waiting for you if you add a snowstorm to the mix. As much as you wanted to leave, you’re left with no choice, at least for the moment.

“I can… I’ll just wait for you, I guess. Do you want me to do anything here while you’re gone? Dinner for the boys?”

“Oh no, no, you don’t need to do that, that’s not part of your job,” Taeyong sounded abashed when he said that. You stepped away from the window then and took a seat by the fireplace that Jeno started earlier. Half of your concentration was on the news which has now shifted to a different set of reports also caused by the snowstorm. “They’ll know when to go down and eat. Don’t worry about them. Where are they right now?”

“Ah, I think they went back to their rooms? I did tell them earlier that I’ll try to wait for you.”

“I see. Yes, I think that’s better. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated. If things don’t get better, I think I’ll have no other choice but find a hostel here and wait for the weather to calm down. You can stay there and just ask for help from any of them. You can stay in the same room just in case.”

You didn’t quickly react to the offer. Instead, your eyes flickered to the doorway of the room before refocusing your attention back to the conversation. It’s not like you have anything against spending the night again at the manor—you’ve done it before, after all—but it’s honestly not really something you’re comfortable to do again. Maybe it’s because you’ve never really been okay with overstaying at strangers’ houses but your gut feel is also telling you right now that it shouldn’t be your top option regardless of the situation you are in.

Still, you didn’t want to come off rude to Taeyong, not when he is only being kind to offer you temporary shelter while being stuck in the middle of nowhere himself. So instead, you went against your initial doubts and offered him your thanks in return. It’s just Plan B that he’s proposing after all.

“I will. Keep me updated though if you need anything you think I can help with.”

“Thank you and I will. I have to go now though. Please make yourself at home. I’ll try to call again after an hour.”

“Okay. Take care.”

You put your phone down now with a worried frown as you heard the line drop. You couldn’t believe this is happening the first day you got back to work but it’s not like you can really blame anyone for it. The only good thing is that you’re sure Jaehyun is being taken care of right now so that is at least one thing off your shoulders. You didn’t really need to rush anywhere, not especially to a vacant home. Leaning back against your seat, you tried your best to relax as your gaze travelled around the room once again. You deliberated on sending a text to your mother-in-law to tell her about your situation but decided against it, not wanting to worry her more. You sighed. For now, you guess you didn’t have any other choice but to wait.

You did try to distract yourself by watching the news for a few more minutes before finally giving up on it. With resignation, you picked yourself up from your seat again and turned the television off. For a moment you simply stood in the middle of the room, trying to figure out what to do with your time when your gaze settled on the door again. Everyone retreated to their own rooms after they finished with their lessons so it means the house is pretty much yours for exploring if you wanted to. You toyed with the idea for a little bit, before finally resigning yourself to it. It’s not like there really is anything else left for you to do, and Taeyong did say you can make yourself feel at home if you wanted to. With a sigh, you finally turned on your heels to leave the room and peered silently into the hallway. It was deserted as expected, but still your eyes travelled left and right to check if there’s anyone out and about at this hour. It was only after you made sure that you were alone when you finally allowed yourself to step into the corridor.

Of course, you have a plan. You’re pretty much sure that checking out the rooms on the first floor is acceptable since it’s where you’ve been rotating your classes so you’re going to stick to those areas. You remember finding a library there once and you focused on finding your way to it to maybe check out some of the books in the collection.

It did take you about five minutes to finally find the place you were looking for. For some reason, the sections in the manor always confuse you no matter how many times you try to memorize each one, probably because of how big and similar-looking they are on the outside. You’ve already tried four doors when you were finally welcomed by the familiar-looking bookshelves at the fifth one. You sighed and gave one quick look around the room before slipping yourself inside after making sure that you’re alone.

There will probably never be a time when you won’t find yourself fascinated by anything in this grand home. If the architecture of the mansion is not enough to convince anyone how rich the family is, their book collection is enough to assure that at the very least. You’ve only ever taken a quick glimpse of it once during one of your lessons with the boys, but one look of the titles in their shelves is enough to make any literature major excited. You looked at the floor to ceiling collection now, your fingers gently running over the spines of the books you could reach with a small smile on your face.

You were about to check out the rest of the collection on the other side of the wall when something in the middle of the room caught your attention. You didn’t really catch it at first because of the shadows that concealed it when you first came in, but you could pretty much discern the outline of a blanket covered standee now from where you stood. You frowned. Taking careful steps, you closed the distance towards it to try and figure out what exactly it is that you’re seeing.

A closer look revealed it to be an easel covered with white cloth. You could see the outline of the canvas where the blanket falls over it while shadows of colors peeked out into the thin fabric from the surface it was covering. How odd… you knew that Renjun had a different art room for his paintings so to see this now here in the middle of the library seems uncanny.

You didn’t know how long you remained standing in front of it, too. You know you should have walked away—after all, the white cloth hiding it away from plain view means whatever is on that canvas is not meant for everyone’s eyes to see, but you simply couldn’t tear yourself away from it. It’s as if there was a silent force asking you to pull that cloth to reveal what’s underneath, the inclination so strong that you could almost hear its voice breathing down next to your ear, unrelenting until you do what it says.

The next thing you know, you had your hand attached to one end of the fabric. You stared at it now, wondering last minute if you should go ahead or not. You swallowed and glanced around one last time around the room. If you’re alone… it wouldn’t hurt if you could take a peek, right? Nobody will know. You just have to see, then cover it back again. Before you could even think about it too much, your arm was finally moving on its own as it gently tugged at the covering. You watched as it fell gently on the floor, like a bodiless ghost melting into the shadows on the ground.

Your eyes couldn’t make out what you were seeing at first. The dim lighting of the room wasn’t helping at all, but you were sure that it was a woman’s silhouette that was staring back at you from the canvas. Colors swirled around her, like some unknown mass trying to drag her back into unknown depths. Shapes and tones jumped from the picture, but her form stood out from the rest, gracefully twisted as if she was in the middle of trying to fight and succumb to it at the same time. You frowned. Taking a step closer towards it, you tried to study its details under what little illumination the lamps above afforded you.

That’s when it all happened simultaneously. Your heart stopped beating the same time your eyes widened as they finally focused on what’s in front of them. It’s as if the ground suddenly vanished from underneath your feet and you were falling, falling, deep into the abyss despite your body being frozen in fear and shock.

You know this painting. You’ve seen it before. It was the same one by Renjun, the one that you saw on your first day working in the manor.

But it was different now. Instead of the unfinished state that caught your attention before, everything about the picture now is in sharp focus. The lines on the woman’s nude body, the hands—which you thought were simply dark swirls dragging her back—and her face twisted beautifully in pleasure and madness stared back at you like a nightmare.

But it was not those which truly shook you to your core. It’s the realization that it was your own face in the portrait that was staring back at you, silently screaming for you to run away.

You stumbled back in shock. Your chest felt tight as you tried to grasp for air while your hands fumbled to find something to hold on to keep you from crashing on the ground. Before you could even take another step, however, something hard hit your back and you felt strong arms wrap around your waist like a vice. You have barely realized what was happening when you felt someone lean over your shoulder, lips pressing against the shell of your ear.

“Isn’t it beautiful? You’re the perfect muse, don’t you think?” Renjun asked softly as he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

******* You didn’t know how long you stayed frozen in his embrace. For a brief moment you thought you were dreaming again until you felt his arms slowly tighten around your waist. As if a jolt of electricity shocked you, you immediately turned to push him away as you scrambled to put some distance between the two of you.

Renjun didn’t seem the least bothered when your eyes finally focused on him. He remained on his spot, his gaze on you unwavering. You, meanwhile, were shaking from head to toe, the vision of the painting still branded vividly in your head.

“Renjun—what’s this?” you managed to stutter as you pointed at the artwork in the middle of the room. You couldn’t even spare to look at it again while he merely gave it a casual glance.

“It’s you. I’ve been working on it for a long time. I was about to show it to you but it seems like you couldn’t wait for it yourself.”

You felt nauseous. A part of your rational mind was slowly losing it as you tried to process his answer. Something's not right. Something is so terribly wrong.

“Why—why did you do this?”

Renjun simply stared at you and leaned his head a little bit to the side as if he was only mildly curious of your reaction. Your stomach turned even before hearing his answer.

“You said it’s beautiful.”

“This is not right—!”

“I came home because they said you were leaving for good,” he continued speaking softly, effectively cutting you from what you were about to say. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and you took another step back as you watched him get close to his artwork. You watched in horror as his thin fingers lovingly ran over the corners of the canvas. “Jaemin almost lost it… It’s a good thing I got here on time.”

And just like that, everything seemed to have clicked into place. The glances, the touches, the words that seemed to have a different undercurrent under them… they weren’t just fragments of your imagination. Every little thing that has gnawed at you from the inside came into crystal clear focus and you felt your knees go weak from the weight of it all. It took every fiber of your being to try and keep yourself steady now, your legs moving on their own as they took small backward steps away from the boy staring at you now with dead eyes. You couldn’t breathe, but it was the last words he told you that finally snapped you to run.

“I don’t think you’ve realized it yet. But no, you cannot leave. Ever.”

You didn’t know where you got the energy for it but in seconds you were flying out of that room and running blindly down the darkened corridors. Your blood pumped noisily in your ears and your chest felt like it was going to split from the sudden exertion you put on it, but you didn’t stop, not even looking back as you tried to put as much distance between you and the library. You didn’t even know where you were going. All you’re focused on is to find the exit and leave the house as soon as possible.

A loud bang that sounded off to your right startled you and you screamed, the force of your shock making you whip around and almost lose your balance. Before you could even hit the floor, however, a pair of hands caught you and you immediately turned, grasping at the chest of your rescuer.

You froze. Haechan smiled down at you as he tried to steady you on your feet.

“Haechan,” you gasped as you took fistfuls of his shirt and tried to shake him in your panic. “Renjun—he’s—please, help me. He’s after me—” you gasped out, almost out of your wits. You’re on the verge of a total breakdown that it almost escaped you, the way he simply smiled down on your shaking form. It was only when you felt one of his hands gently caress the top of your head that reality slapped you in the face again. You suddenly stopped struggling in his hold, pupils shaking as you watched him study your features lovingly.

“Shh… it’s fine. I got you,” he whispered and you could swear ice pricked you from the inside. A slight movement to the right made you turn your head and you saw Jaemin lean casually against the banister of the stairs, his face serene. He gave you one quick look before a gentle smile finally lit up his features.

“Has it started?” he asked and you felt Haechan’s hold on you tighten.

“It has.”

You didn’t struggle. It was as if any trace of fight you had left you in that moment and you let your hands fall limply on your sides. Haechan also loosened his grip on you and you stared at the two boys blankly, your chest heaving as if fighting for air. They didn’t move from their spots and simply followed you with their eyes as if relishing the fear and realization flashing in your face.

Trapped.

You’re trapped.

You’ve always been.

You didn’t even realize that your legs had started moving again on their own as the pieces of the puzzle started to fall together in your mind. You were only shaken from it when your back finally hit the front door, the cold metal of the knob pressing against your spine. Jaemin and Haechan remained on their spots still, even as you blindly reached out for it from behind.

You were expecting it to be locked, so you were a little bit surprised when you felt it give way under your hand when you tried to turn it open. Just before you could even entertain the idea of escaping, however, any trace of hope you had quickly died as you turned and came face to face with Jeno standing right in front of the entrance. He didn’t look the least surprised seeing you there, as if he was waiting for you in the first place.

You eyes took in his calm countenance before slowly moving to stare downwards at what he was holding by his side. Your gaze locked on it in fear, and that’s when the flight response in you flared up again.

Jeno’s hunting rifle shone dully in the light of the entryway, his pale fingers wrapped on its handle.

“There’s really only one place you can run, noona, but I won’t advise it,” he said evenly and you felt your blood freeze in your veins.

“After all, no matter where you hide, I’ll still find you in that forest.”

It happened all at once. You broke into a run, your body screaming at you to go faster as you heard gunshots pierce the air.

---

CHAPTER 7

A/N: Good lord, I wasn’t expecting I’d finish this today but I got one large iced coffee and well... things happened. Anyway, enjoy! Let’s hope the format won’t mess up this time. T.T Finally, all hell broke loose~ <3

Tag list!

@negincho, @jhornytrash, @jaeminhyuckiii, @jungwoosswhore, @jsturkey, @aj-7, @pukupukupawpau, @tomiesgirlfren, @vsszn, @those-winternights, @xsnelly, @lihyuck, @laheyspizza, @miyeux27, @haoshitt, @mindofthescattered, @huangberryyy, @d1nne, @choppedupcactus, @neokat, @yutasnabi

#nct dream yandere au #nct dream yandere #nct dream yandere fic #jaemin x reader #jeno x reader #renjun x reader #haechan x reader #nct dream 00 line fic #nct dream 00 line x reader #nct horror au #nct dream yandere imagines #jaehyun x reader #yandere!nct dream #yandere!jaemin #yandere!jeno #yandere!renjun #yandere!haechan #nct-writers #yandere!nct dream 00 line

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binxyu · 3 years

Text

Jungkook was meant to be just a guilty pleasure. Not your guilty pleasure, but a guilty pleasure. You knew never to fall in love with a man that thought loyalty was showing up on time. He was everything you never needed, but here you were. Your fingers pressed on the trigger that would start the flame of pain.

>>Pairing: Jeon Jungkook (dom) x fem!reader (sub) | fuckboy!jk x witch!reader

>>Word Count: 7.5k

>>Genre: Mini Series / Smut & Angst

>>Warnings/Kinks: Arguments, breast play, creampie, cum play, disloyalty, degrading, exhibitionism, fingering, hair pulling, marking, oral (receiving), praise, unprotected sex, and witchcraft

Jungkook was too beautiful for his own good.

From his pouty lips and sharp jaw line to his starry eyes. The man was perfection.

Even you had fallen for him, a woman that stopped believing in love.

But, all you could do now was remember the times you had together as the fire slowly burns in front of you.

As your love for Jeon Jungkook disappeared into nothingness.

Your fingers typed away at the keyboard, writing the second of three essays you had due. It was nearing the end of the semester and, while you were ecstatic at the mere thought of summer vacation, the stress of exams was looming over you.

“Can you look over this paragraph for me?”, you peeked up over your laptop and nodded, moving your own device out of the way to make room for Namjoon’s. Kim Namjoon was a journalist in the making, a man that knew exactly how to put events into words. He was quite different from you, but study sessions together were always eventful. You were the perfect person to correct his grammar mistakes or to help add detail to his work and he was the perfect person to help explain a certain historical detail you may have missed.

Studying religions was what you had decided was your interest considering your unique practice. You enjoyed learning about the beliefs of people centuries ago but the facts could get scrambled in your brain and that’s where Namjoon came in. He almost seemed to have a never ending timeline in his brain.

“I’d add more emphasize on Jungkook. He did beat the record after all”, you quickly realized when you read the paragraph that he was writing for the school paper again. Despite your attempts to persuade the man that he could do much better with his time, he continued to write for it.

“That’s true. Wait, how did you know about that?”, you let out an amicable chuckle. Of course Namjoon would assume you did not know. Just because you despised sports did not mean you were deaf. The whole school had been talking about the student since the track meet. While you couldn’t remember the exact record he beat, it was still a record.

“People talk”, you shrugged and Namjoon nodded. It was peaceful for a moment as you went back to typing, managing to push aside your emerging migraine. Your body was begging for a good nap, but you had to get this done. You were, among less appealing qualities, a hard worker. Perhaps it was due to the pressure put on you as a child or maybe it was because that diploma was just out of reach. Either way, nothing was going to get in the way of your future.

And, like the biggest fuck you from the universe, Jeon Jungkook walks in.

Yet, you hadn’t realized and kept typing until Namjoon cursed loudly, drawing you out of your world.

“Are you okay?”, your voice was soft before your eyes met the issue. Oh, poor clumsy Namjoon.

He had spilt his coffee all over his shirt, staining the freshly new white blouse he had worn. You couldn’t help but laugh as you dug in your bag for a napkin.

“Don’t bother, it’s too much for a napkin. I’ll go to the restroom. Be right back”, you gave him a brief nod and a thumbs up. Still, you got up with your little pack of napkins and tried to clean up the remaining coffee staining into the table. The librarian is sure to kill you both if it does end up staining the wood. Standing back to examine your work, you almost screamed.

Standing by your laptop was a tall figure with the most sinister smirk you’ve ever seen.

Jeon fucking Jungkook spilt your coffee all over your notes and laptop.

Your mouth hung open for a moment before fury overtook the shock. You stomped up to the broadly built man and yes you didn’t believe in violence as a solution but all you wanted to do was slap the smirk right off his gorgeous face.

“Why did you do that?”, you also wanted to yell but the librarian was already eyeing the table and you couldn’t draw attention to the mess.

“Because I like to watch you suffer, sourpuss”, how have you not killed the man in front of you? You had no idea. Because that name infuriated you.

You knew it was the student’s way of messing with you, wanting to strike that minuscule nerve inside of you. No one else believed you could get angry but Jungkook knew you could. Mostly because he had caused that anger.

“And why is that? Because Jimin told you another lie about me?”, Jeon Jungkook was so impossibly similar to Park Jimin that it was uncanny who he had learned his traits from. Truth be told, you had the smallest crush on the man in front of you during freshmen year. He was so affectionate, caring, and friendly back then.

But, instead of ending up with the sweet heartthrob, you had ended up with Jimin for that year and the next.

Starting out, he was simply a popular boy and loved you with his whole heart. But, time went by and his true colors shun through like the sunlight through your irritatingly useless blinds. He was a playboy. An awfully good one at that for you to have never noticed the extra pairs of undergarments that laid on his floor when you slept over at his dorm.

He cheated, but he blamed it all on you and even Jeon Jungkook hates your guts because you were sure Jimin had told him exactly what he had told most of your friends. That you had broken his heart with your “horrifying” witchcraft and that you were dangerous. It explained why so many students asked to see your devil shrine the next day or tried to barge into your dorm to look at what Jimin talked about.

The most ironic thing was that you had never used magick around the man and you barely used it to begin with. You supposed it was for good reason considering that happened the first time you told someone about it.

“Jimin doesn’t lie. He’s never lied to me and I’m sure you’re well aware of what you did”, his finger jabbed harshly above your breast, just slightly lower than your collarbone. Among many things, Jungkook was dense and forgetful. You noticed that quickly when you started spotted reminders written on his fingers or palm. Just like the little note saying “library 7pm” was written on the finger jabbing you.

Unless the track star had another reason to be in the library he never visited, he wrote that down just to catch you in time.

“Tell me, Jeon. What did I do?”, you tilted your head and moved away from him, realizing the coffee was now leaking onto the floor. You desperately wished Namjoon would hurry up and get back to help you.

“You broke his heart. Using magick or something”, you bit your lips in annoyance and turned around to face him.

“Or something? Jungkook, I never did anything to Jimin. I know you won’t believe it because you look up to him like some god, but he cheated on me. He broke my heart”, you jabbed back, hitting the same spot he hit you, “and, if you haven’t noticed, Jimin doesn’t seem heartbroken, does he?”. If he dared to say yes you may have to use that horrifying magick Jimin lied about because your ex was anything but heartbroken. He was with a new woman almost every night and, even with this knowledge, they lined up to be with him. Who could deny the charming Park Jimin?

Finally, Jungkook shook his head, his curly black hair bouncing as he did the movement. If he wasn’t such a nuisance, you might’ve wished you could run your fingers through it. It looked so fluffy.

“Then, leave me alone. It’s been years of your torment and I’m tired of it”, you sighed and slung your bag over your shoulder after shoving your slightly wet laptop into it, walking out of the library after sending a text to Namjoon that you had felt bad because no one really knew about your fights with Jungkook and Namjoon would surely try to beat his ass if he found out about it.

Leaving the coffee on the table was a bold move but a part of you hoped that the asshole would clean it up. It was his mess after all. Not your’s.

“You’re coming to the track meet, right?”, the voice startled you and you sat up on your bed, making direct eye contact with Kim Taehyung. The only guy with a key to your dorm.

“Tae, I love you but you know I do not do sports”, you grumbled and flopped back onto your bed. Your classes had you beat and the need for a nap was too great to give up. Even if it was for your best friend.

“I know but it would mean so much if you were there”, don’t do it. Don’t do it.

You did it.

You made direct eye contact with those big puppy eyes Taehyung always used to get his way. You had fallen victim once again.

Which was why you had ended up in the cold, shivering as you watched the team run around the track for what felt like an eternity.

Taehyung had done great considering he barely moved before the season but who really stood out was Jungkook. His back muscles were only moments away from ripping through the flimsy shirt he was wearing and sweat was coating his hair. He was aware of how good he looked. He always was. He even was ballsy enough to wink at one of the girls screaming his name in the crowd.

Thankfully, the pleasant bliss that was drinking kept your mind off how irritated you were. You had snuck in a beer to drink (not that everyone else didn’t) and the alcohol loosened you up a bit.

After the meet was over, a sweaty Taehyung was clinging to you like a massive koala. He was high off adrenaline and couldn’t decide whether he wanted to cuddle or jump around.

“Tae, take this before you pass out on top of me”, you handed him a water and he gratefully took it, still leaning against you as he chugged down the drink.

Taehyung and you were polar opposites. He was an athlete, quite dorky, a great singer, and was overly optimistic. You, on the other hand, liked to keep to yourself, was not the best of singers, and always stuck to the reality of things. Even if you could manipulate that reality the tiniest bit.

“Let’s get you home”, you let the man lean his weight on you tiredly as you started to walk towards the exit of the field.

“Sourpuss, I need to talk to you”, that voice was definitely not the one you needed to hear when you were this tired and already agitated. What does a girl have to do to spend time in her bed?

“I’m a little busy if you haven’t realized”, you gestured to Taehyung, who was breathing directly on your neck and nuzzling his nose against the skin. It wasn’t an odd gesture considering your close friendship but his face was so cold it send goosebumps down your spine.

“I’ll help”, Jungkook offered, quickly coming to your rescue by crouching down and getting Tae on his back. The man grumbled but was happy to take the ride considering it was less soreness for his legs to endure the next day.

The Jeon Jungkook helping? What a trip.

“What do you want?”, you winced at how rude it sounded. Sure, Jungkook most definitely deserves said rudeness, but he was helping you.

“I’m sorry”, you legitimately thought you were hearing things and turned your head to look at him, stopping in your tracks.

“Can you say that again? I don’t think I heard you correctly”, the athlete groaned before turning to look at you, frustration evident on his face.

“I’m sorry. You were right about Jimin. He’s been talking shit behind my back for months and I had no idea”, if it wasn’t for your “told you so” attitude, you would’ve felt sorry for him. Jimin was one of his closest friends after all.

“Hate to say I told you so but”, he glared at you to shut up and you quickly did. His glare was so cold that a shiver went up your spine.

“Sorry, it was a joke. Jimin is really manipulative so don’t let him bring you down”, you reassured him, even bringing your hand up to pat his shoulder. By the way he flinched away, you would’ve assumed your hand was made of lava.

Noted. Jungkook hates being touched.

“I assumed so much about you and that was immature of me”, the man smiled softly at you. It felt like arrows pierced your heart. He had such a cute smile for an asshole. Like a bunny.

“It’s fine. Lots of people assume things about me”, you shrugged as you both started walking again, Taehyung looking down at you to make sure you’re okay. He was like your protective older brother and you couldn’t be more thankful to have him around.

“But they shouldn’t. So what if you follow a different religion? It doesn’t mean you’re evil”, that was probably the first time someone agreed with your practices besides Taehyung and Namjoon (mostly because he understood it better than others).

“Thank you for saying that. It means a lot”, you finally smiled back at him, sending his heart right into his chest as his heartbeat picked up. Needless to say, he adored your smile.

“I hate to ask this of you but could you tutor me on Epidemiology? I regret ever taking it and I’ll pay you”, you were wide-eyed with shock to say the least. You didn’t expect Jungkook to go out of his way to learn. Especially, not with you.

“Sure, you can join Namjoon and I in the morning”, you nodded before you saw the way Jungkook’s nose crinkled up in displeasure.

“What? What’s wrong with that?”, he sighed in response to the question as you both reached your dorm building. You’d just let Tae stay with you for the night.

“Namjoon hates my guts. We’re way too different. Besides, aren’t you two dating? I don’t want to be some third wheel”, Jungkook almost sounded disgusted at the idea, probably imagining you making out with Namjoon in front of him.

“I’m not dating him. He’s just the only other intelligent male I can tolerate”, he seemed to relax once you finished speaking but there was still tenseness evident in his shoulders which wasn’t due to the large man on his back.

“I still don’t get along with him despite the fact that he writes about me all the time. He once yelled at me for cheating and wrote an article about it”, that was a slap right to your face. Right, Jungkook was a player and he could throw your feelings aside like one of his cigarettes. Do not get attached.

“Well, don’t cheat”, you said because, let’s be real, it’s the truth. You unlocked the door and helped Taehyung off of his back.

“Bye Koo, thanks again”, your words were quick and you kicked the door closed with your shoe, your hands full thanks to the oversized man child clinging onto you.

Koo. He liked that.

Weeks had ticked by and, somehow, Jungkook had managed to get your number. Honestly, Namjoon probably slipped it out or Taehyung gave it to him. According to Tae, the man had been oddly friendly to him and they were (borderline) friends now. They played video games together, practiced together, and even barged into your place for snacks together.

Great. Now you had two man-children to take care of and feed. It was definitely taking a chunk out of your paycheck each week to get extra snacks for the two. They ate like starving animals whenever they came over. A small part of you even thought it was just to piss you off even more.

Jungkook finally managed to get you to agree for a tutoring session with him. Just one. If this one went well then maybe you would agree to more.

The only sad thing about the session was that it was scheduled to happen right after your last class on Friday in your previous dorm. The dorm you had just finished cleaning up since the last time the two adult toddlers had destroyed it.

Surprisingly, when you had woken up one morning, Jungkook was still there. You assumed he and Tae were too drunk to get back to their own dorms and had decided to just sleepover at your’s. It was quite annoying if you were to be honest, but the way Koo looked actually interested in your religion was enticing.

He didn’t look scared or disgusted when he looked at your little collection of crystals on your desk or the jar resting on your end table sealed with candle wax. If anything, he actually looked amused or even impressed.

“I’ll pick you up after class. I can’t believe you don’t drive and walk to your dorm every day”, Jungkook shook his head as he walked beside you. Coincidentally, your last classes were next to each other but you were shocked to hear him offer to give you a ride.

“Don’t judge me, Mr. Playboy. I just have a fear of hitting someone. Have you seen the lunatics at this campus? They will run out into traffic for fun”, the man chuckled wholeheartedly at the pout on your lips. Plus, your joke was actually pretty accurate. Even he had almost hit a drunk idiot when trying to get back to his dorm late one night.

“Okay, that’s fair. So, you okay with me driving you?”, you nodded cautiously. While Jungkook was guaranteed to know every path to your dorm by now, you were still guarded. Being in that tight of a space with him was going to be difficult.

No, you don’t get those so-called “butterflies” when you were with him. Honestly, those butterflies were typically a bad sign to you. Feeling sick because you loved someone sounded a bit odd and almost contradictory.

You actually found yourself with more powerful emotions than anything. If Jungkook made you angry, you were angry. If he made you happy, you were happy.

Everything just felt so much stronger when you were around him. Thankfully, he almost always made you happy. He made you laugh because, once he discovered that beautiful sound, he couldn’t get enough.

So, after your class, you met him out in the hall and he walked you to his car. Now you realized how such an undetermined man got into college.

He was filthy rich.

Sitting there in the parking spot was a brand new Mercedes Benz. Its black color almost matched the distinct leather jacket that he decided to wear today. It very much screamed Jeon Jungkook.

However, it did not scream you whatsoever. You were almost afraid to get near it.

“Hop in. My grade isn’t getting any lower”, he opened the door for you and you weren’t sure if it was because you were friends, or whatever the fuck you two were, or if it was because he wanted a discount.

That’s not fucking happening. He’s already stolen plenty of money through snacks from your cabinets.

Meekly, you got into the vehicle, immediately buckling your seatbelt as if it was going to hurl itself into motion at any moment. Jungkook shut the door and went around to get into the drivers’ seat. Apparently he trusted his own driving so much that he never wore a seatbelt (Namjoon would’ve had a stroke if he was told that) and he drove with one hand (scratch that- make it two strokes).

Despite those things, he was an actual good driver. You felt safe and he drove the speed limit. Maybe it was just because you were in the car with him?

Getting out of the luxurious leather seats proved to be a hassle considering you knew your seats in your dorm were no where near as comfortable. You could sleep in that passenger seat without a care in the world compared to your own bed. Still, you forced yourself to get out and you two went up to your dorm. Jungkook is way too familiar with the place now considering he barely talks to you. It’s your place and, yet, he comes here for Tae.

“Alright, what unit do you need help on?”, you asked softly as you took the needed supplies out of your bag. You actually already took Epidemiology. It had nothing to do with your major but it was interesting to you. Who wouldn’t want to learn about the science of the world’s biggest killer: disease?

Jungkook simply looked at you, blinking a few times and pressing his tongue into his cheek in that nervous habit you realized he had.

“Oh- for fucks sake, Koo”, you grumbled as you realized how long of a process this was going to be.

It had been months since you began tutoring the student and, finally, there was progress.

Standing proudly with his shoulders back was Jeon Jungkook holding a test with a big number ‘92’ on it in red ink. Your heart swelled with pride.

“I passed! This was the exam review test so I’ll pass the exam, right?”, you smiled brightly as you looked at his excited eyes. You never thought Jungkook would ever be excited over passing a class but you can’t judge people by their covers, right?

“Yeah! Just keep up with the studying and you got it”, you nodded quickly, looking away from his puppy eyes when you felt happiness engulf you like a fire.

Ironically, you were actually playing with fire. Your hand tugged on the trigger and a flame flickered from the end of your lighter. You brought it down and lit the candle in front of you. To be honest, you were a bit of a goodie two shoes but you did break one rule.

No fire in the dorms.

“Hey, I really wanted to thank you. I’m actually passing all my classes now and it fills like my life has purpose again”, woah, didn’t expect that.

“No problem, Koo. Your life always has purpose. What do you mean?”, you looked up from what you were doing, noticing he was leaning against the frame of your door.

“All I did was party and drink. Sure, I was a good athlete but that can only take you so far”, you nodded in understanding and stood up, walking towards him.

He followed your every move like prey waiting for the predator to attack them.

But, instead of an attack, he was met with a warm, genuine, and, all around, great hug.

“Do you think of me as everyone else does?”, you looked up at him, meeting his starry eyes.

Oh, you hated them because of how much you loved them. They held the galaxy within them and you could stare into them for hours if given the chance.

You were many things but, tragically for Jungkook, a liar wasn’t one of them.

“Honestly, I did before. I’ve seen you do some of the things the rumors talk about-“, smoking, cheating, fighting, “but now I know that’s not all you are. There’s more to you, Koo”.

All Jungkook had been able to think about was your words. Sure, he didn’t care about your opinion before but it truly did make him happy to know you thought better of him.

“Jk! Where have you been?”, oh no.

“Jimin? I’ve just been at the gym a lot”, lies. He had been with you a lot.

“Ah, I see. How’s the bet going?”, the shorter man asked, running his fingers through his precisely cut hair. What a born model.

The bet. The bet you had no clue about. The bet Jungkook was too dense to refuse.

“It’s going. She hugged me yesterday”, Jimin scoffed and then chuckled, vastly different sounds that almost made Jungkook double over in fear. Truth be told, he despised Jimin. He despised him because he scared him. The only other man more influential than him was Jimin and that meant Jimin could ruin his reputation in a matter of seconds.

“That’s all? Damn, she really is void of love”, the bet Jimin was referring to was the one he made with the younger at the beginning of the year.

“I bet you can’t make her fall in love with you. She didn’t even love me, Koo! Me! I’m telling you, if you make her fall in love with you then I’ll get you anything you want”.

Time was running out with exams coming up and Jungkook needed to hurry if he was going to win such a bet. But, was it worth it if it meant disappointing you? Jimin may be scary but you made him feel so happy and so proud.

The only time he had seen you disappointed was when Taehyung broke one of your jars, resulting in a mess of coins, herbs, and wax on the floor. That’s the day he decided he never wanted to be on the receiving end of one of those looks.

“Yeah, she’s guarded which is understandable-“, wait- did Jeon Jungkook just grow some balls? “I’d be void of love too if everyone judged me for something I believed in”. He did.

“Where is that coming from? She deserves it, doesn’t she? Come on, JK. Keep that head in the game!”, Jimin patted his head like he was a child with all A’s on his report card, which, for once, was actually true thanks to you.

What game? You? Were you truly just a game to him?

“Alright, I’ve got this”, damn. Maybe you were.

Most nights you found yourself at the library now. It was the only place that was filled with peace and quiet. Especially on a Friday. Not even the librarian was here.

“Guess who”, hands covered your eyes and you would’ve punched the man behind you if you didn’t immediately recognize his husky voice. It was soothing with just the perfect mix of roughness. You couldn’t help but wonder what it sounded like when he just woke up.

“An asshole who thinks it’s okay to sneak up on women in a deserted place”, you grumbled and Jungkook immediately removed his hands.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you”, oh here we go. Argument number two thousand.

“I wasn’t scared. I was just saying that, one, you’re an ass and, two, don’t do that to women”, he nodded in agreement and you thought that was the stopping of an argument. Boy, oh boy, were you wrong.

“I won’t anymore but you’re so weak. I’ve scared you so many times now”, you glared at him. Thanks to months of being by Jungkook’s side, you had become a bit more out of control. The feelings you used to keep caged up were now more out in the open. You cussed more often, even tried drinking (and almost spit it out on him), and your frustration was no longer hidden from the world.

“Jungkook, you are a menace to society and I would like it if you leaved”, it was a pointless threat. You didn’t really mean it. You adored his company but you wouldn’t admit that with a gun to your head.

“Liar, you love me”, shit. Did you? No, don’t ask that. It was just a joke.

Damn you and your overthinking.

“No, I hate you. Shut up”, that was also a useless threat. Jungkook never shut up. He was quite the talker and shutting up was not in his vocabulary.

“No, you hate me. Shut up”, he sat on the table you were previously working on, knowing this would take a while. Your arguments always lasted between thirty minutes to two or three hours. You both hated to back down.

“No, I love you. Shut the fuck up”, wait a second-

“As you wish”, he smirked victoriously and leaned closer, his face so close to your’s that you could smell his musky cologne.

“That was wrong”, you glared at him and he shook his head, “don’t open your mouth aga-“ you were cut off as his lips connected with your’s. He kissed you so intensely that your mind was fogged up, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

Finally, with your brain still hooked on adrenaline, your hands found their way to his cheeks, cupping his well defined face as you kissed back. You could feel him smile into the kiss before he pulled away, leaving a spark traveling down your body. Now, that’s a good feeling.

“Ah, I love when you shut the fuck up”, you were so close to beating him with your bag.

Everything was weird after the kiss. Life wasn’t some fairytale where you both lived happily ever after in some old palace somewhere.

No, you were both actually stuck in that “fuck, what are we?” mess.

Love wasn’t something you could control and that was why you never let it get that far, but, with Jungkook, it felt uncontrollable, spreading like wildfire.

So, you avoided him.

Of course, it wasn’t the most humane or easiest form of dealing with your feelings but it worked.

Well, for a little bit until Koo decided to block you off in the library, cornering you into the back section of the religious books. Oh, how ironic.

“What’s wrong?”, his voice made your knees want to give out. It was early and you assumed he woke up early just to catch you. His attire said that enough from his sweatpants to the tank top hugging his upper body. He obviously just threw something on before he left.

“What are you talking about?”, you tilted your head and tried to act innocent, but, once again, a liar you were not.

“Oh please, you’re obviously pissed off or scared of me or something”, bingo. You were horrified of what you were feeling and, in tune with it, Jungkook.

“I don’t know! Why do you even care? You’re obviously going to pass your exam so what am I needed for anymore?”, you winced at your own words, watching as the man’s usual bright expression turned into a sorrowful one.

“It’s much more than that, y/n”, that was probably one of the first times he had said your name. He usually called you nicknames like princess, sourpuss, or whatever else he came up with depending on his mood.

“Then what is it?”, the stare he gave you made you want to hide further into the corner. It was so predatory that your body was trying to fight its own instincts to run away and avoid the problem. You were always a flight over fight type of girl.

“You”, the one word made your eyebrows furrow, racking your brain for a response or understanding of what he meant. Jungkook shook his head as you watched your face twist in confusion.

“You’re so dense. Why would I kiss you if it wasn’t all for you?”, he leaned closer to you, hand resting on the shelf of the bookcase behind you. You silently thanked the universe that no one else was in there yet.

“Discount?”, it was the first thing you thought of and it caused a low chuckle to rumble out of Jungkook’s chest. He looked up into your eyes and it almost knocked the air out of you.

“Hmm, unless it’s a fuck buddy discount then I don’t think I want it”, he raised an eyebrow cockily and your eyes went wide. Little did Jungkook know that he just complicated your relationship even more.

“And what if I’m okay with making such a discount?”, the student practically groaned at the words, free hand finding its way on your hip, squeezing it. You don’t know where your new found confidence came from but you had gotten rather blunt since hanging out with Jungkook.

“Then I’d say you’re not the person I thought you were”, he hummed, leaning in to whisper in your ear. The way his breath tickled your ear sent sparks through your body.

“Is that what you want? For me to take you here against these books?”, yes you did. Looking around, you were met with many versions of Bible and other holy books of all religions. It was absolutely filthy and wrong to do it there which was why it was perfect.

“Yes, I want that”, your nails dug into the wood behind you, trying to ground your emotions down. It had always been an escape tactic to you.

“How naughty”, now you understood why he had chosen today of all days to corner you. He loved the skirt you were wearing and how easily it gave access to everything delicious underneath. Plus, your legs were perfect to him.

His fingers danced along your thighs before he pushed up your skirt, revealing the black lace panties underneath. Oh, you knew what was going to happen today and you definitely knew Jungkook liked his black.

“So pretty. Just for me?”, the question took you off guard, your own questions flooding your brain. Ultimately, after a few moments of silence, you decided he probably had a possession thing. Who didn’t like to feel powerful?

“Just for you, Koo. Fuck, touch me please”, so you decided to feed his little ego, edging him on until he pulled the panties to the side to reveal your glistening pussy.

The dim light of the library truly didn’t do it justice but he couldn’t help himself from finding it to be also perfect. He was in deep shit now.

His long fingers ran down your slit until they reached their destination: your pussy. He rubbed around it before he slowly plunged his middle finger into the wetness, curling against your walls.

Fuck, you always hated that finger but with it inside of you? Maybe you could make an exception.

Your body shook in response to the stimulation since you hadn’t been touched in so long, your hands gripping the wood tighter to keep yourself steady. Jungkook smirked when you clenched around his finger before he added another, stretching you out wonderfully as he scissored you open.

And that was when Jungkook found his favorite sound in the world.

“Jungkook! Oh god”, you moaning his name sounded like music to his ears and he couldn’t get enough. The only thing he hated was how quiet it was since you were still conscious of the library around you. He wanted you to scream it.

“You like that, princess? You want more?”, you obediently nodded, not in the mood to be denied an orgasm (which you were sure Jungkook would do if you didn’t obey). The man chuckled and leaned down, still pumping his fingers steadily as if it took no effort at all. If you had done this yourself then your fingers would have been cramping by now.

Your body jolted when Jungkook’s plump lips wrapped around your clit, sucking harshly on the nerve as if he was starving. To be fair, he had skipped breakfast.

You feared for the books behind you as your body spasmed, orgasming on the man’s fingers. You took deep breaths once you were finished and watched as Jungkook pulled away, pulling his cum covered fingers out of you.

With prolonged eye contact, he slipped the digits into his mouth and sucked the juices off of them. A new wave of arousal went through you when he tapped your lips with them, making you open your mouth. You gagged briefly when they hit the back of your throat but you sucked on it, licking your way up his middle finger.

“Good girl”, now that was going to haunt you forever. You whined when he pulled his fingers away and he smiled teasingly at you.

“I’m going to need to see these”, your eyes went wide when he gripped the collar of your shirt and ripped it clean down the middle, tossing it aside as if it didn’t cost you a fortune.

“Jeon Jungkook! That was expensive”, you huffed but he paid you no mind, just reaching behind you to remove your bra too so it can join the rest of your clothes.

“What if someone sees? I can’t cover these up quickly, Koo”, you crossed your arms over your chest, looking around cautiously. Jungkook just laughed and pulled your arms away, pinning your wrists above your head so he can press his body against your own.

“Take my shirt off and you can put that over you for the day. It’s fine, sourpuss”, oh you would’ve slapped him if you weren’t so turned on. He let go of your wrists and you quickly removed his shirt for him, revealing a muscular chest you could’ve never imagined.

And he never imagined how beautiful you’d look with your hard nipples pressed against the thin fabric of his white t-shirt. He grabbed them immediately and you failed to see the spark in his eyes as he squished them together.

“That was one of my favorite shirts. What a di-“, you yelped when he pulled your leg up over his shoulder, yanked his pants and boxers down, and pulled your panties aside to rub his angry tip against your folds. Your head rested back as he rubbed against your clit, covering his cock in your juices.

“What a dick indeed”, Jungkook chuckled deeply, arousal blurring his world into nothing but you. The only thing that mattered at that moment was feeling you.

His lips attached to your neck and you were so out of reality that you didn’t realize he was littering the skin with his marks, a silent claim on you as he pushed himself inside of you.

“Oh shit, it’s exactly as I imagined. So tight and warm”, and he was just as you imagined. So very big. You didn’t think anyone else could stretch you out as much as Jeon Jungkook and that thought made you groan.

“You’ve been imagining it?”, it was your turn to smirk and, for the first time ever, the man in front of you blushed.

“Oh please princess. I know you’ve been thinking about it too”, and you had been. Not that you’d ever admit that after he just basically friends with benefits zoned you.

“Just move you asshole”, Jungkook gripped your hair, tugging on the soft strands as he finally kept pushing, bottoming out inside of you perfectly.

His big hands moved to grip your hips, a little help to keep you up as he started to snap his own into your’s. He was mildly uncomfortable at first but, as you adjusted to his size, bliss filled your body.

Finally, you were doing something to make yourself happy and pleased. Maybe Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best man to do it but he was making you feel so so good.

The man snapped you out of your thoughts as he brought your hand down to your clit. You understood and started to rub it, happy knowing that Jungkook was also looking out for your own pleasure too. Not that you’d know he had been thinking about you creaming on his big cock for months now.

“Keep doing that”, he whispered despite the heavy groan that threatened to come out. He was referring to the uncontrollable clenching you were doing around his dick, sucking him into your walls with each muscle movement. You listened and (despite knowing you were going to keep doing it anyways) clenched once again.

“Can I cum inside?”, you whimpered at the idea of Jungkook’s cum filling you up and, knowing you’re on grade A birth control, you nodded. While Jungkook was effortlessly attractive, kids were not part of your plans by far.

“You close too, princess?”, you nodded, a small moan spilling past your lips despite your best efforts to be quiet. With that knowledge, the man orgasmed and you could feel his seed start to coat your insides. The feeling made you tumble over into your own orgasm, coating his softening cock with your release.

“I think that’s the best sex I’ll ever have”, you praised him as you tried to put your cramping leg down off his shoulder. Instead, he held it tighter and pulled himself out of you. He watched as his cum started the spill out of you, dripping down your thighs beautifully.

So, he’s a man who likes to admire his work.

You almost screamed when he pushed it back inside of you with his finger due to the sensitivity.

“See you later, sourpuss”, Jungkook smirked and put your panties back to their original position before he pulled his own boxers and pants back up. He walked off and you were left gobsmacked with his cum dripping out of you onto your panties.

As the weeks passed by, the world became more vibrant and cheerful but also more chilling and worrisome.

Exams were over and you were free to go wherever you pleased but, somehow, you always found yourself wanting to be with what was supposed to be your secret guilty pleasure. Now, he was your everything. He truly brought color into your world; sadly, color always comes with black and white.

“I won the bet, Jimin. I want what I asked for”, you listened intently from the other aisle of books. The library had become your go to spot to find Jungkook. Surprisingly, the once unmotivated student was more frequently in here because of the sheer relief he got when you stood before him with a proud smile. What a softy.

“Really? She fell for you? Damn, you still got it. I can’t believe you asked for this though”, the disgust in your ex’s voice was evident and you so desperately wanted to see what he was referring to. You truly thought Koo had stopped being friends with Jimin after he apologized but apparently you were wrong about a lot of things. Most of all, you were wrong to love again.

Feeling your tears start to spill down your cheeks for the first time in years, you forced yourself out of the library. You should’ve seen it coming. What would a playboy want with you? A woman looking for a serious relationship? You’re an idiot and you’ll fix it.

Said playboy must’ve spotted you because you could hear his heavy footsteps behind you as you rushed out of the library, hurrying into a run with the safety of your dorm in mind. It was time to end this.

So, here you were. Remembering everything from the past few months as the candles in front of you burned, getting so desperately close to the string connecting them. You had carved an evident ‘JK’ on one and your initials on the other, bonding them to the people who needed to be apart from one another.

Watching his candle, you noticed the wax dripping down the long wick and you knew they were tears. You knew because of the loud banging coming from your dorm door, the man on the other side screaming and sobbing for you to let him explain.

Your candle, however, burned strongly with vengeance. It stood so tall compared to Jungkook’s and, as the fire finally burned through the string tying you both together, you felt free. It was like Jeon Jungkook had never affected you before and his name slowly slipped from your mind.

Eventually, the banging stopped as the candles reached their ends and the fire flickered out under your gaze. You felt so blissfully numb as you walked towards the door, opening it to reveal a confused Jungkook looking up at you.

“What did you do? It’s like-“, you cut him off with your hand, pulling him up rather roughly.

“You never knew me. That’s how I want it, Jeon Jungkook. You never knew me and I never knew you. Now, get your prize and leave me alone”, you slammed the door in his face. You felt pure relief but Jungkook could still feel a pang of want in his body.

You had failed to notice the little wax left of his candle that stood strong as you dumped it in the trash and he failed to notice that he had left his “prize” outside your door as he rushed off.

A gorgeous rose quartz necklace.

What a way to declare your love to a witch who just cut it all off.

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ssahotchhner · 3 years

Text

reckless endangerment

the reader can't let go of the trauma of aaron being kidnapped and tortured six months ago.

pairing: hotch x reader

warnings: kidnapping, torture, smut, dom!hotch

masterlist

questions, comments, concerns

It was stupid to jump on the helicopter that contained at least two terrorists as it took off that roof in Manhattan. Even stupider that you had done it alone, Aaron’s voice screaming for you from behind. You weren’t sure he would forgive you for this if you survived so you supposed it was a good thing you weren’t planning on surviving.

Why did you jump on the helicopter, you may ask, and that would be a reasonable question. Perhaps it was your hero complex finally getting the better of you, knowing the helicopter was planning on flying straight into the Empire State Building, loaded with explosives. Or perhaps it was because these terrorists were part of a group that had tortured Aaron for hours a few months ago when he was on assignment in Pakistan and you had always believed fully in revenge. Aaron did not, he was much better than you.

“Hold your fire!” Aaron had yelled when it was clear you weren’t getting off that helicopter, “Federal agent on board!”

“With all due respect, sir, but you said that helicopter was headed for the Empire State Building where there are thousands of tourists and--”

“I said hold your fire.” Aaron snarls at the leader of the SWAT team. He knows he’s being ridiculous, letting emotion cloud his judgement, but how can he let them blow up a helicopter that you’re on? And why the fuck had you jumped on it in the first place?

The SWAT agent glared at him, “That helicopter gets within a hundred yards of the building, I’m ordering my men to shoot it down.” And then he walked away.

“Hotch!” Morgan yells, the rest of the team not far behind him, “What the hell did she do that for?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” He responded. He was furious with you, so much so he couldn’t think straight.

JJ steps closer, the panic evident on her face, “She’s not responding on radio.”

He looks at the rest of the team, all of them one step away from absolutely losing their minds over the fact that one of their own had gone on a suicide mission without consulting any of them, and then he looks back to the helicopter that’s getting smaller and smaller by the second.

***

SIX MONTHS AGO

You take a sip from your glass, “I miss you.” You say to your computer screen.

On that screen, SSA Aaron Hotchner smiles back at you, “I know. I’ll be home before you know it.”

“When you get back,” You say slowly, “Can we… Can we tell them? About us?”

By them, he knew you meant the team. He gets quiet, the smile falling off his face, “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Hotch, they’re like our family. I feel terrible keeping things from them. It was fun in the beginning, but I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

He swallows, but then nods, “Okay.”

“Really?”

He smiles, “Yeah, of course. I don’t like hiding you either.”

You’re about to tell him you love him when there are suddenly men in the tent, “Aaron?” He looks around and scrambles for his gun, but he’s too late. One of the men hits him in the side of the head with a blunt object and he’s out, “Aaron!” You yell and then the feed cuts out.

***

It was surprisingly easy to disarm them, you supposed because you had surprised them. You easily knocked the gun away from the one who wasn’t piloting, ducked some of his punches before kicking him square in the chest, causing him to fall down. He hit his head on a hard metal handle on the way down, knocking himself unconscious. The Empire State Building was looming closer and closer and you knew if you didn’t stop it, SWAT would shoot down the helicopter. It would lead to less deaths than crashing directly into the building would, but people would still die from fallen debris. You wouldn’t let that happen. You pointed your gun at the man in the cockpit.

***

“Garcia, is her body cam on?”

“No, sir, but I can turn it on.”

Seconds later, the team was viewing the inside of the helicopter. You had knocked one of the men unconscious and handcuffed him to a handle, but you still had to get control of the helicopter.

“Can you hack the helicopter, Garcia?”

He hears the frantic typing of the technical analyst, but she huffs on the other end, “Not under these time constraints no, by the time I get in it’ll be too late.”

“Agent Hotchner, the snipers have locked in on the target.”

“Just give her another minute.”

“We don’t have another minute.”

He sighs, “She’s about to take control of the cockpit.”

“Does she know how to fly a chopper?”

“She’ll figure it out. Stand down, I won’t say it again.” Hotch’s radio goes silent after that.

***

You waste no time getting the team together and forty minutes later you’re sitting in the conference room, styrofoam cup of coffee warming your hands.

“You were video calling Hotch? At 10 PM?” Reid asks. From anyone else, it would sound accusatory, but you knew he was just genuinely curious.

“10 PM here is 7AM for him. I caught him right before he started his day, wanted to ask him about a case.”

Spencer frowns, “What case?”

Your mouth falls open as you try to fumble for something, but it’s already too late. “I knew it.” Rossi says quietly.

You grind your teeth together, “I’m sorry, is dissecting my love life more important to you guys than finding Hotch after he’s been kidnapped by a terrorist group?” You stand, squashing the empty styrofoam cup in your hand and toss it in the waste bin as you walk out of the room.

Moments later, Spencer’s standing next to you and you immediately feel guilty, “I didn’t mean to pry,” He says, “Honestly, the two of you being romantically involved was the last thing I would have guessed.”

The corners of your lips turn up just slightly, “I didn’t mean to snap in there, I know you meant nothing by it, I just… Right before he was taken we talked about telling you all. Together. Once he got back.” You sniff, “Part of me feels like all of you figuring it out without him here is the universe saying he’s going to die out there. I know that’s silly, but…”

“It’s not silly at all. When you’ve witnessed something traumatic, like a loved one being taken away in front of you with no way for you to help, your brain looks for anything to rationalize it. Even the universe predicting the outcome.”

Spencer's voice throwing out facts was actually fairly soothing, “Thank you, Dr. Reid.”

“Come on.” He squeezes your shoulder, “Let’s bring Hotch home.”

***

“Slowly put your hands up and back away from the controls,” You say, flexing your fingers on the gun, “Now!” You say when he doesn’t move. You’re running out of time. Finally, he slowly raises his hands, but at the last second turns and lunges for you. The helicopter tips as you fall over, your gun misfires at the ceiling before tumbling out of the chopper, and you’re free falling until your face slams on the floor and your hands grab the outside edge of the helicopter so hard you’re sure you ripped out your fingernails. Dangling, you grunt as you scramble to hook your feet on something. The pilot, already assuming you’re dead, had gone back to the cockpit.

Finally, you haul yourself back inside and run to him, ripping him out of his seat. He’s bigger than you, though, and quickly overpowers you. His hands wrap around your throat as you’re pinned to the floor and you’re choking, suffocating. All you can think is at least you’ll die before the chopper goes up in flames. And then, in a last ditch effort that’s more involuntary reaction than conscious choice, you’re able to knee him in the groin. His hands immediately leave your throat and instead of taking the moment to catch your breath, you kick him off you and he rolls to the open door. You reach for him, but you’re too late, he falls.

You wanted revenge, but you didn’t want to kill anyone. But you had no time to think about that now. You cough a few times and then stumble over to the cockpit. For the first time since you jumped on the helicopter, you turn your radio back on.

“I don’t suppose one of you knows how to fly a chopper?”

***

When you reenter the conference room everyone’s watching the last few seconds of the video call. They look at you apologetically and you nod in acknowledgement. You have to close your eyes at the sound of your own screams.

“Who was he working to take down while he was there?” Morgan asked.

“The leader of the Kashmir Jehad Force, his name was Syed Khan.” You said.

JJ frowned, “He told you all of this? Wasn’t it classified?”

You nodded, “Hotch asked to bring me on a few weeks ago when they were stuck. I was debriefed, but then they had a break before I could get on the plane. They finished the operation a few days ago, Hotch was supposed to come home in the next couple of days.”

“So Khan is dead?” Rossi asked.

You nod, “No one was supposed to know it was the US Government who did it. They wanted it to look like an accident. They shouldn’t have known Hotch was there.”

“Are you thinking there’s a double agent?” Emily asked.

You shrug, “It’s either that or Hotch was sloppy. Which one would you bet on?” The room is silent. “Exactly.” You say quietly.

***

They don’t have time to be relieved about the fact that you single handedly re-hijacked the chopper because now you need to figure out how to safely land it and you’re a football field length away from the Empire State Building. Reid jumps into action, apparently having read a lot about helicopters when he was younger.

“I’m assuming he had it on autopilot, the button will be glowing green on your left, turn it off and then get ready to steer.”

You sigh, “Spencer, I am so happy to hear your voice.” You flip off the switch like he said and the helicopter immediately starts beeping at you and plummets. You try and remain calm and pull it up and then turn the helicopter in the opposite direction from the building and sigh. “You know how to land this thing, right Reid?”

“Yeah, I’ll walk you through it.”

Hotch has to walk away from the conversation because he’s so caught up in feeling relieved that you’re alive and absolutely furious with you for doing what you did. He thinks he knows why you did it. You had been absolutely torn up when he had been taken while in Pakistan and you had been on edge this whole case knowing the terrorists you were after had been a part of the group that had tortured him.

***

When Hotch wakes up, he’s chained to the ceiling by his wrists, shirtless. He can feel a migraine blooming from his temple where he was hit, but he knows the real pain hasn’t even begun yet. He can hear talking from the corner of the room and before they can see that he’s awake, he begins detaching himself. He pictures your face, smiling at him on your first date. The way you smile sleepily at him when he kisses you first thing in the morning. The way you scrunch up your forehead just a little when you’re thinking really hard. The first time you told him you loved him. And then he’s with you and no one can touch him, no one can hurt him.

***

“Do you know where they would keep him?” Strauss is sitting in the conference room now, looking at you, “You were debriefed, is it enough for a profile?”

You sighed deeply, eyes darting back and forth as you tried to recall all the information you know, “I know most of the profile for Kahn, but we never focused on the group as a whole because we wanted to find him alone when we neutralized him.” You tap your fingers on the table, “I have no idea what a group without Kahn would function like, even knowing what I knew before, the fact that Kahn is gone would change the whole profile. We don’t know who took over.”

“And what do you know about the group?”

“Um,” You blinked a few times, you were having a hard time focusing, “They were all followers, none of them would have been capable of leading. Whoever is in control now was outside of the group.”

“Maybe our double agent?” Emily says.

You nod, “That would make sense.”

Strauss frowns, “You think there’s a double agent?”

“There’s no way the group would have known Hotch was responsible if they didn’t have insider information.” You say.

“What you’re proposing is that a terrorist somehow infiltrated a Top Secret US Operation, waited for us to kill a terrorist leader, then took over that same terrorist group and kidnapped the leader of our operation.” Strauss said and waited for someone to say something, “Does that not sound ridiculous to anyone else?”

“Do you have any other ideas?” You ask sharply.

“Yes, that Agent Hotchner left something behind at the scene that pointed the remaining group in his direction.”

You’re shaking your head, “If you’re so certain that’s the case, then check their old stronghold. If it’s a new guy, they would have abandoned it, which I’m certain they did. But be my guest, waste our time and your men.” You storm out of the conference room for a second time.

***

You find yourself in Aaron’s office and you tilt your head to the side, stretching out a kink in your neck before sitting on the couch. You look around the office, well decorated with plaques commemorating his work in the bureau. When you get up and walk around to his side of the desk, you notice a small gold frame that hadn’t been there before. In it is a small picture of the both of you sitting on the beach at sunset. When had he put this here? When had he decided that it was worth the risk of your coworkers noticing that new frame? Seeing you propped on his desk like that?

And then you were crying and you couldn’t stop it and you just wanted to hold him. “Looks like you just outed your relationship to Erin.” You looked up to see Rossi standing in the doorway and wiped your tears, sniffling.

“Not like she can say anything considering you both make it a habit of checking in at the same hotel every weekend.” You snap, and then sigh instantly, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, kiddo.” He says and walks over to put a hand on your shoulder, “You miss him.”

“A few hours ago we were talking about what we were going to do when he gets back, and now he’s gone.”

“He’s coming back, Y/N. We’ll find him.”

***

You had been right about the former stronghold being abandoned. All signs now pointed to a double agent. You tried to think of everything Aaron had told you about the team that would be a part of the operation, but you kept coming up empty. When a list was brought out with pictures of each you went over it again, every conversation you had had with Aaron since he left.

And then… there was one interaction, one interruption that you and Aaron had both dismissed at the time.

A man walks up behind Aaron while he’s talking to you, debriefing you back when they thought you’d be flying in. At the look on your face, Hotch had turned around to face him, “Can I help you with something?”

The man had simply shook his head and left, but you could have sworn for the rest of the call, he had lingered. Listening. Aaron had explained to you that most of those involved in the operation hadn’t known the full details of the plan up until they had left, in order to prevent situations like the one they were in now.

There were times when Aaron was talking to you on the phone and he told you he felt like someone had been watching him, but you both dismissed it as paranoia. And when the pictures and names were presented to you again, you pointed to the man you were sure you saw on that one video call. “What do we know about him?” You asked.

And the look of dread on Erin’s face when you pointed him out told you everything you needed to know. Garcia did what she always did and soon they knew every detail of his life. He was a textbook narcissist and sociopath. Incredibly charming, everyone loved him, he could convince almost anyone to follow him. He had an FBI background and rumor had it, he thought he was to be the one to lead this operation until Aaron showed up.

“So he takes over an entire terrorist organization just to take out Hotch?” Morgan asks, “We have to be missing something.”

You’re getting impatient, “Well let’s figure it out on the jet.”

“This team is not going to Pakistan.” Erin says firmly, “We will inform an extraction team that’s already on the ground when we figure out where they’re holding him.” You’re already rolling your eyes and preparing a retort and she notes that and continues, “If you can’t compartmentalize your emotions, Agent, I will have you removed from the case.”

You hold yourself back from yelling that you need to be the one who brings him home, because you know how ridiculous it sounds and you being stubborn isn’t helping Aaron. “Fine.” You say, “Here’s what I can tell you.”

***

You’re on top of him, straddling his hips, giggling as your hair falls in your face. He reaches up to push it away and you grind your hips against his. “Hotchner.” You say, “You have to wake up.” He frowns. It’s not your voice.

And before he can stop it, your face swims away and it’s replaced by SSA Scott Carter. It takes him a few moments to realize that Carter isn’t here to help him and that he was probably behind this whole thing. “Carter?” He manages.

Carter smiles, “Ah, the darling of the BAU finally awakens. What were you dreaming about, Hotchner? Sounded juicy. Was it about your girlfriend?” His head shot up at that. If you were in danger, he’d kill this son of a bitch. “Oh, I hit a nerve.” He smirks, “Did you tell her you weren’t planning on coming home this week? That you had some loose strings to tie up?”

Hotch blinked, his brain was still fuzzy from what he assumed was a concussion, “You… You’re the one stealing the military weapons and selling them to the terrorist organizations.” He hadn’t told you he was planning on staying a few more days to figure out who was transporting the weapons, he had still been hoping to figure it out before his flight was scheduled to leave, but Carter had been his prime suspect. Apparently, Carter had figured out he was on to him. It was why he was able to get Khan’s men to drag him from his tent this morning.

Carter gives him a slow clap, “You know, for a profiler, I’m disappointed you hadn’t figured it out sooner, Hotchner. Really, I’m very torn up about it. I have half a mind to fly to Quantico after you’re dead and demand your position.”

Aaron laughs, “You’re out of your mind if you think my team won’t figure this out in a quarter of the time it took me to.”

“What did you tell them, Hotchner?”

“I haven’t been in contact with my team in weeks.”

“Oh, but your girlfriend. Did you think I’d forget she’s a federal agent in the BAU as well?”

“She doesn’t know anything, the mission was classified, you know that.”

“You never mentioned your suspicions of a lucrative weapons trading operation?”

“No.”

Carter hums and takes out a knife, “I don’t believe you.”

Hotch doesn’t flinch, “Then go ahead and carve me up, Carter. You won’t be the first.”

***

With Reid’s help, after working through the night you were able to narrow down the possible holding sights to three places and Strauss ordered three separate teams to check each place. Now the only thing left to do was wait.

You’re sitting alone in Hotch’s office when Penelope, JJ, and Emily all walk in, JJ holding a tea for you. You give her a small smile of thanks as you take it, “You guys don’t have to sit with me, I’m okay.”

“Did you think we were going to just let you gloss over the fact you never told us you were dating Hotch?” Penelope said.

You manage a genuine smile and look down at your tea, “We weren’t sure when or how to tell you guys. Or if it would make things weird.”

JJ shrugs, “We’re already family and families are weird.”

“Not the point,” Penelope interjects, “We need all the details now, who made the first move?”

“He did, actually,” You smile recalling the memory, “He asked me if he could call me outside of work hours and I said sure, he could always call me to discuss a case. Then he got really red and I asked him if there was something else he would want to call me about. And he cleared his throat and asked if he could call me to ask me out to dinner sometime and I laughed and said yes.”

Emily shakes her head, “Hard to imagine that man getting flustered over anything.”

You laugh, “Yeah, he gets really awkward around women he likes romantically, it’s kind of endearing.” You clear your throat, “Thank you guys for trying to distract me.”

JJ nods, “They’re going to find him. Alive.”

You nod, “Yeah. I just wish it was my face he was seeing first.”

***

You had somehow managed to fall asleep at some point, head in JJ’s lap with her fingers gently combing through your hair.

“Guys.” Spencer’s voice jolts you from sleep, “They found him.”

All of you jump up, but you’re the first one out of the room, trailing Spencer, “He’s okay?”

“He’s injured, but yeah, he’s gonna be fine.”

Your legs almost give out, but JJ and Emily come on either side to grab your arms as you walk into the conference room.

“They’re airlifting him to the hospital, he was stabbed a couple of times but they were shallow, some burns, looks like he was waterboarded as well,” Erin Strauss smiles, “But he’s fine. They’ll transfer him to DC first thing in the morning.”

“What about Carter?” You ask.

“It turns out he was stealing weapons from the military and selling them to terrorist organizations and Hotch was onto him. That’s why he took him. Not because of Khan. He wanted to know how much Hotch knew and if he had told you anything.”

You shake your head, “I didn’t know anything about that.”

Strauss nodded, “Carter has people here. Hotch didn’t mention it to you on purpose. So that they wouldn’t take you if something happened.”

You close your eyes. That man, always trying to protect you. Always being the hero. You could have found him hours ago if he had just told you. But that was the man you had fallen in love with.

***

You insisted on being on the roof of the DC hospital when the chopper landed and you charmed all the nurses into allowing you into every room he was wheeled in until he was settled. They had sedated him for the long flight and it seemed he would wake at any moment. You slid your small, cold hand, into his large, warm one and waited.

“I know that ice cold hand,” He said slowly. His voice was gravely and it brought tears to your eyes to see that he was trying to smile. “Oh, hey, don’t cry.” He reaches his hand up to stroke your cheek and you turn your head into his hand to kiss his palm, sniffling.

“I’m very happy to see you.” You manage, choking down your sobs, “I didn’t think I was going to see you again.” His smile grows, “It’s not funny!”

“It’s very funny, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry over anything and certainly not me.” You glare at him through your tears and he chuckles, “Ah, there she is, tough guy. I know the only thing holding you back from punching me in the shoulder is that I’m injured.”

“Oh, I’ll still do it if you don’t shut that pretty mouth of yours.”

He smirks, “Promise?”

And finally you break into laughter and lean over him to kiss his mouth, “You should’ve told me about Carter.” You say, “You could have at least told me you were in danger.”

“And what, have you worried from an ocean away when it might have been nothing? I needed more evidence.”

You bite your lip, “I’ve never been so scared in my whole life, watching you get taken like that.”

“I came home.” He says softly, “I’m okay, I promise.”

You swallow, “Did they get Carter?” He nods, “And what about the guys that took you in?”

“Sweetheart, that’s a whole terrorist organization, no they didn’t get them.”

“They kidnapped a federal agent!” You say indignantly.

“And the federal agent is alive.”

“But—!”

He puts a finger over your mouth to quiet you, “Don’t make me argue with you like your unit chief right now. I just want to be your boyfriend.”

You sigh, “Okay,” Leaning over him, you rest your head on his chest and he begins stroking your hair. Having not slept at all since Hotch had been taken, you fall asleep like that. Finally at peace.

***

You hadn’t really been able to let it go, even when Hotch was better and back to work, he could tell you were harboring real anger about his kidnappers.

And on that morning, the morning you jumped on the god forsaken helicopter, when the BAU was asked to come to New York to investigate a possible terrorist threat, he debated telling you not to come. The government had suspicions that they were here to take revenge for Khan and he knew you’d be upset with being benched.

“Hotch, I’m fine. I’m not angry.” You had said when he pulled you into his office after debriefing the rest of the team.

“If you even hint at taking impulsive, reckless risks I will suspend you immediately, understood?”

You sigh, “I hate when you use your boss man voice with me.”

“Y/N—” He starts impatiently.

“Yeah, yeah, fine, understood. No being reckless. Got it.”

His eyes scan your face to see if you’re lying, “Good.” He says finally and presses a kiss to your forehead, “Let’s go then.”

He should have known you were lying. It was only the previous night you had woken him up tossing and turning from a nightmare. When he had finally gotten you awake you practically flung yourself at him, arms twining themselves around his neck as you caught your breath, “I thought you were gone again.” You had said breathlessly. And he had wordlessly held you to him, running his fingers through your hair until you were asleep again. It hadn’t been the first time he had had to comfort you. You had had far more nightmares about him being taken than he had about himself being tortured. Truth be told, he had been through far worse than being kidnapped and tortured for 24 hours. He knew it made you feel weak, the nightmares, when you weren’t even the one who had been tortured so he never brought them up. Never made you talk about them. But they worried him all the same. You relived the trauma again over and over, nearly every night. How were you expected to let the anger go when you were still living through it?

He should have known, but he let you out in the field anyway. Would that not put in question his ability to lead? His ability to lead with you on the same team?

He can barely see through his anger as he turns back to where Reid is instructing you to land. When you successfully land and jump out of the chopper, the rest of the team gathers around you to hug you, but Hotch stays back, watching.

When you notice, you walk over to him, “Hotch, I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have--”

“You’re suspended for at least a month, if not more.” He starts, “You’re lucky I don’t remove you from this team all together.”

You frown, “Aaron, I was able to detain one of the suspects, now we can learn more about the group--”

“By doing what you did you put yourself and hundreds of civilians at risk. We could have shot down the chopper, but because you jumped onboard I had to instruct them to stand down. Which, by the way, I had to do several times because they were more than willing to kill you to get that chopper down, do you have any idea the damage you caused? What could have happened if you didn’t get control of that chopper when you did?”

“I… Baby, I’m sorry--” You reach your hand out to put on his arm, but he pulls away.

“Don’t talk like that, I’m not your boyfriend right now, I’m your unit chief. Now give me your badge and gun.”

You know you can’t blame him, he had warned you he would do this and you had disobeyed him intentionally. But still, your hands shake as you hand over your gun and badge. You don’t say anything else as you leave the roof, heading down all the way to ground level to get a taxi back to the hotel. And then you wait. You lay on your back and wait for the sound of the door opening and when it does hours later, you push yourself up and sit cross legged on the bed.

“Hi.” You say softly when he walks in.

He spares you a glance before heading to the bathroom without a word. You sigh and fall back on the bed. When you hear the shower running you decide to undress yourself and head in.

He sighs when he realizes you’ve joined him, but doesn’t object when you wrap your arms around his waist and press your face to his back, “I’m sorry.” You murmur.

“You keep saying that, but I know if you were given the opportunity to do it all again, you’d make the same decision.”

You pause at that, “You’re right, I don’t regret what I did, but I’m sorry I had to disobey you to do it.”

He turns in your arms and looks down into your eyes, “Do you not see the problem with that? You did what you did out of revenge. You let your emotions get the best of you, you broke the number one rule of being in the BAU.”

“Those men were prepared to die at all costs, I just didn’t want them to get off that easy. I want them to pay for what they did to you, and this way, at least one of them will. Would you not have done the same? Did you not murder Foyet after he had given himself up because he had killed your wife and threatened your son?”

“Don’t.” He warns.

You scoff, “You have this God complex sometimes, Aaron, and it’s so frustrating. You can do whatever you want because you always have a reason and from your standpoint you’re always right. But whenever one of your toy soldiers falls out of line, it’s a different story--”

“What I did with Foyet did not put myself or civilians at risk.” He says firmly.

“You went in alone.” You said, “You didn’t wait for backup.”

He looks down and shakes his head, “You cannot compare what you did today to the things I’ve done because I would never endanger hundreds of innocent people just for some petty revenge.”

He thinks your eyes water, but it’s difficult to tell in the shower, “It wasn’t petty, Aaron. Not to me.”

He sighs and bends his forehead to yours, bringing both hands up to cradle your face, “Honey, I’m fine. You have to let it go.”

You close your eyes at his touch and lean up just slightly to capture his mouth with yours and as he sighs into your mouth you pull away, just slightly, “If it was me… If I was the one who was kidnapped and tortured in a country thousands of miles away, what would you have done?”

He swallows, and searches your face, “There wouldn’t have been a single protocol that I wouldn’t have broken to get you home safe.”

You nod, “I’m sorry. I understand why you’re upset, I put others in danger. It won’t happen again.”

He kisses you hard on the mouth, “You’re still suspended.”

You hum and he pushes you against the shower wall, his hand coming up to rest on your throat, “Are you going to punish me?” You asked breathlessly.

“Maybe.” He leans down and scrapes his teeth against your neck, hand tightening around your throat just slightly in warning when you squirmed. “I’m still angry with you.” He says, his eyes looking up to meet yours, tightening his grip on your throat again.

You can barely breathe through his grip, “For disobeying you?”

“No.” He says roughly, “For nearly getting yourself killed.”

You manage to swallow, “And that would have upset you?”

The desire immediately fizzles out of his eyes and he drops his hand, “Of course it would, how could you ask that?”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, I just…” You shrug, “I don’t know, forget it.”

“No,” He puts his hands on your shoulders to keep you from leaving, “Do you really think I wouldn’t have been upset if you died?”

“Aaron,” You say slowly, “You are the love of my life. But Haley was yours. And that’s okay, I don’t expect anything else, but it’s just a fact of our relationship that I love you more than you love me.”

He stares at you blankly for another moment, and then looks away to turn the shower off. He leaves you standing there, wet and naked as he climbs out of the shower and towels himself off silently.

“Aaron.” You say after he’s been silent for so long, stepping out of the shower and wrapping your own towel around yourself.

“You think there can only be one?”

You blink, “What?”

“A person can have more than one love of their life, you think you just get one and done?”

You frown, walking over to the bed and lowering yourself onto it, “Yes, that’s the whole concept.”

He scoffs at you, “I forget how young you are, you think you know everything there is to know about relationships, you have no idea.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Me?” He raises his eyebrows, “Don’t patronize you, you’re the one who just tried to convince me you know more about my feelings, about who I love than I do. That’s quite patronizing, wouldn’t you say?”

You look down at your hands, “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

He sighs and walks over to you, crouching in front of you, “Haley was the love of my life, that’s true. But in my head,” He swallows, “There’s the me from before Haley, and there’s the me from after Haley. And you,” He brushes his index finger over the tip of your nose, “Were the person who made the me after Haley believe I deserved love again. You are just as much the love of my life as she is and I have no idea where I’d be right now if I hadn’t met you.”

You finally give him a little bit of a smile, “Probably even more insufferably miserable than you are now.”

He chuckles and you relish in the sound, bringing your fingers up to lightly stroke his cheek, “I’m sorry. For everything today, being reckless, bringing up Haley… I’m sorry, I was out of line.”

“It’s okay,” He says softly, “But you pull a stunt like that again, I’ll fire you.”

“Yes sir.” You say, smirking as you lean in to kiss him, twining your arms around the back of his head. Gently, you tug and pull him back on the bed, on top of you and you feel him smile into your mouth.

Since you’re already naked from the shower, he can’t stop his hands from wandering across your soft skin. His hand grips your thigh, lifting up your leg and allowing him to squeeze your ass. You gasp into his mouth just the way he likes and he bites down on your lower lip. “Aaron,” You whine.

“Did you want something, sweet girl?” He whispers in your ear as his hand slides between your legs.

It’s not fair, he knows when he works you up like this it’s nearly impossible to get a coherent word out of you. You manage only to moan his name again as he slowly, torturously, rubs over you again. “Come on, baby, use your words.” He teases and you can hear the smile in his voice. Bastard.

He runs a single finger down your folds, “Should I make you come with my fingers?” He slowly dips a finger inside you, eating up your reaction as your mouth falls open and a moan claws its way up your throat. “Or,” He pulls his finger out and you glare at him, “I could do it with my mouth.” Your eyes roll back when he licks you and you physically ache at his touch. But then he stops, “Or maybe,” He crawls back up to kiss your mouth and you can taste yourself on his tongue, “I won’t let you come at all since you’ve been such a bad girl.”

“Please,” You whine, “Please, I’ll be good. I promise.”

When he pulls back to look at you, his pupils are blown out and you feel such a rush seeing your effect on him. “We’ll see.” He says softly and without warning thrusts into you. Your back arches against the mattress as you curse. When your eyes meet his, he has a look of such confident satisfaction it nearly makes you come undone right there. “I think,” He pulls out slowly, “I’ll take my time with you tonight.” He reaches up a hand and wraps it around your throat again, “Is this okay?” He says softly, breaking his role for the first time.

You nod, “Please.” You say again, knowing how he loves when you beg. He scans your face once and then he grins again, tightening his hand around your throat until you’re gasping. “Good girl,” He whispers in your ear and slowly pushes into you again, gently biting your ear.

“Baby,” You manage with what little air you’re able to take in. He immediately stops, taking his hands off you, but you shake your head and pull his hand back to your throat, “Harder.”

He sighs and shakes his head, “Fuck,” He curses, wrapping both hands around your throat, “You’re gonna kill me one day.”

And you smirk as he pushes down on your windpipe before slamming his hips into you at full force, you’re rapidly approaching climax, but Aaron can tell. You don’t know how he can tell, but he immediately slows his hips and takes his hands off your throat. You gasp at the sudden release and cough a little bit, “I didn’t tell you you could come.”

“I didn’t,” You say breathlessly, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

“You almost did, and you would have if I didn’t stop.”

“I’m sorry.”

He looks at you and tilts his head to the side as he watches you, “Turn around.” He says calmly.

You hide your smile as you do what you’re told, turning on your knees, letting your forearms and face fall to the pillow. He roughly pulls at your waist, repositioning you and pulling your ass up even farther. He runs a hand over your ass, “Look at you, so pretty for me.” He says softly before pulling back his hand and smacking it hard against your ass. You moan into your pillow and then he’s inside you, a fistful of your hair in his fist.

“Are you gonna be good for me?” He asks breathlessly.

“Yes.”

He slams into you roughly making you yelp, “And you’ll never disobey me again?”

You swallow, “Never.”

He releases your hair and leans over you, sweetly kissing your shoulder and you can feel his smile against your skin, “That’s my sweet girl.” He reaches his arm around your front and begins to massage your clit as he thrusts into you. “Come for me, baby.” He says and speeds up his movements. It’s all the permission you need and you’re immediately unraveling. It takes everything in you not to collapse onto your stomach until he’s also climaxing, brought to his edge by the pulsing of your walls. He swears and collapses fully onto your back, your knees giving way under his weight.

You both lay there like that, him resting on your back in silence for a few moments, catching your breath. Then, Aaron sits up quickly, hands searching your skin, “I’m sorry, baby, did I hurt you?”

“No.” You say, but he presses kisses all over your skin anyway, immediately entering aftercare mode.

You sigh sleepily and pull him to you, wanting to snuggle with him. He obliges, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling into your neck. “I love you.” He murmurs into your skin, “So much.”

You hum, “I love you. Thank you for not firing me.”

“If you ever end up getting yourself killed I’ll never forgive you.”

You chuckle and kiss his temple, “Noted.”

#mine #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch x reader #hotch angst #hotch fluff #aaron hotchner #hotch smut #hotch imagine

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