summary: Hydra sends you — a broken empath — into the Winter Soldier’s cell to keep him calm. You’re supposed to soften him. Control him. But instead, something starts to unravel. In both of you.
WARNINGS: 18+ explicit content, MDNI— disclaimer: contains dark themes. read at your own discretion! angst, slowburn, captivity, tortures, hydra, violence, sa (mentioned), brainwashing, non-consensual experimentation, hurt/comfort, trauma, possible smut in future chapters? we’ll see.
summary: you are suiting up for your first mission, the only problem being everyone "forgot" (intentionally withheld) this information from Logan
wc: 2.3k
a/n: thank you thank you so much for all of your support about my other Logan fic!! I am really enjoying writing for him, and have a few ideas for this Logan as well as some for Worst!Wolverine aka Deadpool 3!Logan as well! More info about empath!reader's powers and her role at the school in this one <3
warnings: slight (incredibly) slight angst, protective!Logan, a bit of a hurt comfort vibe, Ororo, Scott and Jean are meddlers
this is the previous fic with these two, not required reading at all, though!
The leather was cool and surprisingly soft against your skin. There had never been reason for you to have to accompany a mission requiring one of the suits before, and you were shocked at how comfortable the uniform was. Typically, when you were asked to help with a mission, you were there for intel. Scope the place out, get a read on the general vibe of the place. Your powers didn’t provide the same level of protection as laser eyes or a strong regenerative healing factor. You would typically arrive with Rogue, in clothes from your own closet and one of the least fancy cars from the garage. You would slip in, get your read, and get out.
It wasn’t that you didn’t want to help, you just lacked the training that the other members of the team had. And after all, someone had to stay back to mind things at the school. When Charles had approached you a few months ago about some possible applications for your mutation that would come in handy on missions, you’d been hesitant. It was so outside of your comfort zone to load yourself onto a jet that you’d never even considered the possibility. You were far more comfortable in the library where you held English classes for the students, or helping Charles keep students calm while exploring their powers. Neither scenario included the possibility of a lot of violence.
Ororo helped you finish zipping yourself into the suit, smoothing her hands along the sleeves before giving you a final nod of approval. Jean and Scott granted you small smiles and you did your best to look as confident as you knew they felt.
They’d promised it was a simple mission, the kind they usually took students on when Charles felt they were ready to join the team, if that’s what they decided to do after wrapping up their schooling. Charles had heard word of a young mutant who had some kind of telekinetic powers and had recently had an eruption while at school. Everyone agreed that it would be best to find them and convince them to return to the school for some training with as little force as possible, only expedited by the fact that Charles had found them hungry and afraid after running away from home using Cerebro. In the past, the kids had been resistant due to huge amounts of fear, causing them to lash out. You knew they were right that your powers would be useful at times like these, and if you were able to help in any way you were inclined to.
“The fuck do you think you’re doing to her?” You sighed. It wasn’t that you were all conspiring to keep this a secret from Logan. It wasn’t a discussion that you’d had to agree on group espionage. It just seemed that all of you had a sort of understanding that it might be better to ask forgiveness rather than permission. Not that you needed permission.
Logan looked furious, and what’s worse, he felt furious. You and Charles had been working to extend your powers over further distances, no longer needing to touch someone directly to know how they feel. Though it certainly doesn’t hurt matters. You’d sensed him upstairs, seemingly pacing around and seething. You’d hoped one of the kids had gotten on his nerves, or something on tv had set him off. You could see that was foolish now.
“We aren’t doing anything to her,” Scott had his visor on, blocking his eyes from view, but you didn’t need to see to know that he was rolling his eyes. “She’s chosen to accompany us on a mission.”
“A small mission!” Ororo chimed in, doing her best to give Logan a reassuring smile.
You checked back in with his aura. Still furious. But it was a nice try, you supposed. Logan’s hackles were raised, his chest heaving. This certainly wouldn’t do. “Can I have a moment with you,” you glanced around the room, briefly meeting the other three mutant’s eyes. “Alone?”
Logan was still staring daggers at Scott. He wasn’t even the one who suggested you were ready to come along. Jean and Charles had approached you this morning. You laid a hand against his arm, hoping to lead him out of the room, but he flinched away. The pang in your heart was immediate. Did he really think you were so callous that you would ever use your powers without his express permission, or some kind of emergency. You could feel the tears starting to gather in the corner of your eye, your arms wrapping protectively around your midsection.
Jean slipped one arm through Scott’s and took Ororo’s hand with her other, gently leading them out of the room. “We are going to check a few things with the jet, last minute.” She began to hustle them out of the room. “Call if you need anything!”
The door shut firmly behind them, and you were left alone with Logan, who looked like he was going to start shaking. “I wasn’t going to-”
“You don’t think I know that?” You can’t help but recoil. You have never been afraid of Logan, even when it may have been in your best judgement to be wary, and you still aren’t. But you can’t deny that it hurts when he snaps at you. Especially when you thought, well. You thought you were growing close. You started to turn away, but before you could, a warm hand caught ahold of your arm. “I’m not… fuck.” He took a heaving breath, shaking his head as if he could clear whatever thoughts were bothering him. “I’m not mad.”
Despite the serious energy of the conversation, you couldn’t help the incredulous look you shot his way. He tried his best to hide it, but you could see the corner of his mouth turning up at you. “Fine, I’m not mad at you.”
“You know, you really can’t be mad at anyone, they were just doing-” you were cut off when you fell Logan’s hand traveling down your arm, and pushing your sleeve up gently from where it was covering your hand. He slipped his hand into yours and you felt yourself relax a bit. “Just, take a look, yeah?”
“Are you sure you want me to?”
“I trust you, bub.” You searched his eyes for any sign of hesitancy, but all you found was trust. Complete and utter trust. You nodded, tightening your own grip on his hand. Doing your best not to let the gentle rub of his thumb against your knuckles distract you, you took a deep breath and opened yourself up to his feelings.
At first you did feel anger, bright red and hot. You sifted past it, steeling yourself. The first time you had encountered such strong anger, you had felt as if you were going to collapse. But you were stronger now, more prepared to deal with these kinds of feelings. The anger was strong, but also surprisingly shallow. In the depths of his emotions, Logan was worried. Terrified. A deep dark purple that made your own hands shake. His grip on your hand tightened, effectively drawing you back to yourself. There was more, a soft inviting pink that you didn’t dare to touch and shiny bright gold, which told you he was proud.
You opened your eyes, fighting back the heat you felt creeping onto your cheeks. His expression hadn’t changed, pure trust and tenderness. It should have been disarming, or at the very least surprising. Logan wasn’t so open and honest with people. But the two of you had always had different expectations for the other.
You couldn’t help it, a smile crept over your features. “You’re proud of me?”
He rolled his eyes, but his smile only grew. He took your free hand in his, pulling you in closer. “I’m always proud of you.” He hesitated for a brief moment, and you did your best to bite your tongue. You could tell Logan had been making an effort to open up lately, and not just to you, but that didn’t make prolonged silences and easier to bear. “I know it’s not my place to demand anything of you.”
“You’re my… friend.” You cut him off, wincing at the pause. It didn’t feel like the time to pressure him into labeling whatever feelings may be floating around. “And I always want to hear my friend’s opinions. What’s bothering you so badly?”
“I could hear your heartbeat from upstairs.” Your eyes grew wide, too shocked to try to school your expression. Logan had told you several times that he had learned to block out his enhanced hearing when he was quite young. Usually to tease you when you got on a long tangent about something you enjoyed. He pretended to zone out and ignore you, but he would always remember small details about your rants, bringing them up nonchalantly at a later date “I, uh, keep an ear out sometimes. Helps with the worry.”
He worries about you? Even more surprising, he’s listening to your heartbeat like background music to his day. You promise yourself you will ask him about it when you don’t have a room full of your friends waiting on you. “I thought we’d covered this. I can take care of myself.”
He sighed, bringing a hand to rest gently where your jaw meets your neck. “Sweetheart, I know you can. But that doesn’t stop me from watching out for you.”
Your hand moved to rest overtop of his. “The good news is that I will have lots of people watching out for me. You know they won’t let anything happen.” You receive a single huff in return. He’s not convinced. “You know that these are the kinds of missions we send the kids on. I’ll be fine.”
He considers for a moment, before dropping his hand and nodding. “Give me a second to get changed, and we will head out.”
You grabbed for his hand, but he was already out the door, and moving too fast for you to stop. “Logan, don’t be ridiculous.”
“What’s ridiculous is you thinking that I would ever let you go out there alone.”
“As we already established, I have three very capable friends coming with me. I am only going as a contingency plan.”
“Well then consider me the contingency to the contingency plan.” You huffed, following him next door.
You darted around in front of Logan, pushing against his chest with all your strength, even if you were fully aware that it was the equivalent of a fly buzzing around him. He stopped all the same, eyebrows pulled together in frustration. “I know you’re worried and I know that this is you trying to help.” Logan had his I’m about to interrupt you look on his face, leaving you to shove him again. Thankfully, he understood your intention. “This is important to me. You can’t be there every time, and I have to stand on my own two feet. I want to contribute to the work we do here more than just teaching kids about how awesome Shakespeare is.” The look was back. “Which is still an important contribution.” You added, which seemed to appease him. “But, I don’t want it to be my only contribution. So I am going to go and make sure that this scared kid who is all alone out there makes it back here safe. And you are going to stay here and make sure that everyone gets dinner and help with their assignments. And then when I get back, we are going to have a talk about all this.”
“All this?” A smile crept back onto your face, hearing the teasing tone in his voice.
“Oh my god shut up!” He caught your hands before they made contact with his chest, but he was slow to let go this time. He brought the back of both of your hands to his mouth, dropping a small kiss on each one, before returning your hands to your side.
“If you come back with so much as a bump to the head, Scott’s dead.”
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, and pointing out that this was exactly what you were talking about earlier did little to sway him. So you gave in, agreeing to give him a full report before slipping your hand into his and tugging him towards the jet.
“We’ll be back in a bit.” You promised. You could feel the others staring from just inside the jet, but you barely noticed. Logan was checking over your suit meticulously, tugging zippers a few more clicks up and making sure that the collar wasn’t too tight around your neck. He kneeled down, checking to make sure the laces on your boots were double knotted. “Logan,” you laughed, reaching down to tilt his head up to look at you. “I’m too seconds away from sending a lot of exhaustion your way and leaving you passed out in here. You have to let me go, it’s going to be fine.”
He remained kneeling for a second too long, a look in his eyes you couldn’t entirely place. The sound of the jet powering on broke the both of you out of your trance. He was on his feet in a flash, checking over you one final time. You rose up on your tippy toes, balancing by resting your hands on his shoulders, before gently kissing him on the cheek. You pulled back, nose scrunched up from the tickle of his facial hair. “We’ll be back in a few hours. Hold down the fort for us, yeah?”
He nodded, pupils slightly blown out and a dreamy look on his face. You giggled, walking backwards for as long as you can before turning around and finding a seat on the jet. You could feel Jean and Scott’s eyes on you as Ororo began maneuvering the jet out of the garage. “Don’t even start.” You muttered, settling firmly into your seat, doing your best to soak up the pride and confidence the others were projecting into the cockpit.
as always, feedback is so appreciated! if you have any requests for these two/wolverine in general, please leave them here!
summary – reader is too nice for their own good and can’t help but pretend to enjoy swigging down coffee, all for the sake of keeping a smile on Clark’s face.
word count – 1.0k
content – fluff, fem!reader (can be read as gn!reader), empath!reader, clueless!clark, happy ending
author’s note – aaa second blurb! i’m so obsessed with clark it’s almost concerning :,) this is for all my tea drinkers out there (superior btw) please leave comments on whether you prefer more fluffy or smutty fics !
Thinking about how Clark comes into the office every morning, to-go cups of coffee always in hand, opposite the stack of papers cradled in his forearm. He sets his files down on his desk before sharing out everyone’s respective drink: Jimmy’s, Lois’, Steve’s, and yours. And one trait about him, he was consistent.
Without fail, the sound of paper cylinders making contact with the counters would fill the air each morning, in addition to a box filled with baked goods on Fridays. (He liked to look forward to the weekends, sue him!) You were grateful each time he handed you the Sharpie-marked cup – all smiles and ‘thank you’s, once his chair swiveled around and you began to face his back, you huffed a substantial sigh to yourself and mentally prepared to chug down the bittersweet liquid.
Although you had requested hellish amount of cream and sugar to mask its unsavory flavor, you just couldn’t acquire a taste for it. And sure, it may have been easier to let Clark know that you didn’t want anything to drink in the mornings – hell, you could’ve fabricated a spiel about having to fast for a physical or an upset stomach from dinner the night before. You saw how he did it out of the kindness of his heart, and the money from his very own pocket. So, it seemed preferable to force yourself through odd sessions of exposure therapy rather than watching the smile disappear from his face so early in the morning at your seemingly sudden declination.
Then Thursday rolls around. Not far from your two days off, but not necessarily thrilling either. You don’t know what was in the air that morning, however it may have been fairly sinister with the way it all turned to shit. Initially, you awoke later than usual. Your charger decided it lived a fulfilling life and conked out, leaving your phone dead. Shortly after rushing out of bed, you hit your shin on the bed frame. Belting expletives while holding your leg, you hopped over to your wardrobe, sifting through to find a quick get up. No thanks to yourself from the night before as you recalled that you hadn’t washed laundry yet. You opted for a black graphic tee, turning it inside out before donning a half soiled cardigan, tugging it closer to your body.
Just as you thought things couldn’t get any worse, your bus ran 17 minutes late. You trudged over to your seat, trying not to lose it before the clock had the chance hit double digits. You spot the paper cup already sitting there, almost taunting you. Clark circles around in his chair, granting you a nod and a two finger wave; all you can do is return a tight lipped smile.
He noticed the shift in your demeanor immediately, wondering what caused the sudden change of heart. Throughout the rest of the morning, he snuck peeks at you – you hadn’t even reached for the cup once. It sat untouched and frigid until lunch hour when he finally made his way to you.
“Hey, so uh, no coffee today?” His jammed his hands in his pockets. He didn’t mean to pry, or maybe he did considering that you seemed to enjoy guzzling them down day-to-day.
You sipped in a breath, scratching the back of your neck before letting the cat out of the bag. “I gotta come clean to you, Clark. I’m not a coffee person.” At first, he thinks you’re joking. But the grimace on your face says otherwise. “W-why didn’t you tell me?”
“‘Cause…you’re so sweet and… you go through the trouble of getting everyone a drink in the mornings, and I didn’t want to be the person to break the chain!” your hands gesture emphatically. “I actually prefer tea, it’s much more soothing. I- I don’t know why I lied to you for so long, I’m sorry.”
His manner seemed taken aback, but not offended. “Okay, well, I’ll keep that in mind.” Making his way back over to his desk, he ruminated on how you put yourself through near torture all to keep him happy. It was selfless, and while it may not been the most apt thing to do in that situation, his heart swelled at how you were so willing to sacrifice your tastebuds for his delight. He all but concealed his grin as his hands made their way back to his keyboard.
Friday morning. Another week knocked off the calendar, and another paycheck soon to come in the mail. You were feeling slightly finer than the day previous, yet still guilty for coming clean to Clark which was well overdue. Returning to your normal routine, you watch as Clark comes waltzing in with… four cups? You tell yourself it’s another cup of coffee, as punishment for stringing him along – of course. He sets the cups down in order: Jimmy, Lois, and Steve yet again. And as he makes his way over to you, you notice the tiny paper tag attached to a thread fluttering in the wake of his gust.
“Special for you, of course.” he releases his hold on the cup as you peer at the tag: peppermint. “I also brought this for you, in case you wind up telling me you don’t like donuts either.” The brown paper bag rustles as he pulls out a muffin. “Apple cinnamon. I read online that some people like the combination.”
Your smile spans from ear to ear, genuine satisfaction overcoming you on a weekday morning. “Thank you, Clark. It’s perfect, it really is.” you nod your head accordingly. His cheeks dimple and lightly scrunches his nose.
“Nothing a few modifications can’t fix.” he shrugs it off, playing it cool as if he didn’t spend the night before researching the best tea options for you. He returns to his desk, stomach still doing backflips from watching that sparkle in your eye.
You turn the cup around, expecting to see your name written alongside of it, instead revealing a sticky note with his penmanship:
angstember 25 masterlist | moon knight masterlist | main masterlist
Read Part 2
Pairing: Marc Spector, Steven Grant, Jake Lockley x F!Empath!Reader
Summary: You recently moved in with Marc/Steven/Jake and your childhood nightmares and sleep terrors return. You start to realize you’re dreaming about Marc, Steven and Jake’s past and more than that - you can feel what they felt in their darkest and most dire moments. Marc is hesitant to open up fully, and your near-prophetic dreams and worries start to put a strain on your relationship. Will you and your partner be able to see that this empathetic power is a gift and not a curse?
Word Count: 6.5k
Content: angst, vivid memories and discussions of past trauma and abuse (as in Wendy Spector), newer established relationship, love conquers all, slight age gap (10+ years), the guys are Khonshu’s avatar/Moon Knight, Steven is a professor bc it's my current brain rot, brief separate bodies although it's not the plot of the story, some arguing, nightmares, sleep terrors, crying, illness, misunderstandings, mentions of food, violence, blood, inaccurate DID based on the show, inaccurate Egyptian god stuff, domestic life, really explicit and somewhat oddly so, smut, p in v, creampie, oral, fingering, dirty talk, not beta’d
You never thought you could be so lucky.
After dating the same guy throughout high school and most of the way through college, you finally broke up with him and took some time for yourself. You worked hard to finish in the top 2% of your class and went straight into post graduate work.
That’s where you met Steven. Doctor Grant.
You didn’t mean to fall for him but he was so charming, kind and sincere. You mesmerized him and the two of you fell in love with one another quickly. He told you about his alters: Jake, the quiet one and Marc, the reluctant one. Soon enough you got to know them too.
After completing your master's degree, Steven asked you to move in last month, just before your one-year anniversary. Elated didn't begin to describe how lucky you felt, nor how in love you were.
Twenty-seven days into relative domestic bliss, things began to change.
Marc came home late, stumbled through a shower and into bed with you, exhausted, but hardly willing to protest when you kissed a trail down his body and took him into your mouth. Damp curls flopped back on the pillow as his hips slowly responded to the hot velvet of your tongue and the way your lips wrapped hungrily around his thick length.
A sharp intake of breath alerted you to his pleasure, harsh pants escalating until his voice rumbled out, “Just like that honey, fuck…”
Gripping the nape of your neck, he worked himself in and out of your mouth. It didn't take him long to finish, the most delicious sounds of pleasure rumbling in his muscular chest as you licked your lips clean.
"Bet you'll sleep good tonight," you teased, climbing your way back up his body and draping yourself over him.
Marc groaned, body still buzzing with pleasure and mind hazy and satisfied. But your delicious, satin-covered body drove him crazy and he couldn't help but run his hands all over your curves.
"Nice surprise. Thought you'd be asleep."
"I took a little nap, but I wanted to see you..." voice fading away, your eyes fluttered closed as he dragged thick fingers between your thighs, pulling your panties aside so he could feel your slick. He slipped two fingers inside, smiling into your kiss at how your walls gripped his digits.
"So tight, baby," he breathed against your cheek, curling and twisting his hand harder inside you. "Open up for me. Wanna fuck you back to sleep."
Pushing the pad of his thumb over your throbbing clit, he swallowed your gasps and whimpers of pleasure in a salacious kiss, coaxing you steadily closer to the edge.
Back arching, you gushed all over his hand, your pretty lips parted and panting as you came. He loved to watch you fall apart.
After kissing and touching one another heatedly, he steadily grew harder in your grasp, again. Rolling you over onto your stomach, he dragged your delicate nightgown up over the swell of your hips, hands roaming liberally all over the curve of your ass. Marc squeezed both cheeks indulgently before pushing you down to the mattress and pressing his chest to your back, almost covering you like a blanket.
"You're so damn beautiful," he purred on your neck, nipping at the flesh roughly before soothing it with his tongue as you hissed.
You could feel his cock, heavy and hard, rubbing against the back of your thigh. "What's your color, baby?"
"Green," you gasped, lifting your ass up in the air to push back against him temptingly. "Fuck me. I want it."
Marc wasn't sure how he got so lucky. Steven met you at university and had you eating out of the palm of his hand in no time. He felt surprised his alter pursued a student, but at least you were about to finish your postgraduate work when you started seeing each other.
When Marc saw you, he couldn't help his body's natural response to you. Over ten years his junior, smart, so full of life. He could only hope you felt the same way. You let him fuck you on your first date and not a day passed since, without him thinking about the next time he could be inside you, cook dinner with you or take you out somewhere fun.
No one was more surprised than Steven at how fast Marc fell for you.
Now you were underneath him, hissing and gasping as he pushed his way slowly inside your core. It was a tight fit - so tight that Marc wondered, that first time, if you were a virgin.
"Come on, baby, let me in," he murmured against your ear. "So fucking tight, honey." Gripping your hips, he buried himself all the way inside, cock twitching at the sound and feel of your writhing and moaning.
The weight of Marc's body against yours - the heavy drag of his thick cock in and out lured obscene shrieks and moans from your throat. It almost stung but the stretch felt so good.
You loved when he took you like this. So strong and so needy and so good to you, all while uttering the filthiest words in your ear. You came fast, panting his name and he pulled out just in time to come all over your ass and thighs.
You were both exhausted, but managed to clean up and climb back into bed, passing out almost instantly.
Then it happened.
Nestled safely in your boyfriend's embrace, you began to thrash, whimper and sweat. Your disturbing motion instantly woke Marc, who assumed you were having a nightmare.
"Hey, hey, hey..." He cupped your cheek, whispering your name, trying to wake you without scaring you further.
Then you screamed. Blood-curdling, somebody-call-the-cops, heart-stopping, feature-film-style screaming that terrified Marc to his core. No matter how much he called your name or shook you, he couldn't wake you. He even called out to Khonshu for help.
Your head lolled to the side and you seemed to be awake, but you wouldn't respond.
...until you called his name, crying out for him, frantically.
"I'm right here, sweetheart, it's okay," he gasped, desperately attempting to get you to just look at him.
Finally, you stopped, but you were still sleeping as peacefully as before the whole incident began.
Marc's heart pounded and now he was sweating too. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he pushed his hands through his hair in exasperation and worry.
The next morning, as you shuffled out of the bathroom toward the kitchen, you found Marc sitting at the table, empty coffee cup in front of him, staring forlornly out the window.
"Hey." Leaning over, you pressed a kiss to his forehead before reaching to pour yourself a cup. "You okay?"
"Am I okay? Are you okay?" Worried eyes searched yours for any hint of an explanation.
Marc told you what happened, but you had no memory of it whatsoever. Both of you were left confused and you could tell Marc was upset by your nightmare, or whatever it was.
When he saw your wide, pleading eyes, he brushed his fingertips across your cheek. "It's okay, sweetheart. You just screamed and I-I couldn't help you. I couldn't wake you up."
"I didn't mean to scare you." Kneeling down in front of him, you grasped his hands. "I should probably tell you..."
You explained to Marc how you had night terrors as a child. They sounded terrifying to any onlookers, such as your parents, but you could never remember what happened once you woke up.
"I haven't had one in over ten years," you explained. "Most of the time, kids have them and grow out of them. That's what I did. But then the nightmares came. I had more like...'regular' nightmares all through high school. It got better in college."
"Come here." Marc pulled you across his lap and wrapped his arms around you. "You could've told me."
"I wasn't trying to keep it from you, I promise. I just thought they were over."
The next night, Marc remained with you. He seemed tense, but after a little coaxing, finally admitted he still worried about you.
"You sounded so scared and I couldn't help you." Running his hands over your soft body, he pressed a kiss to your temple. "Tell me what to do."
So you explained that if it happened again, to avoid trying to wake you, to speak softly and just sit with you and wait it out.
"Hopefully it won't happen again."
It didn't. Not that night. Instead, you had a regular old nightmare.
You are a child, in a boy's bedroom, not your own, seated on the carpet, playing with blocks. A little boy sits across from you, inky curls flopping carelessly across his forehead as he crashes a Star Wars action figure into your hastily constructed tower.
The action doesn't upset you - it's endearing. You laugh. But the little boy hurriedly picks the blocks up and starts to put them away.
"Can't make a mess," he says to himself.
Footsteps resound on the stairs. He freezes.
"No, no, no," he gasps, cleaning as fast as his fingers will fly.
Suddenly the door bursts open and in stumbles a woman in a nightgown, reeking of alcohol, glassed eyes struggling to focus on the boy.
"Look what you did," she spat. "You ruin everything you touch. Ungrateful, spoiled, selfish brat."
You tremble as you realize she's holding a belt. "You're gonna learn some respect."
You feel the first lash as if it snapped across your own skin. The little boy cries out, curling into a ball with his arms wrapped tightly around his head.
You try to speak, to tell her to stop, but the second lash lands, searing your back with white hot pain.
Finally finding your voice, you scream.
Your screaming startled Marc, snapping him out of slumber. Powerful images of this woman raging at him, hurting him, shook you to your core. Your eyes flew open as you gasped, jolting awake. Marc shushed you, tenderly stroking your face, finding tears on your cheeks.
"Marc," you hoarsely whispered. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
He shook his head, confused. "Yeah, I'm okay. I think you were having one of those sleep terrors again."
"It was a nightmare. Or-or a memory, maybe?" Sitting up in bed with him, you touched your forehead to his, your brain a twisted fog of memory and dream. "What did she do you?"
"What are you talking about? I'm fine." Cupping your cheek, he eased back so he could look into your eyes. "That must've been a hell of a nightmare."
"I saw you," you insisted. "I think it was you. You were just a little boy and someone hurt you. Who did that to you?"
Marc's jaw tensed as his eyes went cold. "What are you talking about? What did Steven tell you?"
"Nothing," you assured him. "Did someone hurt you? I swear it felt so real."
Sighing loudly, Marc carded a hand through his curls. "It was just a dream. Don't worry about me."
You scooted close enough to feel the heat rolling off his skin, soothingly brushing your hand down his muscular arm. "I can feel your old pain. She hurt you, that woman. You can tell me."
Pushing off the bed suddenly, Marc's hands landed on his hips as he paced agitatedly. "That shit doesn't matter anymore." His gaze flew to you - the earthen warmth in his eyes simmering to something distantly cold. "Just leave it."
His dismissal squeezed the air out of your lungs and left your heart burning with questions and doubt.
Later that evening, the two of you prepared dinner in silence. Marc halted a chopping motion mid-pepper and turned to you. "I'm sorry."
You posture instantly softened toward him. "For what?"
He shrugged, knife in hand. "I don't know exactly. I just know I upset you."
"Try reversing that," you sadly replied. "I definitely struck a nerve, but I didn't mean to."
He resumed chopping, realizing this was coming out all wrong. He finished with the pepper and scraped it from the cutting board into the skillet, where it greeted the oil with a satisfying sizzle.
"All that was a long time ago. I'm fine now."
You nodded, mostly to yourself, realizing there must be a lot about Marc you didn't know, and apparently, he didn't feel ready to share.
"I won't bring it up again," you promised. "Not unless you want to talk. But I can't help my dreams. I didn't mean for it to happen."
"I know that."
He stared at you for a moment before mumbling that he needed to use the restroom. You waited only a beat before calling after him, following him to find the restroom door shut.
You heard talking. Steven must be here.
Sure enough, Steven emerged a few minutes later.
"Shit, I really upset him, huh?"
Steven granted you an eye-sparkling, sweet smile, kissing your cheek. "Nonsense, I just missed you, is all."
"It was a nightmare. I didn't know it was real," you tried to explain. "But I can feel that it is - real. So if it is, I'm sorry. I had no idea."
Steven took a diplomatic pause, chewing on his lip while his hands fidgeted. "Would you like to tell me about your dream, my love?"
So you and Steven returned to meal prepping and you explained to him what you saw during your nightmare.
"You must be a bit of an empath if you're dreaming 'bout our past. Have you dreamed about the past before?" He questioned.
You explained that you'd always been sensitive to others' emotions, and harsh realities often manifested in your dreams, but nothing like this.
You and Steven decided to watch a documentary series he'd been interested in trying out. But soon enough, you were an odd mix of sleepy and horny, which tended to happen when you got bored.
Easing down, you lay your head on Steven's lap, snuggling up to him as he brushed his fingers repeatedly up and down your arm. After a while longer, you turned over and buried your nose in his soft tummy, eliciting a groan from him as he shifted underneath you.
It didn't take him long to get hard, especially with the way you started mouthing him through his joggers. Your free hand slipped underneath him, toying with him as he grew harder and started leaking through the thin fabric.
"Let me suck you," you begged, even as you tugged the waistband of his pants down far enough for his dick to spring free, slapping against his stomach.
He muttered out a curse as you dragged your tongue all the way up his length, swirling it all over the leaking tip. Your lips wrapped around him, teasing as the tip of your tongue flicked back and forth.
He gasped out your name, desperately trying not to buck up into your mouth and gag you, but you saved him the trouble, opening your mouth wide. You took him deep, bobbing your head and laving your tongue all over his shaft, sucking almost too hard on his tip with every pass.
"Fucking hell," he moaned as you worked him in and out of your mouth, the sound of your slurping and reverberation of your moans on his dick enough to make him lose it. As much as he would'vd loved to come down your throat, he gently pushed you off him by the shoulder, lips crashing into yours as he reached for the hem of your t-shirt.
Making out sloppily, you took off his shirt and he yanked off yours, cupping your breasts eagerly, tweaking your nipples in the way that brought sweet, breathy moans from your lips. While he fondled you, your hands worked on pushing down your sweatpants.
Steven released you long enough for you to stand and completely disrobe, licking his lips at the sight of your naked body as he pushed his joggers the rest of the way off. You climbed back onto his lap, ready to ride him, when he stopped you.
"Turn around," he ordered and you bit your lip in anticipation. You complied, facing away from him and easing back onto his lap, sinking down fully on his cock as he chest pressed against your back.
Steven moaned out a filthy curse as he pushed all the way into your slick channel, obsessed with how the curve of your ass felt rubbing against him when you fucked him like this.
"Good girl," he purred against your ear. Strong hands caressed your curves, dragging up the tops of your thighs, squeezing your hips and moving you against him, back and forth, setting the pace commandingly. He shifted you a few times until he heard a certain gasp you would make - that's how he knew he hit the right spot.
"Right there, Steven, please," you whimpered, confirming his positioning and stroking his ego in the process. Fingers pushed up over the soft parts of your abdomen to your breasts. He cupped the soft flesh in his hands, palming you, using his grip to pull you down harder onto his length even while twisting and toying with your nipples.
"Remember the first time I had you like this, in my office," he panted against your neck, pushing your breasts together and sucking on your pulse point. You liquified in his arms, rocking your hips faster and faster until you were bouncing on his dick.
A scandalous reflection of the two of you fucking shone back at you from the paused, darkened television and something about the way he was commanding you and fondling you and the things he was saying had you so close already.
"I remember," you finally answered. Reaching for one of his hands, you guided his thick fingers down to your throbbing clit, working with him to rub firm circles there. "...fuck...Steven."
"No. Call me what you called that night. The first time you let me inside you," he directed, "Tell me what you want."
Just the thought of those first few salacious weeks together caused your walls flutter in response.
"Fuck me, professor."
At the sound of his title, he bit down on the meat of your shoulder, rubbing your clit faster until you exploded, shrieking in pleasure as your walls gripped him so hard he instantly followed, unloading inside you, filling you up until he made a mess of you both.
Collapsing against his chest, you came back to yourself as he harshly panted against your skin, holding you close.
That night, another nightmare happened. And the next night, and the next.
Always with the drunk, angry woman terrorizing a young boy.
And every morning, you cried, asking your boyfriend, "Who hurt you? Who did this?"
Steven finally admitted to you what he knew about their abusive past. But no one remembered it the way Marc did. No one lived it but him.
Marc woke up to the sound of you softly crying one morning, heart burning inside his chest, wishing he could comfort you somehow, but simultaneously feeling everything you were experiencing was somehow his fault alone.
"Baby," he whispered, pulling your back against his bare chest as you lay facing away from him. "You okay?"
"Yeah," you sniffled. "Sorry."
"Don't be," he breathed, nuzzling your neck tenderly. "I'm the one..."
Turning over, you touched your forehead to his. "It hurts me so much that something so bad could've happened to you. And I respect your privacy, Marc. I do. I just wish you could let me in. I wish I could understand. Or help. Something."
You pressed ahead even when he flinched. "I'm trying to be patient. I just feel like there's something I'm supposed to know or understand here. Why else do I keep dreaming about it over and over?"
Pulling away roughly, Marc sat up in bed, pushing both hands through his hair. "I don't want this shit in our relationship."
"It is in our relationship. Look what it's doing to us," you argued passionately, sitting up beside him. "I haven't seen you in days, I-I can barely get any sleep. I keep seeing her face, seeing her hurt you, over and over. And I can't help you. I can't protect you." A choked sob interrupted you.
"I'm so fucking sorry," he whispered, pulling you into his arms, across his body, rocking you gently against his bare chest. "I don't want this for you. It's the last thing I could ever want."
You didn't even know how to respond to that, so you cherished the chance to be close to him for a few moments, quietly crying against his soft skin.
"What can I do?" He brokenly rasped.
But you said nothing, because he wouldn't talk to you anyway. He had a right to his privacy, and you felt cruel to insist he reveal to you what he wasn't ready to share. You only wished these dreams would stop so that you could carry on with your life and your relationship.
"Come here," he tried again, lying back down and bringing you with him, tucking you in beside him, folding you close. Terror gripped his heart as he realized all his mistakes would rip you from his life. "Tell me what you need. Please. Please, I...I don't know what to do."
"I don't know either," you finally whimpered. "I just want to sleep. I need to sleep and not see her face. She's there every time I close my eyes."
"Damn it," he hissed. "I fucking hate her so much."
"Because of what she did to you?"
"Because she's still fucking up my life," he growled, fists clenching against your skin. With a huff, he untangled his body from yours and climbed out of bed, pacing like a caged tiger.
With a roar of fury, he slammed his fist into the wall.
Squeezing your eyes shut, your shoulders shook as you quietly sobbed. Your stupid brain was stealing your relationship from you, making you miserable, not allowing you to get any sleep.
Worse, Marc was clearly not okay. This was hurting him, and you couldn't understand why it was happening.
You rolled on your side, facing away from him and buried your face in your pillow.
It was Jake who checked on you hours later, after you cried yourself back to sleep.
"¿Está todo bien, cariño?" He whispered gently, kneeling beside you on the floor. Taking your hand, he kissed your knuckles as you stirred, your eyes blinking open.
"Jake?" You choked out, desperately wrapping your arms around his neck. "You're here."
"Calmáte," he tenderly hushed you. "Está bien."
Jake got you out of bed and took you out for a drive. He had a talent for getting your mind off things. You ate your favorite drive thru in the car and listened to music for hours. He never once brought up your dreams.
His goal was apparently to keep you out late, give you an escape from the horrors, and make sure you were nice and sleepy when you returned home.
But the whole thing backfired when the nightmares intensified.
You saw Jake's hands covered in blood, bodies lifeless around him.
You saw him in military uniform, raging against four men restraining him.
A terrifying, skeletal figure with a booming voice and tattered robes threatening Marc.
You woke up screaming so loud, it scared even Jake.
And nothing scared Jake.
You couldn't get any rest. Your eyes were bloodshot, your skin was changing color, you could barely eat. Your work, your hobbies, your mere existence were all put on hold.
It was Steven who tenderly nursed you back to health, making sure you were hydrated, that you sipped broth to keep something in your stomach. And you found some fitful rest in his arms.
Steven asked Khonshu to intervene, but the old god's response chilled him to his core. He suggested that your empathic powers were so acute that you would make a perfect avatar. And that one of the gods might be afflicting you to somehow guide you toward this destiny.
Steven insisted Marc tell you the truth about their past. Marc was afraid you would get worse if you knew more information. But Steven would not relent, so Marc finally told you everything. It took days because the more he remembered, the angrier her grew and the more it brought Steven back to you.
But it worked. The more you understood what actually happened, how his own mother tormented and abused him for years, the less your mind attempted to decode through empathic dreams. The depth of your compassion and love for Marc grew deeper and more powerful than ever before.
"That's everything I can remember," Marc told you one night as you sat quietly together on the sofa after dinner.
"Thank you for telling me," you quietly voiced, reaching for his hand. "I know it's been hell for you to re-live it. I hate so much that you had to go through it. But not as much as I hate myself for doing this to you."
Shaking his head emphatically, Marc scooted closer, desperately grasping both your hands with his. "No, I'm sorry. I never wanted any of this shit to touch you, to ever come near you. I wanted to leave all that buried."
"But it was still hurting you, Marc, and that's what I was feeling so intensely," you reminded him. "Khonshu said that my empathetic tendencies were amplified because you're an avatar. He wants me to be an avatar too. He feels a god or goddess is drawing me to their service."
Marc's eyes flashed, his jaw clenching. "Absolutely not. It's bad enough that you had to hear all this shit from my past. I don't want Khonshu and his bullshit anywhere near you. You've been through enough."
"But what if he's right?" You questioned. "What if the reason all this is happening is so we can work together?"
Leaning in, his eyes widened with nothing short of pure terror. "You can never do what I do, do you understand? Enough of my shit is fucking up your life as it is."
Tentatively reaching out, you placed your palm soothingly on this flexing forearm. Even that small contact made him flinch.
"I'm sorry," you softened your voice, moving back.
Feeling as though he'd upset you terribly and possibly scared you, Marc swallowed hard, lips parting as he tried to form words.
"It's okay," you soothed. "I know you want to protect me, Marc, and I love you for it. I've never felt safer with anyone."
The tension in his shoulders eased, if only by a fraction, at your declaration. Easing closer, you looked right into his eyes, openly, tenderly, with no accusation. "Do you love me?"
With a terse nod, he choked out an affirmation.
"Me too." You smiled softly. "So much. But I think that maybe..."
His jaw clenched as moisture gathered in his eyes. You were going to ask him for space or a time out. He just knew it.
"I think maybe you're trying so hard to protect me from yourself that you're shutting me out. From your past, from your life as an avatar. Hey, look at me."
With the gentlest caress, you traced your fingertips over the back of his hand, which had clenched into a fist. Slowly, his gaze found yours again, anguish written all over his face.
"It's my choice," you went on. "To be with you and to love you." You shook your head sadly. "The avatar thing...it's up to me -"
"Baby, no." One tear slipped down his cheek.
"We don't have to work together," you conceded, barreling on. "I can see how I might be a liability to Moon Knight. But what I do is my choice. I have to see this through. Something is calling to me."
This silenced him, but didn't lessen the tension in the room. Gaze dropping to the floor, he scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin.
"You don't understand," he brokenly whispered. "We can't lose you. I can't do that to Steven. I've done enough."
"You've never done anything but survive. And you don't have to worry about Steven. I already talked to him," You told Marc, resolutely. "He's taking me to Cairo. I'm going to say yes."
Your health had finally improved enough to travel. You knew Steven had traveled to Cairo once before and Marc was more familiar with the area. Still, it did not stop Steven from guiding you there and checking you into a hotel before taking you out for your first dinner, which was delicious. The city was vibrant and alive and you felt as if you could breathe deeply for the first time since your nightmares began.
But it was Marc who woke up with you on your first full day in Cairo, explaining that he wanted to be there for you.
The truest test of a relationship could be when you wholeheartedly, fundamentally disagreed on a huge, potentially life-changing decision. Respecting the person you loved while honoring yourself, when those two things directly conflicted, could make or break your whole world.
Nothing would be worth losing Marc. Or Steven or Jake. Steven supported you. Jake understood the calling of an avatar. He spent the most time in Khonshu's armor, after all. But Marc held onto the assumption that anything bad that had ever befallen him, would also happen to you.
You could feel, deep in your soul, that an ancient power was calling to you, somehow cultivating and curating your emphatic tendencies into some sort of useful, tactical ability.
So it meant everything to you that Marc showed up for you. But if it came all the way down to choosing, you were absolutely certain you would choose your relationship over all this, even if you suffered for it.
You gathered supplies and Marc arranged a guide to a remote area, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. The guide explained that he would go no further into the desert, but if you wanted to reach your destination, you needed to hike a couple more kilometers in the same direction.
He double checked your supplies before returning to a check point, letting you know he would wait for you there for a couple of days, since Marc paid him so well.
"Are you sure about all this?" Marc asked you once more. "That this is the place you're drawn to?"
You took his hand with a grateful smile and insisted it was. "This feels like the right thing to do, to me. But if I do this, will you ever be able to forgive me?" You asked him, earnestly.
Shaking his head, he reached for your arms, pulling you close. "There's nothing to forgive. This is your choice."
Throwing your arms around his neck, you thanked him, tears pooling in your eyes. "That means everything to me."
The two of you set up camp and waited for nightfall. Despite your lack of experience in the desert, it felt like an adventure. Something your relationship sorely needed after the recent horrors.
Too anxious to go to sleep, you simply held one another and talked, enjoying the cool night and its relief from the daytime sun.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Might as well."
"What made you change your mind about me? About all this?"
"I don't want to lose you," he quickly answered.
You pressed a tender kiss to his mouth. "I want you to know you can disagree with me, even over something big, without losing me. I don't want to lose you either."
"You won't," he reassured you.
"Can I ask you something else?"
"Shoot."
"If you're so against being an avatar, why are you one?"
"Because I want to help people," Marc answered without hesitation.
"And do you feel like it's your choice to do so, or do you feel enslaved to it?"
"I used to," he carefully admitted. "I would...take lives in repayment for Khonshu saving my life. But after Steven, after we died and went to the Duat, and after Jake came along, it was different. Now we don't kill. Not unless we have to, to save life. It's important to Jake to do this. Steven too. So I carry on. For them, and to save people."
"I want to do that too," You confessed. "I feel as if I'm meant to do it."
After that, Marc told you more about his past. Nothing too heavy, just memories. The first time he knew Steven was there, when they were children. His favorite places in Chicago. The incredible cities he'd visited and worked in. Funny stories about his friend Frenchie.
You talked about your past too, the conversation sobering you as you realized how other guys pushed you away once they got too close. Once your empathy made them too vulnerable.
Once you finally started to rest, you heard a call. A voice as clear as Marc's, but deeper, reverberated through every cell in your body.
It was time.
You awakened Marc and dragged him toward what must have been a mirage. Somehow, a temple stood before you, having emerged from the sand.
You clung to Marc, terrified at the sight. Fear gripped him entirely differently. You were about to give yourself to the service of an avatar.
The suddenly-emerged temple had but one opening so, hand-in-hand, you trudged through.
Mystical air swirled around you as a haunting glow lit your stone path.
"This place can't be real, can it?" You mused aloud. "It appeared out of nowhere."
"I have no idea," Marc responded, his Moon Knight armor wrapping around his muscles reactively. Despite the glow of his haunting, white eyes, you honestly felt marginally safer, at least, with him ready for action.
"Is Khonshu with us?" You whispered, gripping his bandaged hand tightly.
"More often than you know," a deep voice boomed. You shrieked in surprise as a skeletal, looming bird-like figure appeared beside Marc, towering over him, and moving as if he were taking a stroll with the two of you.
"Oh god...is that...?"
"Yeah," Marc answered, nodding. "He does this."
You took in the god's appearance. Hollow eyes, long, pointy beak, and tattered robes that matched Marc's suit in almost every regard. He held a regal staff in his bony fingers.
"Any idea who's waiting for us in there?" Marc asked him.
"I do not."
"This isn't another one of your stunts, is it?"
Khonshu almost seemed to chuckle. "An avatar's calling is not to be taken lightly. She has been summoned."
"Summoned by nightmares? Why?"
"You were summoned by death," Khonshu reminded Marc. "Wounded, bleeding, ready to end your mortal suffering. An avatar's journey is not without trials."
"Why are you here?" Marc questioned.
"To protect you, of course."
Marc motioned to you. "Protect her."
"I will," Khonshu promised. "Proceed."
You arrived in some sort of chamber, adorned with symbols you recognized as being related to Khonshu. Moon disks, crescent moons, falcons and staffs of protection.
You stopped cold. "Does this temple belong to you?"
"It is a place that honors me," Khonshu explained, coming to the point. "Serve me. I will protect you, as I protect Marc."
Marc's mask disappeared as he glared up at the ancient being. "What is this? What do you want with her? You have an avatar."
"You limit my power," Khonshu bluntly stated. "You protect. You guard travelers of the night. And you have my gratitude."
His bony beak turned to you. "But with your capacity for empathy, my full power could finally be realized - the power of healing. The power to cure illness, even. Marc would be my fist of vengeance. You would be my healing touch. Two sides, making a perfect whole."
Marc's jaw clenched, eyes flashing with fury. "You did this to her? Gave her these dreams? Tormented her?"
"I did not," Khonshu assured him, turning back to you. "You are very powerful. You empathic dreams have a near-prophetic quality, which drew the attention of many deities wishing for a physical link to this earth. Every nightmare is a beacon. The wrong deity could endanger Marc, and so much more importantly, me."
Marc rolled his eyes. "How does this help her - serving you?"
"With your combined powers, in service to me, you will both be safe. You will protect and she will heal. You will make an unbreakable circle. Your love for one another will only strengthen this bond."
Marc looked to you for direction.
An incredibly powerful being could have summoned you. Any choice you made could prove dangerous. The god or goddess calling you could be an enemy of Khonshu. However, if you returned home, your nightmares may return, even stronger, and draw even more deities to you.
"Could I really heal people?" You questioned the old god. "Help them? Truly?"
"Say yes, as an act of faith. I will show you," Khonshu promised.
You took Marc's hands in your own, eyes fixed on his. "Now that I'm here, I know more than ever that nothing is worth losing you. If doing this would change the way you feel about me -"
"It won't," he assured you steadily. "Nothing could."
You nodded quickly, tears pooling in your eyes. "After all this, I understand why you were afraid. I'll go back if you want. I'll take the nightmares. I'll do anything for you."
"You do everything for me. Let me do this for you," he answered resolutely. "Let us do this with you." He kissed you fiercely.
You granted approval to Khonshu, who warned you to brace yourself for what was coming: a full display of his power.
Wind and light swirled around you in a terrifyingly stunning display. A force knocked you back while simultaneously lifting Marc's body into the air. A haunting glow enveloped his body. His Moon Knight armor unraveled, mummified strips loosely fluttering in the air around him as he floated, head thrown back, throat exposed, arms extended, muscles straining.
His eyes glowed so brightly you had to cover your face, even while you frantically called his name.
What had you done? What would Khonshu do?
On and on the display went, too bright to behold, with a force too powerful for you to stand or approach the man you loved.
After an agonizing eternity, everything ceased and you heard a sickening thud as Marc's body must've dropped to the stone floor.
You cried out his name, pushing yourself up to run to him, but stopped short at the sight of two bodies.
Two identical bodies.
Read Part 2
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thinking about the empath!reader x boothill pairing again… the reader is naturally a fairly serious (or at least deadpan) character, and i feel like boothill would intentionally do silly things and make a slight fool of himself to make them smile: like, crazy tap-dancing, going insane on the harmonica, singing off-key on purpose etc etc. and whenever he manages to crack a smile, he’s of course very self-congratulatory and proud and whatever, but also very… grateful, in away? like, grateful that he’s the one who’s been able to witness you with your walls down, be it even for a couple of moments. and he goes SO soft too. like, the few seconds where you’re chuckling? yeah he’s 100% moon-eyed staring at you with the most tender expression known to mankind… god i need to stop
Summary: The crew has Spock in sight. But is he the same Spock they lost?
As the Enterprise crew approached the group of lifeforms, they slowed, keeping to the woods and trees for cover. Only a single Klingon was left, and he had Saavik and Spock at phaser-point. Instantly, Kirk ran out with his own phaser. The Klingon turned on them, phaser drawn, and Kirk fired. The Klingon was hit and went flying. He hit the ground, dead. Saavik and Spock were left free.
(Y/N) ran fastest and fell to their knees beside Spock, who was unconscious on the ground. “Spock,” they breathed. “Bones—”
“I’ve got him,” said Bones, scanning Spock instantly.
Kirk looked around himself at the camp. Several Klingons were dead from the fight that had left Saavik and Spock at the final Klingon’s mercy, but Kirk only cared about one body. David’s lay in the grass, and Kirk knelt beside him, gazing mournfully at the body of his son. Honorably, he took off his jacket and covered David in it. Then, he rose and returned to his crew.
“What happened?” he asked Saavik.
“He gave his life to save us,” said Saavik.
Kirk nodded. At least his son had died bravely, protecting people. “Bones?”
“He’s rapidly ageing,” said Bones. “All genetic functions highly accelerated.”
“What about his mind?” said (Y/N) worriedly.
“Pretty much a void,” said Bones. “Just instinct. It seems I’ve got all his marbles.”
(Y/N)’s gaze softened in concern as they looked at Spock.
“He asked for you,” said Saavik.
(Y/N) looked up to her. “He did?”
Saavik nodded. “He is not lost.”
(Y/N) knew she was merely relaying facts, but they suspected some kindness was involved. They nodded, thankful for Saavik’s words.
“Is there anything we can do?” said Kirk.
“Only one thing,” said Saavik. “Get him off this planet. His ageing is part of what’s going on around us.”
A few meters away, a small sinkhole opened up, and Genesis crumbled in. Flames shot out moment later. It seemed David had spoken the truth; the Genesis experiment was a failure.
“So we still need to get Spock to Vulcan to remove his Katra from Bones and give it back to him,” said (Y/N).
Saavik nodded. “Yes.”
Kirk looked around for inspiration and picked up a Klingon communicator. He made eye-contact with his crew, and they nodded. They trusted whatever decision he made. And there was only one ship left in the sky—the Klingon Bird of Prey.
Well, we’ve already committed a few treaty violations. So have they. And I’m willing to do anything for Spock.
“Klingon Commander, this is Admiral James T. Kirk,” said Kirk. “I’m alive and well on the planet’s surface. I know this will come as a pleasant surprise to you. Our ship was the victim of an unfortunate accident. Sorry about your crew, but, as we say on Earth, ‘C’est la vie.’ ”
(Y/N) raised a brow. It was a unique choice to provoke a Klingon, but psychological games were always effective.
“I have what you want,” said Kirk. “I have the secret of Genesis. You’re gonna have to bring us up there to get it. Do you hear me?” Around them, Genesis trembled. “I’m waiting for you! What’s your answer?”
The earthquake grew stronger, and (Y/N) held onto Spock’s body tighter. They were not losing him again.
“Drop all weapons!”
The crew whirled to find a Klingon with a phaser pointed directly at them. Kirk obeyed, tossing his phaser to the ground. It was time to risk everything.
“Over there.” The Klingon gestured to the side. “All but Kirk.”
The crew obeyed, but as (Y/N) tried to pick up Spock, the Klingon pointed at them.
“Leave the Vulcan,” said the Klingon.
“Why?” demanded (Y/N).
“Because you want him with you,” sneered the Klingon.
(Y/N) curled their hands into fists, eyes flashing angrily. “Let me fight for my Captain and Spock.”
Everyone looked at them in surprise.
“(L/N),” said Kirk.
“Please, Admiral. For Spock,” said (Y/N). They looked at the Klingon. “I was here when Genesis detonated. I understand it.”
“Very well,” said the Klingon.
“(L/N)!” said Kirk in alarm.
But the Klingon spoke into his communicator, and the crew began to dematerialize. (Y/N) just kept their gaze on the Klingon.
“Give me Genesis,” said the Klingon.
“It’s all around you. And it’s dying,” said (Y/N). “It’s a failure. What you’re looking for is pointless.”
“It is the ultimate weapon!” said Klingon.
“It is a failed experiment,” said (Y/N) calmly.
They sighed and rolled up their sleeves. The ground shook around them, caving in to reveal fire and lava. Spock’s hair was graying, too. He was almost the age he’d been when they’d lost him. (Y/N) was running out of time to finish things. So they wouldn’t waste anymore.
“We’re both going to die,” said (Y/N). “If we don’t beam out.”
“Then that is how it shall be!” said the Klingon.
He rushed them, and (Y/N) took the hit. They tumbled down a hill with the Klingon, rocks scraping their back and side. (Y/N) hit the bottom where a rift was opening up and scrambled away from the heat. The Klingon grabbed their leg, dragging them back, and (Y/N) kicked him. He tore at their uniform, pulling them under him to strangle them.
(Y/N) placed two fingers on his head as they strangled them. “I’m going to get my husband and leaving here, whether you like it or not!” Their golden eyes glowed brighter, and fear pulsed through the Klingon. “So get out of my way!”
The Klingon wrenched back at the onslaught of terror, tripped over a root, and fell into the lava teeming beneath Genesis’s surface. (Y/N) didn’t waste a second and ran for the top of the hill. They scrambled up the roots and rocks, pulling themself back to Spock’s side. His features were not his own, the dignified, wise age of their husband. (Y/N) smiled at him, held onto him, and picked up the remaining communicator. Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) copied the order the Klingon had given to get the crew beamed up.
(Y/N) held Spock close, and as the world caved in around them, they closed their eyes. Whatever happened, they had Spock. That was all that mattered.
l
(Y/N) and Spock rematerialized on board the Klingon vessel, and (Y/N) looked around themself, instantly on edge. They were on the Bridge, but no one was fighting. In fact, the only Klingon was handcuffed. Kirk had already taken control of the situation and defeated the remaining Klingon, promising to “kill him” after they got away.
“You made it,” said Kirk in relief.
“Thank god, goldie,” said Bones, staring at them.
“Do we already have control of the ship?” said (Y/N), bewildered.
Kirk sighed. “We will once those three decide what is the anti-matter inducer.”
Chekov, Sulu, and Scotty were huddled around a control panel. (Y/N), filled with adrenaline at being alive and having Spock, let out a surprised laugh.
“This?” said Sulu.
“No, this,” said Chekov.
“That or nothing,” said Scotty decidedly, pressing the button.
“Did it work?” said Kirk, helping (Y/N) support Spock.
“If I’m reading this right, we have full power,” said Sulu.
“Go, Sulu,” ordered Kirk.
Sulu didn’t have to be told twice. He punched it, and the Klingon Bird of Prey flew away from Genesis as fast as possible as the planet swallowed itself up into a mass of magma.
“Goodbye, David,” said Kirk softly.
“I’m sorry, Jim,” said (Y/N), resting their hand on his shoulder.
“We are free and clear to navigate,” said Sulu.
“Best speed to Vulcan,” ordered Kirk. “Mr. Chekov, take the prisoner below.”
“Wait! You said you’d kill me!” said the Klingon.
(Y/N) sighed. Klingons and honor and dying.
“I lied,” said Kirk. He wasn’t interested in more death. He looked at (Y/N). “And now we’re going to get to Vulcan.”
(Y/N)’s heart thumped, and they held Spock tightly. They were going to be alright.
l
“Ambassador, they are on approach.” Uhura stood before Sarek. “They’re requesting permission to land.”
“Permission granted,” said Sarek. “Tell them—tell (Y/N) we’ll be ready.”
Uhura smiled and nodded.
l
“Mr. Sulu, you’re on manual,” said Kirk as the Bird of Prey approached Vulcan.
“It’s been a while, sir,” said Sulu. “Here we go.” Carefully, he brought them through the mountains of Vulcan and towards the landing pad where Uhura and the Vulcans were waiting. “Retrothrusters.” Gingerly, he lowered the ship down until they landed properly. Sulu was an expert, even in a ship he’d never been in before.
Solemnly, (Y/N) stood and, together with their friends, picked up the cot with Spock on it. They walked down the gangplank silently, approaching the awaiting Vulcans in their ritual regalia. Torches lined a path over the mountains, a fountain stood before them, and every Vulcan was ready for Spock’s Katra to be honored.
Uhura and two guards stepped forward to them. She hugged (Y/N), understanding the emotional turmoil they were still going through, and (Y/N) held her in return.
“Sarek is waiting above,” said Uhura softly, looking at the stairway.
A gong sounded, and (Y/N) nodded. They held Spock’s cot tighter, and they led the trek forward. This was for Spock. This was for their husband. This was for the man they loved.
They stepped towards the stairs, and several Vulcan attendants interceded, taking the cot from them. Sarek held up a hand, and the Vulcans paused, allowing (Y/N) to remain beside them as they walked. (Y/N) was Spock’s T’hy’la—that would be respected at this ceremony.
(Y/N) watched him be carried before a Priestess and laid down so she could examine in. Their hand hovered over their ring, trying to assure Spock they were there, with him, always.
The Priestess raised a hand and touching Spock’s temples. “Sarek.” She spoke evenly, voice echoing in the silence. The attendants raised a single hand each, the white dresses fluttering around them as if moved by the Priestess’s voice. “Child of Skon, child of Solkar…the body of your son still lives. What is your wish?”
(Y/N)’s heart skipped a beat, and they looked at Sarek, gaze asking him to help Spock. Sarek looked at them and then to the Priestess.
“It is not my wishes that are needed,” said Sarek. “It is his bonded’s, (Y/N) (L/N), child of Nikomedes. They are the family.”
(Y/N) straightened as everyone looked at them.
“(Y/N) (L/N), child of Nikomedes, the body of your husband still lives. What is your wish?” said the Priestess.
“If there is a way to give him his mind back, I wish for it,” said (Y/N).
Sarek spoke to them. “They ask for the Fal-Tor-Pan. The refusion.”
(Y/N) nodded, not understanding the words but trusting Sarek.
The Priestess’s eyes remained on (Y/N). “What you seek has not been done since ages past and then only in legend. Your request is not logical.”
“It is not. But I am not entirely logical,” said (Y/N) honestly. “I will not pretend to be.”
The Priestess raised a brow, impressed by the straightforward answer. (Y/N) did not hide behind pretense. The Vulcans could at least respect that, if not logic. “Who is the Keeper of the Katra?” she asked.
“I am,” said Bones. “McCoy, Leonard H. Son of David.” He spoke awkwardly, but he was as firm in his desire to help Spock as any of the others.
The Priestess now gazed at him. “McCoy, son of David, since thou art human, we cannot expect thee to understand fully what (L/N) has requested. Spock’s body lives. With your approval, we shall use all our powers to return to his body that which you possess. But McCoy, you must now be warned! The danger to thyself is as grave as the danger to Spock. You must make the choice.”
Bones didn’t hesitate. “I choose the danger.” He looked at (Y/N) and Kirk incredulously. “Hell of a time to ask.”
(Y/N) smiled slightly, grateful to have such supportive friends.
Sarek gestured for Bones to step forward, and he did.
“My lady priestess,” said (Y/N), and all eyes went to them. They slid Spock’s ring from their finger and held it up. “This is part of our marriage bond, beyond just our minds. And I am an empath. Whatever I can do to steady Spock’s katra or Bones’s mind, I will to ensure they’re both same.”
The Priestess regarded them thoughtfully before inclining her head. (Y/N) was allowed to approach with Sarek and Bones. The other crew members were escorted out of the ritual hall to await the results.
(Y/N) barely noticed as they walked to the podium. Bones lay down beside Spock and closed his eyes. The Priestess stood over them both, the wide sleeves of her robes draping across them.
“Ben, wal, navu,” she said, speaking with purpose.
(Y/N) placed their ring back on their finger and touched Spock’s face with one hand and Bones’s shoulder with the other. Closing their eyes, they focused their empathy on their husband and the bond they could still feel with him.
Come, Spock. Come back to me. Come back. I love you.
It was all they wanted.
l
A gong sounded and brought (Y/N) out of the empathic meditation they’d been in. Their eyes snapped opened to find sunlight filtering through the clouds onto them, Spock, and Bones.
Sarek stepped back from the podium, and the Priestess took her hands away. (Y/N) stood and walked down the stairs. They understood that all that could be done had. Now it was time to wait. Slowly, Bones opened his eyes and sat up. (Y/N) supported him and helped him down the stairs until he could stand. Together, they exited the ritual room. (Y/N) looked back at Spock lying on the podium.
Please. They reached out through the marriage bond one last time. Come back to me, Spock.
“Bones. (L/N),” said Kirk as they left. The entire crew was waiting for them, never having left for a moment.
“I’m alright, Jim,” said Bones.
“So am I,” said (Y/N). Their empathy was certainly tired, but it had been used for a good cause. They paused and looked at Sarek. “Will Spock be alright?”
“Time will answer,” said Sarek.
(Y/N) turned around, and their eyes widened. Spock was standing and being clad in a white robe. On their left hand, their ring felt warmer. “Spock,” they said softly.
Spock turned as if hearing them, and his dark, steady eyes landed on them.
“(Y/N),” said Sarek, and they tore their eyes from Spock’s to look at him. “I thank you. What you’ve done is—”
“There is no world where I would not have fought for him,” said (Y/N) softly. They loved Spock. They always would.
Sarek gazed at them and inclined his head. “Spock chose well.”
Two attendants guided Spock down the stairs before leaving him. He stood in the white robe and was escorted past the crew. Each member of the Enterprise crew kept their eyes on him the entire time, and (Y/N) twisted their ring.
Spock passed each crew member, and he looked at them. His eyes landed on (Y/N), and he paused. He turned to them fully, and (Y/N) gazed back. Slowly, Spock shed the hood of his cloak, and sunlight hit his face. (Y/N) looked back at him warmly. Spock took a few steps towards them.
“…I know you,” he said.
“You do,” said (Y/N) gently.
“You…fought to bring me back here,” said Spock.
“You would have done the same for me,” said (Y/N).
Spock furrowed his brow slightly. “Why would you have done this?”
(Y/N) slipped his ring from their finger and held it up. “Because sometimes the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many.”
Spock paused before reaching up and taking the ring. He looked from it and its blue stone to the Vokaya in (Y/N)’s ring to (Y/N)’s golden eyes. He gazed at them intently. “…You’re safe.”
(Y/N) smiled at him with tears shining. “Yes, Spock.”
“And the ship…?” he said.
“It’s safe, Spock. You saved all of us,” said (Y/N), stepping towards him.
“(Y/N),” said Spock, slipping the ring properly onto his finger. (Y/N) felt the bond solidify between them once more. “You are (Y/N). My t’hy’la.” He held out two fingers.
“I am.” (Y/N) touched two fingers to his. “I am.”
Spock pressed his fingers back before looking back at the others. Bones winked and tapped his forehead. Uhura, Sulu, Scotty, and Kirk grinned. Saavik nodded to him. Spock looked back at (Y/N).
“T’hy’la,” he said firmly. This was the person he loved, his spouse, his t’hy’la. Even without his mind, he’d longed for them. His heart always would.
“Always,” said (Y/N), pulling Spock in.
And Spock pulled them in right back. In both Vulcan and Celian manners, he kissed them. Spock was back. (Y/N) and Spock were reunited.
Request for @i-dont-care-lol: Can you make a fic in which both of them are stargazing and bantering (ofc it's a wells so yeah) and then just comes to the topic of "hey ever had a crush on anyone" and Nash is like" no I don't do crushes" and the reader just doubts him too much when he tries to ignore that feeling (oops forgot to mention that reader is an empath) so and then he is all like "ok you wanna know then " and then kiss her, and just kind of relieved that her one sided crush isn't a one sided one?
A/N: I'm a terrible person. I got this request a while ago and I meant to write it as soon as I got it but *life* and *school* and *mental health* didn't let me. I'm super sorry. On another note I have never written reader being an empath so apologies in advance for my poor attempt on it. :)
-------------------------
"Woooo hoooooo! I win!"
"What no! You cheated!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
You rolled your eyes. You and Nash had borrowed Cisco's switch to play a good ole game of Mario Karts.
Or so you thought. Nash had taken a shortcut in the last race, taking first place from you.
"Shortcuts are not cheats they're just advantage points if you know how to use them," Nash said with a grin on his face.
"Cheater," you pouted with your arms crossed.
He chuckled as he leaned in, "You're just mad you lost."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Okay kids! Uncle Cisco here wants his game back," came an amused voice from behind you.
You rolled you eyes and huffed in annoyance as you went to leave.
"Where are you going?" Nash called called out to you as he handed Cisco the game.
"Out," came your short reply.
Nash sighed as he ran after you.
"Are you upset just because of that?"
"I'm not upset," you answered is a frustrated tone.
Nash had caught up to you.
"Well it sure seems like it."
You let out a frustrated huff as you kept walking.
The truth was you didn't know why you felt upset. The entire day you had felt frustrated. You couldn't understand why if you had spent the entire day with the man who made your heart flutter.
"Where are we even going?" Nash asked as you started up the stairs of STAR Labs.
"To the roof."
"Why?" Came Nash's confused voice as you continued going up the long staircase, "And why couldn't we just have used the elevator?"
You gave a light giggle. "You'll see."
Nash couldn't help by smile at hearing you giggle. He had offered to have you tag along with him today because you were bored of being stuck in the lab all the time and not because he may or may not enjoy being around you. He glanced up at you as you reached the top of stairs, waiting for him. He smiled softly as he shook his head and followed behind you.
As you stepped out onto the roof, you looked up at the sky. The stars were out and shining bright. You let out a content sigh as you walked towards the edge of the roof, sitting down with your legs dangling over the edge. Nash sat down next to you, taking in the sparking Central City.
"This is nice," he commented as he looked up at the sky.
"Yeah, it is," you agreed with a smile.
There was a comfortable silence between you two for a few minutes as you both enjoyed the peacefulness of the night sky.
As Nash sat there beside you, he couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him. Being with you always had a way of calming him down and making him feel at ease, even when he was feeling nervous or uncertain. He glanced over at you, taking in the way your face was illuminated by the starlight, and couldn't help but feel a twinge of something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
You were watching the many bright stars along the sky, lost in thought. A sense of peace and calm washed over you.You felt safe, content, at ease.
You also felt...
Loved?
Your eyes widen in surprise. It couldn't be...
Could it?
No.
It must be your feelings that you're sensing. It couldn't possibly be his.
But yet-
"Hey, (Y/N)," Nash suddenly spoke up, breaking the silence.
"Yeah?" you turned to look at him, trying to hide the nervousness you felt.
"Have you ever had a crush on anyone?" he asked, his voice casual, as if asking what you had had for lunch.
You were completely taken back by his question.
"That definitely not random," you say trying to alleviate the sudden lump that had formed in your throat. Was it getting hotter?
Nash noticed the way your face had paled slightly and the way you nervously shifted on the spot. He realized his question may have come across as too forward and he mentally cursed himself for not being more subtle.
He tried to backtrack, "I mean, it's okay if you don't want to answer. I was just curious."
You let out a small sigh of relief and gave him a small smile, "No, it's okay. It's just that your question caught me off guard. And to answer your question, yes, I have had a crush on someone before. Why do you ask?" As soon as you said that you felt something bothering you, a prickling emotion that made you frown. Jealously.
You shook you head lightly. What was happening?
"What about you? Have you ever had a crush on anyone?" You asked, with a hint of defensiveness trickling in your voice. You were startled by it, about to apologize when Nash turned to look at you. "No, I don't do crushes," he answered nonchalantly, but his eyes said something else as you felt a wave of bottled emotion wash over you.
You're lying.
"What?"
You realized you had said that out loud as you met Nash's bewildered eyes.
You should apologize. You should leave it be. But you were convinced that what you had been feeling wasn't just your feelings.
Screw it.
"You're lying," you repeated, more confidently this time. "I can sense it. There's something you're not saying" Nash's eyes widened in surprise, and he shifted uncomfortably beside you. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice slightly strained. "Yes, you do," you insisted, turning to face him fully. "I don't know why you're hiding it, but I can feel that there's something more there. I've been feeling it all night. There's something you're afraid to admit."
Nash's eyes widened in shock, his body language betraying him. You could tell he was caught off guard by your accusation, but you weren't going to let him off the hook that easily. You needed answers.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice slightly strained, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides.
But you weren't buying it. You could feel it in your gut that there was more to this story than he was letting on. You took a step closer to him, your eyes locked onto his, and you spoke with unwavering conviction.
"Yes, you do," you insisted, your tone unwavering.
The atmosphere between you and Nash had changed. The easygoing vibe you both had been feeling was now replaced with something more tense and awkward. You looked at Nash, who was now avoiding your gaze. You let out a sigh, not knowing what to say. Maybe you had been wrong in confronting him like that. Maybe he really didn't have feelings for you, and you had just misinterpreted everything.
"I'm sorry," you said, breaking the silence. "I shouldn't have said that. It's not my place to push you to say anything you don't want to.
Another beat of silence.
You were overcome by a feeling of rejection and embarrassment.
"I'll go-"
"You're not wrong. There is something I'm hiding."
You continued to look at Nash, waiting for him to say something. Nash let out a sigh and turned to look at you.
"Okay, fine. You caught me," he said with a small smile, trying to ease the tension. "I have had a crush on someone before."
Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Was he talking about you? You tried to remain calm as you asked, "Who was it?"
Nash looked down at his hands and fidgeted with his fingers. "It doesn't matter now. It was a long time ago, and nothing ever came of it."
You felt a twinge of disappointment at his words, but you tried not to let it show. "Oh," you said, trying to keep your voice light.
Nash looked up at you, and you could see the hesitation in his eyes. "But, there is someone else I have feelings for," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. He couldn't possibly be talking about-
"It's you."
You looked at Nash, feeling a sense of happiness wash over you. "Nash, I..." you started, but he interrupted you.
"I know, I know," Nash said, looking down. "You don't feel the same way. I get it."
"Nash, that's not what I was going to say," you said, reaching out to touch his arm.
"It's okay-wait what?"
You smiled softly, scooting closer to him.
"I've had feelings for you for a long time now, but I didn't want to ruin our friendship by telling you. I always felt lots of different emotions and at first I thought I was going crazy but now I get why," you said shyly.
He looked at you, searching your eyes for anything that would betray your words, but all he found was warmth and adoration.
"I would very much like to kiss you." It was his turn to be shy.
You smiled as you inched closer to him. "Well by all means please do."
Without another word, he leaned in and pressed your lips against his. As you deepened the kiss, Nash's hands found their way to your face, pulling you closer to him. The kiss was soft and gentle at first, but it quickly grew more passionate, fueled by the unspoken emotions that had been building between you two for so long. As you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against Nash's, both of you breathing heavily.
He grinned as he pressed another light kiss on your lips, contentment and love filling him, as he looked at you.
"Do you feel it too?"
You smiled and nodded.
"More than you know."
------------
Hellooooo I'm back from the dead haha. I wanted to just let you guys know that its just been really hard to find motivation to write for a while and I was pretty depressed but Im doing stuff for me and moving out and going to classes so I feel much better. Hoped you guys enjoyed and im so sorry for taking so long.
Summary: Basically you’re in the movie but I’m changing the story to be more interactive between Brahms and the reader… the reader is an empath, meaning they’re extremely empathetic and sensitive to everyone’s emotions, so Brahms uses this to his advantage!
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, slasher x reader, violence, stalking, perverted behavior, swearing, etc.
Author’s Note: Hello, y’all! I’m new to writing fan fiction (especially slasher fanfiction lol), so please forgive any mistakes I make! I’m basing the reader character’s personality off of mine so that’s why “you” are acting the way you are! If that makes any sense…? :’] oh also I don’t remember everything about the movie so forgive any changes I make! One last thing: I do not agree with any real life people that act this way! Please protect yourselves, folks!
~~~
*2nd Person POV*
You had recently taken a rather simple sounding nanny job for the Heelshire family. They were a lovely elderly couple with a young son. You thought you’d be babysitting him, but when you arrive at their mansion they reveal to you that instead of watching after a live child, you would be caring for a life sized doll that represents their son, who apparently had died in a fire years ago.
“I’m so sorry, I had no idea…” Admittedly, you felt somewhat uncomfortable learning you’d be paid this much just to sit with a doll for a while.
“No, you’re completely alright, Miss Y/n… We should have told you sooner, but we were afraid you might not come if we had…” Mrs. Heelshire states, and your heart instantly fell for their tragic story.
“I would never! I’ll do everything I can to protect your… son…” Glancing over to the doll, you feel a sudden shiver run down your spine. Feeling as if all eyes were on you, including some you had not necessarily known about, you try your best to shake the feeling off.
“We both very much appreciate your understanding and patience, Y/n. It’s been so long since we’ve been away from our dear Brahmsy that we were far too worried to leave him to his own devices.” Mr. Heelshire ominously thanks you.
“It’s my pleasure! I’ll follow your instructions and make sure your home stays in order, too! I want you to feel relaxed and happy on your vacation, so don’t worry about us!” You flash them a genuine smile, already getting over the creepy feeling you originally had. Once the Heelshires left for their trip, you were left with their doll son. You sit next to him and nervously pick at your hands.
“Um, well… it’s nice to meet you, Brahms!” You shake the hand of the doll and chuckle. It did feel slightly silly doing all of their routine, but it still felt like the right thing to do. Going throughout your day, unpacking your travel items here and there, you check off all the objectives the Heelshires left for you. The last thing on your list was to tuck Brahms into bed with a goodnight kiss.
“Alright, Brahmsy! It was a lovely first day with you, and I look forward to the next ones! Goodnight, dear…” Leaning down to kiss his forehead, you suddenly hear a creak in the floorboards. It startles you into jumping up to look around some. You could’ve sworn you saw someone’s shadow dart across your eyesight, but it was dark and you were tired.
“I think it’s time for my bedtime, too…” You say to yourself and head off into the room you’d be sleeping in. Putting away the last of your belongings, changing into your pajamas, and pulling the covers over your exhausted body, you quickly fall soundly asleep.
~~~
You didn’t know it, but while you slept, a certain figure did indeed creep out from his hiding spots in order to inspect you more closely.
“Small…” The real, alive, and adult Brahms whispers to himself. He hovers over your beautiful sleeping form, reaching a trembling hand out towards your head. With the gentlest touch, he runs his fingers through your hair while imagining how soft you’d feel in other areas. Suddenly, you stir a bit in your sleep. Brahms fears he’d woken you up, but then he realizes you were just having a nightmare.
“N… no…” You mumble incoherently while still unconscious, but Brahms takes it all in. He’s never seen someone like this before… never someone this close… and never a young woman…
“Mm…” You scrunch your face in concentration, as your dreams are getting more hectic than before. You had always dealt with frequent and vivid nightmares, but you rarely told people. There’s many mental battles you fight each and every day, but to a stranger, you’d only appear to be a happy, kind, and bubbly person.
“Cute…” Brahms sheepishly grins to himself from under his porcelain mask, admiring your softening features. You snuggle up closer to your pillow, almost acting as if it were a person with you. Oh how Brahms wished that were him…
~~~
In the morning, you awoke with a pleasant stretch. Still feeling sleepy from your restlessness of the night, you glance around the room and do a double take. Everything seemed slightly… off…
“That’s weird…?” You say to yourself, noticing your dress or drawers opened and seemingly picked through. Getting up, you check your clothing items and notice that some of your underwear is missing. The nice ones, too…
“Dammit, where did I leave them? I thought I put them all away…” Walking around the room searching, you end up finding nothing. That familiar creeped out feeling comes back, telling you the worst possible solution immediately: Someone is in the house with you…
“No, no, no! Enough! I can’t keep scaring myself! I'm sure they’re just in my suitcase or something…” You reassure yourself, but feel too scared to actually check.
“Alright, Brahms! Time for breakfast!” You head into the doll’s room and lift him from bed. To your surprise, he’s dressed in a completely different outfit than the one you left him in. Your heart drops and you freeze in fear.
“There… there’s no way…” You try to calm yourself down, but the anxiety filling your veins quickly takes over. Someone has been in the house with you, and they’re messing with you.
At this point, you don’t even bother to gather your things. Setting the doll back down on its bed, you rush out of the room. Searching your pockets for your phone, you attempt to call the Heelshires. There was no answer, but you leave a message stating your discoveries and how you felt unsafe to stay in the house. You continue to run down the many steps towards the front entrance, but when you reach its eyesight, you notice a ghostly figure standing in the way.
“D…don’t leave… please…” He begs with a heartbreaking voice, a voice that’s felt all the al0ne feelings in the world.
“W-who are you?!” Your voice cracks with fear, and you take a step back.
“You know me… I… It’s me… B-Brahmsy…?” He takes a few steps forward. You don’t reply, though. Instead you take some more steps away from the real Brahms until you’ve reached the stairs again. Tripping and falling backwards, Brahms takes the opportunity to close the gap between you two.
“Please… stay.” He demands gently, but you feel a sense of urgency in his voice that causes you to panic. What was he going to do to you…?!
“D-don’t hurt me…! Please don’t kill me!” Tears begin to stream down your face when he looms over your frail form. Towering over you, he kneels down and places his hands on your thighs. He doesn’t grip them, but you know if you tried to move he’d be able to overpower you.
“I won’t… I just… you’re so… kind…” He admits sweetly, taking you aback.
“I’m… what?” You tilt your head slightly to the side in confusion. You thought for sure he’d be killing you by now… but instead he compliments you?
“You treated me like I was… real…” He states, but you still hold the confused expression. However, then you finally notice his pale face is simply a painted mask, similar to the porcelain doll’s.
“Y…you’re the Heelshires’ son?” You genuinely question, earning an enthusiastic nod from Brahmsy.
“I thought you had…” You start, but he cuts you off.
“Mommy and Daddy were ashamed of who I became, so I stayed locked away… I’ve never met anyone like you, Y/n…” He admits, and your heart breaks for him. How could his parents do this to their child? He must have been so lonely, no wonder he’s begging you to stay.
“Stay.” You feel his nails dig in slightly to your thighs, snapping you back into reality.
“But I… ah!” You try to protest, but he’s already pulled you closer to him.
“You’re… mine now…” He growls in your ear, making you shiver. What does he mean by that? You feel him wrap his muscular arms around your much smaller frame, and his fingers find your hair again. Rubbing little circles on your scalp, you feel him bury his face in your neck.
“You smell so sweet…” He holds you like that for a while. You squirm uncomfortably in his hold, but it’s no use. He’s too strong to push him away.
“P-please let me go…” You cry out, making him pull back slightly to look at your face.
“I want you… to like me.. I want to.. make you feel good… happy… safe…” Brahms raises his rough finger to wipe away your tears. You flinch away from him, though, making his heart sink. How can he make you like him as much as he likes you?
“You’re scared of me…” He sulks, making you feel bad again, but you can’t help the fear in your heart. The unsure nature of his actions is too much to handle.
“I… I’m sorry… I just… please don’t hurt me…” You beg, but he shakes his head.
“I won’t. I promise… I want you to love me… more than Mommy and Daddy…” He sounds like a child trapped in a man’s body. He leans in and burrows his face in your shoulder again.
“But we only just met…” You felt uncomfortable saying you’d love him when in reality, you have no idea who he really is.
“Please…! I-I promise to be good… I promise…” His hold on your body tightens and quivers with anxiety. You assume how traumatized this poor man is, forced to live in the walls by his horrible parents, knowing no amount of kindness from anyone.
“Don’t go… I can’t let you… please don’t leave me alone…” He cries terrified of losing the only connection he’s felt in years. Your mind races, telling you to run away, but your heart gets the better of you.
“A-alright,” You stutter, feeling a little embarrassed by your willingness to live with a complete stranger.
~~~
*To Be Continued…*
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