#I am up in my loft be alone fucking sobbing

[sansxfuckyou]

hey i just wanted to say how much I value our friendship. you're genuinely such an important person to me i am so happy seeing you in my notes screaming with me i always get so happy and you've inspired so much to draw (including but not limited to snf and twittblr) and write too when it was a quick hobby I picked up two years ago or so in a frenzy and slowly died out until you reignited it again with your fucking banger fics and i genuinely cannot be more grateful

I dont usually give myself time to truly put what I feel into words, simply going for keysmashes or quick swears or quoting memes and hoping you understand what I wanted to express and I think it was about time I made a personalised message truly using my words to get it across. you are so fucking cool you are awesome you are amazing you are talented you put so much effort into your words be it about a cozy morning organs falling apart or sucking dick. you put so much love into everything you do and it is so amazing to see. i love you man. i wish you everything good in the world ever. you dont have to answer me back with long paragraphs I think I already understand just how important I am to you and I wanted to repay you the favor by laying across the table my heart bare open for you to see

keep on loving keep on living keep on persisting despite despite despite

I am so glad I sent you that Melon Musk image, truly

-Tena

[specialagentlokitty]

Peter Hale x reader - as long as I’m not alone

Bolting up in bed, sweat poured down your forehead, your heart raced in your chest, and your breathing was ragged and you frantically searched the room for anything.

You found nothing out of place, and you slowly drew a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as you tossed the cover from off you.

Setting your feet on the cold floor, you slowly stood up and shaky legs and left your bedroom, making your way down the stairs of the loft and over to the couch where Derek was sat reading.

“Again?”

You simply nodded and he sighed, reaching out he wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you sat down, pulling you into his side.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), I really am. But we had no other choice, you know that.”

You simply nodded, because it was true and you knew that.

Derek had no choice when he killed Peter in front of you, for years you visited Peter, watching him just a shell of himself, then to find out he was the alpha killed people?

It hurt like hell, and then you lost him for the second time, this time for good, right in front of you.

“I can’t… I can’t stay here…” you whispered.

“I know, it’s why I packed your bags in your car when you went to bed…”

You nodded and he sighed heavily.

“Will you at least stay here tonight?”

You nodded, and Derek stayed up the whole night with you, watching crappy TV, and comforting you the best he could but he couldn’t do much.

Derek knew you understood why he did what he did, but he also knew that somewhere deep down part of you resented him for what he did, and he understood why.

When morning came, the gentle rays of sunshine hitting the window, you went upstairs to change and came back downstairs ti find Derek holding your keys.

“I’ll walk you out.”

“Thank you Derek, honestly. I’ve put the loft in your name, it’s yours now, okay?”

“Thank you.”

He walked out to you car, and you paused, turning back around to face his sad smile.

“I know you blame me (Y/N), and I understand.”

Reaching out, you gently hugged Derek, letting him rest his chin on your shoulder. Taking a deep breath, your closed your eyes for a second.

“I don’t blame you Derek, okay? You did what you had to do… it’s just.. I can’t… my whole life I’ve known you both…”

“I know… I know…”

You pulled away, wiping your tears with the back of your hand as you took a deep breath, smiling at him.

“You’ll come back, right?”

“I’m time, yes.” You nodded.

He nodded and watched sadly as you climbed into your car, he stood there, giving a small wave as you drive away.

He knew instantly where you were going first, you wouldn’t leave town without saying a proper goodbye to him.

You drove to the hale house, and slowly walked in, placing some white roses your brought along the way down on the floorboards.

Sitting on the dusty floor, you, placed your hand against the wood boards, fighting back the emotions that were trying to break free.

“I’m loosing my mind, this pain in my chest.. it.. it won’t go away Peter… it won’t leave…”

You let out a few tears, fiddling with the stems of one of the roses you had placed down.

“I can’t shake the nightmares… you were the only one who could calm me down… I need you here by my side…”

You sighed to yourself.

“Tell that you’re here now… tell me you have one more trick up your sleeve… just tell… just tell me fucking anything so I’m not alone!” You sobbed.

You waited, looking around, praying to every single deity you could think off that you were going to get some sort of reply.

That Peter was just going to jump out of the shadows and show that it was all just a plan he had.

But you got no reply and you buried your face in your knees as you sat crying for what you assumed was at least an hour.

When you were finally all cried out you looked down at the floor and leant down, resting your head against it.

“I need you Peter…”

With that, you got up and made your way out over to your car and drove away without bothering to look back.

You felt numb, even as you drove to your rental apartment in a whole new city, everything just felt so numb.

Empty.

You didn’t know what you were going to do, but you had enough money that Derek had given you. He said it belonged to Peter, and he wanted you to have it so you could get away from everything.

You kept in contact with Derek, calling him when he had the time to call, FaceTiming him when you couldn’t sleep and he came to visit a few times.

The months slowly slipped by, and you were finally processing everything that had happened back at Beacon Hills.

Sitting by a small lake, you were watching as the sunrise gently bounced along the small ripples of waves.

“Seriously (Y/N), you’ve been sat there all night, you must be freezing, go back to your apartment.”

Looking down at your phone, you shook your head a little bit.

“I’m fine, it’s pretty safe here actually, it’s just outside the city, practically had to fight my way through bushes to get here.”

Derek chuckled softly, shaking his head as he sat up from the couch and grabbed his phone as he started to walk around.

“I’ve got to go, pack meeting in five minutes, can I call you after?”

“Sure, but my phone might die. Tell everyone I said hi and that I’m okay.”

“I will, talk to you soon. And go home.”

You hung up and sighed, resting your chin on your knees as you carried on staring out at the water.

“He’s right you know, it’s cold.”

You screamed, jumping up you grabbed the gun from your boot and pointed it at the man approaching.

Your hands were shaking wildly, but even so, you knew you could land a solid shot, and so did he, which is way he stopped walking and raised his hands, giving you a small grin.

“You wouldn’t really shoot me, would you?” He teased a little bit.

You trembled, shaking your head a little bit.

“You.. you’re not… you’re not real… I just.. I just haven’t slept for so long I’m hallucinating…”

“Oh darling, I can assure you I am very much real. I can prove it if you’d really like. Just lower the gun, wolfsbane bullets have quite a nasty sting to them.”

You shook your head, keeping the gun aimed at him.

“You’re not him… you’re not Peter…”

“I am Peter, just lower the gun sweetheart.”

Peter slowly crept forward, and when you made no attempt to shoot him he took it as a good sign and carried on walking until he was right in front of you.

The barrel of your gun was pressed to his heart, but he stayed right there.

You closed your eyes and took a shaky breath.

“You’re not real… go away…”

“Look at me…” he whispered.

You didn’t reply, and he sighed, reaching up he placed his hand over the hand that was holding your gun.

His touch felt so real, so warm.

“I’m here…”

You shook your head, refusing to open your eyes.

“(Y/N), look at me. Just open your eyes okay? Open them and you’ll see I’m real, I’m here right in front of you, okay?”

You refused ti say anything back to him.

Peter slowly lowered your hand, taking the gun from your fingers he slowly lowered it to the floor and set it down before he stood back up.

Peter raised his hands to gently cradle your cheeks between them, running his thumbs along your skin.

“Say something…”

“I… I don’t know what to say…”

“Tell me that you love me, tell me that you hate me, scream, yell, cry, swear, curse, threat, anything. Just tell me anything so I know I’m not alone.”

You still hadn’t opened your eyes, and Peter sighed, kissing your forehead.

“I made a promise to you the day we got married (Y/N), I was never going to leave you, and I would always find my way back to you. And I did, it took a while but I found you.”

You slowly opened your eyes, gazing into Peter’s sad, soft eyes and you reached up, slowly pulling his hands away from his face.

You held his hands for a few seconds before you finally raised your hand, slapping him harshly across the face.

He yelped, jumping back as he cradled his cheek.

“Okay, I deserved that, I know I did. I swear I was going to find you darling, I looked everywhere for you, and Derek wouldn’t tell me anything. I found you because I realised he transferred you my money, and I followed your transactions all the way to the city. You live water, and this is the only lake nearby. I waited day after day for you.”

You shook your head at him, letting the tears fall free as you stared up at the werewolf.

“Peter I watched you die… I watched Derek slash your throat, and I held you as you took your dying breath…”

“I know… I’m sorry, truly. I never wished for you to witness anything like that. I wasn’t me, I wasn’t in the right state of mind.”

“Are you now…?”

You watched as Peter looked away, and you sighed heavily.

“Maybe not, maybe I never will be, but I don’t care about all that. I need you to know that I’m never going to leave you, even if you hate me, even if you want me gone, I’m not going.”

You turned away from him, going back to staring at the water.

You heard Peter walk closer, and he dropped his jacket over your shoulders, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he stood watching the water with you.

He watched to reach out, just hold you and never let go, but he knew better.

He had to wait for you to approach him, for you to process everything and finally tell him whatever it is you wanted.

If you wanted him to walk over flaming hot coals barefoot, if you wanted him to walk through hell, to eat mistletoe, sit in a field of wolfsbane, he would do it if you asked him to.

He needed you.

He needed you by his side, you were his sanity.

He couldn’t loose you, he couldn’t leave you, you were everything to him

[onetimetwotimesthreetimess]

“How fucking dare you?” Magnus seethes. “Why would you do that?” He screams as he stops Alec and turns him around.

Alec’s face is devoid of any emotion. Anything other than rage that is.

It’s the one emotion that Magnus had not witnessed on the other man’s face in all the time he’s known him. Or this version of him knows him.

“Why would I do that?” Alec snaps back. “You have the audacity the ask me that?”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“The accident and amnesia weren’t your fault but you think you can cheat on me. Parade your new girlfriend around the world. Take every single thing from me and I wouldn’t do anything?”

Magnus throws his hands up in the air. He had asked Alec time and again. And all Alec had ever replied was with a smile.

“You said you were okay with it.”

Alec scoffs indignantly. “Of course I’m not okay with it. We’re fucking married.”

“Not anymore,” Magnus points out. “Not after what you just did.”

“This marriage was over the second you woke up.”

It doesn’t seem real. The words. This person. Alec’s not known Alec for long but this doesn’t seem real.

But Magnus has a habit of judging people wrong when he’s desperate for love. He assumes his past self did the same with this man.

Magnus might be horrible judge of character but he’s pretty fucking amazing at hurting someone with words.

“I am glad I forgot you, Alexander Gideon Lightwood,” his voice is stern, and he’s stating at Alec, pointing every word at his chest. “I do not want to remember the version of myself who could ever fall in love with someone as vicious as you.”

Alec doesn’t seem fazed as he replies, “I want you to clear out my house by the end of the week.”

Magnus blinks in astonishment.

“The loft is mine.”

“You should have thought of that before putting that in the pre-nup.”

Magnus chuckles dryly, but a sob comes out. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m not doing anything to you, Magnus. You did this to me,” Alec swallows. “This is what you get.”

“I want you to know that I’ll be going back home to someone I love. While, you will be alone. So, you can take all of this from me. But you can never take the rest.”

Alec chuckles.

He loves when Alec smiles. When there’s a grin on his face. Even when Alec Lightwood says the most hurtful things, he looks absolutely stunning.

Magnus hates that.

“You think a marriage with you wasn’t lonely, Magnus?”

-the day I write this HIADT scene, it’s over for you bitches

[midnightlitterateur]

Rugan likes the puss

Pairing - Rugan/ oc m/f

Summary - Rugan tries to be a gentleman but Leah Keene has other ideas.

Warnings - age difference, m/f, penetration,

18+

The chill of the night air on her face was a welcome relief from the overwhelming noise of the packed tavern. Too many people was fine if you were working in a crowd, you could make a decent living from their pockets but when it came to socialising Leah preferred something a little more subdued. The Blushing Mermaid was anything but. She stumbled out into the darkness, quietly slipping away from the small group of friends that she had been drinking with when she saw a tiny speck of burning pipeweed glowed weakly in the darkness. Someone must have had the same idea and sought a little solitude on the bow of the ship that gave the dingy little grief hole its name.

“Who goes?” the smoker called out into the night. Wary of the intrusion. The night concealed the man like a cloak, only the small ember casting its meagre light lit his lips as he pulled the smoke into his lungs. “I'm not looking for company, so fuck off”

Leah smiled, recognising Rugans voice instantly “What's it to you, Zhent? I’ll go where I damn well please.” she slurred. She liked Rugan, he was a good laugh. They got along well on the rare occasions that their paths crossed. Though their respective organisations would not be too thrilled that they were on friendly terms.

“Sounds like someone had a good night!” he chuckled from his perch, “hows tricks, kid?” he hopped down from the table and headed towards the light of a flaming torch. The creaking of his leather armour was almost imperceptible as he passed her.

“Can’t complain. You?” She answered in a friendly tone as she followed him into the small ring of light. Rugan was smiling warmly, Gods that smile. He was fucking gorgeous. The bastard.

“Same shit different day, mate.” The light of the rolled pipeweed cigarette moved towards her in the dark as he offered Leah a drag. She took a long pull then handed it back, letting the smoke escape from her nose. “I'd ask you if you fancied a pint but I think you might have had enough.” he teased, watching her sway in the shadows.

“I'm not that drunk but I'm not going back in there, too many dickheads. Might just go home.”

“I’m headed that way. I’ll walk with you.” he spoke casually but he didn't like the thought of her walking through the docks at night drunk and alone.

“Alright but I am definitely not drunk enough to drop my knickers for you, Zhent. So don't even try.” she warned as she teetered towards the ramp that led down to the road.

“You wear knickers?” he ribbed, following along behind her, ready to catch her should she take a tumble.

“…metaphorical knickers,” she shrugged, eliciting a chuckle from her companion.

They walked back through the lower city toward Heapside Strand, chatting about everything and nothing, just enjoying each other's company as they slowly headed towards Leah's loft. Even breaking into song at one point much to the annoyance of the sleeping residents of the Lower City. They definitely didn’t want to hear “A wizard’s staff has a knob at the end” in the middle of the night. Finally they arrived at her door.

“Do you fancy a nightcap?” She slurred, leaning against the door fumbling with the keys as she tried and failed to find the keyhole.

“I shouldn't…shipping out at dawn,” he stepped closer, “but I want you to know, there is nothing I would like more.”

“Really?” she whispered, trying her very best to sound alluring. “Seems to me if you're that thirsty…you should drink.”

Their lips met softly, tentatively. Briefly. Rugan pulled away, “You are way too drunk for this,” he said with a rueful smile, “get yourself to bed. I’ll come find you when I get back.”

Leah groaned with disappointment “Oh come on…” she started to complain, losing her footing and taking a tumble into some crates. “Oww,” she sobbed dejectedly.

“Woah,” Rugan picked her up, “come here.” He shook his head with a smirk and took her door keys. He carried her up the narrow staircase and across the room to her bed, which was currently occupied by the fluffiest cat he had ever seen.

Leah turned to see him scratching Crumbs forehead. “Straight to the pussy…” she shook her head, chiding him mockingly.

“Well you know me, lass. I don’t waste time.” He smiled and shooed Crumbs from the bed.

Leah stared at him sleepily in the low light that emanated from a lantern she had forgotten to put out before she left. He was a handsome bastard. Strong and sweet in equal measure. “Stay,” she whispered, reaching out for him as he pulled off her boots and threw them onto the floor.

Rugan froze, mired in indecision. “You are in no fit state, little lady.” He said, full of regret as the words left his mouth, “and Nine Fingers will have my head - both of em.”

“I am a womanly woman, I will have you know! And just because I've had a drink doesn’t mean I can’t make my own decisions. Now get them pants off!”

He took off his boots and unbuckled his cuirass then climbed onto the bed. “You’ll be the death of me, Leah Keene. I swear.”

“Shut up,” she giggled softly as he settled between her thighs. Wrapping her arms around his neck she pulled him in for a kiss. Their tongues pressed and glided over each other in a sinuous dance, their kiss became more and more urgent as they stripped away the rest of their clothing. Rugan's mouth slid sloppily down her neck, dragging his soft lips to her tightened nipples. Her back arched and her fingers tangled in his blonde hair, urging him on with gasps and groans as he suckled gently on each. He began to move lower, aiming to use his skilled tongue on her aching clit but she clutched his hair and pulled him back to her lips. Her other hand reached for his stiff, dripping cock. Pressing the tip into her warmth impatiently. Rugan took the hint and dipped his hips, sheathing himself in her heat with a soul deep groan. Pulling out and slamming into her again and again as she moaned and cursed loudly beneath him. Clawing desperately at his muscular back as she tried to hold on to something as he destroyed her body and mind. Deep red trophies that he would later show off to his fellow Zhentarim.

Their sweat slicked bodies moved together, chasing the high. It coiled low in her belly, the prickly heat behind her trembling knees uncomfortably itchy. The pressure building until it consumed her in an aching release. Exhilarating and electrifying. She sobbed his name lustily into the night as she shuddered with pleasure as the walls of her cunt rhythmically fluttered around his dick.

Leah trembled beneath him, coming down from her peak, breathless and glowing. “Give me a minute,” she pleaded, flinching from overstimulation every time he moved.

Rugan reined himself in not without difficulty. Leaning to claim her lips in a lingering kiss that threatened to become so much more.

He pulled himself up to his knees and looked down upon her, gloriously messy and dishevelled. Her beautiful tits heaving with every breath.

His hands slid down her narrow waist, pulling her hips into his, burying his throbbing cock to the hilt. Her moan sending a thrill straight through him.

“Yes…” she gasped quietly, covering his hands with hers.

He pulled out, repeating his last stroke. Slowly building up speed as he used her to pump his cock. Absolute filth poured from her lips between ragged screams of exhilarated desperation. It was all too much for him.

“Ugh… I’m gonna come” he groaned, warning her of his imminent release, “Leah…oh Gods!”

“Do it! Do it!” Leah looked down between them watching his cock as he fucked her. “Don’t stop, I need it…” she threw her head back with a rapturous groan, clenching tightly around his thick cock as she came for him.

Rugan wanted to pull out, he really did but…fuck it.

Every fibre of his being tensed, deliciously teetering on the edge before following her down deep into complete bliss. It was over far too fast. He slumped into the crook of her neck, breathless and shuddering and a little bit sad.

Leah ghosted her fingertips up and down his back as came to. “You alright?” She asked, nuzzling into his cheek.

“Yeah…that was...” He raised himself up on shaky arms, “better than I imagined.”

“Than you imagined?” She teased gently. “Do you think about this a lot?”

“There were nights I'd go to sleep thinking about this, out there on the road,” he confessed in a soft whisper, his cock still sheathed within her delicate walls. “What it would feel like to have Leah Keene wrapped around my dick.”

She gasped “Rugan! You're old enough to be my…” Leah caught a fit of the giggles. “My…”

“Don’t you dare say it!” He chuckled along with her.

She sniggered and raised her hands cupping his stubbly cheeks and trying to kiss him with taught smiling lips.

Rugan turned his face in faux petulance, “Nah. No kisses for you.”

“Aww no! I prefer older men, Roogs. Someone my age couldn’t fuck me like you just did.” Her palms slid down to his hairy chest, “I just got railed.”

“Yeah, you did,” he pressed his forehead to hers, “and if you're not careful it’ll happen again, little girl.”

Leah squealed with delight “Is that a threat or a promise?”

A heavy silence laced with affection settled over them both and Rugan lowered his lips to hers. Barely feeling the tickle of their mingled breath before the gulls squabbling outside rudely interrupted. He turned to see a sliver of light cutting its way through the gap in the shutters.

“Ugh,” Rugan groaned, “I'm late!”

He hopped out of bed and grabbed his trousers, pulling them on, “I’ve gotta go, princess. Zarys will have my balls.”

Leah turned on her side and watched him dress, mourning the loss of his perfect body, “I thought she already had em,” she jabbed with a smile. “I heard she keeps em in a little pouch round her neck, gives em a little jiggle when she wants you - it’s got tinkly little bells on it.”

“Very funny,” he retorted sarcastically, “You’ve sobered up quick.” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he buckled his belt.

Leah shrugged, smirking as she held his gaze. “I might have exaggerated a bit,”

“We’ll have words about this, young lady. Just you wait.” He gave her a quick kiss then jogged down the stairs. It would be a good long while before she saw him again and when she did her whole life had been turned upside down.

[lemidnightlitterareur]

The chill of the night air on her face was a welcome relief from the overwhelming noise of the packed tavern. Too many people was fine if you were working in a crowd, you could make a decent living from their pockets but when it came to socialising Leah preferred something a little more subdued. The Blushing Mermaid was anything but. She stumbled out into the darkness, quietly slipping away from the small group of friends that she had been drinking with when she saw a tiny speck of burning pipeweed glowed weakly in the darkness. Someone must have had the same idea and sought a little solitude on the bow of the ship that gave the dingy little grief hole its name.

“Who goes?” the smoker called out into the night. Wary of the intrusion. The night concealed the man like a cloak, only the small ember casting its meagre light lit his lips as he pulled the smoke into his lungs. “I'm not looking for company, so fuck off”

Leah smiled, recognising Rugans voice instantly “What's it to you, Zhent? I’ll go where I damn well please.” she slurred. She liked Rugan, he was a good laugh. They got along well on the rare occasions that their paths crossed. Though their respective organisations would not be too thrilled that they were on friendly terms.

“Sounds like someone had a good night!” he chuckled from his perch, “hows tricks, kid?” he hopped down from the table and headed towards the light of a flaming torch. The creaking of his leather armour was almost imperceptible as he passed her.

“Can’t complain. You?” She answered in a friendly tone as she followed him into the small ring of light. Rugan was smiling warmly, Gods that smile. He was fucking gorgeous. The bastard.

“Same shit different day, mate.” The light of the rolled pipeweed cigarette moved towards her in the dark as he offered Leah a drag. She took a long pull then handed it back, letting the smoke escape from her nose. “I'd ask you if you fancied a pint but I think you might have had enough.” he teased, watching her sway in the shadows.

“I'm not that drunk but I'm not going back in there, too many dickheads. Might just go home.”

“I’m headed that way. I’ll walk with you.” he spoke casually but he didn't like the thought of her walking through the docks at night drunk and alone.

“Alright but I am definitely not drunk enough to drop my knickers for you, Zhent. So don't even try.” she warned as she teetered towards the ramp that led down to the road.

“You wear knickers?” he ribbed, following along behind her, ready to catch her should she take a tumble.

“…metaphorical knickers,” she shrugged, eliciting a chuckle from her companion.

They walked back through the lower city toward Heapside Strand, chatting about everything and nothing, just enjoying each other's company as they slowly headed towards Leah's loft. Even breaking into song at one point much to the annoyance of the sleeping residents of the Lower City. They definitely didn’t want to hear “A wizard’s staff has a knob at the end” in the middle of the night. Finally they arrived at her door.

“Do you fancy a nightcap?” She slurred, leaning against the door fumbling with the keys as she tried and failed to find the keyhole.

“I shouldn't…shipping out at dawn,” he stepped closer, “but I want you to know, there is nothing I would like more.”

“Really?” she whispered, trying her very best to sound alluring. “Seems to me if you're that thirsty…you should drink.”

Their lips met softly, tentatively. Briefly. Rugan pulled away, “You are way too drunk for this,” he said with a rueful smile, “get yourself to bed. I’ll come find you when I get back.”

Leah groaned with disappointment “Oh come on…” she started to complain, losing her footing and taking a tumble into some crates. “Oww,” she sobbed dejectedly.

“Woah,” Rugan picked her up, “come here.” He shook his head with a smirk and took her door keys. He carried her up the narrow staircase and across the room to her bed, which was currently occupied by the fluffiest cat he had ever seen.

Leah turned to see him scratching Crumbs forehead. “Straight to the pussy…” she shook her head, chiding him mockingly.

“Well you know me, lass. I don’t waste time.” He smiled and shooed Crumbs from the bed.

Leah stared at him sleepily in the low light that emanated from a lantern she had forgotten to put out before she left. He was a handsome bastard. Strong and sweet in equal measure. “Stay,” she whispered, reaching out for him as he pulled off her boots and threw them onto the floor.

Rugan froze, mired in indecision. “You are in no fit state, little lady.” He said, full of regret as the words left his mouth, “and Nine Fingers will have my head - both of em.”

“I am a womanly woman, I will have you know! And just because I've had a drink doesn’t mean I can’t make my own decisions. Now get them pants off!”

He took off his boots and unbuckled his cuirass then climbed onto the bed. “You’ll be the death of me, Leah Keene. I swear.”

“Shut up,” she giggled softly as he settled between her thighs. Wrapping her arms around his neck she pulled him in for a kiss. Their tongues pressed and glided over each other in a sinuous dance, their kiss became more and more urgent as they stripped away the rest of their clothing. Rugan's mouth slid sloppily down her neck, dragging his soft lips to her tightened nipples. Her back arched and her fingers tangled in his blonde hair, urging him on with gasps and groans as he suckled gently on each. He began to move lower, aiming to use his skilled tongue on her aching clit but she clutched his hair and pulled him back to her lips. Her other hand reached for his stiff, dripping cock. Pressing the tip into her warmth impatiently. Rugan took the hint and dipped his hips, sheathing himself in her heat with a soul deep groan. Pulling out and slamming into her again and again as she moaned and cursed loudly beneath him. Clawing desperately at his muscular back as she tried to hold on to something as he destroyed her body and mind. Deep red trophies that he would later show off to his fellow Zhentarim.

Their sweat slicked bodies moved together, chasing the high. It coiled low in her belly, the prickly heat behind her trembling knees uncomfortably itchy. The pressure building until it consumed her in an aching release. Exhilarating and electrifying. She sobbed his name lustily into the night as she shuddered with pleasure as the walls of her cunt rhythmically fluttered around his dick.

Leah trembled beneath him, coming down from her peak, breathless and glowing. “Give me a minute,” she pleaded, flinching from overstimulation every time he moved.

Rugan reined himself in not without difficulty. Leaning to claim her lips in a lingering kiss that threatened to become so much more.

He pulled himself up to his knees and looked down upon her, gloriously messy and dishevelled. Her beautiful tits heaving with every breath.

His hands slid down her narrow waist, pulling her hips into his, burying his throbbing cock to the hilt. Her moan sending a thrill straight through him.

“Yes…” she gasped quietly, covering his hands with hers.

He pulled out, repeating his last stroke. Slowly building up speed as he used her to pump his cock. Absolute filth poured from her lips between ragged screams of exhilarated desperation. It was all too much for him.

“Ugh… I’m gonna come” he groaned, warning her of his imminent release, “Leah…oh Gods!”

“Do it! Do it!” Leah looked down between them watching his cock as he fucked her. “Don’t stop, I need it…” she threw her head back with a rapturous groan, clenching tightly around his thick cock as she came for him.

Rugan wanted to pull out, he really did but…fuck it.

Every fibre of his being tensed, deliciously teetering on the edge before following her down deep into complete bliss. It was over far too fast. He slumped into the crook of her neck, breathless and shuddering and a little bit sad.

Leah ghosted her fingertips up and down his back as came to. “You alright?” She asked, nuzzling into his cheek.

“Yeah…that was...” He raised himself up on shaky arms, “better than I imagined.”

“Than you imagined?” She teased gently. “Do you think about this a lot?”

“There were nights I'd go to sleep thinking about this, out there on the road,” he confessed in a soft whisper, his cock still sheathed within her delicate walls. “What it would feel like to have Leah Keene wrapped around my dick.”

She gasped “Rugan! You're old enough to be my…” Leah caught a fit of the giggles. “My…”

“Don’t you dare say it!” He chuckled along with her.

She sniggered and raised her hands cupping his stubbly cheeks and trying to kiss him with taught smiling lips.

Rugan turned his face in faux petulance, “Nah. No kisses for you.”

“Aww no! I prefer older men, Roogs. Someone my age couldn’t fuck me like you just did.” Her palms slid down to his hairy chest, “I just got railed.”

“Yeah, you did,” he pressed his forehead to hers, “and if you're not careful it’ll happen again, little girl.”

Leah squealed with delight “Is that a threat or a promise?”

A heavy silence laced with affection settled over them both and Rugan lowered his lips to hers. Barely feeling the tickle of their mingled breath before the gulls squabbling outside rudely interrupted. He turned to see a sliver of light cutting its way through the gap in the shutters.

“Ugh,” Rugan groaned, “I'm late!”

He hopped out of bed and grabbed his trousers, pulling them on, “I’ve gotta go, princess. Zarys will have my balls.”

Leah turned on her side and watched him dress, mourning the loss of his perfect body, “I thought she already had em,” she jabbed with a smile. “I heard she keeps em in a little pouch round her neck, gives em a little jiggle when she wants you - it’s got tinkly little bells on it.”

“Very funny,” he retorted sarcastically, “You’ve sobered up quick.” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he buckled his belt.

Leah shrugged, smirking as she held his gaze. “I might have exaggerated a bit,”

“We’ll have words about this, young lady. Just you wait.” He gave her a quick kiss then jogged down the stairs. It would be a good long while before she saw him again and when she did her whole life had been turned upside down.

[radama-zard]

Dungeons & Drabbles - 2022

Day 24 - Mellifluous

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

FCG / Anni Aughta (Modern Human AU)

Everything about Anni was musical.

Her passions, her laugh, the way she always stepped in time with the beat.

To many she was a boisterous and nasty punk, with all the social graces of a bag of flour and a bite far worse than her already rancid bark.

To Fresh Cut Grass though, and by extension the rest of the Krook House Crew, she was a complete and utter delight. What made her an outcast to society just made her fit in here with them all the more. Her argumentative nature gave Ashton someone to safely banter and bicker with. Her more solitary nature gave Milo the space to work on their passions without worrying that they were ignoring her. After all, if Anni wanted their attention she’d make that known, loud and clear.

And with Fresh Cut Grass?

Well, he loved the music she played. Nothing was more soothing after the average death charred 3am nightmare than the sweet melodies lofting from Anni’s bedroom. Usually the violin, her weapon of choice, so to speak.

A pleased sigh slipped forth, as Fresh Cut Grass shifted their head safely in Anni’s lap, letting the gentle strokes of the bow melt their anxieties away.

“Thanks for lettin’ me listen again, Anni,” they whispered during a particularly long lull in her private bedroom performance. “I know you don't usually like letting anyone in when you're practicing, even if I think it always sounds real pretty and all…”

Anni rolled her eyes, failing to hide the affection behind the gesture from the blue eyed delight in her lap. Like she could ever be truly annoyed with them for even a second.

“You were sobbing so loud that I'm surprised you didn't wake Mi and Ash. How drunk did those fuckers get to sleep through that?”

“They're certainly due for some nasty hangovers in the morning… I’m sorry if my crying disturbed you.”

“Cut it with the apologizing bullcrap! We don't say sorry for fucking crying in this household, okay?”

“I- I know, but I was very loud, and you were trying to practice…”

“And look! I still am! Wow! It's like you didn’t disturb shit!”

Well, that was true. Sure, Anni had taken a 15 minute break to pull them from their bedroom (gosh they hated sleeping alone… but Ashton, with Milo in their lap, had fallen asleep in front of his door, blocking Fresh Cut Grass from getting in), and into her own. Had had to comfort and hold them and he shook and sobbed and sullied her favorite Metallica t-shirt.

But once they'd calmed down she'd motioned for him to lie down and had picked her violin right back up. Anni allowed him to lay their head upon her lap, and well, everything had been fine from there. She hadn't even complained once, something they knew was hard for her.

Anni really was trying her best for him.

“... Thank you, Anni. Really.”

“For what? For the great tunes? ‘Cause that's the only thing you can thank me for. The rest…” Anni paused, slowly turning a peg to adjust a string. “... It's what you've done for me before. Without a single fucking complaint, even when I'm bein’ a fucking bitch about it. That means a lot. So it's no big deal. I don't like seeing you upset, Sunshine.”

Oh.

They hadn't realized it had meant so much. Fresh Cut Grass had only been doing what they thought was right, had only wished to make her feel better. They didn't like seeing her in pain, not one bit. Anni deserved so much more than life had given her.

Everyone in this beat up little house did.

“The music is beautiful, as always. I saw a word a few days ago that I think describes you pretty well. Mel… Mel-li-flu-us? Mellifluous!”

“What's that mean?”

“It's a sound that's pleasingly smooth and musical to hear! Like your violin, or when you hum along to show tunes or just your voice in general. It's a very fitting description, don't you think?”

“.... Fuck you’re a sweetheart.”

A deep red spread from Anni’s cheeks, glowing as soft and pretty as the moonlight that filtered through her bedroom window. Fresh Cut Grass thought it only added to her charming loveliness.

“You are too, Anni. But don't worry! I won't tell another soul!”

“You damn well better not! This shit is for you and you only, got it?”

“Yes mam!”

“Uck, don't make me regret my soft spot for ya…”

Fresh Cut Grass laughed, and Anni couldn't help but think how mellifluous it sounded as well.

Fuck. She really was going soft, wasn't she?

[winderlylandchime]

2/3 And we are now at the scene where Ted and Blake see each other again *squeals like a crazy person* ‘BLAKE! HES BACK! THATS THE MAN THAT TED DESERVES! Im so fucking happy he’s back! Please tell me he’s back, i missed you so much baby boy’ ‘who the fuck is this dude? You know who would’ve made this finale better? *looks at me all sad* The pickle guy!’ And we are now at the scene where they say bye to mel and linds and and lindsay says she meant justin when she asked if Brian will be okay ‘why wouldnt he be okay? It was just a called off wedding which is a good thing. They’ll be fine. (Brian says bye to gus) this fucking sucks. He cares so much about that kid and they took him away. I kinda wish he called him sunny boy though. Fuck this thing’ and we are officially at the last Britin scene and this is where i realized he has no fucking clue whats about to happen. ‘Wait whats going on? What flight? What? *he is now a little teary eyed and has moved from sitting back to being on edge of the seat with his elbows on his knees while covering his mouth and he is stressed* WAIT HES LEAVING? Hes going to new york? What the fuck is going on? No. (Justin says “ill be back” and he officially tears up) no no no thats not what its supposed to happen. He just said everything costs a fortune! So he’s clearly not ready! It was one review! LINDSAY YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR SINS! Nooooo’ Brian says justin doesnt know if theyll see each other again ‘FUCK DOES HE NOT KNOW THAT? WHAT ARE YOU SAYING? PLEASE GO WITH HIM! WHAT IS HAPPENING’ Brian starts his only time speech *he now started crying a little while being completely silent but when Brian said “never again” he chocked up* *said through tears while sounding like hes being chocked* ‘it does matter. It matters to me.’ *cries even more while speaking very softly* he kept the rings. Of course he did.’ Justin says they dont need rings ‘oh now you say that. Where was this a season ago?‘ and now thee sex scene is being shown and he has tears streaming down his face and is completely silent but occasionally sobs *huge gasp* ‘WAIT IS THAT? IS THAT THE PILOT SEX SCENE BEING SHOWN ON THEM? THEIR FIRST AND LAST TIME? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? Did they really do that? Who is that sick in the head to do that to me? What the fuck is happening. This is fucking killing me bro’ the fade out scene is about to happen and he is fully crying while having both of his arms in his hair and Brian looks at Justin and then puts his hand in his hair and this man started full on sobbing. ‘No no no no, why would they do that? They deserve a happy ending together! Theyve been through too much to not end up happy and together. Come on why? (Fade out scene happens) *starts crying even more* NOOOO WHAT THE FUCK WAS THIS? THATS SO FUCKED UP’ And now its showing Brian alone at his loft and my brother is still crying but he’s trying to calm down ‘so he’s just alone now? (Mikey walks in) bro fuck off, we’re kinda going through something here.’ ‘I dont get him. Brian finally accepted that he is growing old or up or whatever and maturing and that it doesnt make it the end of the world. Something that michael literally told him to do and now its all SOME THINGS ARENT MEANT TO CHANGE. I wonder what thats aimed at. Fuck you all!’ ‘No we arent dancing mike! We are sad because Blondie is gone. BRING HIM BACK! NOW. I DEMAND A REFUND!’ Brian and Mikey start dancing ‘what the fuck is this? No i hate this. Why am i crying again?’ The club starts changing with the lights and everything and he is once again fully sobbing. He literally fell back on the couch and covered his face and cried and then went back to watching ‘whats going on? What the fuck is going on? Are we all hallucinating the club or? So the club is back? Oh fuck them for this song! I cried at that hospital scene because of it and now here it is again.’

who the fuck is this dude? You know who would’ve made this finale better? *looks at me all sad* The pickle guy!’ HA! George! RIP George and Vic (maybe they’re hanging out in heaven?)

LINDSAY YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR SINS Well, Brother Anon, let me introduce you to “anti-character” fics and alllllllll the anti-Lindsay fics in this fandom. LOL.

Oh god the only time scene. Look, I LOVE THAT SPEECH. It is an incredible speech about the nature of love and how it transcends time, space, and universe and how it persists. No one can listen to that speech and tell me that Brian hasn’t changed. It is incredible.

I just don’t understand why Justin has to go to NYC ORRRRR Brian could go with him. You know? Gus is in Canada, Mikey is married and boring, and NYC has always been his dream. So like. WHY.

It’s like they went to the stupidest idea in the world aka marriage and then overcorrected to the equally stupidest idea in the whole world, separating them.

AND FINE IF YOU HAVE TO SEPARATE THEM IT IS OKAY THEIR LOVE TRANSCENDS SPACE AND TIME AND UNIVERSE BUT…

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

The Perfect Life

Part Five 

Summary- 5.1k Dark!Steve x You x Dark!Bucky. You took your chances out in the sunflowers and Bucky still managed to find you. Now your caught in the super soldiers grasp and the barn is his destination to break you. Your sweet pleads can not dissuade him. 

Warnings- Non Con Theme, Orgasm Denial and Knife Use, Mentions of blood. This is an 18+ Blog.

Part 4 

“Bucky, I will behave. Whatever you want.” You cried into his shoulder as you felt the barn's darkness swallow you whole. The last memories of this place where they broke you made you quake and shiver. Steve wrapping you in the ropes, Bucky running the blade over you while they both took their time breaking you in. 

No it can't happen again. 

“I- I can do what I did for Steve.” You offered as he swung you down onto a pile of straw on the barns floor. You twisted to pull yourself away, but he was quick to drag you back and shoved you onto your back, his weight holding you down, ignoring the pleading. 

“I know what you did for Steve.” Bucky said, his eyes cold as he snatched your wrists to yank above your head and lash a coil of rope around one, pulling it tight around them so you couldn't wriggle out of the bindings, but loose enough he could roll you from your back to your stomach. “And one day, I will see you on your knees swallowing my cock.” He sat back and gripped your chin, making you blink teary eyed up at him. “But when that happens it's because you want to. Not because you have to.” 

“Bucky I will never want to.” 

He studied you, again his touch gentle on your face as his face was a thunderous anger brimming in his greyish blue, resembling a summer storm just about to release. “You will be eating those words one day.” He shifted off your body and unbuttoned your jeans to yank them off, your flailing legs trying to kick at him but he was quicker to dodge flying feet and tossed your jeans away. Monsters didn’t care.

“Fuck you Bucky, you know this shit is wrong. What you two are doing to me.” Anger welling through you, knowing that your pleading wasn't going to make him stop. Nothing was going to make them stop. 

Bucky stretched one leg to the corner of the mattress and tilted your hip enough when you caught him in the chest, right where you had stabbed him with the tip of the knife. It made him hiss at the sting, bright white teeth snapping together as his mouth turned to a sneer while he bound one ankle hurriedly. His palm smacked harshly against your ass, digging his fingers in the flesh. “Same argument every time Doll. We’re mistreating you...” he let you flip back into place and wrapped the rope around your ankle. Making you spread eagle now on the mattress as he rose above you, admiring you all spread out for him. “... This is what you think of us, or me? Fine. Then that is how I will treat you.” He reached down to give a yank on your ropes to make sure you weren't going anywhere before he strode away, leaving you all alone. 

“Bucky... ? “ You called after him with a shaky voice, but he left you all alone in the dark barn. The soft coo of disturbed birds trilled above you in the hay loft and slivers of moonlight sliced through busted beams above, putting the whole place in shadows. 

And the shadows played with your mind, waiting for one of them to come out and claim you as before, this was a living nightmare, so if Steve showed back up suddenly, it really wouldn't surprise you. 

Just as helpless as before, your mind created devastating scenarios. Brutally being destroyed made you squirm more, the ropes rubbing wickedly in your wrists but never loosening. Of course you should have known better, Bucky would be an efficient knot maker. 

Your mouth felt dry, your body hyper aware of the slightest breeze going through the barn, the straw underneath you, the prickle of the old ropes in your wrists and ankles as well as the angle Bucky left you in. You did your best to calm yourself, whatever was coming you could handle. You hoped. 

He didn't leave you alone for too long, soon the door creaked and a twist of your head showed him striding back in. Having changed into a pair of loose grey sweats, bare chested and in his hand a silver flash of the kitchen knife you had brought with you. He must have gone back to retrieve it. 

“What are you going to do with that?” You asked, looking at him warily and trying to shift away from him as much as the ropes allowed. 

Bucky spared you a glance wriggling in distress on the hay pile , twisting your hands to tug at the ropes, panting slightly as your eyes glazed in fear and mistrust. “Whatever I want Y/N, because I’m a monster who just takes what I want without caring about others.” 

You rolled your body as he sank to his knees next to you, trying to avoid him, but he crowded into your space and felt the suffocation of his much larger body smothering yours into the scratchy straw. It prickled down your back and along the back of your thighs, making your skin crawl in the process. It would have been maddening if you weren't so focused on the man above you or the cold silver knife that you stupidly thought would keep you safe before. 

Now he was going to use it on you. 

Bucky twisted the flat of the blade to trail along your quivering stomach, your chest rising rapidly in your panic thinking that you were going to feel the knife press sharply to split you open. The blade was cool on your heated skin, ice cold to you that the steel of it felt like it was burning you. “Bucky don’t.” 

“Don’t what Doll? According to you, this is what I am.” He moved to straddle you, his heavier weight making you sink into the hay, trapping your thighs flat beneath him. His palm fell forward while he leaned forward, his eyes roving up your naked body, a storm cloud grey swirling pattern in his eyes while his pupils widened like a dark moon. “Monster, say it again.” The tip of the blade dragged between your cleavage to scrape your collarbone and up your neck, the tip pressing against your fluttering pulse below your neck. 

Your voice stuttered in your throat, cursing yourself for your attempt. Tears strained at the corner of your eyes as you arched your head back to strain away from the knife tip, but Bucky followed, always close enough for you to feel the pressure. 

But never close enough to actually split your skin apart, to feel the warm gush of your blood racing away. The threat was there though, a flick of his wrist could split you open. 

“Say it Doll, remind me of what I am.” He demanded again and that is when the words stuttered from you in defeat. 

“A monster Bucky, a monster. You and Steve both.” you sobbed out and he smirked cooly while dropping his head to drag his tongue over a taunt nipple, the blade threatening to press into your jugular so you couldn't move, couldn't even jolt in surprise. 

“A monster that is going to consume you.” He nipped at your nipple, making it sting enough so you let yourself choke on a sob. Sliding further down, his knife started to drag back down your chest, the tip welting your skin enough to scratch a faint line down your body. The only relief of that was the knife wasn’t pressed to your jugular, able to twist your head in just the tiniest big of freedom once more 

“Please don't Bucky…” 

“You don't get to ask for any favors Y/N.” He snapped with a slight bite to the flesh of your belly below your belly button. “You're mine to do what I want with.” His other hand, the whirl of mechanics gears cut through your harsh breathing whimpers and his grunts as he pressed his nose into the curls on your mound, inhaling your intimate scent deep into his lungs. The cool hand pressed your thighs open wider than they already were, dragging fingers through folds that were dry for now. 

You were too scared to be aroused at the way Bucky treated your body, his promising threats making you distracted. But he wasn't having that, the feel of his digits hurt as he chased that bud. 

“Can’t even get wet for me Doll? Make it easier on yourself?” He taunted as he arched his brow at you. You shook your head a moment to answer and shuddered when he spread your pussy folds apart, admiring the pink flesh for a moment before he spat on you, spreading through your warm core to lube you. 

“Shouldn't matter to me, your comfort.” He informed you while he went back to pressing his mouth close to your core, tendrils of his hair falling forward to pool against the top of your mound, tangling in the curls there. “I should just fuck you raw, right?” Pink tip of his tongue circled your clit, and this time the tiny little bud was starting to throb tenderly, your body did arch on its own accord and he let the knife follow your body's movements, not letting it cut at you.

“Bucky…” You gritted your teeth, hating that you even let it escape. He hummed against your clit, sending a jolt through your system while he suckled and kissed your clit, the sharp tip of the knife sinking slightly into your skin near your hip, dragging down to make a red welt, tiny beads of blood welling up. 

You didn't even notice the slight sting as he flattened his tongue, lapping at your clit in quick flicks. His eyes lifted knowing, watching the heave of your breasts as you tried breathing in deep enough to keep your calm. “Taste so good, I might just stay here all day Doll. Eat you out as long as I want.” Another drag of his tongue through your folds was followed by two quick nicks of the knife tip to your hip, slightly deeper than before, the pleasure of his tongue lapping through your cunt was matched with the stinging sharpness on your hip, both distracting as to what was going on.  

“Wh-what are you doing to me Bucky?” You asked with a watery quiver and he buried his face into your cunt, tossing the knife far enough away that you couldn't reach it and grabbing your hips to stop your squirming, which made you go mindless. 

The sound was downright filthy, his grunts and groans followed with messy sucks and kisses fucking you on his tongue till you were so close, his nose bumping against your clit to keep you rubbing your cunt into his face, wanting more, needing more. 

You were SO CLOSE. 

Clenching on his tongue and your mindless pleases uttered above him, he quickly yanked away just before you crested. Lifting your head with arousal blown pupils, you rocked your hip, trying to get him to put his mouth on you again. But he sat back, the lower half of his face glistening with you. 

His gaze still cold seeing you withering in the hay. “Bucky, please.” 

“You tried to leave Y/N, you don’t deserve to cum. You have to earn that.” He leaned over and was sure to kiss you, full of tongue and teeth so he could spread your taste through your mouth while you were left not reaching any satisfaction, still trying to find your release and wanting to cry for not getting it. 

“Are you leaving me here Bucky?” you whined out when he pulled away, spreading your folds to tease you just a little, the slightest touch making your lids flutter but he yet again never let it get further than that. “That's what heartless fuckers do Y/N, you can stay in the barn.” He pushed to a stand. “My mark though… looks good on you.” Your gaze dropped to your hip, that was really stinging now. You saw streaks of blood welting around a B. 

“You cut me?” You cried out, struggling in your bindings. Bucky gave a nod while going to collect the knife. 

“I marked you Doll. A reminder of who owns you.” He softly said over his shoulder as he headed for the door and left you to lay there, body aching in more ways than one. 

You were back to being helpless and you screamed in absolute frantic frustration, cursing them with everything you could think of and sobbing uncontrollably until you felt like your body was drained of every last drop you had left to offer. 

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

Bucky went back into the house. The cold house, it felt empty without your presence in there. His hand shook slightly holding the knife you took from the butcher's block and he tossed it loudly into the sink, little droplets of your blood whisking along the steel harshness and down the drain. 

“A few days out there will remind her.” He muttered to himself, trying to justify his actions. Still he could taste your sweetness on his lips with a dart of his tongue collecting, and a raging hard on in his sweats. It was hard not to fuck you in the hay, to keep you clenching there in heated agony with denial. 

This wasn't what he nor Steve wanted, hell he wanted more of what you two had the day before, lazy days of reading and then cooking for one another. Tiredly he climbed the stairs, heading for a cool shower and jerked off in the shower. Steve had told him that it might take a while till they could convince you that you were right where you belonged. 

Bucky hated this, hated having to break you. But he was good at it. He could be patient. It would be worth it in the end. 

Cold water streamed over his steaming body as he fisted his erection, palm slapping against the shower wall as he pictured you so willingly on your knees, smiling up at him with want. 

One day. 

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

How much can a person take till they break? It was a question you were going to find out, as Bucky was set on edging you over and over for days, every time you thought you were able to control that one thing, he proved you wrong. Your body responded to him, each and every time he descended on you, betraying you in the most mindless way. Your muscles screamed in the restraints, wanting to fold on yourself till you were small as possible to combat the fluttering flame that made your lower belly clench now at just the sight of him. 

Your tears, your pleas, did nothing to stop him. Every time he would end it with a clashing kiss and whispered reminder that you were there to do as they wanted, you had no choice. The sooner you submit to that, the better your life would be.  

“You said it yourself Doll, we do what we want, we are monsters.” and he would fit a vibrator against your cunt, taking out a small remote. Even when he wasn't there, he could be in control of you. 

“No, no Bucky, I was wrong.” You tried apologizing to him, dreading the added torture of the vibrator. Bucky just seemed to know you had relaxed and the vibrations would start like a gentle lull in your core, to edge it up slowly, hours of it till your body gave out. 

He knew you were lying to him, trying to find mercy. 

After you felt like you really couldn't take it anymore, you tried to bargain with him. Eyes pleading as you looked up at him. “I promise I can be good, your good girl. You will be so proud of me, please Bucky.” Your voice was so timid, so sweet, so soft. You were giving in to him. 

It almost broke the man, his hands lingering at the ties holding you in place, but his forehead dipped to yours and pressed his lips to yours. He felt you surge, so accepting of it that it gave him hope. 

“Soon Doll… you are almost there.” his fingers curled in you, stroking your fluttering walls till he once more pulled away. 

You were close, so close, so close you thought as your tired wrung out body tensed once more, wanting to crash and held on the edge, denied of pleasure and drained of the will to fight.

Now and then you would fall into fitful sleep, when your body gave out and you sunk into nothing. But it never lasted all that long, always being on edge. You were jerked awake once more by the creak of the door and you expected to see Bucky come back for the sweet torture of your body. 

But it wasn't your dark Bucky coming, no it was golden hair and blue eyed storm, massive as his boots thudded against the old dusty boards of the floor stalking towards you. 

Steve must have just come home because his suit was looking worn for days, his beard a bit more rugged, grown out. He squatted next to you, tracing a finger down your quivering belly where you rolled slightly under his touch, panting slightly as the vibrations started humming through you, Bucky had turned the vibrator back on.

“Oh Sweetheart, do you know how disappointed I am to hear you misbehaved?” Steve tutted as he circled your belly button, pressing a hand against your mound to make the vibrations more intense. 

“I was bad, but I learned, I swear Steve. Let me show Bucky I can be good.” You squirm with a whine. “Just make it stop.” 

He tilted his head, his eyes roving up and down your sweat streaked body, quivering in your restraints. His gaze stopped at the B that had now scarred into your hip, his hand sliding to cover it, his thumb tracing the loops that made up the letter. His jaw clenched slightly, fingers digging into your hip possessively before he pushed to a stand

A sob broke when you thought he was going to leave you laying there but he leaned over you with taunting sush, his fingers worked on the ties. “Hush now Sweetheart, I just came back, you really think I’m leaving you here all alone.” he directed and the ties fell loose, your arms dropping that made you scream at the sudden release. Your muscles having been long stretched in your restraints were burning in relief at being loose, you curled into a fetal position to get rid of the vibrating toy, gasping in relief when you were finally free from it all. Soon your ankles were released and Steve reached down to scoop you into his arms. 

“Promise to behave right Sweetheart?” 

“Yes, please Steve just take me out of here.” You pulled in closer to him, your arms circling his neck and closing your eyes to hide your face against his shoulder. While carrying you out, Steve gave a pleased smile. 

Maybe they finally have you where they want you. Compliant, the perfect housewife. 

Steve brought you into the quiet house and right up the stairs towards your yellow sunflower bedroom. He set you down in front of the bathroom door, nodding towards the over sized shower. “Go start the water and I will be right there.” You give a nod, immediately obeying what he told you to do. 

Steve watched as you carefully walked away from him, sure you were steady on your feet and started to undress from his midnight blue stealth suit. The rush of water sounded off the porcelain tub and a whisk of the curtain told him you were waiting for him. Fisting his hand on his cock a moment to control the throbbing, seeing you all subdued spread eagle in the hay had gotten him worked up, but even more was Bucky's mark on you. You belonged to both of them, seeing you with Bucky's signature, well that made a part of him feral. Needing to lay a claim on you. 

Following you into the tub, he found you standing under the hot spray, head tilted back as it ran rivers down your body, swirling at your feet to escape down the drain. Your skin was turning pink from the heat and Steve reached for your hips, pulling you back into him where he rutted slightly against your plump ass while he brushed his chin against your shoulder. 

The scratch made you inhale sharply, a slight whine rising from the back of your throat. You were so sensitive that your body still ached. “Steve…” 

“Mmhh, you are going to be a good girl for me, I have been gone a long time.” His hands roamed up your body to cover your breasts, kneading and rolling his fingers against your nipples, pulling expertly. “And I know Bucky left you so close, but never quite able to cum, right Sweetheart?” His tone gruff in that way that made you take notice, your body tensing for him; thighs clenching, pussy weeping, breathing coming in pants. He pulled a bit harder when you didn't answer right away. 

“Y-yes Steve.” 

He hummed a bit, turning you to face him, backing you to the wall and pining you between him and the cool tiles. “I’ve missed you, a lot. Missed that sweet mouth of yours.” A kiss pressed to your lips, a swipe of tongue insisting to claim you. Steve didn't give you a choice, he never did. He deepened the kiss and crushed himself into you as his hands grasped your hips and pushed you roughly up to wrap your legs around him, his cock hard between you, pressing heated into your belly. “That image of you on your knees with your lips spread on my cock got me through the nights I was away. I know that sweet cunt is ready for me.” He growled into your mouth as he spread your ass cheeks apart and rutted his hips. “I can just smell how aroused you are.” Steve didn't even try to take it easy when he filled you with a jarring thrust. 

As on edge as you had been for days, the stretch of him burned, made you cry out in a yelp but he bit your lip, sucking the air from you to swallow your cry while he thrusted into you, bottoming himself. “Don't fight this Baby, be my good girl.” 

You nodded harshly in agreement, already your swollen aroused walls squeezing around him, seeking that long denied satisfaction, you grabbed at his back, digging in your nails to hold on as his thrusts pounded into you, each one a powerful breaking force that left you going mindless. Burying your head into his shoulder with sobs of his name, Steve was efficient.

He had fucked you enough times to know what spots made you really break apart. You used to fight against it, prevent that cresting moment that gave him the satisfaction in knowing he owned your ass. 

You didn't even try this time. You squeezed around his driving cock, clawed at his upper back and mixed tears with the water raining down from above you, making your bodies sticky and slippery all at once, hair plastered to your heads. One hand to your hip, his other wrenched your head back, baring his teeth as he grunted with each movement, drops of water catching in his lashes, drizzling down to escape into his darker beard. 

Your own eyes rolled back in your head, your voice breaking with a cry of his name as you creamed around him, your body locking and he smirked with a kiss, fierce, dominating. 

No way he was done with you. 

Pulling out, he dropped you to your feet, easily holding onto you to keep you from falling when he twisted you, your face twisted against the shower tiles and his broad hairy chest pressing into your back as he smacked your ass with his palm, hard enough for you to plead out. 

“Fuck Steve, finish it.” 

“I will when I'm good and ready. Your body is so fucking ready that it will take me however many times I want you, drip my cum from your sweet little pussy all fucking night, because you. are. mine.” he was sure to make his point, his palm tapping against your ass sharply with each word, leaving your skin stinging fiercly. 

You groaned, but did not fight him. They made it clear, you were theirs. His hands wrapped around your hips, his fingers so easily finding that B that was carved into you and digging in harshly. Dropping his head close. “Bucky might have marked you, but you will never forget me once you swell up with my child.” 

And he pulled your hips out, thrusting his cock back into you. You arched your back at the impact with a fatal moan, the moan that made Steve lose it. 

He fucked into you like a man desperate, hips slamming into your ass and his body caged around yours, keeping you pressed into his chest as his mouth worked on your neck and shoulders. One hand kept a hold on your hip, holding you in place while the other roamed your chest, squeezing your tits and pressing onto your stomach. When a hand found a way between your thighs, you broke. 

You felt yourself sag as you came crashing again, and Steve filled you with his seed this time. Sure to pump himself in you over and over even after the hot spurts deep in your clenching core stopped and he panted against your shoulder, finally going still. “Can’t have you lose any Sweetheart.” 

Your eyes squeezed shut as you did your best from losing it entirely, this was your life. You could either fight it and live in some form of torture, or accept it for what it has become. 

Pulling out, he grabbed some soap and suds his hand to run over your body. Compliant, you moved the way he wanted you to, holding onto him to keep your balance. Turning you around to do your back, he mentioned out loud. “You are awful quiet Sweetheart.” 

You tilted your head into the water and stepped away to rinse off, moving aside so he could finish himself. 

“Sorry Steve, what would you like me to say?” 

He hummed as he scrubbed at himself in the shower before he tilted his head. “How about you are happy to see me? I might actually have a surprise for you. Bucky and I both do.” He cranked off the water and stepped out, drying himself rather quickly and wrapped a towel around his hips. As you climbed out, he held out an over sized towel for you to step into, moving down your back and he knelt in front of you, rubbing the back of your thighs and along the inside. 

His fingers followed droplets paths to catch, his lips pressing against your belly, while looking up. “You are beautiful, and will be more so when you are all swollen.” 

It was something you certainly could wait for. Your hands braced back against the sink to keep your balance once more, still feeling weak. In an attempt to change the subject, you looked down at him. 

“You said you had a surprise for me?” He grinned up at you before giving one last kiss to your belly before going to a stand and wrapping you in the towel. 

“It's in my bedroom with Bucky waiting for you.” he directed, gently making you continue when you paused to get dressed in your room. Clutching the towel tighter, you padded down the couple doors towards his bedroom. His door was shut so you waited in front of it while Steve’s oversized palm pressed against it, swinging it open. 

You first saw Bucky, sitting cross legged in the center of the bed. Loud purrs emitted from his lap and your eyes dropped to your curled up cat, sleeping on him with loud purrs, flicks of her tail showing her content. 

“You… you went and got my girl?” Your eyes welled up in surprise, Steve bracing his hands gently against your shoulders to lead you to the bed. 

Bucky looked up from under strands of his hair having fallen forward as he was looking down at your Suga, his fingers grazing through her fur so gently. 

You rushed to kneel on the bed, your hand quivering to reach out and pet her, but then yanked it away, looking between Bucky and Steve for permission. “Go ahead Doll.” Bucky reached out to grasp your chin and make you look at him with a smile. “You earned it.” 

You took this gift, reaching forward to wrap your hands around your cat and lifted her into your arms, pressing your face into her familiar soft fur as she squirmed a bit to get comfortable and then started head butting you with happy meows and kitten licks on your nose and forehead. 

“Where, when... How did you guys get her?” you asked incredulously at this gift. You eased her down onto the bed, while she started to clean herself and settled back down between you and Bucky. 

Bucky nodded over towards Steve who had made his way to his closet and was getting dressed. “Steve picked her up.” 

“On my way back, I swung by your apartment complex. We had all your stuff packed Y/N and put in storage. Your cat was being taken care of till I was able to go collect her.” 

You couldn't help the soft smile at seeing your baby, your fingers scratching just under her chin, taking a shuddering breath. 

“Thank you Steve, Thank you Bucky.” and both the men rumbled a ‘You’re welcome’ back. 

Part of you was so happy to see your cat, but part of you, the part that was desperate, felt your situation just get that much more desolate. 

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

It was hours later when Steve checked in on you back in your room, you were curled with your cat on your bedspread, sound asleep for probably the first time in several days. Carefully he closed the door so you could continue sleeping, turning away to go back downstairs where Bucky was to fill him in on his mission. 

As Steve heavily made his way down the stairs, he couldn't hold himself back. “So thought you should just mark our girl?” 

Bucky, who was sprawled on a corner of the couch, book wedged in his hand, he never bothered pausing from his reading. “Can’t be letting her forget who owns her. My method worked didn't it? She was compliant for you, and gave you just what you wanted without a fight. In fact, wasn’t she a bit happy to see you Steve?” 

“She did-” 

“Then you are welcome.” The soldier cut off his friend, flipping the page. Steve’s brows furrowed a bit but let it drop, making his way to the office he had set up in the back of the house, behind a locked door. 

Upstairs your eyes sprang open as soon as Steve shut your door, letting out a relieved whoosh that you were being left along, your body still so sensitive to touch of any kind. Suga shifted closer with a soft meow, head butting you. You scooped her closer, once more burying your face into your cat's soft fur and letting it keep you quiet while a sob broke in your chest, muffling the sound. 

You can’t live like this and you were running out of time before they actually did make you pregnant. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sugar, Sugar 15

[FIFTEEN/END]

MASTERLIST

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, violence, mean sugary Steve

This is a dark! sugar daddy! Steve fic. Obvious AU so please keep that in mind. :) That being said, it will be an explicit fic (18+) with noncon. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

(This chapter: violence, threats, fear  :O)

Series Summary: The reader is struggling in the big city but find opportunity before her. Will she take it?

This Chapter: The wedding day approaches but not everything goes to plan.

Author Notes: So this is another series wrapped up after a grueling two years, haha. Sorry y’all.

Please let me know what you think, like and reblog <3 love ya

🍭 🍭 🍭

The floor length mirror was trimmed with twisted gold. You stared at your reflection as your shaky hands pressed against the front of the ivory dress. The cut hid the small bump but you could not forget it. Ever since you confessed, it all happened so fast; the wedding was pushed up, the dress tailored and expedited, and invitations sent out in a rush.

It all felt surreal. The day had come but you just couldn’t accept it. How could you go through those doors and smile through it all?

You closed your eyes and let your breath out. They would knock when it was your time. Your father would be waiting to walk you down the aisle. The guests waited eagerly for the most talked about ceremony in the city. And you still felt like just a footnote in your own wedding.

You moved away from the mirror and sat unsteadily, gripping the arms of the cushioned chair, careful not to catch your veil under you. That night you told him, that was the final straw. But you didn’t forget what Sasha said. You took a picture of the broken door and wrote down the entire scene. You sent it to yourself in an email as proof.

That wasn’t the last time. You recorded Steve one day when he came in as you were texting your sister about the new date. You hadn’t answered his last message about your first appointment with the doctor. He was livid and you sat and listened to him rant as the red dots pulsed. You wrote down every instance, every time he made you appease him, every terrifying word.

Then there were the police reports. Nothing more than words in a filing cabinet but the night he choked you was just the beginning. He threatened to break your finger when you took your ring off because your hands were swelling. Then he broke your laptop when you didn’t pay him enough attention. 

As the wedding loomed closer, he only seemed to get worse. He was clingy, always touching you, marveling over your stomach. He checked in almost every hour on the hour when he was working, and you weren’t stupid enough not to notice that the building was being watched.

It was like you were living two lives and yet you were entirely trapped with him. What good could the emails do? Or the reports when the police wouldn’t act on them? You were going to marry this man and that would be the end of it; of you, of your life.

Knuckles tapped on the door and you stood. You crossed the room and inched it open the door. You flinched as you were met by an unexpected and uninvited guest.

“Sasha?” you gasped.

“You’re marrying him then?” he held the handle but you didn’t try to close the door, “the account gone, I heard nothing from you.”

“I… I’m scared,” you admitted, “when he found out, I thought he was going to--” you shook your head. He wouldn’t actually kill you.

“You know it’s not too late,” Sasha urged.

“You can’t be here, it he finds out, he’ll--”

“I’ll defend myself,” Sasha snarled uncharacteristically, “I’ll give him what he deserves.’

“No, I don’t want you to get hurt. You need to go,” you begged as you glanced past him furtively.

“I will. Come with me,” he said, “just go. Everyone’s distracted, they won’t know--”

“I can’t just leave. You don’t understand--”

“No, you don’t understand,” he argued, “if you marry him, it all gets so much more complicated. I told you that day at the café. It will be harder to fight after the vows, but right now, you can still get out.”

“And go where?”

He swallowed and looked down the hall. You could hear the distant murmur of the crowd.

“Did you do any of it? Keep a journal? Something?” he asked.

“I tried. I went to the police but nothing,” you sniffed and gripped the door tight.

“Nothing yet but that’s a start,” he chewed the inside of his lip.

“Why are you here? Why is this so important to you?”

“Because I can do something,” he hissed, “because I can’t live with it if I don’t. So come on. Come with me, I got a bigger place. It’ll have to do for now and then we’ll work on getting you standing, getting the baby somewhere to grow--”

“Am I trading him for you?”

“I’m your friend,” he said evenly, “that will never change. All I want is you safe. If it makes you feel better, I’ll sleep in the hall. You can lock me out and I’ll sleep against the door. But I came down here knowing I wouldn’t leave without you.”

“It’s a sweet fantasy but--”

“Come on,” he grabbed your hand and pushed the door open, “please, don’t go with him. It doesn’t end well. You don’t get out. It doesn’t get better.”

“I have nothing,” you quavered.

“You have me,” he said, “please don’t make me walk out of here alone.”

“I….” you uttered as your heart squeezed. “He’ll come after you.”

“Good, I want him to,” he clung to you, “please?”

You inhaled and heard the voices. Your father and your sister. You had no time to think but you knew it was your only chance.

“Let’s go,” you lifted your skirt and pulled the door shut behind you as you stepped out, “now.”

He held onto your hand as you rushed away from the voices and skirted around the corner. Sasha urged you on down the back stairs and through the maze like halls of the extravagant church. You nearly tumbled down the stairs and he caught you as you came along the narrow passage beside the main room, the guests and groom just on the other side of the wall.

You came out into the sunlight and Sasha lifted the train of your skirts as he directed you over the grass. our heels sank into the dirt as you rushed over and the organ began to play Here Comes the Bride. As he helped stuff the swathes of fabric in behind you in his modest car, the music stopped suddenly.

He closed the door as you were squished in the back seat amid your layered skirts and he got in the front. The engine turned and he nearly side swept another car as he pulled out without looking. You peeked back behind you but saw no one coming down the large steps of the church.

He turned the corner and sidled in behind a yellow cab. He looked at you in the mirror and nodded. You bit your lips nervously as reality sank in. Your chest hammered and your entire body buzzed with adrenaline. You knew it was only the beginning.

🍭

The day passed in a daze. You sat in your wedding dress waiting for all hell to break loose. Sasha sat with a beer, silently, and tapped his foot endlessly. When the silence was too much, he turned on the television but neither of you paid any attention to the old sitcom.

When the trance of disbelief dissipated, he showed you around his spacious loft. He was being paid well by Stark but you worried how long he would stay on the payroll after what he’d done. Steve wasn’t stupid and there were more photographers at the church then you’d seen collectively over the last year and a half.

“This is the second bedroom,” he showed you into a room with gleaming windows. There was a bed, a dresser, curtains, a cozy rug, all carefully selected, “I thought you’d be here sooner.”

Your eyes lingered on the box leaned against the far wall. A crib.

“Didn’t know how long…” his voice trailed off as he followed your eye line, “I’m not trying to be him. You can go anytime but I… you have a place here.”

Your eyes welled and you blotted them with your knuckles, the rough lace of your gloves scratching your cheeks, “you did all this for me?”

“I told you, I’d do anything,” he said.

“But… Sasha, I don’t--”

“I don’t expect anything from you. High school was a long time ago but you made it bearable for the biggest dweeb in the class.” He sighed and paced a circle around the room, “you know, I had the biggest crush on you. That doesn’t mean anything now, it doesn’t mean I want you to fall into my arms, but it means I want to help you. It’s the right thing to do, somehow I made a career of doing the right thing so what’s one more?”

You felt your chest sink and you covered your cheeks with your hands, “Sasha?”

“Please,” he cringed, “I was a teen boy, I think I had a thing for Oprah once. Really, it’s just… we’re friends. We’ll always be friends.”

“I can’t…” you sniffled and dropped your hands, “I don’t deserve any of this.”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Sasha intoned, “and you don’t deserve to live like that. I know this isn’t much but I know you. You’ll find your way, you just got a little lost.”

“I…” you shook your head speechless.

“We’ll figure everything else out tomorrow. You can borrow some of my clothes for tonight and then we can see about retrieving your things from Steve,” he neared the door and stopped beside you, “or we can say fuck it and you can start all over.”

You turned and slung your arms around him. You buried your face against his shoulder as tears spilled out onto his jacket.

“How did you know?” you sobbed.

“That day at the shower,” he rubbed your back gently, “you know, lawyers learn how to read people and you never were very good at subtlety.”

“No,” you chuckled through your tears, “No, it’s why I was great as a bard.”

“Mmm,” he grumbled, “if that’s how you remember it.”

🍭

It felt like Sasha was gone forever but when you checked the clock, it had only been twenty minutes. 

You sat on the couch with your feet under you as you watched the news and rocked nervously. All anyone was talking about was Steve Rogers’ runaway bride. Your face was everywhere and the statement issued by Steve made it all the worse.

He painted you as a gold-digger, as an adulterer, as a swindler. He was the heartbroken fiancé and you were the wrongdoer. You knew it would go this way but expectation never softened reality.

You flinched as the lock turned and Sasha entered with a bag in hand. He came to the couch and set it down beside you.

“I don’t know about my taste in women's clothes but those should do,” he said as he checked his watch, “we should go soon.”

“Yeah,” you stood and opened the bag to reveal the lavender blouse and dark jeans, “you really didn’t have to--”

“You kidding, he’s gonna be surrounded by cameras. You can’t win his game if you don’t play it. I’ve dealt with his type before, they’re the ones who need lawyers on standby,” he sneered, “did you eat?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you swiped up the bag and headed for the hallway, “it was good.”

“No problem,” he shrugged as he grabbed the remote and shut off the tv, “and ignore all that nonsense.”

You got dressed and emerged as your anxiety grew to impatience. You left the apartment in brittle silence and the car ride fed the uneasy bubbling of your stomach. .

As you came up to Steve’s building, you sat for a moment before you got out. Sasha followed and shoulder away the cameras as you neared the front door

The elevator moved slowly and fidgeted uncontrollably as it dinged on Steve’s floor. You swallowed and braced yourself to face Steve. Sasha kept a few feet back as you walked down the hall and stopped at the door. You knocked as you found it locked.

It was a while before it opened but when it did, you were startled as Steve grabbed the front of your blouse and wrenched you inside. He spun you but quickly released you as he was knocked off balance and sent sprawling over the floor. Sasha stood above him with his hands in fists.

“Hey,” he pointed at Steve then looked at you, “you okay?”

You nodded as Steve glared between the two of you and cautiously got to his feet, “so you brought your little boyfriend?”

“She’s here to get her stuff. We thought we’d avoid a police escort, as her lawyer I thought it prudent, but we can always make that phone call,” Sasha said sternly, “she is entitled to her possessions.”

“Her stuff? I paid for every single thing she has to her name. Hers? Mine.” Steve spat and reared on you again, only to be caught by Sasha as he inserted himself between you.

“You will not touch her again. Those things you bought for her were gifts. You have no legal rights to them once they are given. She will take her clothes, her phone, and any other necessities.”

“Pfft, she’s not taking anything. She’s not going anywhere,” Steve growled, “she not yours--”

“I am certain the photogs would appreciate a show,” Sasha pulled out his phone, “police? That can only be a domestic dispute.”

Steve squinted and his nose flared as he looked at you over Sasha’s shoulder, “fucking slut.” He crossed his arms and stepped aside, “get your shit, get out…” he hissed, “but I have my rights too. You will not keep me from my baby.”

“That will be settled in court,” Sasha replied coolly, “go on, get your things.”

He waved you past him as he kept you shield from Steve. He was of a height with Steve but not as broad. Even so, you felt safe behind him. You rushed down to the bedroom and quickly gathered up your toiletries and those clothes you didn’t absolutely hate. Your phone screen was shattered but you took it anyway.

As you emerged again, a bag slung on your shoulder, you slid the ring from your finger. 

“You can keep the rest,” you said as you placed the band on the small round table just inside the front room, “goodbye Steve.”

“Goodbye? Goodbye?” he spat, “this isn’t the end and you fucking know it.”

“Calm down,” Sasha warned.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Steve shoved him, “I should fucking smash your head in--”

“I’d like you to try,” Sasha stood his ground, “really. You think the court would let a violent man be around an infant?”

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes. He backed down and shouldered by Sasha. “Get the fuck out.”

You left quickly. You had no desire to hang around. As you stepped onto the elevator, Sasha softly touched your elbow and you winced. The bag fell to your elbow and he quickly scooped it up and heaved it over his own shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” you said, “he was so angry. I--”

“I was stupid, we should’ve brought the police. Fuck the cameras,” he said, “from this point on, no contact with him whatsoever. Only through me and the court. No talking to reporters, no nothing.”

“Yeah, that won’t be hard,” you uttered as he led you out of the elevator. 

As you came outside, cameras flashed and voices called out. You collided with Sasha as he was blocked by a photographer shouting questions, “is it true you’re pregnant? Is it Steve’s?”

“My client will not be answering questions,” Sasha kept on and made a path for you, “go, she’s not answering any of your questions.”

He elbowed past more cameras and opened the car door for you. You fell inside and quickly huddled down in your seat. As he sat behind the wheel, he mumbled and pulled out into traffic. He gripped the wheel tightly and pushed himself back into the vinyl.

“That asshole,” he said, “he’s gonna want the paternity test. This isn’t gonna be pretty.”

“I can’t… he fucking told them. I mean, I’m not surprised but… god,” you grimaced.

“We’ll get the test done before he makes a formal request,” Sasha said, “it shows transparency and when we hand over those results, we’ll include those police reports too.”

“Police reports?” you blinked.

“Sorry, I… It’s a suggestion,” he said tersely, “but he’s going to make this a trial by media.”

“No, no, I want to,” you said firmly, “I want everyone to know the real Steve Rogers.”

🍭

‘I was just like many struggling in the city. I worked a low-paying job in data entry and lived in an apartment which was little more than a box. The dreams of the big city were passing me by as there was little opportunity to be found.

Then I met Steve Rogers. Like a dream or a Lifetime movie. I was in debt, I was desperate, and he offered me a safety net. I can own my part in the relationship; I was interested and I accepted his generosity. I was all too happy with the arrangement.

That was until I found out that it was all based on a lie. I didn’t know that he had access to my accounts even before I knew him, that he had used his connections to force me into that dire situation. And I could not know the real man behind the billionaire façade.

It was little things at first. Any woman loves to feel wanted but his possessiveness soon turned to control. He kept me isolated from my own family and did not permit me to do anything without his permission. His affection turned to obsession and when it was not reciprocated he forced it from me.

He took me on vacation and did not allow me to wear clothes. He chose what I wore, how I looked, and what I did. He coerced me into acts I was reluctant about, and when he was too rough, he did not listen to my pleas for him to stop.

When I tried to leave him, he followed me and dragged me back. He had me watched by PIs and surveilled all my communications. He used his financial power to control me and when that did not work, he used his physical power.

Steve Rogers abused me. He yelled in my face, he threatened my family, and he choked me.

Steve Rogers raped me. He expected me to bend to his will whenever he desired and when I refused, he held me down and did what he wanted.

Steve Rogers took my whole life and when I chose to leave, he set his eyes on the life inside of me. 

The only thing I want from him is freedom. I want to live safely with my child and I want that child to never experience the abuse of their father. I never want anyone to know that horror again which is why I have written this and released the police records. I am not asking for anything but peace for me and my unborn child.’

The statement was carefully edited by Sasha. You reread the font across the glossy pages of Vanity Fair, the article spliced with excerpts not only from the police reports, but your own emailed accounts of your relationship, and the whole thing began with an image of that broken bathroom door.

It was two months since you ran away from the altar but life was not a romcom. It was a disaster. Even with the article, you knew not all would believe you. You knew it would open you to doubt and vitriol. And you knew Steve would have a response.

You closed the magazine and groaned as you rubbed your hips. Freedom didn’t feel so… freeing. There was a long way to go; court dates, doctor’s appointment, and depositions. But it was a start.

You rested your hand on your stomach and pushed on the arm of the couch as you stood stiffly. When you were halfway up, you felt a hand on your elbow and Sasha helped you stand straight. You smiled guiltily. You’d grown a lot in the last few weeks and still had nearly four months to go.

“The reviews are good,” he said, “I know that is kinda grim but… people seem to believe you.”

“Seem to?” you echoed as you went to the kitchen and pulled out the container of sliced strawberries, “or they don’t?”

“Well,” he leaned on the counter as he watched you add too much cream to the berries and smiled, “Stark Industries has cut ties with Shield, Inc. and Tony has made a sizeable donation to several shelters across the city,” he cupped his chin coyly as he leaned on his elbow, “and will be covering legal costs for the support hearings seeing as I can’t legally represent you anymore.”

“Oh,” your mouth fell open before you could spray some cream onto your tongue, “when were you going to tell me this?”

“I’m telling you now,” he crossed his arms as he shifted them further over the island, “I thought I’d give the good news first.”

“And the bad?” you put down the can of cream as you neared the marble across from him.

“I have several requests for interviews and I think you should do at least one,” he said, “I know you hate reporters and all that but… with a little Rogers baby on board, it’s just another part of the process.”

“Oh, and what should I tell them,” you edged around the counter towards him, “that I moved? That I found someone better?” He turned to you, his lips curved as he leaned in and you turned your face up to peck his lips, “or maybe I should tell them I’m single? Keep the intrigue?”

“As long as you tell them I’m handsome, I don’t mind,” he purred as he placed his hand on your side.

“Oh, how could I leave that out?” you cooed and kissed him again, “patient, loving, kind… but what a geek?”

“A geek?” he smirked and framed your chin with his hands, “says the dungeon master.”

You giggled and ran your hands up his chest, “someone’s gotta raise this little bard well.”

“Oh, no, no, she’s not gonna be a bard. Maybe a cleric?”

“No way! That’s lame,” you chirped, “how about… a sorcerer? Ours is a bit lacking.”

“Excuse you,” he quipped, “what was your AC again? Maybe next session I’ll run out of healing spells.”

“See?” you taunted, “geek.”

You drew him to you until he was pressed to your belly and he swept you up in a kiss. You rocked with him as he turned you against the counter and slowly parted.

You squeezed his wrist as you went back around to your strawberries and cream. You took a spoon and scooped up a mouthful as you slid your phone towards you. Sasha stayed as he was, watching you scroll through the emails and piled up texts.

You stopped as one blared in all caps. There was no name, only ‘Private’. You opened the conversation and found a dozen bubbles; ‘THIS ISN’T OVER’, ‘HE CAN’T KEEP YOUR FROM ME’, ‘CUTE, YOU THINK PEOPLE BELIEVE YOUR SHIT.’ Another message blipped up, an image and you dropped your spoon as it opened.

You saw the picture of your sister and her son. You shook as you put your hand down on the counter and choked on the cream.

“What?” Sasha reached over and turned your phone to him, “Shit,” he sighed and blocked the number, “he’s just stacking the evidence against himself.”

“I--” you blinked as tears boiled behind your eyes.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” he screencapped the conversation, “this just makes the case even easier.”

“No, I will always be afraid of him,” you said as you touched your stomach, “it’s not just about me anymore.”

“And it’s not just you anymore,” he took your hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb, “we’ve been through worse. If we can get through a cave full of orcs, we can defeat Steve Rogers.”

END (or is it?)

[kevindayisafrog]

Folks, this is heavy but with a happy ending

🦟🦗🦟🦗

TW - hints to abuse, intrusive thoughts, grief, moving on

Kevin didn’t think he was hard to like, until he met Riko. He endured the bullying, the pain, the dark thoughts. And then he was free and with the Foxes. A new start, a new life. A new torture. What made Kevin so unlikeable?

Kevin lay on his back staring up at the black popcorn ceiling of his dorm room, thoughtless. His coffee had gone cold hours ago, left abandoned on the room’s dressing table. He lay quiet just listening to the other men’s breathing as they lay deep in a sleep. God, how he envied them. They weren’t perfect, they had shit brains that told them stuff they didn’t want to hear, just like Kevin’s. But they had one thing that Kevin didn’t: a place. No matter how many times Abby and his father told him that he had a family here, a life, Kevin couldn’t help but feel so alone. So out of place. He craved Riko’s harsh words, his beatings, his occasional kind word, because in each torturous attack, Kevin had a belonging. He had someone watching him and keeping him in place. Someone in his corner. Sure, that someone would beat him half to death in that corner, but at least he had someone. But here…

He sat up and silently stepped down the ladder from his loft, cautious not to wake anyone else up. He moved quietly into the front room and turned the TV on, catching the volume button just in time to turn it down before it woke anyone up. He opened up YouTube in the apps and typed in a name. One name that brought him so much hate and emptiness, so much pain and love. He scrolled until he found the perfect interview: one where his mother was laughing. He clicked on it and brought his knees to his chest as the video loaded, a painstaking minute passed before his mother’s bright smile and emerald green eyes appeared on the screen. “Can we all give Ms Kayleigh Day a warm welcome”, the interviewer called cheerily to the audience who erupted with cheers and clapping, an odd wolf whistle from here and there. “Hi”, Kayleigh smiled into the camera as she sat down, shaking the man’s hand with a strong grip. “Hi, mom”, Kevin whispered into the night, a painful burn of tears brimming. He watched the interview intently, watching how his mom’s fierce personality brought the interview to life, her determined eyes capturing Kevin’s full attention; eyes so much like his own that it stung his chest. “No, no, I think everyone should be able to play Exy”, his mom shook her head, making dark brown curls bounce against her shoulders, “I made the sport for everyone. And I mean everyone. Why should people be excluded just because of their gender? I made that stupid game and I’m a woman and I will kick any man’s ass that says that I can’t play my own game”. Cheers broke through the crowd, making Kayleigh’s frown turn into a bright smile, her laugh like honey as she mock bowed for the viewers. Kevin grabbed the remote and paused the interview, his eyes glued to his mom’s smile. It was so bright and nothing like the grimace that Kevin’s smile had turned into. He slid off the couch and kneeled before the screen, looking up at his mom like a small child. Fuck, how he missed her. The grief was like a constant punch to the chest; winding him whenever he felt any urge to move on. He tentatively reached up and placed his fingers against the screen, the cold TV sending a chill down his forearm. “I miss you..so fucking much. And I’m sorry that I’m not who you wanted me to be”, Kevin swallowed back a sob as silent tears began to escape down his cheeks, “I am trying to be better and I hope that one day you won’t look down on me and be disappointed”. He took a shuddering breath and dropped his hand, staring at the small pixels until he forgot who he was staring at. “I love you, mom and I’m sorry, but I don’t want to feel like this every time I think of you. I know that’s not what you want from me. So”, he wiped his clammy hands down his trouser legs, “I think I’m going to let you go. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you, it just…” Kevin trailed off and looked back up at his mom, pressing play and dropping back against the couch. The interview ended and he numbly watched as his mother blew a kiss towards the camera before leaving; the video turning black as it ended. Kevin stared at his reflection and tried not to grimace at the man he’d become. “Bye, Mom”, he whispered to the blank screen as he turned the screen off, hanging his head backwards on the couch.

Kevin dragged himself back into his room, purposely ignoring the sound of birds singing outside as the sun began to rise once again. “You know”, Andrew said into the silence, making Kevin have a full body flinch, “I really needed a piss but I didn’t want to interrupt your little breakdown”. Kevin rolled his eyes and climbed into his bed, dropping heavily under the duvet and hugging his comfort fox tight to his chest, “I’m done now so you can piss”, he grumbled before turning his back to the room. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep in the last two hours he had before his alarm went off to start his long day. He froze when he heard his ladder creak and felt the mattress dip as another body invaded his space. He turned his head to meet hazel eyes glaring down at him in mock boredom. “Move over, bitchboy”, Andrew whispered as he tried to wiggle beneath Kevin’s duvet without making too much noise and waking Neil up from the bed beneath them. Kevin nodded and moved nearer to the wall, rolling over to face Andrew’s stare. “You were crying”, Andrew whispered, his eyes assessing Kevin’s in the dark, “nightmare?” Kevin hesitated before shaking his head, he could’ve just agreed and used this excuse but he knew that Andrew saw through his lies as if they were made of glass. “My brain was too loud”, Kevin whispered softly, his voice barely audible, “I don’t feel..I don’t belong here”. Andrew made an annoyed sound at the back of his throat as he rolled his eyes, “no one belongs here. We’re rejects thrown together made to believe that we have a place on this team. But none of us do. Once we leave here we’ll either finally make it in the world or we’ll be shunned once again”. Kevin squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, sighing against Andrew’s mop of hair. He looked down at his little boyfriend when he felt a hand curl around his chin. “This team isn’t about belonging, Kevin, it’s about taking a break. We’re here to have a breather before we’re thrown back out and once we are all out of here, then we get to see whether we belong or not. So I don’t want to hear your complaints, it’s boring because it is a lie”. Kevin moved slowly towards Andrew so that Andrew could see his approach and could choose to pull away, and was met with a soft kiss. A silent promise. A promise saying that once they left here, even if they don’t have anywhere else to go, they had each other. They’ll always belong with each other.

“I said goodbye to my mom last night”, Kevin muttered into his toast the next morning, ignoring the confused look that Andrew and Neil shared. “You didn’t tell me that we were haunted, I would’ve called the ghostbusters”, Neil laughed at his own joke and leaned his head against Kevin’s shoulder where he was sat at the dining table. “Andrew, stop culturing him”, Kevin grimaced and rested his head on top of Neil’s, watching Andrew as he set three coffee mugs onto the kitchen side. “I’m not culturing him, you should blame Nicky”, Andrew looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes at Kevin before pouring them all coffee, adding an ungodly amount of sugar to his. “No, I’m only joking, Kev”, Neil whispered, bringing Kevin’s attention back down to him, “that’s really good, you know, moving on and shit. You deserve to be happy”. Kevin felt his cheeks blush as he pressed a kiss to Neil’s forehead. He tilted his head to the side and watched as Andrew brought their drinks over, his glasses slipping down his nose slightly. It was all so domestic that Kevin wanted to bottle it and open it everytime he was stupid enough to feel alone. And he realised with a hesitant smile that he finally was. He was happy.

[vegalocity]

Hug while straddling for @purble-turble's Time Travel Red and MK?

Affection meme

31. Hugging While straddling partner

Eyyyy lmao I'm always down to talk about Red Son: Ultimate Enemy as told by @purble-turble

--

There was no such thing as 'loving mental illness away'.

That was one of the very first things Qi Xiaotian had internalized when he came to the decision to make up with Red Son after his future adventure.

He wasn't exactly the picture of mental health himself, but when Red Son stumbled back into their time period, jacket chopped in half hair shorn close to his head and so obviously choking back tears, He'd instantly known whatever had happened to him had been actual hell. (Of course at first he'd forced himself to not care for how angry he'd been with Red Son after he'd told him about his parents plan and how he'd been a willing pawn in it, but that was beside the point)

So once he'd been properly brought upt to date on the exacts of the nightmare-future, and they'd started the process of looking for a therapist for Red Son, as clearly, he'd needed it, Xiaotian had taken it upon himself to do some research on his own time. it was a little difficult, he didn't want Red to find out about it until he actually had a better sense of what he should be doing, but since Red Son rarely seemed to be able to sleep anymore (even when Xiaotian could get him to lay with him in bed it was clear what little sleep he did get was rife with nightmares) and when he did sleep through the night he would wake up earlier than him, and they lived together... his most constant time for research was usually when he was technically on the clock.

But he'd gotten a couple of books about Post-traumatic stress disorder, general psychology, and 'So you've got a loved one with severe depression' (an actual title) and he'd scribble notes into the margins and on sticky notes when there was time between deliveries. And the first lesson every single one of those books had for him was just that.

You can't 'love someone out of their illness'. That's not a thing. The best you can do is love them through it.

So he did his best with that.

On some days that was just sending texts full of cute animal gifs and heart emojis, on some that was coming up to the loft on break to sit next to the lump of pillows and blankets on the bed and (after finding the telltale hint of short red hair that gave away where his head was) resting a hand on the part of the lump that was most likely an arm, gently rubbing it, and sitting in silence until his break ended.

And on some days it was this.

"It's not safe you're not safe I'm gonna slip up eventually-" Red Son's voice was fragile and warbling as his actions contradicted his words, hands scrabbling up and down his back and sides, gripping periodically for purchase before shrinking back as if afraid just hugging him back would crush him. "I'm gonna do something-"

"You won't." Xiaotian was practically seated in Red Son's lap at this point. Red had been sitting on the floor, back to the edge of the bed when the meltdown had begun, so kneeling on the ground until he was rested on his partners legs did two things:

one, it enabled him to wrap him up as tight as he could in his arms without having to twist one or both of them in an awkward angle.

and two, the extra pressure would probably help ground him, make it a little easier to come down from this one.

"You don't know that" His voice was hoarse, desperate. and Xiaotian closed his eyes and squeezed Red Son tighter.

"I do. I know you, hun." Red Son sobbed into his shoulder and he felt his hands finally decide where to be, resting across either shoulder blades and balling the fabric they found there up into fists.

"I know there's basically nothing that'll make you believe it at this point, but you're a good man, Red Son."

"I'm no-"

"Shhh, my turn to talk now." he shifted a hand to be able to bury it in Red Son's hair. He could feel him ever so minutely relax beneath him at the sensation. "You saw your potential for being a bad person, and don't forget everyone's got it. I have it, Xiaojiao has it, hell Monkey King has recorded evidence for his bad person potential, anyway, you saw yours and you've been working your ass off nonstop to keep it from ever getting the best of you.

"And this shit is fucking hard, hun. You're fighting your own brain and the actual literal future here! and guess what? it might not feel like it right now but you're winning."

Still, he shook his head against Xiaotian's shoulder. he didn't want to interrupt again, but still make his disagreement known.

"You are." He pulled away just enough to be able to properly cup Red Son's wet face in his hands. "You think that Evil King remotely hacked Jin and Yin's stupid battle robot in that illegal mech fighting ring and made it throw the match making them look like idiots in his timeline?" Red's gaze broke from his own as he thought back on the fight that broke out the week previous.

"....I suppose not-"

"You think that Evil King ever thinks for more than a second about the ethics of what evil plans he carries out let alone hours of agonizing over whether something was the right call or not?"

"Certainly not but that's not-"

"It is the point, Red. You're not the same person anymore. Maybe you started from the same roots, but he dug himself back into the ground and you rose up like a fucking tree instead."

Red Son met his gaze again, and Xiaotian could tell he still didn't believe him, but there was a spark there.

The faintest, dimmest hope.

"You are a good man, Red Son." this time he made sure every word was careful deliberate. So there was no misunderstandings that could be made. "And I am not accepting counterarguments at this time so you'd better fucking take it."

When he pulled Red Son against his chest again, and let the demon continue to cry quietly into his shirt, he pressed a small kiss to the crown of his head.

"I love you."

Red Son choked on a sob, and didn't answer.

It wasn't an issue, he knew Red Son loved him. Part of this whole thing being a thing in the first place was because Red Son loved him. Red Son wouldn't be as scared of becoming the Evil King as he was if he didn't love him so he knew better than to take to heart the days where he just couldn't say the words back.

There weren't any cures for mental illnesses. There were ways to mitigate the symptoms, but there are no spells that cure depression, there's no potion of anti-PTSD, and no person can love someone out of their illness.

But heavens above did he wish it some days.

He'd give anything to make it so Red Son wouldn't have to be in so much pain.

But all he could do was just hold him tighter, and stroke the short red tresses between his fingers until the sobbing stopped.

It took less time than usual.

Red was exhausted and pliant by the end of it and let Xiaotian drag him about the loft, obediently (if slowly) eating what was pressed into his hands and then nursing the mug of tea he was given as they settled down on the mound of cushions and he put on that 'how things are made' show that Red Son liked.

He was asleep halfway through the second episode.

Sure, some days were harder than others, and sure, some days he'd wish there was a cure just to spare Red the suffering.

But he felt Red Son's head slowly loll to the side until it rested on his shoulder, breathing slow and even and looking for the first time today like he was at peace and-

He still wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Love You, Hun."

Red Son hummed against him.

--

Send me stuff!

[ffangirlingsince2001]

The Princess and the Witcher: Extinquished

*not my gif*

Geralt x Reader

Geralt of Rivia is not a babysitter, he is not a bodyguard, and he has no interest in transporting princesses across the continent. Until gold is offered and for the next 90 days he’s saddled with a chirpy, bubbly, princess, who is betrothed to the prince of Narok and has a desire to see everything before she’s trapped behind another set of walls.

A/N: A little early post to ease off the cliff hanger from the last post, but I am also sorry to say, this is the end, so please enjoy (as much as you can)

Warnings: ANGST

“You’re here to kill me.”

Geralt didn’t think he had heard her at first.

What his ears were convinced they had heard was so absurd he wanted to howl with laughter until no sound came out and he was just shaking. This was all some silly joke, she was trying to get back at him for something, no doubt.

It was a trick, to calm him down after she dropped the news about the prince, or the lack thereof. She was afraid and it was the first lie her childish mind had come up with, something so absurd it was only told in stories about Witcher’s that were meant to frighten children. Now, she was just trying to spare herself his wrath, and honestly, he was prepared to forgive her for everything. There was no prince and she was all his, they even had a home to grow in.

He knew he would live much longer than her, but every moment would be worth it. He would bask in every moment that he could love her. He would enjoy every smile, every soft touch, every worried look she would cast him when he came home from a particularly detrimental kill. She would be his wife, of course. They couldn’t have children, but that wouldn’t stop them from trying. Oh, he was already toying with all the ways they could try to have children. In the loft, in the fields to the west, on the beach to the east, and here in this little house that they would make a home.

All he had to do was forgive her, and hold her, and assure her he was mad no longer, and then they could begin their life together. But, when he moved forward to hug her, she took a solemn step back, tears still running down her face.

“Y/N, I’m not mad, there is no need to lie,” he whispered but all she did was drop to the table and bury her face in her hands, sobbing without restrain. He wasn’t sure what to do. She was lying… and yet. No, she had to be lying. There was no way she could be telling the truth, not when this proclamation was so horrible his hands shook at the thought of it. “Y/N…”

“Please, sit down,” she cried, still hiccupping with tears. He did as she said without a word, dropping his sword for good measure. She eyed it and then turned the teary irises back to him. “I’m not lying. I wish I was, but I am not.”

“Then I have misunderstood you.”

“You have not.”

“Then you must have hit your head as you fled.”

“Geralt, you have to kill me,” she snapped, slamming her clenched fists against the table. He was silent as he stared at her hands, they were so small and undamaged.

“What makes you say such terrible things, Princess?”

“Because they’re true. That’s why we’re here. That’s why you were chosen.”

“Chosen for what?” he yelled, irritation growing as he grew more frantic. He just wanted her to admit it was all a sick joke.

“Do you remember the first night we laid together, in the inn?” she asked, and he nodded. “I told you, you were chosen because you would do whatever it takes, this is what it takes. You were chosen because my father, his advisors, and I all knew that you would do it, when the final hour is upon us you will draw up your sword and end my life.” Geralt stood from the table, shoving it into her stomach as he did so.

“If you are to die, why the trip, why not kill you in your home?”

“Because I wanted to see the world before mine came to an end. It was never to end up like this, you were never supposed to know, not until the very end. And I never meant to become so close, it was supposed to be easy, it was supposed to be easy,” she cried, reaching for him.

“You’re lying. You’re fucking lying, you don’t want to be married so badly that you want me to believe I am supposed to kill you, to end your life before someone can control you. Well, you’ve made one error, I do not kill people, I kill monsters.”

“All the better,” she replied, voice dangerously steady as she straightened herself in the stiff, wooden chair. There were still tears in her eyes, but she meant business. “Please sit down, so I can explain.” He considered leaving, shearing off a piece of her hair and marching back to her father to demand the gold he had promised him, but instead he sat as instructed. She tried to take his hands, but he pulled away. Hurt etched itself across her face but he did not search for restitution.

“It happened before I was born, I didn’t even know it had occurred until a few years ago, and even then, I found out on accident. I assume they wouldn’t have told me until today if they could have avoided it, they would want to spare my sensibilities.”

“Tell you about what?” he snapped, jerking her out of her ramblings.

“The curse.” There was a beat of silence as she waited for him to respond but when he remained quiet, she continued. “Like I said it was a few years before I was born, my father was trying to find a queen to rule along side him. He was looking for someone with royal blood, but even commoners were invited to the parties he was throwing, in hopes of creating something so extravagant that it would attract a woman just as lively as the parties.

“Among the guests was this woman. My father says she looked like an angel that had dropped from heaven like gold from a sunset. He was captivated and mesmerized, so taken aback he was nervous to approach her. He thought about it the entire first night, never quite prepared to introduce himself to the woman he was sure he would marry.

“Because he failed the first night, he hosted another party the following week, and then the one after that, trying to produce something that would be as magnificent as her. On the third week he finally succeeded in approaching her. He introduced himself, and as he nervously stumbled over his name, she must have grown enchanted, because the parties ceased, and she was brought to the palace to be prepared for the wedding.

“Much to the disgrace of the royal family, she was a commoner, nothing more than a milkmaid, but my father was enamored, unwilling to part with her even when his father threatened to send the couple far, far away. The wedding drew nearer, and they were both so happy, so in love.

“And then war broke out. Our borders were shredded to nothing more than desolation, fires ripping across our crops until our farmlands were black scars against the rich earth. The wedding was postponed and for her safety, the lovely bride was sent away to hide. She waited years, and suddenly the war abruptly ended, and she returned to the palace, prepared to wed my father. Yet, when she entered the throne room, she found another sitting on her throne. My mother, the princess of the warring country, had stolen away her place by my father’s side. A marriage of treaty was formed while she was away, and she was left heartbroken and alone, an outcast in the palace that had once welcomed her as their future queen.

“I don’t know if she was a witch or a mage, or maybe she hired someone to do it for her, but the curse was cast on me. A curse that now hangs on the cusp of erupting into violence and bloodshed, a curse that you must end before it begins.”

“What is the curse?”

“A transformation.”

“Of what kind?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Then how do you know it is worth your life? How do you know your death is undisputable?”

“Because I know it’s bad. I can feel it in my bones. I could feel it when I killed the monster. I can feel it every time I look in the mirror and my eyes seem a little more animalistic. I just know, call it intuition, call it paranoia, I know that I am destined to be a monster.”

Geralt roared in frustration, slamming the blade of his sword into the door, lodging it in the soft wood. “You can’t know that.”

“I do.”

“I cannot kill you, especially not on the gut feeling of a princess who has not left the palace before three months ago.”

“We’ll know tomorrow, and you will have to be prepared. If you are right and it is nothing more than ugliness you can leave with your sword clean, but if it is what I know it to be, you must kill me. You cannot allow another monster to exist in this world.”

“There must be a way to break the curse, there is always a way,” he growled, head resting against the split his sword had created. He could hear her standing, inching her way towards him.

“You don’t think we have tried? You don’t think my father spent eighteen years trying to find a way to free me of his mistakes? We have tried, I’ve taken every motion, endured every experiment. It still lingers just beneath my skin like thick, black smoke, ready to turn me into a nightmare.”

“I can’t kill you,” he whispered and she took his face in her hands.

“You must, for the world and for me. I would rather die than ever have to kill another living creature.”

“You are so selfish it hurts.”

“I know, but I need you to do what it takes, and I need to remember what you promised me.”

“What have I promised you?”

“That you will not linger on those you kill. You must forget me, move on and continue to do good in this world.”

“Y/N, I love you, you cannot dare to ask me to kill you, let alone forget you.” She seemed taken aback by his confession, but as she pressed her lips to his he could feel the return of her feelings.

“You must, for the world and for me.”

 *******************************************************************************************

Gold is not gold.

Some is tainted with blood and loss.

And Geralt had no interest in coins that would cause him agony to spend. He was not even sure if he had wanted the gold if he would be able to enter the throne room without severing the kings head.

They had spent the night before her birthday making love. They had whispered confessions into one another’s ears long into the evening and into the night, basking in the secrecy of their affair. When she laid beneath him, he was unable to imagine her dead. She was so full of life, even with the sadness that settled itself in her eyes.

They imagined a future together, both silently and aloud. He could imagine her old and still kicking, like age couldn’t hold her back and she spoke of a twin on each hip, a boy and a girl that would talk just as much as she had when they first met. Beneath the candlelight and the peppering of kisses it was almost easy to forget it was all fake.

Then, the night had begun to draw to a close and she had lead him to the shackles attached to the wall, the hooks he had once mistaken as a tether for horses. He had begged her not to make him to do this, all while he assured her she would be okay.

The chains were tight and as the sun rose over the mountains, she was proven correct. In between screams of agony as her body transformed into a creature of no natural creation, she promised she loved him, that she would be with him, that even as his blade ended her life she would know him for nothing but sincerity and kindness.

And then he killed her, staring back into the eyes that did not change with the transformation. They seemed grateful, relieved that he went through with it, she clearly had doubts that he would be able to do whatever it took.

He buried her, it was the only life he had ever taken that he had buried, but he felt unable to leave without hiding her beneath the earth.

And then he left, in the opposite direction he had come, knowing that he would only be able to keep half of his promise.

He could kill her, but never in his lifetime would he forget her.

                                                        The End

@mallorydoesstuff @facelessfiction @aphadriel-fanfic @raspberrydreamclouds @thegreattodd @saint-hardy @ravenclawsstolemybunies @queenofmankind @britty443 @lonewolf471 @utterlyhopeful-fics @persephonehemingway @fuck-me-gently-with-a-slurpee @josis-teacup @gabbysblogthingy @sadttitude​ 

[moonlight-breeze-44]

sacrifice (i would have loved you all my life)

The fic based on a prompt from @thelightofthebane is finally here! It will be posted in four chapters, this being the first <3 I hope you enjoy!! 

Read on AO3

Alec took a deep breath and willed his hands to stop shaking. He didn’t have much time.

The half-written letter on his desk glared at him, and Alec sighed. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t find the words. How was he supposed to tell his family that he would never see them again? It was feeling more and more like an impossibility with each minute that ticked by.

“Right,” Alec muttered to himself. “I can do this.” He picked up the pen once more.

Jace,

By the time you find this, I’ll be gone. You’re going to lose your parabatai rune. It’s going to feel like I’m dying, but I’m not. I can’t explain everything, but I’m doing this for Magnus. You didn’t see him at the loft, after I tried to propose. He was devastated. Heartbroken. He can’t go on like this, without his magic. He needs it back. This is the only way. I’m sorry. I love you and I wish I didn’t have to do this.

Please don’t look for me. I know I’m making the right choice. It’s hard, but it’s for the best. Watch out for the others. Don’t do what you always do and get yourself killed. Clary and the others are there, if you’d just let them be. Please let them, Jace, for me.

I’ll miss you. You’ll be okay, Jace. Everyone will be.

Remember that our rune is just a symbol of what we have. When it breaks, we won’t break. We’ll always be parabatai, even without the rune.

Alec

Alec exhaled shakily and folded the letter into an envelope, scrawling Jace’s name on top of it. There. That would have to do. There was so much more that he wanted to say to his parabatai, but he didn’t have the time. He still had to write letters for Izzy, his mom, and Magnus.

Alec took a deep breath and reached for another sheet of paper. He didn’t regret his choice, but he was starting to realise just how much he had to give up. Magnus, he reminded himself. This is for Magnus.

With that, Alec steeled himself and started to write once more.

Izzy,

By the time you find this, I’ll be gone. I’m not dead. I’m not being coerced into writing this. This is my choice. Please don’t look for me. Tell Jace not to look for me, too. Things are going to be bad for a while, but this is the way it has to be. I’m sorry.

I can’t explain everything right now; I’m running out of time. But just know that I’m doing this for Magnus, because I love him and because he deserves so much more than I could ever give him. Please take care of him for me, Iz. I know this won’t be easy, but it’s for the best.

I’ll miss you, Izzy. It’ll be alright, I promise. You’ll be okay without me. I love you, little sis.

Alec

It took all of his willpower to keep from breaking down. This was Izzy, this was his little sister, this was the person that he had watched over and taken care of since he was five. Leaving her felt a little like leaving a piece of himself behind, and Alec had to wonder how many pieces he would have left at the end of all this.

His shoulder burned for a split second, and Alec looked back just in time to see another rune disappear from his skin. He sucked in a deep breath, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He had to keep going. The curse was working faster than he was.

Alec wrote Izzy’s name on her envelope and set it to the side with Jace’s, reaching for another sheet of paper. He had to hurry.

Mom,

By the time you find this, I’ll be gone. I can’t explain everything, but please know that I am alive and safe. I can’t promise you’ll see me again, but I can promise that this is for the best and this is my decision and mine alone.

I know you won’t understand, even if you figure out the truth, but all I can say is that I love Magnus and there is nothing that I wouldn’t do for him. One day - maybe with Luke (and yes, I know) - I hope that you’ll understand.

I love you, Mom. I wish we had more time together, to fix things. As it is, I’m counting on you to do right by Jace and Izzy. I know you haven’t always seen eye to eye with them, but they’ll need you. Take care of them for me.

I’m sorry.

Alec

Alec blew out a harsh breath and folded his mom’s letter, giving it the same treatment that he’d given the others. The letters were forming a pile now, a little stack of white that made dread settle in Alec’s stomach. They were the last of him that his family would have, and that thought made him want to collapse to the floor and weep, mourn everything that he was going to lose and everything that he would miss and all of the people that he was letting down. But he knew he couldn’t. His runes were steadily disappearing and he still had work to do.

Feeling sick, Alec grabbed one final sheet of paper and prepared himself for the last letter he had to write. Magnus’s letter.

Dear Magnus,

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. Please don’t come looking for me. You can’t interfere. Please leave it alone. I promise that I will be okay.

I can’t possibly begin to explain this to you, but I know that I have a responsibility to try. Magnus, when I saw you break down like that in the loft, it made me realise something. It made me realise how badly you were hurting and how much you were suffering without your magic. I’m so sorry that I didn’t realise before. I was so caught up in saving Jace and stopping Lilith that I never stopped to think about how much you might be hurting. I’m sorry.

I had to do something after that, and this is me doing something. I won’t explain it all to you, because I know you’ll try to come after me and undo what I did, and I can’t let you do that. I won’t let you go back to a life without your magic. It was killing you.

Magnus, you deserve so much - you deserve someone that will always make you a priority and never put you in second place. You deserve the world. You don’t deserve me. I will never be good enough for you, Magnus.

I know it’ll be hard, but please try to move on. Find love again. Get married. Have kids. Love your life like you used to before everything got so complicated. You deserve that. You deserve everything.

I love you more than words can say, and I will miss you so much. I’m sorry, Magnus. Please, please choose again. Choose somebody better. I’m not your choice. I’m sorry.

I love you.

Alec

Alec folded the letter with shaking fingers, ignoring the teardrops that splashed onto the paper. He stuffed it into an envelope and just managed to scrawl Magnus’s name on top of it and toss it onto the pile with the rest of them before he broke down in tears.

Memories rushed into Alec’s mind, unbidden - his first kiss with Magnus, at his wedding, and the way Magnus had kissed him back like he was air and Magnus couldn’t fucking breathe. His first mission with Jace, and the way that they moved together so fluently that they just knew, right from the very beginning, that they were destined to be parabatai. When Izzy was born, and Alec had slept beside her crib for three nights afterwards, whispering promises into the air about always protecting her and keeping her safe.

Alec choked on a sob and desperately tried to pull himself together. He felt the burn of his deflect rune disappearing, and that made him dig his fingernails into his palms, hard. The extra bite of pain grounded him, centered him in a way that nothing else could at the moment. That was the rune that Magnus had always loved, always said was “placed perfectly, Alexander” and always damn near worshiped in bed. Losing it was like losing a tie to Magnus, and Alec had to grip the edge of his desk so tightly that he feared his fingers might break in order to keep himself under control.

Right. He had to snap out of it. There was still more to do.

Alec glamoured himself invisible and slipped out of his office, letters in hand. He stopped by the training room to grab his bow and quiver before he made his way to Jace, Izzy, and Maryse’s rooms to slip their letters under their doors. By the time they woke up in the morning, Alec knew, he would have no idea who they were. That thought alone made him want to break down again, but he shoved his emotions aside with practiced ease and continued on.

The cool night air was a welcome change from the Institute’s stifling atmosphere, and Alec took a deep breath, trying to appreciate the sights and sounds of New York before his last rune disappeared.

By the time he made it to Magnus’s, Alec only had four runes left - his glamour, his iratze, advanced hearing, and his parabatai rune. He shivered, trying not to think about it. His parabatai rune, he knew, would be the last to go, and all Alec could do was hope that the other runes would take a few hours to disappear so that the breaking of his bond with Jace wouldn’t wake the other boy up. He at least wanted Jace to be awake, maybe have Clary with him, something. The hardest part of all of this was leaving the people he cared about behind.

“See that Mr. Bane gets this tomorrow morning,” Alec instructed the boy who worked at the front desk of Magnus’s apartment building, slipping him a 20 for good measure. With that, he walked out of Magnus’s building for possibly the last time, and headed for the park.

Alec wasn’t sure what made him choose the park, of all places, to lose the last of his runes, but the feeling of the gardens settled something in him when he sat down on the park bench. This would be the last time he sat in this park as a Shadowhunter, the last time he would look down and see the physical representation of his bond with Jace marking his skin. Finally, for the first time all night, Alec put his head in his hands and allowed himself to cry.

[pedros-mustache-main]

undo my mistakes

“john accidentally fucking up one of y/n's paintings that she's working on 😳” for @roveyrove​

you hear the crash before you see the damage. from your place in the studio loft, the sound reverberates through your very soul, and you pause in your attempt to find that illusive yellow color for which you’ve been searching. you press your hand over your mouth, close your eyes, and pray to any deity who will listen that what you think just happened did not happen.

“uh—[y/n]?” the timid thread to john’s voice tells you yes, your painting crashed to the floor and he is to blame.

yellow tube of paint found, you tuck it in your smock pocket and step to the loft railing. your throat is tight as you peer below and see john standing at the foot of the accident, canvas facedown on the concrete floor. you reach for the railing to keep from falling to the floor in a puddle of shock.

“what happened?” 

he cringes. “i was just looking.”

“what happened?” you ask again, your tone even despite the anger rising in your chest.

“i was looking,” he repeats. “and i got too close and—”

it seems to dawn on you that your painting must be ruined, wet as the acrylics were before you left for the loft, and your feet skid for the staircase. you trip down the stairs and shove john out of the way with all the force you can muster when you come to the canvas. he steps to the side, quiet. gingerly, you use your nails to lift the canvas and turn it over.

“oh my god!” the words tumble from your mouth on a high-pitched wail when you realize the full extent of the painting’s desecration. what once was the near completion of a portrait of the old american west, rugged cowboys minuscule compared to the wide-open sky and field and canyons, is now a jumbled swath of browns, oranges, and tans. “oh my god!”

john crouches beside you. “[y/n], i’m sorry. holy shit, i’m so sorry. fuck,” he breathes.

tears spill past your eyelids before you can stop them. you can’t remember the last time you cried, let alone cried in front of john. the display of emotion is embarrassed, bringing out an uncomfortable flush in your cheeks, but the ruined painting is representative of two months of wasted work. your lip quivers as you fight to keep from sobbing aloud, but when john lays a hand on your shoulder, you break.

“what am i going to do?” the canvas trembles in your shaking hands, paint slipping and sliding over the wet gesso beneath. “what am i gonna tell dr. richards?”

“tell him it was my fault. he’ll understand. he’ll give you—”

the glare you throw john sends him falling back on his ass, his eyes wide. “this is your fault! this is exactly why i don’t want anyone in here but me.”

john shakes his head. “i’m sorry, [y/n]. baby, really i am.”

“get out!” tossing the canvas down, you rise to your feet. “get out! i can’t stand to look at you, john! that was two months of my life and potentially five thousand pounds you’ve ruined for me! get out!”

he doesn’t need to be told another time.

it’s the wee hours of the morning before you return home. nothing of the painting could be salvaged. you’d phoned dr. richards, explained in veiled terms what happened and asked for an extension on the date he’d originally wanted the painting. he granted it, thankfully, but even with the extra few weeks, you’d need to live in the studio to catch up to where you’d been on the painting before.

stripping yourself of your tear-stained and paint-stained clothes, you crawl into bed beside john. he shifts, blinking awake at the feel of you sliding beneath his arm.

his voice is thick with sleep when he speaks. “you’re home?” 

you nod and push your face against his chest. “i got an extension.”

he rubs your shoulder. “i’m so, so sorry, [y/n].”

you nod again, sniffing back the fresh onslaught of tears. “i know. just hold me, won’t you?”

he holds you as you cry. he holds you until you fall asleep. he’s still holding you when you wake up the next morning.

[loudsuitlover]

Doctor Harry XVI. La vereda de la puerta de atrás

A/N: Finally we know what happened to Harry! I’m excited for you guys to read this, let me know what you think :)

INDIE’S POV

I can barely make it to my room. It surprises me how many tears we can make without drying ourselves. I started crying the second I got away from Harry’s house and I cried all the way to my house in the taxi and still I’m not done.

I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why in the world I thought it would be okay if I just talked about that but the fact that Harry’s friend collaborated on the association and the way he said “it was their son, right?”

It wasn’t just their son. It was Dylan and Dylan was everything. Dylan made me play piano every day, Dylan would come over to my house just to see me for 5 minutes even if he lived 40 minutes away, Dylan showed me the best sunset I have yet seen. And Dylan was also a musician and he was a friend and, yes, he was a son, and a boyfriend and a grandson.

He was my first love and I swore he would be the last because there’s just no other way. He was half of me, it’s as simple as that. We were connected and we still are and we will always be because that’s just what it is when you find the one. I know most people don’t even find them, most people search their entire lives to find what I had with Dylan and still never find it so I should be thankful because it’s better to have loved and lost than to haven’t loved at all; but it’s just so hard…

I lie on my side on my bed and let the tears soak my pillow. I can’t push the memories away now. I opened the dam and now everything is coming out and choking me. I remember my Mum knocking on my bedroom door, the way she looked, I’ll always remember the way she looked. And my screams, tearing my throat up, and her small arms trying to hold me as I yelled and fought. I remember the sirens and then the hospital and Dylan’s mother’s face and how my hands trembled.

I don’t even know how in the midst of all the horror I’ve fallen asleep but the vibration of my phone against the mattress wakes me up. I bring it to my ear without checking the caller ID.

“Indie, thank God!” Harry’s loud voice pierces my ear.

“What is it?” My voice is hoarse after the sleep and the crying.

“What happened?” He asked. “The doorman told me you were crying. It’s the first time he tells me something like that.”

“Well it must have shocked him, I’m sure the rest of Med students that leave your apartment leave with a big smile and freshly fucked.” I regret my words as soon as I say them. “Sorry, that is none of my business.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Nothing.”

“What happened, Indie? Were you crying for something I said or didn’t say or-”

“No” I cut him off before he keeps messing up “it has nothing to do with you. It’s just… I cry every time I talk about him. I don’t like talking about what happened.”

Harry sighs.

“Yeah, I understand…” He doesn’t. “It’s the same for me…”

“What?”

“Listen, baby, I gotta go but… Uh… I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

Tomorrow night? He’s crazy.

“I can’t.” I lie.

“Tomorrow is Sunday, baby…”

“I have plans.”

He sighs.

“Indie, I-”

“It’s true.” I lie. “I’m not like you, I do have a life.”

“Wow.”

My eyes fill with tears again. I am a horrible person. I don’t even know why I said that to him but I can’t even speak now, my throat is completely closed. How could I throw that in his face after what he told me? I deserve all the bad things that could happen to me.

“Call me when you’re not mad anymore so we can talk.”

He hangs up. The distress hits me harder, it wraps around my chest and presses down and I feel like it’s going to collapse but I don’t even care if I stopped breathing.

Whenever I think of him, it’s like it’s happening all over again, like I never did all that progress, like I never went to therapy or like it’s the first time this is hitting me. But it’s not; and I know what I have to do. I can’t be alone or I would go down the same old dark road again and I don’t want that. I can’t endure that same old story.

Jason appears on my door not half an hour later. This reminds me so much of those months too but somehow instead of a trigger is comforting because he was there for me then and he’s here for me now and he’ll be here if I need him tomorrow and his hug always feels like the world can’t touch me if his arms are around me. I start crying again.

It's not as catastrophic as it was before but the quietness only makes it even harder. My heart is breaking all over again and now it’s doing it silently. Frustration is added to the pain because I don’t want to stay always stuck here. I want to move on and be able to talk about Dylan without wanting to die myself and instead here I am, on a cocoon on Jason’s arms as I silently cry on the couch.

I tilt my neck when I wake up for the third time today and find Jason with a deep frown and lips on a thin line. I look away from him and pout like a little girl. Of course he’s still mad at me. This doesn’t change what I said to him.

“How did he find out?” He asks instead. “Did you tell him?”

I nod and feel his hand on the low of my back as he shifts closer to me.

“A friend of his collaborates with Dylan’s organisation and… He asked about him.”

“Harry did?”

“No, his friend. Harry didn’t know anything until this morning…”

Jason hums. His hand keeps drawing figures on my back so I dare to look at him again.

“Are you still mad at me?” I whisper as if I was afraid he would hear me and then say yes.

His eyes bore into mine.

“Do you really want to talk about this now?”

“So yes.” I look ahead but from the corner of my eye I can still feel his eyes fixed on me. “You can leave if you want.”

“I also didn’t have to come if I didn’t want to.” He points out. “But I still came because I love you.” He sighs. “Listen, I wish you would keep your opinion about my relationship to yourself but I talked to Marie and I know where you’re coming from. I know you mean well, Indie, and that you’re just worried about me but I respect you and the only thing I ask is for you to do the same.”

Oh, God, I don’t want to cry again.

“You’re right, J. I’m a terrible person and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you or disrespect you. I love you so much.” The tears win the battle as they roll down my cheeks. “You’re… You’re still one of the few people that actually put up with me and… I know I’m… Not making it easy for anyone but” I sob “I really do need you all. I feel so alone, J.”

His muscled arms wrap around me as he pulls me to him.

“You’re not alone, Indie.” His voice cracks. “You’ve got us, we’ll always be here for you, and you’ve got your family. You’ll never be alone, Indie-pixie. And about me putting up with you, I never want to hear you say that bullshit again, do you hear me? I’m fucking lucky to have you. Anyone who has you in their life is.” He presses a kiss on my hair line. “You take care of me and I know no matter what I can always count on you and I fucking love you, okay? We all do.”

“I love you too.”

“Good.” He puff a laugh. “Now let’s go eat something, I’m starving.”

I’m not but I go with him to my kitchen and watch him cook pasta for the two of us. If Dylan was here he’d force me to eat. He always did that but I always dismissed him. I’ve never had any eating problem, it’s just that Dylan thought I ate so little because he ate like some hungry lion all the time and for some reason he thought I should eat like him. He loved my mum’s cooking.

I remember back in Capitol in my house, which now is my dad’s house, we had this huge kitchen with huge glass windows that looked at my mum’s garden and I remember right before we started dating we would do our homework on the kitchen while she cooked and Dylan would be the taster of everything.

I imagine I would try to cook Spanish food for him now. He would like that I took up cooking, that’s for sure, and I’m sure he’d like everything I made too. But I’ll never know because he’s gone and he’ll never come back.

It was so hard to be in that kitchen or in that dining room or even in my room. I can barely sleep there. Everything at Capitol reminds me of him and that’s why it’s just so hard to visit my dad.

Jason sets a plate of pasta in front of me and I grab the fork even if I couldn’t eat if I tried.

“What did you guys do last night?” I try to divert my thoughts from Dylan to literally anywhere else.

“We had dinner at my place and then we went to Loft 39.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Yes, but it would have been better with you.”

I smile even though I doubt it.

“How’s Ollie?”

“Lost.” Jason shrugs. “She told me what she did to Mario and you’re right, it is nasty.”

“I talked to him last night, he was at Elvis Buchanan’s birthday and I think he’s falling for her…”

“Who the hell is Elvis Buchanan?” He frowns and I chuckle.

“He’s a guy.” I shrug. “He’s nice.”

His eyes look up from his plate to mine.

“How are things with Harry?”

I shrug. Well, the other night he cried on my bed and last night he told me to get my own blanket if I was cold but after that we spooned and he ate me out this morning. So I have no idea.

“What do you think?” I ask him instead “You know, about Harry and me?”

“What’s there to think?”

I shrug.

“I don’t know… I mean… Do you think he’s using me?”

“Do you?”

I shrug.

“Where is this coming from, Indie?”

“It’s just… This morning he talked to this friend and when he asked him who I was he said I was a Med student.”

Jason’s eyes narrow.

“And you are.”

“Yes, but… Is that what I am to him? A Med student?”

“Well, what is he to you?”

I’m struck dumb.

“A friend.” I tell him.

He nods.

“Well, I’m guessing he was just trying to establish you, I guess. I mean what else could he say? It’s how you met after all.”

I don’t want to keep talking about it, especially having Dylan’s smile on my mind so I look away from him and nibble some on my past at the risk of throwing up.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He asks.

I guess that’s a way of taking my mind off. We play Failure to Launch but I fall asleep soon after Sarah Jessica Parker shows up. Grieving is really exhausting.

“Indie”

Warm hands lightly shake my arms and I blink.

“Dylan?”

“No, it’s Jason.”

I rub my eyes and see Jason looking at me with sorrowful eyes.

I feel my heart crashing on my chest. I haven’t seen a single photo of Dylan since his funeral. I can’t. But it’s heart-breaking to realize how hard it is for me to remember his face now. I know the colour of his eyes, and I can fantasize about his smile but if I close my eyes and try to see his entire face, I just… It’s not like a picture.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

Jason walks me to bed and lies down next to me before he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to him.

Had I been with Harry, he wouldn’t have woken me up to take me to bed. Instead, he would have picked me up like a kid and take me to bed himself. I don’t know why I just thought about that.

Jason’s fast asleep but I lie wide awake on the mattress. Of course I would do that, I’d fall asleep at any random moment and then stay up for the rest of the night. As much as I try to fall asleep it’s impossible and I wonder if this is how Harry feels when he can’t sleep too. No wonder he was harsh to me, this is terrible.

I haven’t gotten anything from him all day after our talk on the phone. Not that it surprises me after what I told him, but I still wonder how he’s doing. I wish I could talk to my therapist right now. Well, I don’t, because I know what she’s going to say and I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to fight her again, but I guess I want to know what I’m thinking and I know it sounds silly to say that but I need help figuring that out.

I remember when Dylan passed away I had this feeling in my chest and my belly and I thought I had asthma but it was none of that, it was just anguish and the thing was I couldn’t put my finger on it to the point where I just thought I was sick on my lungs and not on my mind. Even after therapy though, sometimes it’s hard for me to kind of know what I’m feeling.

I need to get out of bed. I’m driving myself crazy and, since Harry’s not around, the only other thing that manages to take my mind off, is downstairs so I try not to wake Jason up as I make my way to the reading room. When I slide the door opened, I entertain my eyes with the moonlight hitting the piano and without thinking, I sit on the stool and lift up the black lid so the keys are exposed to me.

I run my fingers through them, I haven’t played in three years. I’m not even sure I’m going to remember how to play but my fingers seem to remember Beethoven’s Moonlight sonata even before my mind does.

I’m not me anymore, I’m a part of a bigger thing, I’m a part of what’s playing and it surprises me to realize before I met Harry, I had resigned from feeling this way, from not thinking and just being but after I met Harry or since I know Harry, this is how he makes me feel. He makes me feel like music does.

It scares me because I know everything would be less painful if he was here now, if he was sitting down on one of the reading chairs listening to my sonata before he stood up and took me bare. But he is not and he won’t be here because it’s just sex between us.

I look ahead when I finish the piece and find a flabbergasted Jason staring at me with his lips parted. I look down, embarrassed.

“That was beautiful, Indie.”

“It wasn’t.” I complain. “It was sad.”

“It was sad and beautiful.”

I don’t understand how something can be sad and beautiful but I’ll let it go. I know Jason’s tired and I should try to get some sleep too.

“That was the first time I played since Dylan died.” I say. “Do you think I’m betraying him?”

Jason’s eyes hold mine for the longest minute. I don’t expect what he says.

“He’d like him.”

HARRY’S POV

It’s been a chill Monday. I’ve only had two surgeries and two hours of office so I’ve been able to work on my patients’ record a lot but it’s been hard to focus.

Family weekends always drain me, especially when it’s not my plan so I didn’t have time to prepare, not that I prepare very well anyway and to make things worse, Indie hasn’t contacted me yet.

I know I should give her time and space and all that shit but I’m tired of this back and forth with her. I don’t even know why but I have this need to make sure she’s okay and I just don’t want her to be in pain. It’s as simple as that. And knowing she’s gone through that… I guess it just explains a lot of things.

And I know I don’t deserve her, I don’t deserve any of this but… I’m starting to think maybe I don’t have to… Be alone all the time. She doesn’t want anything other than the physical relationship we have from me and that’s good, that’s safe; but it doesn’t mean I don’t worry about her. I never thought someone like her was going to show up and just change everything but for the first time since it happened, I actually want to tell somebody about it. I want to tell her. Yet I don’t know how… Because for all I know she might just storm out of the room- the girl has a temper- or tell me she’s not an ONG or something like that but… I just think if I can get her understanding I might forgive myself and I’m starting to think she might need me too.

Harry: Are you at uni?

I know she is because she was driving herself crazy when she had to miss lectures because she was sick so I don’t think she’d skip a lecture for any other reason. I think it’s cute that she’s such a psycho. She gives me a hard time over the amount of hours I work but I’m pretty sure I won’t see her face at all during finals.  

Indie: Yes.

Harry: At the lectures hall?

Indie: Yes

Indie: What do you want?

Harry: I’m picking you up

Indie: What?

Indie: No!

Harry: Why not?

Indie: I’m going shopping with Marie.

Harry: Well, go some other day.

Indie: No, I’ll see you some other day.

Harry: Please, love.

Indie: I said no but don’t worry I’m sure you can find some other Med student to fuck.

I hate it when she says that. It’s none of her business like she keeps saying but she really does get on my nerves when she acts like that. The only reason I was seeing other people is because she said we were “just sex”.

Anyway, I’m picking her up. I’ll drive her and Marie to the shops if that’s what I need to do to be able to talk to her. She can’t just act as if she cared and then shut me out and push me away whenever she feels like it.

I am leaning against the bars where the students lock their bikes when I see her walking out of the lectures hall holding a folder against her chest. She frowns and pouts like a mad little girl when she spots me and I know it shouldn’t be funny to me but I just think it’s so cute that her face is so giving. She stops in front of me and doesn’t stop frowning but I’m grinning at her. She’s hilarious.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You gave me no other choice.” I shrug.

“Yes, you could have waited for tomorrow.” She whispers through clenched teeth.

“You would have given me another excuse.” We both know that.

“Why are you smiling? Do you think this is funny?”

“Sort of.” I admit. “I mean, I’m not fully sure why you’re mad.”

“Anyone could see you here.” She looks at both her flanks.

“Indie, I work here. It’s not strange for anyone to see me here.”

“Yes, but talking to me?”

Her words sting but I don’t let her see that.

“I told you I can’t meet you today.”

“Yes, because you were going shopping with Marie who is nowhere to be found.”

“We’re meeting at the shops.”

“Okay, well, I’ll drive you.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“I just want to talk.”

She studies my face. Her hair is tied up on a long braid that falls on her back but some thin locks have fallen out of it and dance over her face. I want to tuck them behind her ear but I don’t. I need to stop doing that sort of things. She sighes, she’s going to say yes.

“Okay.”

I smile and walk towards my car and she adjust her bag on her shoulder before she starts walking next to me. She is texting someone and my hands seem to have a mind of their own because they hold her waist as we walk down the kerb towards the parking lot, afraid that she might not see it and stumble. Her body tenses up, she’s just as surprised as I am.

The drive is silence because she’s still texting whoever it is she’s talking to and I take the time to arrange my thoughts. I’ve never actually told anyone about this. Those who know know because they’re a part of the story one way or another but I’ve never sat in front of a third person and told them about the accident.

When I pull over at the shops parking lot, Indie unfastens her seat belt but waits for me to say something. She’s nervous and she’s probably uncomfortable too but I don’t want to do this here.

“Should we have a cup of coffee?” I offer.

She weighs her options. I don’t think she knows I’d do whatever she asks me to but she nods. I wait for her in order to walk side by side to the nearest café we can find and I dare to place a hand on her lower back as I gently guide her to one of the tables. She’s scolded me before about me not touching her in public and even though she just fought me for showing up at the lectures hall, I think she doesn’t mind the contact when we’re not in the hospital.

We take a seat on one of the tables near the far window. Through the window we can see the road, there’s a narrow pavement between the café and the road, but not many people pass by. It’s too cold for walks already so all we see is cars driving by. When a person walks by though, I see the fog coming out of their mouths as they breathe. It makes our spot cosier since warmth is not something you can see, but; likewise everything, it’s something you can feel better when you’re face to face with its absence.

Indie looks incredible, as usual. I love how pink looks on her and how cosy she looks on her winter clothes. Her hazel eyes bore into mine like she was a deer and I was the spotlight and I don’t know why all of a sudden she’s giving me that look. That’s the look she gives me on the bedroom too.

“How are you?” I start.

“Good.” She shakes.

Am I making her this nervous? I’m the one who’s nervous… Maybe I’m passing it on her. But she just looks so good and soft and fragile… I don’t want to say something that would somehow hurt her. I feel my heart beating fast and hard against my ribs. I’ve never been more afraid of anything on my life but I don’t want her to blame me and I’m afraid she will.

“Are you nervous?”

“No” she shakes her head “I’m just cold.”

“Do you want my jacket?”

I start taking it off before she can answer but she stops me by lifting her hands in the air.

“No, I’ve got my own coat. You’ll freeze.”

“I’m not cold, baby.”

I lend her my jacket and she covers her shoulders with it before she tucks her hands between her thighs trying to warm up. I order two cups of coffee and stare at her.

“You’re always cold.”

It’s true. She always shakes when she ends up alone in the bed because she moves around a lot and unlike me, her hands and her arms are always cold too. She nods and gives me a knowing smile.

“Are you still mad at me?”

She shakes her head. Good. I won’t ask why she was mad in case that makes her mad again. Plus, I’m about to tell her a very intimate part of me. I need her to be on my side.

“And sad?”

Her big eyes look down to the table. The waiter places our two cups on the table and her fingers break the wrapper of a sugar package before she adds some sugar to her coffee.

“I know you are, Indie.” She stirs the coffee. “And I understand.”

The repetitive movement of her hand stops and my heart follows suit when she looks up at me. I’ve never seen her like this before and I wish I could take her pain away but for the first time I don’t feel like she’s better than me. I don’t see her like this girl who takes care of everyone, drinks gin and doesn’t let you get too close. She’s vulnerable and she needs me too.

“I didn’t like that you dropped that bomb like that and just left as if we were strangers but that was not about me, I take it. And after the way you talked to me on the phone, I understood you didn’t want to see me or talk to me and I’ve respected that but-”

“Why did you say you understand?” Her eyes bore into mine and my breath catches on my throat. “You said that that day and you’ve said that now.”

I take a deep breath. Here we go…

“My sister had a car accident when she was twenty-two years old. I know it’s not the same, because she didn’t die, but… She almost did.” My voice croaks but the way she’s looking at me, with brown eyes wide opened and her full lips shut makes me go on. “Uh, she was in a coma for 5 days and… We didn’t know if she was… Going to make it. She did but… Uh… She can’t walk.”

Indie places her hand over mine and only then I realize I’m shaking. She intertwines our fingers and I stare at out hands. Her skin is so much tanner than mine and so much softer too.

“I’m very sorry, Harry.”

How can she be sorry? Her boyfriend died on a car accident. This is not the same… Yet it’s still hard.

“She was pregnant.”

Indie’s eyes sadden further and her grip on my hand tightens. I can’t tell her.

“The baby died on her womb and it teared in the accident so they had to remove it in surgery so… Uh, she can’t carry babies now.”

“Shit.”

“I didn’t help her or anyone at all. I just… I couldn’t. Even now I can’t even look at her without feeling so terrible.” I confess. “And I know she doesn’t want that, she doesn’t need that; but I just… Can’t overcome that, I guess. So… It’s always very hard for me to see her and that obviously has driven me away from my family.”

Indie nods. I guess she doesn’t know what to say to me.

“Is that why you started working so hard?” Her voice comes out in a thin whisper. “You told me you kind of buried yourself in work… Is that why? So that you wouldn’t think about it?”

I nod.

“I was eighteen when that happened and I think that’s the reason why I decided to become a doctor. My sister spent the entire summer in the hospital, you know, learning how to… Be, I guess and after I went to uni and… Everyone was like going out and having fun and meeting new people and falling in love but I just… Was not in that point in my life so I didn’t really make many friends, also because I wouldn’t let many people in and… Yeah, I guess I just started studying a lot and afterwards working a lot.”

“Do you not see your family at all anymore?”

“No, I do.” I nod. “I visit them every once in a while. They were here yesterday and the day before, that’s why I didn’t, uh, I don’t know contact you to try to comfort you even though I don’t think I would have been successful.”

I give her a sad smile that she reciprocates.  

“Is that why you can’t sleep?”

Kind of. I nod. I lick my lips before I bring my cup to my lips and take a sip.

“You didn’t have to tell me about this so thank you.” She gives me a sad smile.

“I wanted to.” I confess. “I wanted you to know that you’re not alone and that you can talk to me if you ever… I don’t know.” I smile at her.

“Thank you.” She has a sip of her coffee before she takes a deep breath. “I never really talk about it or him.” Her dark eyebrows lower on her forehead. “I… I… I don’t like how it makes me feel.”

I hold her hand and bring it to my mouth, kissing her skin as she stares at me with a surprised expression. I’m surprised too. I don’t know what I’m doing.

“You don’t have to.” I shrug, trying to dismiss how I just crossed the line. “I just want you to know that if you ever want to or need to, you can tell me.”

“Okay.” She smiles. “But I’m better now anyway.”

“Good.” I rub my hands together as I give her a smile. “Then what do you feel like doing now?”

She chuckles.

“Going shopping with Marie like I told you.”

Oh, so she wasn’t lying.

“Can I go with you and give you girls my opinion on the changing room?”

“Of course not.”

I click my tongue and make a grimace of disappointment that has her chuckling again.

“It was worth a shot.” She agrees making me laugh.

But now I can’t take the image of her perfect body trying on lingerie out of my head. I imagine the way the soft lace would rest on top of her skin because she always wears clothes that fit her perfectly without being tight and that always drives me mad. How easy it is to just slip her panties down her soft legs…

“Don’t go shopping, Indie.”

She frowns. This is insane, how she unwillingly and unknowingly controls my emotions giving me the mood swings of a pregnant woman. She’s driving me crazy for real.

“Don’t you want to show me the underwear you’re wearing now?”

Her eyes widen but don’t leave mine so I smile mischievously. I know her better than she’d like and I know she likes it when I talk dirty to her. It’s like everything we’ve talked about before this, as serious as it was, is not on our minds anymore. It’s hard to think of anything other than her when she’s right in front of me, giving me her attention like she is now, looking at me and listening to me and just being here. I want to be closer to her.

“Do you not want my mouth on you, baby?” I lick my lips and watch her cheeks tinging pink. “Do you want to know what I want?”

Her lips part but instead of answering she takes air in. I don’t need her to say yes for me to know she does want to. She always does.

“I want to put your perfect ass against my kitchen counter and eat you out like you deserve, love.”

Her juicy mouth parts and I feel my dick hardening. She’s so easy, she’s as horny as I am.

“And then I’d fuck you onto the counter until your ass goes numb. Look at you, you’re blushing.” I grin. “It never fails to surprise me how shy you seem to be out of bed and how dirty you are in it.”

“Maybe I’m the perfect example of a lady out and a slut in.”

If she had said that any other way, I would have played along but the way she lifted her chin and clenched her jaw gives her away.

“Indie, you’re not a slut.” She rolls her eyes. “Why? Because you like sex? That doesn’t make you a slut, baby, it makes you a human.”

My hand reaches for her braid and I twirl a finger around it before I grip it between my fingers and gently pull from it bringing her face closer to mine until our lips are inches away.

“I like it” I tell her “that you’re free and you know what you want, it’s fucking sexy, baby.”

I press my lips against hers before she can reprimand me for the PDA and I feel her breath against my mouth as she takes the kiss. It takes her a few seconds to reciprocate but I smile when she bites my bottom lip. I bet she’s shutting her thighs together but before I can check that with my own hand underneath the table, her phone rings and she pulls apart.

“Hi, Marie.” She gives me a death glare as she wipes my saliva from her lips. “I’m having a cup of coffee on” she tilts her neck searching for the name of the cafeteria “on Sionpa, it’s right next to the- oh, right, yeah, yeah, that’s the one but don’t” she all but yells “worry, I can, I’ll go out. There’s no need for you to come all the way here. See you in a second.”

The things she would say not to have her friends see me. I smile as she leaves a bill on the table.

“Here, I’ve got your coffee too.” She says.

“Thank you.”

Her eyes narrow. I know she was expecting a bit of resistance on my part but I know she doesn’t like it when I don’t let her pay so she won’t have it. I grin.

“Oh, Harry!”

Indie turns around and Adam grins at us.

INDIE’S POV

“Indie!” Adam’s face lightens up as he leans in to give me a light hug. “I hadn’t recognized you! It’s very nice to see you! How are you?”

This guy is so well-mannered and friendly. It even surprises me that he’s that close to Harry.

“Hi, Adam. I’m good, thank you, how are you?”

“Good. What a coincidence, hey?”

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Harry asks him.

He’s stood up from his chair and is now standing next to me with his hand on my low back.

“I need to get my mother a present. It’s not going well.” He smiles.

Harry chuckles.

“Just get her a book.”

“That’s like the least personal thing you could get her.” I complain.

“I don’t think so.” Harry argues back. “A scarf is less personal.”

“You are the king of presents.”  

Harry shrugs and Adam chuckles at our interaction.

“Is this what you were having?” Marie points at Harry with raised eyebrows and an annoyed expression.

Oh, shit.

“Marie!”

Adam laughs and my friend her eyes roam up and down his body. He grins at her. Alright, what is going on?

I look at Harry but he seems as lost as I am. He gives me a confused look as if he was waiting for me to solve this but I don’t know what we’re supposed to do either.

“Hi, I’m Adam. I’m a friend of Harry’s.”

“I’m Marie, a friend of Indie’s.”

Adam shakes Marie’s hand and I think everyone can see how she turned into the heart eyed emoji. Oh, Marie, don’t be so obvious… But he hasn’t taken his eyes off her either. She smiles nervously.

“Do you guys want to have a cuppa?”

“Well, we-”

“We’d love one.” Marie smiles.

“Sure.” Harry surprises me.

What are they doing?! I give Harry a death glare but he looks away so I focus on the other little devil.

“What was that? The shops are gonna close.”

“Well” she shrugs “the shops are there every other day.”

I stand there like a fool as Harry brings two more chairs to our table and takes a seat himself. Marie does the same and that’s when my head goes into a short-circuit. I would have never thought I would be having coffee with Harry at some random cafeteria, much less with Marie in what looks like a double date. Harry licks his lips inside his mouth amused and taps the empty chair next to him but I sit down next to Marie.

“Did you call him?” Marie asks me the second I sit down. She’s back. “Or did you follow her around?”

I feel my cheeks heating up but Harry grins as he looks at her.

“Second option.”

“And why do you do that?”

My eyes widen. Did timid Marie just ask that? She’s frowning at him as if she was a cop confronting a criminal and my breath catches on my throat. Harry looks at me before he looks back at my friend.

“Because I like her company.”

“Just because of that?” She challenges.

“Marie, dear Lord, shut it.”

“No” She frowns at me. “This is bad. She’s a lot younger than you, mister, and you’re her mentor, what if-”

“This is half the cuppas.” Adam says as he places a cup of tea before me and the other one before Marie. “I’ll be back with the rest.”

“What’s your game?” She resumes her accusations as soon as Adam walks away. “What do you want from her?”

“Marie, seriously, you’re embarrassing me.”

“Why? If you don’t ask the questions, somebody has to.”

“I’m not a-”

“I’m not playing with Indie.” Harry answers cutting my words short.

He’s studying Marie’s face with a stern expression. I wouldn’t be able to tell what’s going through his mind.

“I never have and what I want from her, she knows perfectly fine since the very first day.”

He doesn’t seem mad or annoyed at my friend’s rude behaviour but I’m beyond embarrassed. Thankfully, Adam arrives with his coffee and Harry’s and takes a seat next to his friend before another word can be spoken.

“Were you guys on a date?”

What is going on today? What sort of question is that? Harry chuckles and only then I realize he’s looking at me. My face must be a technicolour poem.

“No” I answer before Harry can embarrass me any further “we don’t go on dates.”

“I beg to differ.” Harry challenges with a smug smile.

I’m going to kill him. Adam and Marie look at each other trying to see if any of them know what’s going on but I mean neither do I.

“So how long for have you guys known each other?” He asks Marie.

Thank God, I need a break. Harry’s still smiling at me, he’s clearly loving this.

“Four years. We go to uni together.”

“Oh, so you study Medicine too?”

“Yes.” Marie nods.

“Oh, gosh, three nerds and me.” Adam jokes and my friend laughs.

“What did you study?” She asks. “If you studied at all.” She panics. “Because it’s fine if you didn’t. I mean you don’t have to, you know, it’s a valid choice not to and it’s also a valid choice to study. Please somebody stop me.”

Adam throws his head back and laugh and Harry fights against his smile but fails. Marie is adorable.

“I studied Journalism.”

“Oh.” Marie nods. “It sounds interesting.”

“Well” he shrugs “I’m currently working at this big cosmetics firm. I’m the crisis management responsible.” He nods. “I get all these free products that I don’t even know how to use.”

I chuckle. He’s great, what a subtle way of letting my friend know he doesn’t have a girlfriend. I almost bow at him.

“Really?” Marie chuckles. “That’s so cool!”

He chuckles and frowns.

“I mean, you can have them even though you don’t need them.”

I try to control my chuckle because he’s not laughing but I catch Harry rolling his eyes from the corner of mine. He then looks at me and smiles. My phone screen lightens up and Harry’s eyes drop on it too. He’s the nosiest person I’ve ever met. It’s an Instagram notificacion.

@gemmastyles liked your picture.

[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 17

Chapters: 17/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16]

The gallery hums with gentle energy, full of people drinking, chatting, considering the art on the walls. It's a strange little bubble, practically outside the real world.

Martin is standing alone for a rare moment when a voice comes out of the crowd.

"Can it be? Martin Blackwood, in the flesh."

Martin's blood runs icy at the long-buried voice, rising from his past like some kind of bad joke. Of all the times, in all the places, how could this be happening now?

He turns to find his worst nightmare, Peter Lukas, standing right there in the flesh.

"Peter?" He asks stupidly, eyes wide and heart pounding.

"My goodness, it is you. What an incredible surprise." Peter grins, oozing smultz and satisfaction. He looks Martin up and down like a prize cut of steak. "And here I was, thinking the art would be the best thing on display tonight."

"I-" Martin begins, in the hopes he can tell Peter to take a hike and disappear into the crowd. He wonders how angry Gerry would be if he simply walked straight out the door and called to explain from the safety of a taxi.

"It has been so many years. What is it? Six, seven?" Peter's voice booms, his barrel chest amplifying it across the gallery.

"Seven," Martin replies, far more quietly. He is terrified that Jon and Gerry will reappear at exactly the wrong moment, overhear precisely the wrong thing.

"Goodness! So long, and you're all grown up, aren't you? Like a good wine, only improved with a few years on you."

"Maybe that's because I was practically a child when you seduced me." Martin still whispers, but many years of anger and loathing have begun to bubble up inside of him.

"Now Martin, there's no reason to be like that. We were so good together. We could be, again." Peter steps towards Martin, hand outstretched to touch his arm.

"Mr Lukas," Gerry says, voice smooth and dangerous, inserting himself firmly at Martin's side. That part of him that fosters a keen awareness of his lovers blaring with alarm. "What brings you out this evening?"

"Oh Gerard, a pleasure to see you, as always." Pater's voice remains jovial, but his eyes crease at the interruption. "Martin and I were just having a little chat."

"No, we weren't," Martin says, his hand shaking where Gerry has interlaced their fingers.

"No?" Gerry asks, easy danger in his voice.

"No," Martin confirms.

"Mr Lukas, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I don't believe my partner appreciates seeing you here."

"Do you know how much money I sink into this artist? You can't ask me to leave." Peter's voice is still lilting and calm, but vehemence fills the words gradually.

"I don't give a flying fuck. Take a long walk off a short dock." Gerry advises him, best smile in place, voice verging on cheerful.

"Did your," Peter pauses to add disgust to his tone, " partner ever tell you that he used to be with me? That I used to pay him, to be with me?"

Martin goes absolutely pale.

"It is a shame when you have to pay for company, isn't it?" Gerry counters, not missing a beat, expression sunny and voice falsely sympathetic. "However, I'm afraid Mr Blackwood is rather occupied these days, with two boyfriends and a booming business. I believe his calendar is quite full."

"Whores never change. You think he's yours, but-"

All of a sudden, Jon appears from behind them and punches Peter with his full weight. Gerry, who has gotten into plenty of scraps with drunk idiots who won't keep their hands to themselves, is tempted to join in but thinks better of it. He pulls Jon back as Peter hits the floor heavily, and the room full of fancy art snobs goes very, very silent.

"Oh Christ," Martin mutters, voice as washed out as his complexion.

"What a to-do." Elias Bouchard arrives on the scene, suit impeccable, black shoes polished to a high shine. He stands with hands in pockets, gazing down at Peter with a look of mild interest. "You know Jonathan, I don't normally appreciate my employees striking my husband in public. However, I'll consider forgiving you, this time, on account of your surprisingly excellent right hook."

"Your what?" Jon demands furiously, going pale enough that Gerry is concerned he might pass out.

"My husband, Jonathan, do keep up," Elias responds, airily.

Martin makes a distressed little noise that makes the hairs on Gerry's arms stand on end.

Gertrude finally arrives, heels clicking intimidatingly. "Problem, gentlemen?" She queries, looking down at Peter, groaning on the ground.

"Ah," Gerry stutters, "I think we had better go?"

"I imagine that might be for the best. Do take both of your lovers with you." Gertrude says, with a bit of a bite. "And Gerard?"

"Yeah?" Gerry asks distractedly, trying to herd his errant partners among the gathering crowd.

"You are going to owe me for this one," Gertrude tells him, tone unbelievably prim, and verging into some sort of perverse satisfaction.

"Absolutely." If Gertrude can fix this one, Gerry will happily owe her anything.

*

Martin sits in a total haze on the way home, static filling his ears and blanketing him away from the world.

He's faintly aware of Jon holding his hand and his forehead leaned against the cool taxi window, but mostly he just stares blankly and doesn't even bother trying to draw himself away from his shocked stupor.

He gets out of the cab when it stops and wanders vaguely up the stairs and into the flat. Jon and Gerry follow him, concerned, but quiet for the time being.

He finds himself standing at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the loft, eyes intent on the bottom step, unsure if he knows how to climb them any longer.

"Martin? Martin!" A panicked voice eventually breaks through the haze, a hand desperately gripping his elbow.

"Jon?" Martin looks down at the hand, nails painted a lovely shade of green, then up at the face it belongs to. It's creased in concern.

"Are you alright?" Gerry's voice asks from close by.

"No. I don't think I am." His voice is foggy and he feels very far away still.

"Martin, I-" Jon starts, sounding shaky.

"He was telling the truth, you know." Martin tells them, rather abruptly, "Nothing he said was a lie."

"Martin, you are not a whore. Whatever you might have done for work, whatever choices you might have made in the past, those things don't mean anything to us." Gerry states firmly.

"We love the person you are now, and whatever baggage comes with you, we're fine with that." Jon continues, running his hands up and down Martin's arm.

"This?" Martin asks, suddenly aggressive. "You two are telling me that you're okay with me getting paid for, for-"

"For sex, Martin? Yes, we are fine with it." Jon responds unequivocally.

"There's nothing shameful about sex work," Gerry adds, voice equally firm. "And besides, you were young and Peter Lucas is a fucking cunt. I imagine desperate times called for opportunistic creeps to try to take advantage."

Martin shakes his head, eyes panicked. "I can't do this."

He turns and runs up the loft stairs.

Jon and Gerry watch him go, then exchange a concerned look.

"Let's give him some space, love," Gerry mutters, taking Jon's hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

*

"Maybe you should go in with him."

"Don't even start that bullshit again, Jonathan. I thought we were past this?"

"I am! I just thought-" Jon's cuts off abruptly, chastised.

Martin, sitting on the floor of the shower, can hear every word. He can imagine them standing on the other side of the bathroom door, Jon twisting his hands together and Gerry's arms crossed protectively.

He feels the pit of his depression open up beneath him and he desperately clings to the edge of his sanity, trying not to fall in.

Martin is always afraid that he'll go into a depressive episode- and never come out the other side again. He presses his eyes closed, fighting against the sob desperately trying to choke him.

He honestly can't believe that he let this happen. Why didn't he tell them before? How could he have let himself move in with them, dedicated himself to them and never tell them he was a prostitute?

Martin isn't ashamed of what he had done to survive, but he knows getting paid for sex can be a deal-breaker for a lot of people. He feels sick that Jon or Gerry might feel trapped with him now. All because he couldn't open his stupid mouth and be honest with them.

Despite his best efforts, the tears escape, and his partners stand on the other side of the door, listening to his heart break.

*

Martin comes downstairs to find his lovers in the kitchen. Jon is cooking something fragrant and he has Gerry chopping vegetables. They're both still wearing their suits, and Martin feels absurdly underdressed in his sweatpants and favourite pink cardigan. It clashes with his hair, these days, but he doesn't care.

Gerry sees him first, pausing a moment to assess him. Martin is pleased to see the typical glint of focus and desire in his eyes. It has been such a bedrock in their relationship, and he had been dreading finding gone.

"Gerry, if-" Martin starts right away.

"Careful, love. If the words 'I'll understand if you don't want me to move in any more' come out of your mouth, I'm going to go back to the gallery and finish what Jon started. So if you don't want me to go to jail for murder, you had better reconsider." Gerry sounds downright pleasant as he says the words, leaning forward on the counter to loom threateningly.

Martin closes his mouth, Gerry having predicted his exact words.

"We understand if you're not ready to talk about any of that, Martin," Jon tells him with a reassuring smile. "Later is soon enough. We love you, and that's all that matters."

"Even with this?" Martin whispers, twisting his fingers together anxiously.

"Even with this," Gerry assures him. "Nothing and no one can change the way we feel about you. It's always going to be you for us."

Finally seeing that Martin won't approach them, Jon turns off the stove and comes over to take Martin's frigid hands in his warm calloused ones. He savours the touch, marvelling as always that someone with so many edges can be so soft when he needs it.

"Martin Blackwood, you are the love of our lives. Whatever came before us and whatever might come now that we're together, we love you, always and in all ways." Jon pronounces, the finality of a million acts of affection behind his words. "Please stay with us?"

Martin smiles shakily at the reminder of the resolution of Jon and Gerry's first major fight, at the words that had become akin to 'I can't be without you, and I won't let this take you away'.

He feels known and loved and adored, even as he feels violated and striped raw at the exposure of his past, his secret. He feels at home, in a flat full of boxes that always smells of oil paints and old books, with two lovers who couldn't be more different but had protected him when he didn't know how to protect himself.

Gerry comes over and takes one of his hands from Jon, holding it with both his own, placing a kiss on his palm. "Please stay with us?" He repeats the words softly, teal eyes bright with emotion. "I need you."

"I need you too," Martin tells them earnestly, allowing them to wrap him up in their arms. "Please keep me."

"Always," comes the reply, a certainty even more profound than fear.