#In return all I ask is for your care. your openness. your fear. desires. joy. pain. All you give to the unworthy man I ask for in his stead

[wlw-cryptid]

humbly asking for a link to the the angel fic…

reread it again and it. isn't as good as I remember. the language is bland and kinda utilitarian

[msexplorer]

"The healthiest relationships are the honest ones, the ones grounded in Presence, not fantasy or false hope, and a deep commitment to a living truth.

Where two souls can share their authentic, real-time, embodied selves with each other, reveal their deepest truths – raw, messy, unresolved, unfinished and rough at the edges - and continually let go of their preconceived, conditioned ideas about how they ‘should’ be.

The relationship is continually renewed in the crucible of intimacy. There may be ruptures, misunderstandings, intense feelings of doubt, anger, fear, anxiety and groundlessness along the way, yes, of course, but there is a mutual willingness to face this mess as it arises. To be vulnerable. To say “I hurt. I am in pain. I feel deep sorrow” and not blame the other for that pain. To say “I need some support” but not demand it of the other. To share desires and hopes and longings and dreams and not command that the other see things in the same way, or meet all of your needs. To receive their ‘no’ and their ‘yes’ too, even if it hurts. To stay in the crucible of transformation; to look with wide open eyes together at the present rupture, not turning away, or clinging to ‘the way it used to be’ or follow other people’s ideas about how things ‘should’ be. To let second-hand concepts of happiness burn up. To sit together sometimes in the rubble of shattered dreams and expectations, plans and hopes, and work towards finding a place of reconnection, repair and reconstruction. This is the courageous and often intense work of relationship.

Even if we have to start by admitting deep feelings of disconnection. This is a relationship that is alive. A relationship that makes space for our deepest longings, fears, pains, yet does not expect the other to resolve these, or take the hurt away. That asks the other to be a witness, a midwife for our own healing. And offers the same in return.

To inspire each other to find our own happiness. Even if that means letting go of or 'breaking up' the relationship in its current form. Love holds the other lightly, it does not cling or attempt to control. It only wants the best for the other, only wants them to step into their power, live their fullest life, find their deepest joy, follow their original path, learn to love their bodies and their own deepest feelings, and find new ways to take care of themselves.

“I love you, and I want you to flourish”.

Relationship can be the ultimate yoga, yes, an ever-deepening adventure and rediscovery of ourselves and each other, rediscovering ourselves in the mirror of each other, a continual letting-go and a meeting, a dance of aloneness and togetherness, not losing ourselves in either extreme but playing somewhere in the middle. Sometimes coming together, sometimes moving apart. Closeness and space. Intimacy with other, intimacy with self. Breathing in, breathing out.

Relationship is not a place we reach, a point of arrival, a destination, a 'thing', a dead story; it is alive, and forever a point of departure, a beginning, each day. We can only start together, here, and there is joy in that beginning.

There is excitement in the not knowing. There is life in the continual death of expectations. Staying close to a healthy fear of loss. Staying near to the groundlessness of things without losing ourselves in that groundlessness. Finding safety in the uncertainty. Finding a new ground in the power of love itself. Standing where we stand. Breathing in, and breathing out.

As Eckhart Tolle says, relationships aren't here to make us happy - for true and lasting Happiness lies within us all, that unshakable Presence that nobody can ultimately give us, or take away. We are safe either way.

Others will not complete us. They will not save us, or resolve our deepest inner experience for us. They will, however, give us the gift of exposing our wounds, our inner children, those lost fragments, bringing them to the surface, the places within us that are crying out for empathy, those beautiful orphans of the light.

And then, a risk! To reveal our raw hearts, our loneliness, our vulnerability, our sensitivity, our not knowing, our joy, our ‘shameful’ secrets, to another human being on this small blue planet in the vastness of space. To drop the mask and expose the unprotected, unguarded heart. To risk being rejected, left alone, shamed and ridiculed. To risk a repetition of the old, perhaps.

But a bigger ‘risk’, maybe: To be loved for who we are! To be held in the blinding light of another’s fascinated attention, like a baby held with such tenderness by an adoring, attentive mother. To be met in the present moment, nowhere to hide, nowhere to run. To let in the New. To risk losing the image, the false self, the carefully constructed persona, and to let another embrace the softness here.

This is the highest possibility of relationship - to see another’s exquisitely delicate heart and to let your own soft heart be seen. In the seeing, there can be healing, transformation, great beauty. We can be therapeutic vessels for our brothers and sisters. We can bring each other medicine, encouragement and great companionship on this sometimes lonely path of coming alive before we die.

And maybe it takes a lifetime to discover:

The One you always longed for was actually deep inside of you. And to have that One reflected by another – a partner, a friend, a lover, a therapist, or an animal, a tree, a mountain, the moon or the Vastness of the Cosmos – even if it’s only for a moment…

…well, then you know Heaven on Earth."~

~Jeff Foster

[bruhstories]

Choke Me

Summary: Reiner can’t comprehend why you won’t have sex with him. You help him understand Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader Warnings & Content: language, dom!Reader, sub!Reiner, oral sex (female receiving), whipping, unprotected sex, tied up Reiner Word Count: 1.7 k

A/N: You know what, I'm thriving off of sub!Reiner.

It absolutely baffled Reiner how someone like Annie was such good friends with someone like... you. He didn't mean it in a bad way, it was just too strange that the two of you were so close, yet complete opposites of each other. Annie was a tomboy, silent and calculating, you were dressed in pink from head to toe, loud and outgoing and just so adorable. And you completely ransacked his heart. Reiner was utterly in love with you, and you knew it. So, when he mustered up the courage to ask you out, it did not come as a surprise. In fact, you too crushed on him, and every time you were at their place, your eyes drifted to him, always, all the time. The two of you clicked instantly as a couple, and Reiner could only wonder how on Earth were you single until him, going so far as to asking Annie about your love life and with widened eyes, she hastily dismissed him. See, the thing was that you, despite your bubbly and juvenile personality, were a sick, sadistic dominatrix, and boys were terrified of that. While you usually donned clothing in pastels, flowy dresses and chiffon blouses, half of your closet was filled with garters, suspender belts, corsets, some in the deepest shades of red, others black, materials varying from lace to latex. Whenever you had a guy over and pulled out whips, riding crops or ball gags, they would disappear from the face of the Earth, never evercalling you back. Annie knew this about you but never judged. To each their own, she would say, not exactly caring about your kinks. But she wouldn't know how Reiner would react to that, and while intrigued to find out, she didn't want you two to break up either. Deep down she cared about all of her friends, despite the aloof attitude.

Three months into your relationship, you still politely declined Reiner's offers to have sex. He was incredibly sweet, treating you like a princess, and in return you were supportive and caring, but fearing that he, too, might run away after learning about your kinks, you kept finding excuses to deny him. At one point he even asked you if you have some sort of STD, genuinely concerned but promising to still be with you no matter what. You promised you were clean, but that only made him more curious as to why you wouldn't have him. 'You're not attracted to me?' or 'Am I doing something wrong?' were his usual questions and your heart broke in thousands of pieces each time you refused him. He seemed like the kind of man who dominated in bed, and while you were inclined to switch it out sometimes, you always, always had to have it your way the first time you fucked a guy.

Eventually Reiner couldn't take it anymore. He called you, begged you to explain yourself to him and you ceased to try and keep him away from the carnal pleasure you both desired. You invited him over, offering to cook dinner and disclose what you had managed to hide for so long. He popped at your door with a bouquet of daffodils, matching the honey-yellow apron tied around your waist, his eyes were needy and woeful, still believing it's his fault that you two haven't had sex yet. He kissed you on the lips, starving for more, but you pulled back, opting to discuss things first.

"So," you began, legs crossed under the table and anxiously swirling spaghetti with your fork, "I... shit, I don't even know how to say it."

"Y/N, whatever it is, I promise it won't change what I feel for you." Reiner caressed your cheek so gently that you felt sorry for dragging him into this.

"I think it's best if I show you." You got up, took hold of his hand and guided him into your bedroom. The chamber perfectly reflected your personality, with garlands and fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, doodles and drawings taped to the walls and stuffed toys bundled up on your baby blue bedsheets. "You better sit down for this, babe."

"Jesus, how bad can it be?"

With a sigh, you swung open the closet door, revealing the strangest of sex toys, erotic lingerie and high heeled footwear. Reiner erupted into laughter, throwing himself on your bed and holding his abdomen.

"Why exactly are you laughing?" Your voice was serious, dangerous almost, your body lacking a reaction.

"You're telling me you didn't wanna have sex because, what? You're into BDSM?"

"I don't think you get it, Reiner. I'm not just into it, I like dominating men." You frowned, taken aback by his attitude. He perked his ears up and sat up, suddenly attentive, his gaze locking with yours.

"Do you want to dominate me?" The blond asked, unsure of what it would feel like, but inquisitive to try.

"If you'll let me, yes." You bit your lip, fingers smoothing the apron.

"Fuck it, if it makes you happy, I'll let you do whatever you want to me." Reiner declared, palms on his knees. "Do I need a safe word?"

"Not tonight, I'll go easy on you." You beamed, eyes glistening with so much joy and he almost regretted his decision.

Almost.

Tied up, naked and helpless, Reiner could only watch how you strutted into the bedroom, latex corset around your waist, tits out, riding crop in hand.

"Shit, you look so-" crack.

The thin object met with his cheek and he groaned in pain, confusion written all over his face.

"You speak when I allow it, understood?" And he nodded desperately. "Good boy. Maybe if you behave, I'll reward you."

It was then when Reiner realised how easily his dick hardened when he submitted. It was then when he realised how much he loved you.

You dragged the crop across his body, goosebumps all over his skin, before you propped one foot on the bed, spreading your legs and exposing your wet cunt to him. You could've sworn you saw his pupils dilating when your fingers barely touched the slick slit.

"You want this, Reiner?"

"Yes!" The man almost cried out, licking his lips. Crack. Another hit, this time over his thigh and he whimpered — the sound was music to your ears.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, please!"

"That's better." You hummed, slightly spreading your folds, foot still on the bed. Your middle finger rubbed around your clit, a quiet moan escaping your lips. "Tell me how much you want it!"

Pulling at his restraints, Reiner sighed. Never has he felt so overpowered, but the pleasure he took from it was slowly seeping in his brain, clouding his judgment.

"I need you, Y/N. I need to feel you so bad, please!"

"You gotta earn it first." Voice aggressive yet seductive, you climbed on top of him, feet at the sides of his head. "Lick it good and I'll reward you. Do a bad job and I'll punish you." And before he could utter a word you were straddling his face. His tongue sloppily licked everything it could, in or around your cunt, and you forcefully grabbed the metallic bedframe with one hand, your other one fondling your soft tits. Your moans echoed in the room as you moved your hips for more friction, your breath hitching, his cock twitching. "Atta boy!" You groaned and slid off of him.

"Did I do well?" Reiner asked, hope glistening in his eyes.

"Very well." You snickered and pressed your lips onto his to taste yourself in a sinful kiss.

"Can I get my reward?" The man asked after you pulled away, a mixture of saliva and slickness at the corners of your mouth.

"Oh, I don't know..." You scrunched your nose.

"Please, Y/N! I've been good, I- I need you around my dick, please!" He begged, not even caring how desperate he sounded and that only made you feel like a goddess. You picked up the riding crop and dragged it up and down his shaft, terror in his eyes.

"I wonder how much it would hurt." You mused, head tilted and mischief in your voice.

"No, no, you said it was good! Please don't punish me-"

"Oh, don't be stupid." You rolled your eyes, climbing back on top of him. "I need that dick as much as you do." And with that, your hand helped push his cock in between your folds, painstakingly slowly taking it all in. "Fuck, you're big."

The sound of skin against skin tickled your brain, your hips moving up and down, your cunt clenching around his throbbing member.

"Please..." Reiner groaned.

"Please what?" You threw your head back, the pressure forming in your core making you moan louder.

"Please choke me!" He asked and you almost stopped moving, taken aback by his request.

"I'm beginning to think you like being dominated, love." You grinned, your fingers lightly squeezing his neck.

"God, you're so tight!" The man bucked his hips, the unexpected thrust earning a whimper out of you. "Harder, choke me harder!"

"Fuck, Reiner!" The grip around his neck tightened and your moves became frantic, animalistic. "You like that? You like the way I fuck you?"

"Mhm!" He eagerly nodded, unable to speak.

"Look at you, so small and pathetic." You panted, feeling your climax close and his cock pulsating. "Oh, are you gonna come? Go on, do it, come for me!" You cried out, legs violently quaking as the sticky hot liquid dripped out of your folds, down his shaft. For a moment neither of you moved. You looked at Reiner through strands of Y/H/C that draped over your face, beads of sweat glistening on your forehead. Your hands extended and you untied the ropes around his wrists, falling next to your boyfriend on the mattress, cum leaking out of your cunt.

"Do you still... love me?" You whispered, your voice shy, completely different to the woman you were five seconds ago.

"Babe, of course! And to be fair, it was so hot submitting to you." Reiner pulled you to his chest, fingers brushing your cheek. "Say, think we can switch it up next time?"

"Nope!" You smiled and rested your forehead on his shoulder.

"Eh, at least I tried." The man shrugged. "In all seriousness, though, don't hide things like these from me. If this is what you like then I respect that, Y/N."

Your heart fluttered in your chest. Most boys ran, but Reiner was a man, and he was clearly going to stay.

"Maaaaybe we can switch next time. But only if you behave!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

[thebadgerclan]

Perfect Fjerdan Wife

Pairing: Matthias Helvar x reader

Summary: You will make a perfect Fjerdan wife...

Did anyone ask for this?  No.  But can I stop thinking about Matthias proposing to his girl and Fjerdan courting rituals?  Also no.  So here, have this 😂

Y/F/N is your father’s name

I used some Swedish words in place of Fjerdan, translations are as follows:

(Min) älskling-(my) darling, sötnos-sweetheart, (Min)  kärlek- (my) love

“He’s here!”  Your mother’s voice drew you from your daydreaming, the focus of which was the man currently at your front door.  You stood from your seat at your dressing table and descended the stairs of the small home you shared with your parents.  Your father was at the door, which was open to reveal Matthias standing just inside the threshold.  A bouquet of winter roses was in his hand, and when he saw you, his features broke into a dopey smile.  “Jormanen end denam danne näskelle,” your father said, stepping aside to let Matthias in.  Be welcome and wait out the storm.

“Grannam end kerjenning grante just onter kelho,” Matthias replied.  I thank you and bring only gratitude to your home.  He approached you, still smiling, and offered you the flowers.  “Thank you,” you said, taking them from his hand.  “They are beautiful.”  “Not nearly as beautiful as you älskling .”  You blushed deeply, and Matthias smiled wider.  “The food smells delicious,” he said, and your mother appeared at your side, taking the flowers from you and setting them in a vase.  “You are too kind, Matthias.  Come, dinner will be ready any moment.”

After dinner, you and your mother returned to the kitchen to wash dishes, while Matthias and your father remained in the dining room.  “He is a good man,” your mother said, handing you a plate to dry.  “He will make a good husband.”  You couldn’t fight the smile that broke on your face.  “I love him, Mama,” you said, the first time you’d spoken the words aloud, though you’d felt them for weeks.  “I know you do, sötnos, I see it in the way you look at each other.”

In the other room, Matthias was nervous.  “Sir,” he began, addressing your father.  “Y/N is a wonderful young woman.”  Your father nodded, not speaking.  He knew where Matthias was going with this, and while all he wanted was happiness for his daughter, you were still his little girl.  “I wish to marry her, and I desire your blessing.”  Your father sat up straight, setting his glass of kvas down.  “You are an honorable man,” he said.  “Devoted to Djel and Fjerda.  But will you show the same devotion to my daughter?”  

“The same and more, sir,” Matthias said, gnawing on his lip.  “I love her, and I will give her nothing but joy and happiness for the rest of our lives.”  Your father was silent for a moment, and Matthias feared the worst.  But then he spoke, “You have my blessing.  Treat her well, or I shall show you pain like nothing you could have imagined.”  “Of course, sir, you have my word.”  Not even a moment later, you re-entered the dining room, your mother in tow.  

“Y/N, would you care for a walk with me?”  Instinctually, you glanced at your father, who simply nodded.  “We do not require a chaperone, kärlek, unless you desire one?”  Matthias was ever the gentleman, but you’d had the three required meals with your family, tonight marked seven, and you’d been on several chaperoned outings.  Matthias never wanted you or your family to feel as if he were after more than an honest marriage with you, so he never pushed to be alone with you.

He offered his arm, which you took, glancing once more to your parents.  “Be safe,” your mother offered, and you nodded, exiting your home on Matthias’ arm.  The two of you strolled around your neighborhood, the few people on the streets pausing to let you pass.  A drüskelle with his intended is given the utmost respect, a holy soldier and his Fjerdan girl.  Matthias and you spoke of the weather, the flowers in your garden, Trassel’s latest mischiefs.  

When you reached a cliff overlooking the harbor, Matthias paused, standing before you.  “Y/N,” he began, fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve.  “”My beloved, my darling.  I love you more than there are words to say, there is no written language that could convey how my heart beats for you.  The sun rises and sets for you, you have been created by Djel himself, there is no woman more beautiful, more perfect, no woman I would rather have the honor to call mine.”

Matthias dropped to one knee, and you gasped.  “Y/N L/N, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”  He produced a ring; a simple silver band, from his pocket, and you nodded.  “Matthias, yes!  Yes, I will marry you!”  He’d hardly gotten to his feet when you flung yourself into his arms, crying with joy.”  His arms wound around your waist, holding you close to him.  Such displays of affection were improper, but neither you nor Matthias cared at the moment.  

“I love you,” you whispered.  “I love you so much, Matthias.”  “As I love you, min kärlek.”  The pair of you walked back to your home, your mother pulling you into her arms when you arrived.  “Oh Y/N!” she cried.  “You shall make a perfect Fjerdan wife!”  “She will,” Matthias agreed, shaking your father’s hand.  “I number the days until I call you my bride, Y/N.  Thank you for your blessing, sir,” he said to your father, who smiled.  “Please, call me Y/F/N.”  Matthias embraced you briefly, placing a chaste kiss to your forehead.  “I love you, Y/N,” he said.  “I shall call on you tomorrow.  Ajor, min älskling.”

[ramp-it-up]

Fresh Squeeze Ch. 13

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x OFC Linden Marshall (You)

Set in 2023, post-pandemic

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18 + ONLY, RPF, drinking, dancing, singing, cursing, lots of plot and fluff and sad with some Smut as well. This has everything. Daddy kink, oral sex (m recieving), cum play, drunken confessions/rambling, Love, y’all.

“As” x Stevie Wonder

Word Count: 5.7 K 

Plot: Lindy reacts to her gifts, gets another one from the group, and TURNS UP. They finally get back to NYC and deal with having to be apart (or not).

“Well, what do you think?”  Daveed was looking at you expectantly.

“I…….” 

You really didn’t know what to say.  You were surprised, intrigued, curious, and a little frightened. Your mind was trying to take it all in.

Daveed’s heart dropped as he watched your face. He closed the photo app on his phone.

“It’s cool. It’s a lot to think about...”  He could kick himself. He’d gotten carried away and ruined a perfect thing. He wished he could rewind time.

“I, I’ll meet you out at the bar. Go have some fun. We’ll talk later.” 

He might as well begin getting wasted for when you ended it between you two.  It had been a great day and a half. He turned around and headed for the door.

“Diggs, where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Daveed stopped and turned around, bracing for it. He saw the flash your eyes.

“Look, Linden.  I’m sorry.  I took it too far. Forget I even showed you that picture.” He leaned on the wall and looked everywhere but at you. 

Your heart twisted in your chest. Daveed really did love you. And he was wearing his anxiety all over him. It hurt your heart that he felt that way. It was on you to communicate now.

You approached him slowly and put your hands on his arms as he looked at the floor. You bent your knees to get a glimpse of his eyes and to force him to look at you.  

Daveed smiled when he saw you peeking at him.  Maybe you weren’t pissed at him.

“I’m so pissed at you,” you breathed. 

Oh, well.

“How are you going to lecture me about running away all the time when that’s what you were about to do?”

Daveed opened and closed his mouth. Then he looked at you. You were right.

You slid into his arms and he looked down at you.  So fucking beautiful.

“Thank you for my presents, Daveed. I’m not mad that you got them. But you’re right, it is a lot to think about.” You sighed and lay your head on his chest.  

“This weekend has been amazing, and I’m happy you got carried away…It means….”

“It means I love you, Lindy.” He kissed the top of your head. “But I get it, you need time to think about… taking that step.” 

Daveed realized that you were just nervous.

You bit your lip and nodded. “Yeah.”  

Daveed leaned down and kissed your lips. It was slow and sensual.

“Anything I can do to help with your thinking process?”  

His lips were at your cheek, moving to your jaw, your earlobe and then your neck.  You moaned as he found the spot he’d memorized so quickly, like a verse.

You moaned, heating up again as his hand smoothed your dress over your ass and his fingers reached for the hem. Again.

You felt yourself begin to tumble down the hill of your desire for Daveed, which you tried to snap yourself out of by clearing your throat, to which Daveed smiled at against the skin of your collarbone.

“We should really get back out there.”

You fully expected him to object, but instead he agreed.

“You’re right.”  He planted another kiss on your spot.  “The crew is working on a gift for you out there.” He nuzzled your neck and then kissed below your earlobe. 

“What?” You were curious as to what they were up to. Daveed just stared at you. “W-what do you mean they're working on a present?” 

Daveed chuckled and smiled at you, grabbing you by the hand. “I don't know. Let’s go see.”

--------

Craig happened to be passing by when you and Daveed came out of the bathroom. You were caught.

“OOOOOOOOOh. I’m gonna call Monalinda on your ass.” You were swole, and about to cuss Craig out and then instantly deflated.

“Oh shit.” You looked at him. “My mom.” 

You dropped Daveed’s hand and dug in your purse for your phone, which you had basically ignored all weekend. 

It was lit up with birthday messages, one from Mark, which you deleted, and plenty from other friends and acquaintances on social media.

You looked up at Daveed. “I’m have to call my mom.  I’m going to step outside.”

“I’ll go with you.” Craig, your protector.

Daveed didn’t want to let you go, but he didn’t want to crowd you. You went downstairs and out of the door, Craig with you.

You scrolled for the call from your mom, and like clockwork, she’d called at 8:43 am, the time you were born. It was well over 12 hours since she’d called. You cringed and dialed her back.

She picked up immediately.

“Linden? Happy Birthday, Baby.”

“Hey Mama. Thank you. Sorry I missed your call.”

“That’s ok, baby. I figured you’d be busy having fun. Craig watching out for you?”

You laughed and looked over at Craig.  “Hey Auntie Mona!” He yelled and all three of you laughed.

“Hey Craig! Take care of Linden for me.”

“Mama, I’m 30 years old now. I can watch out for myself.” 

Now she was laughing at you. Sometimes it was like you were her twin, brash and independent.

“Ok, you’re right. Is that Daveed boy there with you?  Craig told his father that you had a crush on him.”

“Oh, did he now?” You were gonna tap Craig in his jaw. You made a cutting motion against your throat to him. He just laughed at you and flipped you off. 

“Yes, mom, he’s here,” you sighed.

Mona knew that tone. And she laughed at you again.

“Linden, just be open to love, Baby. You deserve it.” 

You loved your mom so much, but It was when you were talking to her that you were reminded of Dell. That’s why you tried to avoid it. Because when you thought about Dell, you felt like you didn’t deserve anything.

You thought about how you should be on a three-way call with her and Dell, her wishing you both a happy birthday.

“Mama…. I’m sorry. I…”

“Linden. Stop it. Just stop it.  It wasn’t your fault. You can’t live your life blaming yourself. He’d want you to move on.  And he’d be so proud of you now. I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you Mama.” You smiled through your tears. 

“I love you too, Baby.  Now get off the phone with me and go have some fun with that tall, fine man. And tell me all about him when you get back, maybe bring him to meet me if you realize you should snag him.  Have a safe flight.”

You laughed at her read. “Ok, Mama. Goodbye.”

“Bye, Lindy.”

You took out your phone and scrolled through your pictures of Dell.  You picked one and made your annual post for your birthdays. Craig moved toward you and took you in his arms.

“You okay, cousin?”

You looked up at him, and the tears came harder because he was crying too. He was the only one who missed Dell almost as much as you.  Except your mom, who probably missed him more. You hugged Craig and let yourself cry.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine after I kick your ass for telling Uncle Lindron about Daveed. You know he and Mona talk every day.” You started to walk back into the club, where Daveed was watching for you to return.

“Lindy, this ain’t Jersey, and I’m not one of those little hoodrats you used to fight all the time. I’ll fuck you up, just like I did in the 7th grade.”

“Shut up, Craig!” you laughed and pushed him, lightening up a little, especially when you saw Daveed’s concerned look as he came for you.

“You okay?”  You looked up at him and smiled, giving him a quick peck on the lips.  “I’m good.”

Craig and Daveed led you to where Rafael, Anthony, and Jasmine were standing.  Daveed planted you on the stool and looked you in the eyes.

“Stay here.”

“OK?”  You looked around to see everyone smiling at you.  Rafa winked as Daveed approached a mic stand. You got a feeling of dread in your stomach. 

Oh no-

Daveed looked at you as the crew gathered around.  

“Hey everybody. This is Lindy.” He held his hand out to you. “And it’s Lindy’s birthday today. And I bet she thinks we’re about to embarrass her and have you sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her.” He looked over to you. “But she’d be wrong.”

You breathed a sigh of relief.

“We were wondering what to give the woman who has everything.” 

You called out to him. “Are you included in ‘everything?’”

“You are correct, madam.” Daveed smirked in response. You shook your head as everyone laughed.

“But we decided to use what we have and that is talent. And we picked a song to perform that her cousin Craig said was a family favorite and is really really true for all of us, especially me. 

We’re going to perform a song that lets you know that you got new family members for life.”

Rafa cued the DJ to start the track. As you heard the opening cords, you brought your hands to your mouth, emotional.

Jasmine was first up.

As around the sun the earth knows she's revolving/ And the rosebuds know to bloom in early May/ just as hate knows loves the cure/ You can rest your mind assured/ That I'll be loving you always/ As now can't reveal the mystery of tomorrow/ But in passing will grow older every day/ Just as all is born is new/ Do know what I say is true/That I'll be loving you always

Jasmine came over and gave you a hug as she sung the last line.

Everyone started dancing this choreographed routine of 70’s dance moves, the hustle, the hand jive, and the bump during the refrain as they sang. Even Craig joined in the chorus.

Anthony sang next.

Did you know that true love asks for nothing./ Her acceptance is the way we pay Did you know that life has given love a guarantee/ To last through forever and another day/ Just as time knew to move on since the beginning/ And the seasons know exactly when to change/ Just as kindness knows no shame/ Know through all your joy and pain/ That I'll be loving you always

Ant handed Rafael the mic next.

As today I know I'm living but tomorrow/ Could make me the past but that I mustn't fear/ For I'll know deep in my mind/ The love of me I've left behind/ Cause I'll be loving you always

 More dancing, and you had to get up out of your seat.

Daveed had the bridge:

We all know sometimes life's hates and troubles/ Can make you wish you were born in another time and space/ …...And maybe our children's grandchildren/ And their great-great grandchildren will tell/ I'll be loving you

Everyone in the club joined in the chorus by the end, including you. It went on and on and was the best time you’d had on your birthday in a long time.

You ended up in Daveed’s arms with everyone dancing around you.  It was big love and it was perfect.

You danced and drank shots until you were exhausted and wasted. You and everybody sang all the way back to the beach house, and  Daveed had to practically carry you in when you arrived.

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

“THAT WAS THE BEST BIRTHDAY OF ALLL TIMEEEEEE!”  You looked around the great room of the beach house and saw everyone staring at you.  

“YOU’RE SO LOUD! BE QUIET! SHHHHHHH!”

“That’s you. You’re yelling Lindy.”  Daveed was cracking up at you.

Jasmine and Anthony laughed at you on the way to the master suite. 

“G’night mom and dad!” You waved at them as they retired for the night.

“Are you going to flog me, General?” 

You heard Jasmine say, “Oh my god, she’s wasted,” as she and Anthony went in their room. Anthony replied. “Oh, fo sho.”

Daveed chuckled and shook his head as he led you into your room. 

“General, hunh? No, I’m not going to flog you. I’m gonna put your ass to bed.” 

You sat down on the bed and looked up at him adoringly.

 “You know, I went with ‘he who must not be named’ to see Hamilton in 2015. When I saw you in that uniformmmmmmmmmm….” 

You shook your head and closed your eyes, remembering. ”I had a flash of a thought to run up on stage and suck your soul out.”

Daveed smiled his shy smile again, embarrassed.  

“I’m sorry, I’m fangirling right now. But sign my tits.” You tried to pull the collar of your dress down, and when it wouldn’t stretch, you started fighting with it, trying to get it off.

“Easy, easy.” Daveed was highly amused. He helped you to stand up so you could get out of your clothes. 

He looked down and stroked your cleavage.   “I already marked them up good. And when those fade I’m coming back for more.” 

He leaned down and kissed the tops of each breast and then stopped himself to help you out of the dress. Now was not the time to start something.

“Oh shit, Daveed.”  You squirmed. “You got me wet. Damn, boy. You keep me wet.” 

You started singing WAP as you twerked in front of him. Daveed was enjoying seeing the carefree side of you. You could be so free and he was glad that tonight got you there.

You flopped back down on the bed. “Damn, I would let you fuck me in that uniform tho. A dream. And that sword? The hilt of that mutha fucking sword. Fuck. Do you still have it? I mean...”  

You opened your legs and ran your hands up your thighs. 

Daveed grabbed them and pulled you back up so that he could slip your dress off. You were out of your mind, but you still got him there.  

He’d have to see what he could do about that costume when you were sober. He wanted to fulfill your every fantasy, and he hoped that you would let him.

When you came out from under your dress you looked about to cry. He frowned a bit. 

“What happened?”  When you looked up at him with your drunk, teary eyes, he remembered. Tequila.

“I don’t deserve you. You’re so fucking sweet. And nerdy, and cute, and so fucking talented. I mean you’re such a great actor, and writer, and rapper, and you can rap so fast, I mean damn that tongue.”  

You opened your eyes wide. “Is that why you’re so good at head?”  You covered your mouth at the realization and started crying harder.  “I don’t deserve you!”  Daveed helped you as you cried, and he tried to get you in the bed.

“Yes, you do Lindy.  We all deserve love. Now calm down. It’s ok. We can talk about it in the morning.”

You stopped and stood still, adamant, naked for Daveed to take in and save for later. “You wanna know a secret?”  You looked around the room to see if anyone was listening, even though you were alone with Daveed. “I forgot what I was talking about.”

Daveed laughed and went into the bathroom to get one of your makeup wipes. When he handed it to you is when you started crying again. 

“No one ever wanted me to take off my makeup before...no one cared about my skin… and no one sang to me in Puerto Rico...”  

You were still crying as you wiped the tears and makeup away.  “Tell me why you love me in the morning.”

“I will. Lay down and I’ll get you some water.”  Daveed got you under the covers and tucked you in.

“It’s gonna be hard when we get back to New York, cause I’m a bitch in New York. In Isabella I’m a queen…”

“Yes you are. You’re MY queen. Anywhere you go. You’re not gonna get rid of me in New York. Now try to center yourself and calm down okay?”  You smiled weakly up at him and nodded, holding your arms out to him.

Daveed hugged you, kissed your forehead and then went to the kitchen to get some bottles of water. Rafa was in there, eating cereal and on his phone.

“Ya girl is wasted.”

“Yeah, she’s gone, man gone.” Daveed smiled.  “Thanks for tonight, man. The arrangement was tight.”

“No problem at all. We all really love Lindy. She’s special, man.”

Daveed smiled as he gathered about four bottles of water and set them on the counter. He had a faraway look. Rafa could read him like a book.

 “Oh shit, Diggs.”

Daveed looked at him.

“Yeah, this is it.”  He’d made a decision.

“Happy for you, man.”

Daveed gave Rafa a smile and elbow dap as he went back to your room.

You were singing “As” and smiling when he returned.  “I’m tore up. Sorry.”

Daveed blinded you with his smile.  “No worries, Baby Girl. Here, drink this. It will go better when you wake up if you do.”  

You returned his smile and drank the entire bottle of water.  It helped clear your head a bit and the exhaustion got to you. Your eyes were drawn to him like a magnet as he headed toward the shower and took off his shirt. Damn, why did his back get you hot?

“I’ll be waiting for you when you get out.”

Daveed smiled back at you. “Get some rest Lindy. I know we’re leaving Isabela tomorrow, but we have time to spend together beyond that. I’m not going anywhere, Baby Girl.”

You smiled and nodded, hazily realizing something and resolving to stay up before you knocked out into a deep sleep.

-----

Daveed had stayed up a little while longer than you and wrote some things, editing a verse for a track that he and Rafael were producing and also adding to his Linden notes.  Then, he took you into his arms and fell asleep.  

He wondered how he would do it without you in New York, or how he would go back to the West Coast without you.  He was thinking about the same things you were, but he was more confident that you two would find a way.

The Monday morning sun greeted him and he rolled over to see that it was 10 am. The flight back to New York left at 3 pm.  Just a couple of hours before everyone needed to head to the airport. 

You were still knocked out, snoring a little, but so adorably.  He kissed your forehead and got out of bed with a bottle of water, padding to his room.

He marveled at the fact that he’d spent very little time there this weekend. It was basically a glorified closet and he was glad for it.  

He was grateful to Jasmine and Anthony who offered to plan this weekend for you.  They knew that you and he together on a tropical island would do the trick.  

He shook his head that it actually worked as he put on his running shoes and shorts and packing up a little before he went running.

Daveed sent you a text before he got started, then headed west on the beach and did a lot of thinking, planning how to soothe the fears that you’d expressed last night.

----

You woke up 20 minutes after Daveed left with only a slight headache and fuzzy memories of the night before. You instantly missed Daveed and grabbed your phone.

Good morning my Queen. Going running.  Be back soon. Love you.

You smiled like a schoolgirl at your phone, and your heart immediately lifted. You lay back on your pillow and thought of how lucky you were. 

Then, memories of your drunken ramblings came back and you buried your head under your pillow.

You hopped in the shower and tried to forget what you’d said, hoping that Daveed did too. It was the first time in a minute you gotten to shower alone, so you took your time. 

When you came out in your towel, your hair wet and conditioned, you met Daveed who was trying to sneak back in and see you wake up.

Seeing you all wet and sexy in just a towel did something to Daveed. You were surprised, your mouth in that sexy o shape, just like in the fitting room of H & M.

“Hey.” Daveed smiled at you.

“Hey yourself.” 

You smiled back and shifted your weight as water droplets tumbled down your shoulders into the valley between your breasts.  Daveed couldn’t help but stare.  “How was your run?”

“Damn.” Daveed realized too late that you had asked him a question. “I mean…” he chuckled. “It was good.”  He noticed you eying him and realized that he was all sweaty.

‘Damn’ is right you thought, the sweat was running down Daveed’s torso like the water from your shower. He smelled like his cologne mixed with the sea air and more musk. You needed that. Right now.

“I’m all sweaty, can I borrow your shower?”

You walked nearer to him, stopping behind him him in front of the bed. “No.”

Daveed turned his head to question you. “No? You mean I can’t borrow your shower?  You want me to go back to my…”

“No.” You traced your finger in the sweat on his lat muscle and then put it in your mouth. 

“I don’t want you to use my shower, and I don’t want you to go back to yours. At least not right now.”

Daveed turned around and faced you and when he did, you dropped your towel on the bed.  His eyes went where you wanted them to.

“I want to lick the sweat off your abs, your dick and your balls before you do that.”

“Holy shit, Lindy.” Daveed groaned,  grabbed you by the throat and pulled you in for a kiss. “You’re so fucking nasty.”  He kissed you as his cock swelled. “I love it. I love you.”

You sat on the bed and pulled him toward you, getting started on your mission.  You put your tongue in the happy trail of black hair below his navel, flat and wide, and licked a long stripe up and around his belly button. 

The tangy essence of his perspiration contained some kind of aphrodisiac, because you went crazy and would have licked him clean if he hadn’t stopped you to take off his running shorts and shoes.

You watched his dick, thick from desire, spring free and slap his stomach.  You immediately grabbed for it and Daveed stepped out of your reach. You looked up at him, and he returned your gaze. 

Unspoken communication flowed that this was going to be as equals.  You grabbed for it again and he stepped closer, allowing you to palm him as you licked and sucked his sack.

He leaned his head back in ecstasy as you took care of the boys and jacked him off.  Then he looked down at you and you kept eye contact as you licked the tip of his dick, circled it with your tongue and then opened your mouth and deep throated it like a champ.

“Fuuuuuuucckkkkk, Lindy.” Daveed reached for your breasts and squeezed them, pinching and rolling your nipples. You arched your back, and your ass looked amazing on the bed.  Daveed needed to hit that. 

He pulsed at the thought of breaking your back and realized that he was buried deep in your throat at the moment. His eyes came back to yours, which were watering with the effort to breathe around him.  

He didn’t hold you there, but you kept your nose nestled in the wiry hairs at the base of his cock.  Damn.  He wanted to be both places at once. 

He brought his hand up to your wet hair, gently massaging your scalp as you did what you wanted with him.  He had the irrational desire to tattoo your name on it, because nothing would ever compare to you.

You came off of him, sputtering and gasping for breath, a proud smile on your face.  Daveed smiled down at you and wiped your mouth with his hand as you smiled back up at him.  He leaned down and gave you a filthy kiss.

“I want you to pound me from behind.” Your voice was a sexy whisper, making tingles go up his spine.  

“Just what I was thinking. We’re made for each other, Lindy.” He kissed you again.

You quickly pulled away and got on the bed on all fours, ass presented to Daveed.  He just stood there admiring you as he stroked himself for a minute.  

He was trying to meditate, pray, something, because what you’d already done to him and just looking at you was going to make him bust.

You looked back at him, and bit your lip, watching him.  Then, you brought your hand up to your mouth, licked your fingers, and brought it down to start steady, tight circles on your clit, arching your back and giving him a good view of exactly what was happening. 

“Shit.”  

Daveed grabbed your hip and lined up with your cunt, feeling with his tip that you were fluttering around nothing but that.  He whined in the back of this throat as he made himself sink into you slowly, your pussy grabbing him with each millimeter.  He bottomed out. You were stretched out wonderfully.

“You good? How’s that feel?”

You could only whine. “So good. So, so, so good Daveed.  Please.”  You were begging, his dick was pulsing. “Please, please, please Daddy.”  

Daveed groaned again. “Fuck, yeah. You want it?”

“Yeah!”

He started moving.  He thought he was going to pass out it felt so good.

“This shit feels so good, Linden.  You need it?”

“Fuck, yeah, Daddy.  Oh!”  Your arms had collapsed, and your cheek was getting pounded into the mattress as Daveed pistoned into you harder and harder. “Thank you thank you thank you.”

You were so fucking sweet that Daveed was about to paint your insides with his children. But he stopped, causing both of you to curse and pant into the silence. 

The throbbing of his dick and the clenching of your pussy pushed him over the edge, making him lose control and start pumping again. 

You knew he was trying to hold out and the thought that he couldn’t triggered your orgasm and you came, tears coursing out of your shut eyes as you moaned.

Daveed felt you cum with relief, because he was able to make sure you got yours; watching you cum was magnificent. But now it was his turn

“Where do you want it Linden?”

“On my ass Daddy.” You smiled back at him with glazed over eyes, still lost in sex land.

“Fuck!” He pulled out and fisted his cock, spurting all over your beautiful cheeks as he reached around for your sensitive clit. 

He relentlessly held you fast with his arm as you tried to run from the second orgasm that was triggered by his fingers and the feel of his cum dripping down your folds.

“Shit, Daveed!”  He chuckled evilly as you came apart again, leaning down to put his drenched fingers in your mouth.  You made eye contact with him as you sucked his cum off them, and he was almost hard again. Damn.

He collapsed on his back and watched as you lay on your stomach and closed your eyes.

“Looks like we both need a shower now…”

You opened your eyes, and his heart clenched. You were so pretty. So purely Linden.

“Damn, I Love you girl.”  

“I love you too, Daveed.”  You bit your lip at the emotion. “We probably need to shower separately because….. we'll miss our flight.” He knew what you meant.

Daveed frowned.  “You’re not wrong, but we can save time and water if we shower together. I promise I won’t try anything but get squeaky clean.”  He was not trying to have this togetherness end so soon.

You couldn’t help but smile.  You were doomed.  You sighed, gave him a peck and made your way to the shower, him hot on your heels.

----

You boarded the flight back to NYC the same way you boarded the 3 and a half hour flight to PR, with you and Daveed running to the gate to board just in time.

You settled into first class, this time eagerly snuggling up to him in the blanket from jump.  You were whispering and giggling together.  Daveed looked at you and knew what you were thinking.

“Before you say it, let’s wait and join the mile-high club for when we’re not with our friends.”  You peeked through the divide in your seats to find Craig and Rafael behind you. Craig stuck his tongue out at you.

“Yeah, you right. I don’t wanna hear it from this crew.”  

You cuddled happily, on your phones and taking selfies, posting them separately to IG.  Even though you didn’t post the pics of you two together, the fact that Rafael photobombed both of the ones you posted gave the connection away. 

When you deboarded at JFK about 8 o’clock, you and Daveed brought up the rear of the group, not walking slowly, not wanting the weekend to end.  By the time you got to baggage claim, Rafa and Jas and Ant were walking out to the cars that were waiting for them. 

“See you later guys! Thank you again for everything.”  You hugged the Martinez coupled as they went back to Brooklyn.

“Catch you tomorrow Cash.”  Daveed gave Rafael dap and you gave him a hug as he departed.

Craig was at the baggage carousel, just waiting to order the uber for you and he to go back to his place. You were very quiet, lost in your thoughts.

“.....Rafa and I have a late lunch meeting at 1 tomorrow and then rehearsals start Wednesday through Friday at the new venue. Then we have the weekend off and shows start up again next Tuesday. What does your week look like Lindy?”  Daveed wasn’t going to let you slip away from him, physically or mentally.

“Well, I have this Bar exam study session tomorrow afternoon, and I really need to cram for the exam next month. And… oh shit, I have this event  for the law firm I’m clerking at in the fall on Saturday. It’s sort of like an introductory mandatory thing. Black tie.”

Daveed looked at you. “So, I guess you already have a date for that.”

You snapped out of your funk and caught the tone.  “Yeah, I do.” You fought a smile and Craig started shaking his head as he looked at his phone.

“Oh.”  Daveed rocked on his heels and watched for his bag on the carousel.

You tapped his arm and smiled at him, nodding your head toward your cousin. “It’s him.”

Daveed made eye contact with Craig who laughed at him.  

“Sounds dope.” He was very relieved.

“Well, about that Lindy…..” Craig had some news.  “Brian is coming to visit next weekend.  Imma fly my baby out!”  He took in your shocked face.  “What?” 

“Nothing. You grown. And you’re ditching me. That’s always cool.”

Craig shrugged.  “What you won’t do for love.”

Daveed agreed. “So it sounds like you need a date.”

You turned back towards him, a smile on your lips.

“Yeah, sounds like it. You think Rafael is free?”

Daveed bent his head and shook it.  “What time do I need to pick you up, Linden.”

You perked up at the dom voice, and replied immediately. “8 pm.”

“Done.”

“Perfect, and pack a bag, you can stay with Daveed so Brian and I can have the place to ourselves.”

“What makes you think that I want to stay with him, or if he even wants that? You can’t just…”

Daveed interrupted you.  “You’re welcome anytime, Baby Girl.”

You shivered. “Okay…” you almost said, ‘Daddy,’ but you didn’t. Not in front of Craig.

“It’s settled then.” Craig grabbed his bag and you reached for yours, but Daveed grabbed it before you could take it.

You walked out to where you and Craig’s uber waited and the car the Daveed had ordered waited.  Daveed loaded your suitcase after Craig put his in the trunk and got in, giving you two some privacy.

“Text me when you get home.  I’ll call you later, maybe facetime.”  Daveed felt something crazy in his chest at the thought of leaving you.

You nodded and tried to smile up at him, tears pricking your eyes. “I will. I might text you in the uber?”  You didn’t want to be away from him yet.

“Yeah, yeah. Do that. I’ll see you in four days.”

“Just four.” You searched his eyes.  “Ugh! I love you Daveed.”

“I love you too, Lindy.”  You reached up for a kiss and he picked you up to meet him. He put you down and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Bye.”

“Bye.”  You waved as he walked toward the black SUV.  You opened the door and then you saw him look back at you, eyes in full puppy dog mode.

You got in the uber, and Daveed got his bag situated and entered the back of the car.  He looked back and saw your uber pull out, his driver waiting for it to pass.  Then, he heard a knock on the other window.

The window rolled down and Daveed peered out at you, smiling.

“Did you mean it when you said I was welcome anytime?” Your smile was irresistible.

“Get that ass in this car, Baby Girl.” 

“Yes, Daddy.”

--------

Will Lindy and Daveed ever be able to be apart?  Is this a healthy relationship or are they going to fast?  Let me know. Please like, comment, and reblog!

Tagging:

@braidedchallah  @einfachniemand @sillyteecup  @ohsoverykeri @theselilwonders @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @riiyy @lonelydance  @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @delaber @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @janthonystan @elocinnicole @anh1020 @curtainremote

[wallgirl]

The Little Nereid Part 17

Record of Ragnarok fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Word count: 1,800

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful. Loving someone like Poseidon is not easy period, let alone as your first love. But Dynamene is young and naïve, and all she wants is a chance to be at the sea god’s side.

Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); no sexual content. Graphic violence parts 15 and 16.

Updated regularly; will have about 20 parts total.

Warning for this chapter: references to injury and blood, largely at the end of the chapter. Avoid if squeamish.

—

Am I dead?

It was the first thought to arise as she woke out of a thick haze. Tiny motes of dust drifted before her, but when her eyes tried to focus on them, they seemingly disappeared. Had they been there at all?

She blinked rapidly to clear her vision. Before her was an endless expanse of black, completely impenetrable and all encompassing. She instinctively knew that it went on forever, despite not being able to see anything besides her own pale body. She felt some sort of tepid liquid beneath her feet - was it water? - but couldn't bring herself to look down past her shoulders. She remembered in horrific blurs what had happened to bring her to this place, and feared what she might see there.

But I don't feel any pain. Could it be...? Dynamene looked hesitantly down at herself.  Her white peplos stretched clean and untorn across her intact chest. She pressed her skin hesitantly, but felt no pain. It was as if the wound had never existed.

Now that she had gotten her bearings, she turned about in hopes of spotting something, anything, in the endlessness. Is this purgatory? Dynamene knew that when deities perished, so did their souls. Their consciousness ceased to exist along with their body. I think, therefore I am. I must not be dead. So what's going on? A neutral silence did nothing to sate her curiosity. Is this it?

Seconds ticked by with no change. A feeling of dread sunk in her chest. No, this can't be it. I still had so much I wanted to do.

I was such a fool.

She thought of her family, and her final argument with Ianeira. I'm sorry. I should have listened. She pursed her lips as she fought back tears. If this is the end, I apologize. I didn't mean to hurt you all. I wish I could change it. I wish I could see you again.

Then, suddenly, there was something bright that stood out against the void before her, a long, long ways away. It seemed to call to her in the distance with its brilliant white light. With nothing else to do and no answers to her questions, Dynamene ran toward it. Her feet splashed through the black water, droplets lit by the faint glow emanating from her being.

She stopped, breathless, after what might have been a few seconds or a few hours. The something had taken on the shape of a person, a bit taller than her, and with their back largely turned to her. Dynamene stepped forward cautiously, allowing their features to come into focus.

It was him, standing there before her in the black. His body emitted an eerie white glow, just like hers. She stood in bewilderment for several moments. She could only see the edge of his cheek with the way he was turned, no other part of his face. Dynamene was at a loss. "Why are you here?"

There was no answer. He didn't even move. Was he really there? Was it just a figment of her wounded body's imagination? She curled her fingers uncertainly as she considered reaching out to see if she was merely hallucinating.

Then his face tilted slightly towards her, making it clear he had heard her. Still, he refused to show himself to her entirely, and Dynamene's eyes widened. There was something in the bowed angle of his head...

Are you ashamed?

As if trying to dispel the notion, he finally stepped to face her completely. His colors looked washed out in the white glow, while the faint shadows traced the edges of his face. It seemed he was at last in a place every bit as fittingly ethereal as he was. But he continued to remain silent, and Dynamene's gaze shifted away in frustration.

"You're the one who brought me here. So why have you come now?" She couldn't veil the accusation in her voice. "I tried to tell you. But you didn't stop. You killed me."

Here in this endless vacuum of existence, Poseidon held no power over her. She was already on death's door, that much seemed certain. He couldn't harm her now. Dynamene was free to speak her mind completely. "Why didn't you believe me? Did you call me to your room just to kill me?" There was more bite to her tone now. "Was my love only a burden to you?" Her accusations echoed across the space.

His gaze finally flickered to meet hers. She felt no joy from it, only a strange sensation of tired defeat. Her shoulders slumped. "I suppose I'm going to disappear forever now, aren't I?" She twisted her peplos with guilty hands. "And I... I brought it on myself. I didn't listen to my family. I didn't see... I didn't understand. They'd warned me."

Nothing in his somber expression changed, but the shadows had deepened across his face. He took a single step closer to her, and she looked up at him with a miserable expression. Then he lifted one hand to clasp over hers, stilling her worried fidgeting. "I didn't mean to bring you here, Dynamene."

Her lower lip trembled, and she had to look away as he continued. "I thought you were a fake sent to replace the real you. I thought someone might've abducted you. I couldn't hear your heartbeat; your appearance had changed; I sensed strange magic about you."

So you didn't mean to hurt me, yet... "So your first response was to maim?" Dynamene pulled her hands away. "You would've lost the only chance to find me if your theory had been true."

"I-" Poseidon's words came to a stop mid-breath. It was the first time she'd ever heard him halt in the midst of a sentence. She turned her eyes back to him in confusion. He looked at war with himself; what was it that he'd meant to say? He took a moment to settle on a fitting response as his expression smoothed back out into stoicism. "I allowed my rage to get the better of me."

Her mouth nearly fell open. Poseidon was admitting fault. He had just, before a mere Nereid, confessed that his emotions had got the better of him.

Emotions spurred on by the thought that she might've been harmed.

She looked away as she absorbed this. The little motes of dust had returned, flickering gently in their light. They danced in little waves, fading in and out of sight. Poseidon had gone against the appearance he fought so hard to maintain for her. He cared about her. His heart had thawed at last, just as she'd wanted.

But there was no change within her heart except something bittersweet that ached. Her bleak expression remained as she looked up at him.

"Do you not forgive me?" He asked in a hushed voice. A vulnerability she didn't recognize had crept into his words.

Dynamene pursed her lips, thinking desperately about how to respond. Do I forgive you?

I... I think I do.

I do forgive you, but it doesn't change the way I feel right now.

That terror I experienced, that agonizing pain... You say you didn't mean to inflict it on me.

But how many countless others have you taken in the same way, with no regret? Your own brother, the Titans... People who have wronged you. People who would do you harm. And people who you perceived to have slighted you. Now I finally understand it all.

You did them the same harm, and you didn't feel anything.

"I forgive you," she whispered, but the words were meaningless. This wasn't about forgiveness. Something nameless had changed beneath the current.

He lifted his hand to gently smooth back her unruly bangs. His dark eyes drank in her face, even as she remained largely unaffected by his gesture. The girlish infatuation of before was completely extinguished. Now disappointment prevailed in her eyes.

But regardless, his feelings were unchanged. Now, for the very first time, they were truly alone. He finally admitted his desire for her to himself, even though he still didn't understand it. And as he leaned down closer to her, his eyes closed for the first time as he allowed himself to become immersed in his emotions.

And despite her disillusionment and sorrow, she loved him yet. A man of ice who had thawed only for her. Allowing him to enfold her in his embrace, her lips met his.

Two beings of light, entwined in the dark.

---

Dynamene gasped, a ragged, excruciating sound. Poseidon drew back in shock, staring down at her with sharp eyes. She coughed violently, wracking her thin body with the effort. Poseidon quickly lifted her shoulders to help clear her airway. Lifewater dripped from her lips, tainted red with his own blood. It was then that he understood what had happened. Before, when he had bit his lips in anger...

His blood was reviving her. Poseidon immediately bit his lip again and kissed her once more, pushing his blood into her. He forced several breaths of air into her, desperately willing her to keep breathing, before moving back to monitor the effect.

The flesh around her wounds had stopped disintegrating, though they were not healing. She gave another gasp for air, then fell silent.

He wasn't going to give up. He removed one glove and tore through the skin of his finger with his teeth. The gash began to drip blood, and he held it above her open mouth. As drop by drop ran down her throat, she began to move once more. He squeezed his hand, willing the blood to run faster, to hurry her revival.

After many agonizing seconds, Dynamene's eyelids twitched. Her bleary eyes opened slowly and focused on him. The sound of dripping lifewater stopped.

Poseidon exhaled. He rebandaged her chest, pulled her back into his arms, and stood. She was healing. She would live. Now to get out of this forsaken place and back to the palace. She would need more medical care as soon as possible.

Dynamene's eyes remained open, but she said nothing. Even if she had wanted to, her body wouldn't have been able. Her drowsy gaze didn't leave his face once. Something was ending now, but for however long as they had, she just wanted to drink him in. Poseidon... Her Poseidon. Just hours ago, this would have been a dream come true. Now, where had that exhilarated part of her gone? Had it remained behind in the blackness of that silent space? Had their conversation even taken place, or was it just a feverish dream?

What's changed?

No, I don't need to ask. I know.

Just let me enjoy this while it lasts. While I can still see you so close like this, and be in your arms, without any regrets.

She allowed her sore body to rest limply against his, and despite the speed at which he moved through the water to bring them home, her gaze never wavered.

---

We're going to the end now. I can't believe it. This is my longest fanfiction ever. I've gotten to know Dynamene so well. I don't think she'll leave my mind, even after the fic is finished.

I spent the most time on this chapter because I had a very specific mood for it in mind that required a lot of editing and re-writing. I let it sit for a few days before going back and putting more meat into the gaps. That's how I prefer to write - get the important stuff out first, and garnish with detail later.

There was this song by Kaskade that I thought about a lot with this chapter. It's called Borrowed Theme. Maybe I should've titled this chapter that, but that feels a little childish. The title kind of references a different song, anyway lol

[bored-storyteller]

Oh my, thank you!  Thanks for bringing this to me, I love Sally Face! It's one of my favorite indie games ever! I really hope it meets your expectations.

NOTES: I imagined the more adult Sal, but beyond that there are no other references to the timeline of the original story, except some canonical episodes mentioned.

34- Sally Face - Sal Fisher x Reader

"You can see me"

With a last glance at the clock, you quickly close the water bottle, at the same time grabbing the full glass in the same hand that you also hold the medicine box.

You're pretty sure you find Sal in his room, probably bent over his guitar. Surely it is for that reason that he has not paid attention to his therapy.

It doesn't happen often, in fact, it rarely happens that you have to rush to his rescue, nor do you really like doing it. You don't know how he really feels about it.

Knowing where he keeps his medicines and knowing when he has to take them doesn't make you two a couple. Not even living under the same roof makes you a couple - especially if you are not alone - nor does sharing the same room often and willingly.

In fact, even though someone often mistakes you for two young lovers, you don't really know what Sal thinks of you. As close as you feel him, you are not sure that he feels as close to you; on the other hand, he doesn't seem to share the same kind of intimacy with you that he shares with Larry or Ashley, or at least that's what you think.

Besides, you've never seen his face.

Yours is a purely selfish thought, and you are ashamed of it, but you cannot command feelings.

You know that the first time Larry saw his best friend's face was an accident, with Ash instead, she was the one who took the initiative. In neither case was Sal's will to make him show himself. Yet, despite this deep down, inside you, something stung excruciatingly.

When your friend had lifted his mask, Sal that time was not angry at the intrusiveness - as perhaps you would have done -, nor had he tried to escape later. It is logically normal that he now has less trouble showing himself around them. Sweet Sal, always so loving, so perfect.

You shouldn't feel offended. You know well that for Sal the prosthesis he wears is in effect his face, so it's not that he wants to hide from you, you are simply already seeing him.

Yet you know that under that face another is hidden, however much it may be disfigured. You can't pretend it isn't.

That slight annoyance you have repeatedly tried to ignore has slowly grown, but only now have you dared to call it by name. Because you like Sal. You really like him. And when you have understood this, when you have found the strength to admit it to yourself, everything is put in the right place; the joys, the jealousies you felt and feel… and also that desire to see him, to see beyond, to really see him.

But you'll never force on him for it. As simple as it would be to lift that mask to him with an excuse, you will never force him to show himself to you, even if you die with the regret of never having seen him. It's not the same, it's not the face you want to see, it's the trust you want him to give you. But you can't expect it, and you know it.

You could live with this obsession that has become so present in recent weeks that you can hardly forget it. Maybe it's just your mind that doesn't want to focus on your duties, and then it always wanders to him, aimlessly.

"What is Sal's face like?"

You asked Larry one day without realizing it. You didn't really know what you were doing with him, you just know that for a moment your brain was shut down, and when you woke up you whispered that question.

The astonished look of your friend had poured into you a flood of emotions so sudden that they almost made you cry for no reason: you felt guilty, selfish, reckless, stupid, meddlesome and terribly fragile.

You immediately lowered your gaze to protect yourself, muttering an "sorry, forget it" but never would have canceled that damn question. You thought Larry might misjudge you for that, but instead his big hand pulled you to him, ruffling your hair affectionately, saying nothing.

He seemed to have understood more than you hoped for, yet ...

You shake your head and your hand tightens on the glass of water. You knock on the door and softly call Sal's name.

"Yes?"

His answer comes a few seconds later and you feel safe in opening the door slowly.

It's not exactly what you imagined; he is sitting on the bed, his legs stretched out on the mattress and his back resting against the headboard. The guitar is stored in the case, but in his hands he holds a book with a dark cover.

His kind gaze meets you beyond that face that is always the same. It's amazing how expressive that guy can be under that stiff mask. That damn mask. That lovely mask.

"You didn't take them, did you?"

You ask softly as you lift the medicines to show them. Your voice is cracked against your will, and you're praying he didn't notice.

"Oh ..." his eyes snap to the clock hanging on the wall "thanks, I was completely forgetting about it."

His voice is soft, almost cheerful. He is not bothered by your gesture, or he is very good at hiding it.

You watch him get up to go to the bedside table where you put what he needed. You don't pay much attention to it, you just sit on the bed, picking up the book he was reading, making sure you keep your thumb between the pages, so as not to lose the mark he left.

You read the title and a few lines of the presentation absently. You're just trying to buy time with him, and you know it.

You hear it as he handles the pill box and plastic, and hear the rattle of the straps as they unfasten to release his mouth.

You don't watch it, you're used to the process and now, despite you insisting on staying there, you don't really want to watch it.

You don't understand much about the book, you just know it's about music.

"Do you like it?"

You ask, trying to give a semblance of normality.

"Enough ... actually I'm just at the beginning."

You just nod, not really being able to continue the conversation. Your head feels too full confused, but extremely empty at the same time, and you don't know why.

"Hey ... is everything okay?"

His voice makes you jump, as if he has stung you with a needle. Such a simple question, but you suddenly feel discovered, as if he has just proved he can read your mind. As if you were obliged to tell him the truth.

"Yup!"

You exclaim immediately, and without realizing your head jerks towards him, as if you wanted to assure him of the truthfulness of your words.

You don't notice it right away. You see only his blue eyes for a moment, he is looking at you with concern, more than he should.

At first you wonder if your attitude really is that troubling, but then you start to focus.

His hand trembles slightly around the glass of water, and out of the corner of your eye you can see his mask lying on his pillow.

He swallows the medicine by throwing his head back slightly, perhaps to take a break from your gaze, or to escape a little from the agitation, the fear he is having.

Sal, Sal's face. You are seeing him, free from his hiding place, while he drinks.

Surely he is disfigured, excruciatingly deformed. It's not just a few scratches, it's more, it's a real pain, yet you don't notice it.

Again, this is Sal. You're really seeing Sal's face, the face you've always loved, beyond the mask, like his mask.

He sits next to you, he's trying to act naturally, you see him, but you still see his fingers shaking against the cardboard as he puts the tablet away in the box. He did it for you.

Emotions explode in your chest and you don't bother holding them back. There is no time for any misunderstandings. You are free with him, you always have been, you don't know how you forgot this.

"Sal ..."

You call him softly, and he turns to you despite the hesitation. A light "tell me" sweet and helpful pronounced by the spoiled and shy lips.

Silently, you curl up against him, your arms glide smoothly around his chest, expressing your need to feel him close.

He welcomes you - he always does.

"Hey ..." is a faint call of him, as you hide against his neck to prevent your happiness from going out too violently.

"Thanks..." This is all you can say in your voice damp with emotion. Long last. You are like a child in front of the much desired Christmas present. You are so happy that you could carry the whole world on your shoulders.

"Thank you!" You repeat him with more conviction, and finally your eyes return to his sky-colored gaze. So beautiful, always so loving even in his placid surprise.

He looks at your wet eyes, so wet with affection for him. Your smile is so warm and true, and his lungs slowly empty of all the accumulated tension.

He didn't think anyone could look at him that way, not without his mask. He did not think that a look could be so full of love in front of his disfigured face, yet it seems that you are seeing an angel.

You look at him with your eyes shining with all the admiration you feel, and not because you can lie by saying that you are seeing a beautiful face, but because Sal is the most beautiful person you know.

"I-" His voice tries to say something, but it is cut off; this time it's up to him to be overwhelmed by emotion.

You approach slowly, and the tip of your nose touches his, practically non-existent, but you don't care. You cannot resist the desire to cuddle him, to touch him, to perceive him in every possible aspect of that intimacy that he has decided to give you.

At first he has a little jerk back, of surprise rather than fear, and soon after he is there again, looking for that touch. He is extremely uncertain, but he still responds to your unspoken requests, slowly letting his forehead rest on yours.

He exhales, as if he is releasing a great weight, but he immediately stiffens when you, without realizing it, are approaching his lips.

You wake up immediately from your numbness, before making a probable mistake, and try to get away, at least as long as his arms allow you.

"Please…"

That prayer from him is so feeble yet so meaningful. His gaze asks you to do it, to continue, because he wants it but he is still afraid of taking the initiative. He is putting the responsibility on you, and rightly so.

He is tense, you see it from his swallow and feel it from his tense muscles around you, but it's okay.

You approach again, slowly, gradually lowering your eyelids, a little by instinct and a little in the hope of putting him more at ease.

Kissing him is a special experience, and you like it - you wanted it so much -.

You are not intrusive, it is just a delicate touch, but it persists, leaving him time for him.

When he reciprocates, he does it slowly, unsure of how to proceed, probably troubled by the feelings he can give you or maybe just agitated by the situation. Yet, slowly, you feel it melt against you.

Slightly open your eyes to see that he too has closed them, and then you allow yourself to return to enjoy that moment, more peaceful and serene.

You huddle more, between yourselves, and let the desire flow through you, without going too far, simply enjoying the presence of each other, in your breaths that merge.

When you separate you do it only with your lips, but your gaze remains affectionate and aware.

In the end, that is nothing more than the confirmation of everything: of your knowing what time he should take his medicines and of his letting you know, of his knowing your favorite drink and which shower gel you always use, of cooking one by one. other, of looking so much like a couple for a long time already - and some of it is also the result of Larry's long tongue letting out a few too many words with his best friend.

You watch him as he puts his mask back on, and now you don't care anymore, because you know what's under it, and if that's his face then you've seen his soul.

Suddenly all your happiness is back. You are so happy that not even the bickering between Larry and Todd coming from the kitchen can upset you.

It must be something about the finished milk.

"I'm going to get it!"

You hum loud enough for the two to hear it, as you jump three steps at the same time, happily landing down the stairs.

Sal's laughter reaches you, and you turn to look at him. You like to see him happy, whatever the nature of that happiness.

"I come with you."

He tells you coming to you, reaching out his hand so that you can take it.

You're pretty sure you won't be able to stop smiling all night long.

*The image above is an old drawing of mine

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 16 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Reader is trying to go back to her old life, which includes the life she led before she met Spencer. Category: Angst. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader Content Warning: Drug mention, addiction, jealousy, arguing, death mention Word Count: 9.3k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

“Don’t wear that tie, wear the other one.”  

Spencer turned to look at me curiously, his little grin the first signal that he saw right through me. “Why?” He asked, taking off the tie he’d only just finished putting on to swap it for the other one hanging in my closet.

It’d been a week since Spencer all but moved into my room, refusing to leave my side for even a second longer than necessary. Aside from the freshly healing bullet wounds, it had been one of the best weeks of my life.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, trying and failing to hide my smile. “I just wanted to watch you take it off.”

My boyfriend pointed an accusing finger at me as he approached the bed, using it to poke my nose before retreating. “You, my dear, are a troublemaker. I’m going to be late.”

It was hard to believe that life could resume so quickly for everyone else when it felt like I was still on my knees on the cold tile floor of the bank. I tried not to think about it, acutely aware of the terrible things that could happen when PTSD was left unchecked.

I wanted to think about nice things, instead. Like how cute my boyfriend was, acting like it was my fault he’d be late while he took his time tying his tie over and over again. He’d say it was because it wasn’t perfect, but we both knew he didn’t care about that. He just didn’t want to leave yet.

“If you’re going to be late Dr. Reid, it’s because you refused to get out of bed until I gave you a kiss for every hour you’ll be gone today.” I reminded him, joy filling my chest at the small combination of a smile and a pout I received in response.

“You still owe me two.”

“Do I?” I responded, reaching out to grab his hand and pull him back to my place on the bed. “Then please, let me remedy that.”

Not wanting me to move any more than I already had, he quickly came down to place a chaste kiss on my lips. But I didn’t let it end there, holding onto the newly secured tie and tugging him closer.

Now it might be my fault, I thought, but I didn’t care. With one hand on the bed to steady himself and the other carefully caressing my cheek, he put all of his love into one little kiss. I felt like I was going to explode with the pent up desire that had accompanied being with him for so long without being able to show him how much I loved him in a physical way.

He insisted that he didn’t need sex, that it didn’t matter to him, but it mattered to me! I didn’t have a way with words like he did, and while he was content with curling up by my side, it left me wanting more.

The doctor kept telling me it would be soon, that the time will have passed quickly in hindsight. I didn’t understand half of what he said— he was just trying to get me to accept the narcotics in hopes that I wouldn’t end up back in his hospital.

I was doing it again. I was thinking about things I didn’t need to think about instead of the way Spencer bit down on my bottom lip when he paused to let me breathe. The smell of his cologne filled my lungs and I remembered how much I used to miss it. I’d stopped appreciating it when it was around me all the time.

It wasn’t until his phone rang that he left completely, tearing himself away from me like he wouldn’t be able to stop himself any other way.

“Hello?”

There were only a few reasons they would be calling him right now, and I didn’t like any of them.

“Oh… Alright.”

It was that exact tone, that terrified, pitiful grumble that told me what I needed to know. He had to go somewhere, and he wouldn’t be back today. He’d retreated from me, turning his back to me like I wouldn’t be able to tell what was happening just because I couldn’t see his face.

His voice was hushed. “Hotch, are you sure that I…”

The hopelessness hurt. I wanted him to go back to work; I knew he needed to. But it was so hard to let him go.

“Understood. I’ll be there soon.”

“How many more kisses do I owe you now?” I asked with a nervous laugh, fiddling with the sheets between my fingers.

“I don’t know.”

“Uh oh. I don’t like that voice.” I tried to keep my tone playful, but it wasn’t enough.

“I have to travel.”

The fact that he wasn’t looking at me made me more anxious than the fact he was now grabbing all the clothes he had in the closet and dropping them in the suitcase.

“Where to?”

Spencer paused, staring at the floor so that he could see me from his peripherals. He was torturing himself by forcing himself to see my reaction, but he wasn’t strong enough to look directly at me.

“Alaska.”

“Oh... wow.” I didn’t know how to respond, my body freezing as I tried to conceptualize just how far away that was. Far enough away that in maps of the United States, they had a separate area designated for it since it couldn’t fit.

It was too far, that’s all I knew.

“Hey, that’s fine! I can still call you.” My voice sounded foreign and the hopefulness was poorly performed. I wasn’t sure calling would be enough, but it apparently didn’t even matter.

“Not really. They don’t have service out there. Garcia is coming with us.” His packing got angrier, no matter how hard he tried to hide it from me.

“It’ll be fine, Spencer.”

His hands, unable to find any more clothing to grab, found purchase in his hair instead, running through them roughly. “What if something happens?” He asked as he finally turned to face me with a seriousness that was unbecoming.

“Nothing is going to happen. I have tons of friends who can help me. I’m just going to be sitting here on my ass all day watching bad TV.”

I gestured to the television that my friends had been nice enough to set up in my room, sighing as Spencer sulked in the other corner. It took a few waves of the hand, but eventually he dragged himself back to my side. Opening my arms to him, I took him in when his head dropped against my shoulder once more.

“I-I’m not ready to leave you yet.” The vulnerability shook in his voice, and I could feel the insistence in his grip denting my pillow.

“Well, too bad, superman.” I teased, pulling him away enough that I could show him my smile, hoping that it would be enough to calm his mounting fears. “You’ve got lives to save.”

He looked at me, his eyes still welling with tears despite the smile he now wore. He took my hand and heldit against his cheek. He closed his eyes; taking a deep breath, he mumbled, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me fall more in love with you every single day.”

I had to laugh, and I cursed him for it. It hurt so badly to laugh still, but the look on his face was worth it. No matter what, Spencer Reid had to be a romantic, and I loved him for it. It was so very much unlike me.

“Don’t get all sappy on me now, old man.” I chastised him lightly, “You’re going to be late.”

He wasn’t done yet, though, that protective glimmer in his eyes returning with a vengeance. He held tighter to my hand and bit his lip.

“Promise me you’ll be safe. Don’t do anything you aren’t supposed to. Please.”

It sounded like a beg, a desperation that I wasn’t used to. Up until now, it always felt like I was the one who was seeking more information and assurance. But now he sat before me, practically broken at the thought of not seeing me for a few days, pleading for me to take my own life seriously.

I hated the attention, but couldn’t tell him that. He wouldn’t understand; it would only make him worry more.

“I promise.”

He didn’t believe me, but he accepted my answer, anyway. Lunging forward, his lips crashed into mine without any reservations. I laughed into the kiss, tangling my hands in his hair so that he’d have to fix it again before he could leave me.

It was only funny until I remembered how long it might be until I see him again. I held onto him, deepening the kiss just to drag it out. He was also looking for an excuse, still refusing to part all the way when our lungs had nothing left.

“I love you… so much.” He whispered, resting his forehead against mine for a moment longer.

“I love you, too.”

I’d said it so many times in the past few weeks, but the words still felt new on my tongue. I wanted to say them more, to shower him in my affection, but I didn’t know how. Love was just another language he was fluent in, and I decidedly wasn’t. All I could do was wait for him to translate the thoughts to me whenever I got lost.

“I’m going to try to set up something so I can talk to you, okay? I can’t promise it’ll work but I’m going to try. You remember what I said about the last time I couldn’t reach you.”

Memories of papers scattered on the floor ran through my mind. I could practically feel his hand wrapped around my neck for the first time, holding my life in his hand because I’d trusted him to keep me safe. The vision of waking up in his bed, only to have him lower himself below the sheets, pressing kisses down my stomach.

Things had been so different then. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Those thoughts were suffocating and overwhelming and painful, and I shoved them back into the deepest recesses of my mind. It was too early to be emotional.

I took a deep breath, patting Spencer’s cheek with a soft palm before I summoned all the sarcasm I could in my voice. “I’ll always be with you in your heart,” I joked, smiling as he cringed at the sound.

“I mean it, little girl. If you don’t take care of yourself, you’re in for it when I get back.”

Feigning shock and a gasp, I brought my hand to my chest just in time for him to step away from me. The absence of him was colder than it should have been. At least he appeared to be in better spirits, and I wanted to keep it going.

“Dr. Reid, has that ever worked to make me not do something?”

Spencer shook his head with a chuckle, grabbing the rest of his things with more pep in his step. The closer he got to the door, the harder my heart beat. It was deafening and mind numbing in its volume.

Was this how love was supposed to feel? Or had I just grown so spoiled and accustomed to him being here, that I was being entirely selfish? I would no doubt have days to think about it.

He returned to me one more time, running his hand gently through my hair and granting me one more soft, serene kiss in the pale morning light.

“Take care of yourself.” He whispered, the begging bleeding back into his voice. “For me.”

“I will.” I promised before closing my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see him leave. I still heard him hesitate at the door, and I felt his eyes linger on me for a few seconds longer. But then the door clicked shut, and I was alone again.

—————————————————

Nine days. I’d been gone for nine days. It might as well have been a lifetime, because that’s exactly what it felt like. Even worse, I was only able to call (y/n) a whopping three times, each one shorter than the last. We’d only talked for a total of 14 minutes and 29 seconds. And considering that nine days is 12960 minutes, that’s a pretty abysmal fraction.

But it didn’t matter, because as soon as that stupid jet landed in Virginia, I was on my way back to her. Thankfully it was still a normal hour and the sun was still out, albeit quickly setting.

She wasn’t answering my calls, and I tried not to think too much of it. During our last call, she’d told me that she started a new medication that made her sleepy. In fact, our conversation had been so short in part because she fell asleep halfway through the call.

I didn’t mind though, listening to the soft sound of her breathing until the signal went dead again. I’d played the audio over and over again in my head to help me sleep that night, knowing that she was hours away but still dreaming with me.

I was so ready to see her again, that I’d barely knocked on her door before the keys were already in the knob. I didn’t want to wait, I didn’t want to spend another second longer than necessary before I could see her.

But before I could turn the handle, the door swung open and away from my hand.

There were a few people I’d expected to see; (y/n), her roommate, or possibly one of the other female friends the girls had mentioned that I’d yet to see. Unfortunately, it was the one face that hadn’t ever crossed my mind that appeared.

On the other side of the threshold was the man I’d only seen in pictures. To be more specific, one picture, months ago, sent to me from (y/n)’s phone in an attempt to keep her from answering my call.

I recognized him immediately, but realized I’d never actually heard his name.

We stood there for a long time, staring at the other with the utmost hostility in our eyes and postures. I hated the fact that I felt the need to compete with him, but found myself acting out of instinct. I just hoped that he wasn’t as smart or perceptive as her, and wouldn’t notice the insecurity and jealousy that immediately emerged.  

“So you must be the cop.” He drawled, leaning against the doorframe to prevent my entry. The action alone pissed me off, but I bit my tongue in the hopes I could deescalate the situation, despite how much I didn’t want to. There were many things I wanted to say to him, but only a few words came out.

“I’m not a cop.”

“Yeah, she said you’d say that.” He chuckled, rubbing his chin as he recalled a memory of her. I wanted to wipe the smirk off his face.

“That makes sense. It shouldn’t be a surprise, considering it’s not my job.” I stated matter-of-factly, trying to remind myself that the two of them were friends. She’d known him for a long time, and he probably felt just as possessive of her as I did.

The only difference was that I had a reason to believe she was mine.

“Let me guess, your sense of humor is her favorite trait.” The sarcasm dripped from his tongue. Normally I’d say that was my role, but right now all that I had to spit back was venom.

Retrieving my key from the door, I contemplated barreling past him to get to her quicker, but realized he was probably hoping to provoke that exact kind of reaction.

“You’re funny.” My face steeled and my fists clenched in my pockets, I peered around his head to the empty hallway behind him. “Where is she?”

“Sleeping.” That stupid smirk was back, his eyes trailing after my every movement, waiting for me to snap. When I didn’t, he escalated his antics further.

“I was about to go join her.” He said, licking his lips and standing up in an attempt to match my height.

But it wasn’t size or age that distinguished the two of us. It was our priorities. Because while he was here, trying to prove himself to me, all I could see was a young boy standing in the way of me seeing her again.

“No need. I’m here now.” I took a step forward, unsurprised to find that he didn’t immediately move out of my way.

He narrowed his eyes, grasping at straws to try and prolong this interaction. I couldn’t understand why, really. He couldn’t honestly believe I’d try to start a fight with him or leave, could he?

“Does she know you were planning on coming by?”

“Why does it matter to you?” I responded with a bored tone, staring him down until I saw his stance falter. It wouldn’t take much longer of this standoff for him to finally recede far enough into the apartment that I could just ignore him.

“Just wondering.” He mumbled, finally taking a step backwards and to the side so that I could enter. He shut the door behind me, but clearly wasn’t done with the conversation.

“Figured she wouldn’t have asked me to come spend the night with her if she knew you were coming. So she must not have expected for you to show up.”

I turned around to face him, knowing that I was playing into his games but unable to resist the temptation.

“She told me you got jealous last time. I would hate for you two to fight again if you found us in bed together. That would be so upsetting for her.”

“Well, you’re off the hook. No miscommunication. No worries at all.” It was times like these that I was grateful for my training, because it was the only thing keeping me from lunging at the boy and slamming him against the wall. I knew he could see it in my eyes.

He clearly had an idea of me in his head, one that was honestly probably pretty accurate. He wanted me to lose control and show that side of me, to prove that he was the better man. But he wasn’t. He’d had several years with her now to prove himself, and she’d still chosen me.

She chose me— that’s all I needed to remember.

“What if I want to stay?” He teased.

“We’ll let her decide.”

That was the first thing I’d said that struck a nerve in him. He resumed his previous stance with his back straight and arms crossed over his chest. “You’re a bit full of yourself for a dude who’s never here.” He spat, puffing his chest. The longer the bravado continued, the less intimidating it became. “You barely even know her.”

I was transported back to when (y/n) and I first started dating, when Morgan had accused me of the very same thing over lunch. My heart wrenched in my chest, because so much of me knew that it was still true.

She’d only just started to share information with me about her past, and still she spoke in vague generalities and half-thoughts. There was so much she hid from me, and I just… let her. I let her hide from me because I was scared that if I pressed her, she would leave.

At least, that’s what I’d thought. But each time someone pointed out how little I knew her, I was forced to consider the possibility that she was keeping me away for a deeper reason.

“I know all the parts of her that she doesn’t want to show you.” He taunted, sensing my anxieties that were clearly written across my face.

“Are you done? I’d like to go see her now.”

He didn’t respond, shaking his head. But I only got a few steps before I heard his voice again, this time louder and angrier.

“Doesn’t it bother you? Knowing that I’m here, in bed with your girlfriend while you’re on the opposite side of the country, not even answering her calls?” He remained rooted in his position at the end of the hall.

I lost the battle of keeping my eyes on her door, ripping them away so that I could turn to face him. My breathing got heavy and my hands finally left my pockets. “No, it doesn’t bother me,” I said, my voice falling quieter instead of growing, “You want to know why?”

The grimace on his face was the only answer I needed. I brought a finger to my own chest, not trusting myself to touch him. I barely knew this guy, and I wasn’t about to start a fight with one of (y/n)’s oldest friends to prove my manhood, especially if that was exactly what he wanted.

“I’m not worried because I trust her.” I practically whispered to him, “And even if I had some reason not to, I’m not intimidated by you.”

A fire appeared in his eyes, the desire to bite back stifled by the knowledge that there was nothing he could say to make me doubt her. He’d already tried and failed every time so far.

“I don’t care what parts of her you think I haven’t seen. Because I get to have the parts of her you wish you could. And she gave them to me willingly and without regret. Over and over again.”

There was so much more I wanted to say, but I was thankfully cut off by the hoarse, familiar voice in the backroom.

“Spencer?” She called, groggy yet excited. There was no way she could hear me from the room, which told me that she’d probably just woken up to my texts and hoped I was here. It told us both that when she woke up, the first person she thought to call was me.

“Yeah.” I said, a soft, genuine smile crossing my cheeks at the thought of her. “Like I said… I’m not worried.”

He didn’t follow me then, staying in the hallway to stew in his anger over the fact that this hadn’t gone at all how he’d planned. But I couldn’t think about him any longer, because as soon as I turned into her room, my heart melted.

She was sprawled out on her bed, hugging a body pillow like her life depended on it. Her hair was a beautiful disaster across her pillow, and the blanket had fallen far enough to see that she was swamped in the same Caltech sweatshirt she wore every time I was gone.

“Hey little girl.”

She slowly shimmied her way up the pillows, clearly surprised at my appearance despite having called me in. With half shut eyes, she spoke through a yawn, “What’re you doing here? You look like you haven’t slept in a week!”

“I missed you.” I admitted quietly, finally bridging the gap between us and climbing onto her bed on top of the covers. I couldn’t even bother taking off my blazer or my shoes; I needed to be close to her now, without any other unnecessary delay.

Despite curling up against me immediately, she still found a way to whine. “You better not have skipped out on anything for me. We know I’m not doing anything worthwhile in here.”

I leaned down to kiss her forehead, my hands holding her against me so that I could breathe in the familiar scent of her hair and perfume. “I strongly disagree.” I sighed, happy to hear her hum and giggle at the way my breath tickled her face.

I didn’t even hear the door open, but she tilted her head away from me to see her friend. I stayed where I was, not wanting to take my eyes off of her again for as long as I didn’t have to.

“I’m gonna head out. Let me know if you need me again.” He said, his voice full of repressed anger and sadness that I understood but didn’t particularly care about right now.

“Thanks for coming! I’ll probably see you next week; I’ll text you!” She chirped, waving to the man who’d already left.

His absence eased away the last remaining bit of tension in my shoulders, allowing me to bury myself in her neck while she continued to laugh. I heard the soft sounds of the tv for the first time and mumbled into her skin.

“What are you watching?”

“Just a sitcom. You wouldn’t be interested.”

She sounded... defensive, if not a little ashamed for her choice in shows. I had to laugh, realizing that she was still unaware of the shows my mom and I used to watch when I was a kid. The asinine, cheesy soap operas that taught me the dorky, awkward way to love that she constantly mocked me for.

I would save that piece of information for later, though, and instead, I chose to show her my own interest in the things she loved, or in the very least found comforting. “What’s it about?”

Apparently, it was the right question to ask. Over the course of the next thirty minutes she tried to condense the entire nine season series of The Office into one barely coherent rant. Eventually, she realized that I wasn’t following along as closely as she’d hoped, and just decided to start the show over.

I didn’t mind. She chastised me a few times for not paying close enough attention after catching me monitoring her reactions more than the show itself. But eventually she fell asleep on my chest, still murmuring about Jim and Pam until the words were just gibberish.

Without her commentary, I was forced to pay attention so that when she undoubtedly woke up and quizzed me, I wouldn’t just be repeating words I’d heard in the background. Somewhat unsurprisingly, I found myself swept up in the romantic storyline of her two favorite characters. So caught up, in fact, that when she woke up, it took me a moment to notice.

“What did I miss?” She grumbled, trying to force her eyes open while she turned to see the tv that displayed the immediate results of a very poorly timed love confession. “Oh, Casino Night.” Her voice was nostalgic and a bit solemn while she spoke. “This is one of my favorite episodes.”

“Why? It’s so sad.”

Without looking up at me, she pondered the question. It was obvious she’d never really thought to question why she was drawn to it. Her answer didn’t provide any comfort or explanation.

“I guess I relate to it. Loving someone like that.” She shrugged before turning back to rest her head against me. She’d said it so easily, like it wasn’t something jarring for me to hear. I realized then that she’d never told me about her past relationships. In fact, I didn’t even know if any existed.

She sensed the anxieties that were building and brought a hand to my cheek to reroute my gaze to her. “What’s wrong?”

“You… You never really talk to me about your life.” My voice was so pathetic, the pout on my lips so childish in its sadness. Because although I told myself I was only upset she hadn’t told me about it, another part of me was also jealous at the idea that anyone else ever got to hold her.

And what a stupid thought that was, to be jealous of men who didn’t get to keep her. I should have been hoping that she had people who loved her and held her and made her happy, not wishing none had existed.

“What are you talking about? We talk about it all the time.” She chuckled, clearly unaware of my inner debate and turmoil.

“I mean your life before me.” I clarified, taking her hand into mine and watching as she carefully wound our fingers together.

“Oh, well… Who cares? It’s in the past.”

She was using that voice that warned me that she was about to try and change the subject. She hadn’t meant to get this conversation started, and now it was quickly getting away from her. But I wasn’t ready to drop it—especially now that I was aware of a huge, life altering event that she’d managed to keep hidden until now.

“I care. If it’s important to you, it matters to me.” It didn’t seem to reassure her, a lopsided smile covering her cheeks before she tried to maneuver away from the topic again.

“What time is it? Shouldn’t you be going to sleep?”

I held up the small notepad that rested on her nightstand, displaying the several timestamps that I could tell were meant to signal the last time she’d taken painkillers. “I was waiting so I could offer you medicine.”

“Ugh, yes please.” She groaned, moving herself off me so that I could grab the bottles beside her bed.

But there was something I’d noticed before, which only became more obvious once I picked them up. I looked past the orange plastic, my mind straining to count the number of pills inside. The date didn’t match the amount.

“Did you fill the narcotics?”

She didn’t answer.

“Is that why he was here?”

“No.” She responded swiftly, shaking her head and rubbing her temples.

The mention of him brought out feelings that I’d almost forgotten, and with those feelings came stupid worries and questions. “...Why was he here?” I mumbled, turning the pill bottles in my hand like I didn’t already have them memorized.

“Are you jealous?” She teased, poking her tongue out at me. It worked to turn my pout into an awkward half-smile, but I was still sulking.

“Would he have really stayed in the bed with you?”

“What? No!” She shouted, sitting up fast enough that she winced, her hand grabbing her stomach but still talking through clenched teeth. “Did he say that?!”

Her reaction alone made me laugh, easing the tension and reminding me it was stupid to worry about it in the first place. “He might have implied it.” My hands started to sort through her tangled hair, gently arranging it back to its rightful place.

“Ugh, he’s such a fucking dick.” She grumbled, wiping her face to try and get rid of the sudden anger.

Meanwhile, I was once again distracted. It was obvious in the way she struggled to keep her eyes open and preventing her hands from turning to fists. She was in way too much pain for my comfort, and it was partially my fault for getting her riled up over something so silly.

But she hadn’t told me she filled the narcotics, and she didn’t tell me where they were. I needed to respect that, if only because I was scared that it might make her doubt me. When she turned to look me in the eyes, I held her cheek that fit so perfectly in the palm of my hand.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me where they are. I understand.”  

“No, it’s fine. I trust you, Spencer. It’s…” The troubled look shifted to a shaky smile. “They’re in my bedside table. I don’t think I can get them myself.”

I tried not to look excited by the reveal in case she misinterpreted my happiness. It wasn’t the drugs I cared about – it was the fact she trusted me with the fact that they existed. That was enough to carry me through any cravings that popped up. They were few, but like always, they were there.

I funneled those feelings into my caretaking, grabbing her a water bottle and helping her ease back down onto the pillow after she’d down the pills. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, listening to soft sound of the theme song in the background.

Just as I shifted my focus back to the TV, she brought me back to her with a tiny whisper.

“You have nothing to be jealous of.”

I looked down to see she still had closed eyes, now accompanied with a genuine smile. I laughed at the sight, and her eyelids fluttered open at the sound. She narrowed her eyes into a suspicious glare.

“Yeah, I... may or may not have said that.” I admitted, wiggling my fingers between hers.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Very cocky, Dr. Reid.” She chastised, squeezing my hand tighter and bringing it up to her chest. I could feel her heart beating softly against us, her chest slowly rising and falling as she started to try to drift off again.

“What else did you guys talk about?”

“Nothing that matters. Let’s go to sleep.”

It was a suggestion that didn’t need to be made, because she was basically already asleep by the time she replied, “Okay. I love you.”

“Sweet dreams, little girl.”

—————————————————

The best part of the week was waiting for the chance to spend two uninterrupted days with (y/n). But this time it was different; when I left her house this morning, she told me she wanted some time to herself.

I tried to ignore the fifty alarm bells that rang in my head, convincing myself that she just needed a break from entertaining me. We all needed alone time sometimes, right?

No, that was a lie. I didn’t ever need a break from her, and it worried me that she needed one from me. Was I stressing her out? Were there more secrets she was keeping from me? It had to be something heavy if she didn’t want me to know, but that’s exactly the time she would need me most, right?

It was times like this when I wished that I had more experience with relationships; I was panicking and I didn’t want to ask anyone for help. I didn’t want to. I was scared that they might tell me the wrong thing, or the right thing. I was worried they might talk some sense into me and tell me that waiting outside my girlfriend’s apartment was creepy, stalkerish behavior.

I knew it was. I tried to justify it with a present that I was going to leave on her doorstep and leave. But when I got to her place, a dread filled me. I shouldn’t have come. She deserved her privacy and my trust. She’d earned it, and it wasn’t right for me to doubt her.

So, I turned my car back on and prepared to leave. But before I could, I saw her. Alone.

We’d talked about it before, and she’d promised me she wouldn’t go anywhere alone. The risks were too high – not just that she might fall or get stranded, but that something could go seriously wrong. Her stitches could tear, or she could overexert herself. She could get into a car crash and no one would know about her already existing internal damage.

She wasn’t supposed to go anywhere alone. She’d promised me. But there she was, climbing into her car after suspiciously glancing around. Her car left so quickly, I barely had time to think about the ethics of following her. After a few seconds of wrestling with myself, I decided to just do it and worry about the consequences later.

I’d admit it to her later, when she was safe and sound. Maybe it would be good, too, to see that she was fine without me. I just wished she’d told me so I could come to her aid if she needed me to.

After nearly twenty minutes of driving, I still had no idea where she was going. I was a little surprised she hadn’t noticed me yet, which just goes to show she probably shouldn’t have been driving.

Actually, was she on narcotics?

My mind was spinning, my hands shaking when she finally pulled into a small, unfamiliar cemetery parking lot off the side of the road.

For all her paranoia leading up to this point, she didn’t check the other cars in the lot when she got out. Instead, she put her hand on her stomach and slowly made her way through the gate, hobbling off into the field.

And then I felt terrible for so many reasons. I selfishly felt awful that she didn’t want to bring me here. It hurt that I was violating her trust like this, but it hurt worse to know she was going through it alone.

Leaning back in my seat, I let out a shaky breath and closed my eyes, trying to calm down the emotional disaster of my mind. I didn’t need to follow her, I thought. She would come back in a little while, and I could watch her get back in her car. She would make it home, and I could call her and ask her how her day was. Maybe she’d even tell me herself.

God, I was such an idiot. I shouldn’t have come, but now I was here, and I couldn’t leave, either. This was the time she was most likely to be in danger, since the cemetery was relatively empty.

Just as that thought occurred to me, another car pulled in. it wouldn’t have mattered much to me, but the thing that followed caught my attention.

The woman inside the car climbed out and made a beeline to (y/n)’s car, peering into the windows and taking photos of the license plate. At first, I did nothing, trying to keep track of everything that was happening, noting the unfamiliar woman’s license plate number in turn.

But then she took off in the same direction my girlfriend had left in, and I realized that I couldn’t just wait here. This woman clearly knew her, and from the looks of it, it was not going to be a friendly encounter.  

This is why, I thought. This is why I made her promise.

I couldn’t just run out after her yet, so I followed as closely as I could without being clearly visible, relying on sounds, instead. But what I heard was somehow even more distressing than when I could see.

“What are you doing here?! You aren’t allowed to be here!” A scratchy, unfamiliar voice rang through the air. Even if I didn’t already know, her tone alone told me that a fight was about to follow.

I bit down on my tongue, trusting that (y/n) could handle herself. She’d done it before me, and she could do it now. The only thing worse than revealing my presence would be doing it while also discrediting her.

“Mrs. Loughton! I can explain!”

At least I finally had a name for the face, but that was about as far as my thoughts went before they turned to red. Because the only thing I could hear after that was the sound of skin against skin, and the gentle thud of someone hitting the ground.

“Get the hell out of here, you bitch!” The woman screeched, and by the time I came into view, I saw my girlfriend on her hands and knees, holding the very visible red mark on her face. Neither of them saw me, too caught up in each other to notice.

It was the panic on her face, the way she lifted both hands to cover her head when the woman grabbed a fistful of her hair that broke my silence.  

“Hey! Get away from her!” I shouted, running over to the two women. Mrs. Loughton released (y/n)’s hair, causing her to drop back onto her hands and knees while she looked up at me with an angry, frazzled stare.

“Spencer?!”

“Who the hell are you?” The woman spat, redirecting her anger towards me. I much preferred it this way.

“I’m a law enforcement agent, and you just assaulted someone.”

“Assault? Ha!” She laughed, talking over me as if she’d heard the speech a million times before. I got the impression this wasn’t the first time the two have had a showdown. “That’s funny, considering.”

“Spencer, please leave.” The fear overtook any other emotion, and the tears welled so quickly in her eyes it hurt my chest. I couldn’t leave. There was no way I could leave her on her knees in front of this woman.  

“Let me guess, are you one of her dad’s friends?” She sneered, but all I could hear was (y/n) continuing to plead.

“Spencer. Go away.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I couldn’t breathe, my chest heaving with unbridled rage, confusion, and something else I couldn’t even place.

“Oh I bet you are one of his friends. Always protecting her. You’re all a bunch of pathetic, power-hungry lowlifes.”

(Y/n) stood up now, neither of us paying any attention to the raving woman while I tried to help her up. “Please, I want to leave.” She pleaded, grabbing my hand so tightly that it trembled.

“Are you a murderer, too?”

“What are you talking about?!” I snapped, my arms wrapping possessively around (y/n) like I could shield her from everything that was happening. But I couldn’t, and I heard her soft sobs while she pulled on my shirt, now wet with her tears.

“That stupid, selfish little bitch knows exactly what she did, and she knows that she’s not allowed anywhere near here!” Her face was red, her arms waving and tears sprouting in her eyes while she ran out of breath. Then, deathly quiet, she pursed her lips and tried to bite her tongue. But she couldn’t, the words bursting through when she saw the way I held (y/n).

“If you really are a law enforcement agent, then get her the fuck out of here! She’s not allowed on this property!”

“She hasn’t done anything!”

It was the wrong thing to say, and she let me know swiftly and with full force.

“She’s the reason my son is dead!” She shrieked, stepping towards me with an accusing finger in my face. “It was her friends, her drugs, her horrible decisions and now my baby is gone!”

I hated this part. Because as much as I loved (y/n), it was impossible not to hear the absolute devastation in this woman’s voice. And the longer she talked, the more I understood what was happening. Not enough to argue back, but enough to feel sympathy for them both.

More than anything, I wanted to protect (y/n), but I didn’t know how. I held her tighter, trying to show her that she was safe. I’m afraid it had the opposite effect, and she started to fight my embrace.

“It should have been her! She should follow in her father’s footsteps and do the world a favor and...” She cut herself off, knowing the weight of her words and contemplating them a moment longer before making her decision. “And just fucking disappear!”

The shock of it all caused my arms to loosen – just barely. It was enough, though, and before I knew it (y/n) had burst from my arms, taking off at full speed through the headstones.

“(Y/n)!” I choked, going to run after her, but I was stopped one final time.

“Yeah, get the hell out of here.” The woman behind me softly sobbed, trembling as the fight left her. “Go protect her like you always do. They always do.”

I couldn’t stay on the thought; I’d have to come back to it later, because there were more pressing concerns for me than a stranger who’d just hurt the woman I loved. So I turned around and booked it after her just as she slipped through the gate and disappeared into the cover of the woods around the cemetery.

Naturally, she couldn’t stay on the level, manicured grass. My heart was pounding not just at the energy exerted to follow her, but from all the different things that could go wrong. She could fall, she could run into something, she could get lost.

But luckily, even the adrenaline couldn’t stop the pain in her stomach, and she’d barely gotten anywhere before I caught up to her. I loosely caught her wrist, pulling her gently back to me before she nearly collapsed in my arms.

“(Y/n), where do you think you’re going? You can’t be running like this! Especially not here; it’s way too dangerous!” I said through my labored breaths. Then we stopped, and she protested at my touch.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked calmer now, lifting her back onto her feet. “Did she hurt you?” When I went to lift her shirt to inspect her wound, she brought her hand down in a hard slap.

“Stop, Spencer! Just fucking stop! Don’t touch me! Get away from me!”

The venom dripped from her tongue and burned my skin, my hands jumping back away from her as I took a step back. All the negative emotions that I’d just watched her go through were growing and morphing into a painful anger, and it was all aimed at me.

I deserved it.

“Why the fuck are you even here?! I told you I wanted to be alone today, a-and now you’re what, y-you’re following me?!”

I wished I could just shut up, but the words flowed out of me like I had any right to be angry with her over a promise that didn’t even seem to matter anymore. “And it’s a good thing I did. That woman could have seriously hurt you!”

“Who cares!”

“I do!” My voice strained at the volume I used to match hers. Our angry shouting disrupted the wildlife and broke through the sounds of cars traveling on the highway on the other side of the trees. “You might not care about what happens to you, (y/n), but it matters to me!”

“Why the fuck are you yelling at me?!” And then the sniffles turned to outright sobs, her whole body shaking, her hands cradling her face while she struggled under the weight of everything that had happened so quickly.

I shouldn’t have come here, but I was glad I had. I wished none of this had happened. I just wanted to hold her, but she stepped away when I got closer, defensively covering her head. My heart shattered at the thought of her being scared of me.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I said genuinely, my voice still breaking, but now at an acceptable volume. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be yelling, I-I just… I got scared. I thought you were going to get hurt again and I—“

“Sometimes I’m going to get hurt, Spencer. I can’t put my life on hold for your comfort. I’m only twenty years old. I’m not ready to be a housewife waiting at home for you!” She was quick, stumbling over her words and waving her arms between us in the hopes it would force me to keep my distance.

I didn’t want to hurt her, I never wanted that. And right now, it was very obvious that’s exactly what I was doing.  “Of course. I want you to have a life, but you…”

Her hand was back on her stomach, and the action caused a sudden panic that overwhelmed the logic and sense. “You were shot!” I cried, “You almost died in my arms! I thought I was going to lose you, forever.”

She couldn’t reply yet, her lungs too busy trying to take in hungry breaths without irritating the hardly healed skin.

I clenched my eyes shut, unable to look at it any longer. “It’s been barely a month, (y/n). A-And you’re already sneaking around behind my back and putting yourself in danger and I don’t know how I’m supposed to just turn a blind eye to that.”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” She panted; the words hardly audible. Her skin was damp with sweat from the pain that was obviously written all over her.

This time, when I stepped closer, she couldn’t move away. I didn’t hold her yet, opting instead to place one hand on her hip and the other on the side of her face. She sighed, resting her head against my hand. She said she didn’t want to talk to me, but the way she closed her eyes and her heartrate immediately calmed down with the simplest touch told me that she wanted nothing more than for me to pick her up and take her home.

“I know you’re trying to distract me from whatever the hell just happened out there, but you don’t have to do that.” I whispered, gently wiping away her tears with my thumb. “If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to.”

“Oh, you’re just going to let it go?” I couldn’t decide what was more simultaneously heartbreaking and adorable, her pauses to sniffle, or the way she pouted as she spoke. “You aren’t going to ask me every night until you get an answer?”

“If that’s what it takes for you to trust me again, then yes. I’ll let it go.” I reassured her. She took the answer with an immense amount of relief, leaning forward to rest all of her body weight against me. I tried to stop her from falling too far or too hard, hoping to ease the pain that was already wrecking her.

But she didn’t even seem to notice, rubbing her face against my shirt and further soaking it with tears. I just wanted her to be okay, and I wished I could do it faster. For now, all I could do was pet the back of her head, rocking just a bit to the side in a soothing manner.

We stayed like that for a long time, and I occasionally pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering soft apologies to her and telling her that I loved her, no matter what. Eventually, she responded, her voice filled with guilt and shame again.

“I was going to tell you eventually.”

“I believe you.” I immediately responded, pulling her back to look at me to know that I was telling her the truth. “I love you. You know that, right?”

She gave the tiniest, saddest nod back.

“I would never try to hurt you.” I promised, earning a slanted smile. I mirrored it back to her, which made her laugh.

The sounds of the highway paired with the rustling of the leaves, and the two of us shared a quiet moment of understanding. Because I knew I shouldn’t have come, but I was glad I was there, and she felt very much the same.

“I’d like to go home, please.”

“Okay.” I agreed, taking her hand and maneuvering the woods that didn’t seem nearly as dangerous when her hand was in mine. “Let’s go home.”

—————————————————

“Hotch, I need to ask you for a favor.”

The man didn’t even look up from his desk, and I could tell from his posture that he wasn’t in the mood for the conversation he expected to follow. I couldn’t blame him; I hadn’t been the easiest employee to have for the past couple of weeks.

“Reid, we’ve talked about this. You either have to come back completely or—“

“No, sorry, this… isn’t about that.” I corrected, trying to ease the tension before it got any worse. Unfortunately, he still seemed combative, although there was now a guilt mixed in the frustration.

“I need to talk to you about (y/n)’s father.” I clarified, my voice breaking mid-sentence. I cleared my throat, trying to make eye contact despite the nerves gnawing at the little self-esteem I had.

But after a brief moment of thought, Hotch waved me forward, gesturing to the seat in front of him. He shoved the papers to the side and I wondered what it was he was working so hard on. I had a feeling it had to do with her, but I wasn’t going to ask.

“Does she know you’re asking me about this?”

It was the first question, and although I fully expected him to ask it, I still choked on an answer. He sighed deeply, his hands folding on his desk. He wasn’t able to look at me, either.

“Reid…”

“I-I’m really worried about her.” I needed him to hear the desperation in my voice, to feel just how scared I really was. I didn’t want to come running to him for every little thing involving her — he’d already done so much for her just fending off the prosecutors.

I knew we were both tired, but I could see it in his eyes and hear it in his tone when he talked about her that she meant something to him, too. Even if it wasn’t nearly as much, he’d known her when she was a kid.

Well, I guess to Hotch, she still was. I hated to exploit that knowledge, but I needed answers now. Before something else went horribly wrong. So I broke into a rant, my hands running through my hair and down my legs as I tried to prevent them from turning to fists at the memory.

“The other day she did something and she got into a physical altercation with another woman a-and she told (y/n) that she should follow her father’s footsteps and…” The word caught in my throat. He narrowed his eyes, and I suspected he already knew what I was about to say.

“Disappear.”

Across from the desk, he tensed, bowing his head to look at the files lining the surface in front of him. Every single one of them contained a plethora of information about someone’s family. Someone’s everything.

“What did she mean, Hotch?”

“Reid, the information in that file is not only classified, it’s extremely personal. I’m sure she doesn’t know all the details herself. I think it’s best for you to hear it from her.” He explained it so robotically, I could tell he didn’t want to be saying it. The way his jaw clenched told me that there was a lot he wished he could discuss about whatever the hell happened.

It must be a lonely way to live, I thought. And then I thought of her, carrying the weight of uncertainty on top of whatever Hotch held. She was strong, but she was young. She had been even younger then, and she wouldn’t have had the one man who’d taught her to survive to teach her how to handle what came next.

I wrung my hands together. I didn’t mean to be manipulative, but tears stung at my eyes. They were real, and they were persuasive.

“I just need to know that she’s safe.” I begged. “But your reaction isn’t telling me that at all. In fact, it’s telling me the exact opposite.”

Now that I’d started, the words wouldn’t stop.

“If my girlfriend is in danger, I need to know. It’s not like I care about the mission or whatever her father was wrapped up in — I-I just want to know what happened to him. This woman knew, so apparently it’s not that classified!”

My voice grew in volume, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I could feel his face morph into a scowl even as I clenched my eyes tightly shut. There was so much I hated about this, but nothing more than knowing that despite everything I’ve done, I still couldn’t reach out to her and help her when she needed me.

I was still failing her, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

“Reid, stop.”

Hotch must have been able to read my mind, because something inside of him also snapped, the tension releasing from his shoulders and his jaw. I wondered if it was because he trusted me not to give it away, or if it was because he trusted her.

Either way, he spoke, his voice low and hushed.

“I need you to understand that what I’m about to tell you has never been confirmed, and should not be shared outside of this room. Even with her.”

Sitting up with a straight back and a heavy swallow, I nodded.

“I understand.”

—————————————————

| Part 17 |

[blazedgraysons]

virgin reader giving grayson a bj

a/n: i promise i’m working on requests, my life has just been incredibly busy along with me working on the no nut fic and some other exciting things for y’all!! anyways thank you for the request angel, hope you like it🤍🤍

warnings: first-time bj’s, lack of communication between these two, and grayson having a bit of innocence kink if you squint

this is a continuation of this request. you don’t have to read it to understand what’s going on here (but you should read it anyways bc it’s kinda good lmao)

---

If you were to list your worst moments when it came to love and dating, your first blowjob had to be near the top.

It was high school, junior year with some football player named Chad Daniels. You both were at a party, and honestly, the whole experience was less than extraordinary.  It only took two seconds before Chad immediately tried facefucking you. All you could remember is the pain you felt from gagging and choking and almost instantly pushing him off of you.

Needless to say, it wasn't your favorite activity nor something you were that desperate to try again. Until Grayson.

It wasn't like you were dumb; you knew how much guys love getting their dick sucked. And with Grayson doing everything he can to please you, you wanted to return the favor.

You had planned to wake him up with morning head after that first time he ate you out, something cute, intimate, and if you're honest, probably very ambitious for your first time.  

However, any worries you may have had were proven to be completely unnecessary when you woke up to Grayson licking into you. You jerk roughly awake, legs only staying in place due to Grayson's firm grip. It doesn't take long before your scream of surprise turns into moans, growing louder when you watch your insanely cocky boyfriend wink at you.

"Grayson, what the- what the fuck?" You softly moan out the last part, shuddering at the way he starts sucking on your clit.

He pops up, a cheeky grin on his face and lips red and shining.

"Morning!" He goes back down and continues working you higher and higher to your orgasm. It doesn't take long, melting under Grayson's touch. He watches your face, his expression star-struck, and just so fucking in love as he sees how he just made your body fall apart.

"You couldn't wait until after breakfast?"

"Angel, that was my breakfast." He kisses you softly, leaving you dazed as he walks to the bathroom.

It started to become a drug for him; Whether he was stressed, happy, or even just bored, Grayson was beginning to find a new home in between your legs. And with him dropping to his knees more and more, it only furthered your desire to do the same.

You started to notice. He would eat you out, make you cum, and then leave to go take care of himself. It was an annoying pattern that was being formed, but no matter what, he wouldn't let you do anything about it.

"Step-by-step, remember? This is about you." was always his answer, and while you appreciated his devotion to your pleasure, you were starting to crave him. Crave the weight of him in your mouth, the heady taste, and most of all, the visual of him cumming from your doing.

If you were ever going to take this any further,  you needed to figure out how to show him that you're not just doing this out of an obligation, but because you absolutely desire to make him feel as good as he does to you.

So you follow his advice and take it slow. You start with light brushes, lingering touches on his chest and thighs, flirty glances. Grayson notices; he makes a few quips about how touchy you've become but ultimately believing it's the result of the two of you taking your relationship further. You move on to suggestive comments, openly making jokes about blowjobs and talking about his dick. If he notices, he doesn't say anything, just laughs and shakes his head, playing it up for the vlogs.

You sit on his lap when the car is too crowded, he moves you so you're not directly on him; you suck a lollipop in front of him, he goes into another room to "finish editing." It was almost as if the roles had reversed, him now being the one to run away. You were starting to feel frustrated, thinking he was getting some twisted joy from seeing you so flustered.

So you decide to approach it head-on, bluntly asking him during lunch,

"Why won't you let me suck your dick?"

He chokes on his sandwich, staring at you, shocked.

"Angel, what?" He dramatically coughs out, and you roll your eyes at the theatrics.

"Why won't you let me suck your dick?" You enunciate, speaking slowly while raising an eyebrow. He just stares back at you, not speaking or moving before going back to his food.

"S'fine, Y/N. I can take care of myself. This is about you." He doesn't look at you when he speaks, more preoccupied with his vegan BLT (which he made so you know it can't be that damn good)

You pout, pushing your food around with your fork. It's the same response he's been giving, and at this point, you're worried you might snap if you don't get a real answer.

"Are you seriously trying to tell me that whatever you're doing with your hand is better than my mouth?" He takes a sharp breath, pushing his plate away from him.

"Enough, Y/N. I don't want to talk about it.".  If you were stupider, you would've dropped it, let him continue with his lunch, and let him go at his own pace. But you were becoming worried, wondering why he would shut you out instead of opening up.

"Gray," You move to sit next to him, playing with one of his hands as you continue. "You told me all you want is for me to be honest with you. Can you please do the same?" He sighs, taking a moment before answering,

"I'm just scared that once we start, I won't be able to stop. It's not that I don't want you to, it's just— I don't want to lose control and ruin anything for you." Whatever you were expecting couldn't have prepared you for that, and honestly, you were a little surprised. Selfishly, your fears were centered around your own insecurities: that Grayson didn't think you were good enough to, that he wasn't attracted to you, etc. As usual though, Grayson shocked you with how his universe seems to entirely revolve around you and your happiness.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. That was stupid." Grayson takes back, scared that your silence is one of fear or disgust. You place a hand on his arm, moving closer.

"Amour, don't apologize." You kiss him lovingly, feeling soft over how sweet your boyfriend can be. You pull away, kissing his cheek before continuing.

"Us taking this slow isn't just for me — it's for you too. And you know that whatever you want to do, I'm obviously down for as well" He smiles stupidly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. But believe me, you've been making me feel really good lately." He perks up at that.

"And I really, really, really want to make you feel good too." You take his hand, leading him to the couch. His eyes follow your every move, not wanting to miss a single thing. You kiss him again before pulling away quickly, a thought coming to your head.

"You're gonna have to help me. I haven't done this that much." He nods rapidly, pants growing tighter with every word. He doesn't have exact words to describe it, but there's something so hot about the innocent look on your face, the way you're looking at him wide-doe eyes and waiting for his instruction. Something so pure about the knowledge that you still held onto so many of your first, yet so sinful that he was going to be the man to ruin that. You lightly lick your lips as you put your hair up, and Grayson's mouth goes dry at the movement.

"I'm pretty sure I've dreamt about this before."

"Let's hope I live up to the standards." He groans lowly as you sink to your knees.

"Trust me, you're already pretty close." His heart sinks when you rest both palms above his knees, and he can tell he's working himself up. After going a while without doing anything remotely sexual, the slightest touch sends little shockwaves straight to his dick. If the anticipation meant anything, he would probably cum the second you actually touched where he needed you most.

You unbutton his pants, sliding them down with his help. You stare at how his boxers are already tented, forming a nice bulge. Already you're feeling overwhelmed, not sure where you want to start first while just wanting to show him how much you adore him.

You watch as he slides his boxers down, and your mouth starts watering. Grayson obviously radiates big dick energy, that's no secret to anyone, and you've seen him freeball in grey sweats enough times to at least have an idea of what he's working with. Seeing the real thing, however, has you more turned on than you've been before.

"So big," You whisper, and Grayson's sure he could cum then and there from the awestruck look on your face. You kiss his upper thigh, right next to his medusa tattoo, before tentatively kissing the tip.

"Angel, please." He could cry, finally having you where he wants you, but not doing enough to relieve any of the tension he's feeling. He knows you're not teasing, not even entirely sure of what you're doing to him, and while he's usually not a beggar, he'll do whatever it takes to finally get you on him.

You nod, growing wet at his soft pleas before licking from his base to his tip. You take him into your mouth, sucking the head while watching Grayson's head fall back onto the couch. You lean back a little, spitting before taking him back in your mouth, going further than before. You continue that for a minute, bobbing your head slightly. You moan softly at your boyfriend's blissed-out expression, eyes glazed over as he looks at you sucking him off.

"Your hands, angel —use them. Please," He moans out the last part, having already added your hands the minute he said the word. You stroke up and down the part that can't fit, experimentally twisting them.

You're drooling now, covering both your chin and his dick, and honestly, your jaw is starting to hurt, but the look on Grayson's face is more than enough to keep going.

"Wait, off. Angel, get off." You pull off of him, scared that you've done something wrong. One hand is still lightly jerking him off while the other rests on his upper thigh.

"Gonna —gonna cum. Didn't want to in your mouth." He's breathless, panting to calm himself down from how you've worked him up. You push the hand away that is moving to replace yours and start sucking again.

"You're okay with that?" He questions and you nod as best you can, humming happily. Between the vibrations, how wet your mouth is, and the way your hands are moving, Grayson is done, cumming with a silent moan and eyes closing.

You take every drop, swallowing before pulling away to jerk him slowly. You watch with big eyes as he twitches and slightly jerks in your hand, riding the after waves of his orgasm. Once you feel he's finally done, you move up to sit next to him.

"How was that?" You're genuinely curious, wanting to know if it was as good for him as you thought.  He opens his eyes, pupils blown and breath still a little ragged.

"Perfect." He kisses you deeply, shivering slightly when he tastes himself. "You're fucking perfect." He moves his hand lower, already reaching for your shorts, but you stop him.

You're tired, exhausted really. So you take him to bed, silently suggesting a nap, unaware of Grayson's self-promises to make you feel twice as good when you wake up.

[ikeromantic]

Peace

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic. This scene occurs just past the midpoint of Ch.10 in his main route. Approx. 1700 words of pure, uncut fluff!

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Not an End

Mitsuhide swam up towards the light. His eyelids opened, heavy as stones. He was in a room, on a futon. A lantern sat nearby, throwing off a warm glow. His bloodstained clothes were gone, replaced by a clean nightrobe. And someone had freshly bandaged his wounds. Hideyoshi? 

No. The mother-hen wasn’t there, but his little mouse sat on the floor beside him, her chin resting against her chest. Her eyes moved under shuttered lashes. Her breath came in little gasps. A nightmare, perhaps? Not surprising given the battle she’d survived. 

“What hells I have put you through,” he said softly. His mouth was so dry the words were barely a whisper. Still, it was enough to jolt his beauty awake. 

She turned, eyes wide and damp with the remnants of her tears. “Mitsuhide? You’re awake?” Her smile at his nod was like the sun. Without being asked, she put a cup to his lips and helped him drink.

The water slid down his throat, a cool burn against smoke-raw flesh. He pushed the cup away and sighed. “It seems I passed out in the middle of our discussion. Have I slept for long?”

“Not long, no. We’re still in Honno-ji. Hideyoshi helped me put you to bed.” Her gaze was heavy with worry. 

Mitsuhide chuckled, which almost turned into a cough. “After all his rage, he still tucked me in? It seems he will be a mother hen to the end.”

This brought a smile to her face. She looked down, her hair falling forward to hide her laugh. “He kept lecturing me on how to bandage you properly and wouldn’t leave until you were clean, dressed, and in bed.”

He sat up, tucking her hair back from her face so that he could see her better. She was beautiful. It almost hurt to be so close to her again, after telling himself he could let her go. 

“You should lay back down. Everyone else is still asleep. The sun won’t be up for a few hours yet.”

“Mmm. If I close my eyes, I won’t be able to see you.” His fingertips moved from her hair to her cheek. Soft skin. Warm. There was such joy in these simple touches.

His little mouse blushed. 

“I am so glad you are unharmed. I cannot tell you how worried I was,” he said earnestly.

She tried to blink her tears away before they could fall, but they escaped to trickle down her cheeks.

“You still cry so easily.” Mitsuhide wiped them away with the pad of his thumb. 

“Only around you . . .”

He wished that was not true. But he couldn’t deny being the source of her tears. Were he a more romantic man, he thought, he would promise her only joy. He would kiss the tears from her face and swear to never make her cry again. But that would be a lie. He had no sweet words, only the ache in his chest.

She took his hand, her warm fingers stroking his bruised knuckles gently. “You are so - so reckless! Did you even sleep since you escaped the dungeon in Azuchi? Or stop to eat?” 

Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow. “I took sufficient care of myself to finish my mission.”

“Oh?” She met his gaze, her eyes red rimmed from her anxiety and sleepless nights following after him. “People who take sufficient care of themselves don’t pass out mid-conversation.”

He hadn’t considered how his peril might hurt her. That she would worry for him like this. He didn’t have a ready reply. 

She took a deep, shaky breath. “You knew what the shogun planned didn’t you? Before anyone else? But . . . why didn’t you tell Nobunaga at least? Or warned Hideyoshi?”

“Little one.” His gentle tone quieted her. “It wasn’t that kind of fight. Nobunaga is not a man to strike from the shadows. Neither is Hideyoshi.” He smiled. “And if they tried to battle Ashikaga on their terms, he would have won.”

“So you took it all on yourself? Alone?”

“That is -”

She narrowed her eyes. “If you lie to me, I will leave you here alone in this room for the rest of the night.”

Mitsuhide chuckled. “I can see that you’ve learned my lessons well. Fine.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I couldn’t tell anyone what I knew, even if I could trust them to let me handle this in my own way. The Oda forces had an infiltrator. A spy close enough to Nobunaga to know the contents of our private meetings. The list of suspects was short but . . . I could not be certain who was involved or if I’d identified them all. So it made more sense to simply move forward with my plans on my own.”

“So you really thought you couldn’t talk to anyone?” His little mouse raised an eyebrow. “You could have told Hideyoshi when he came to visit you in the dungeon. There weren’t any spies around then.”

Mitsuhide remembered that visit well. Hideyoshi’s pain at betrayal. His anger. He wore his emotions openly, and his actions followed suit. “No . . . Hideyoshi is terrible with subterfuge. He is a man of honesty and people love him for that. He must remain in the light. And the light suits him well.”

She watched him with wide-eyes, clearly thinking over his reply. “And there was never a moment you might have had Nobunaga alone? At least to tell him your plans?”

“Ah. Perhaps I could have,” Mitushide nodded. “But I chose not to. Nobunaga has bloodied his hands time and again. Gone to great lengths for his dreams of unification.” He tapped a finger to his chest. “But it was my actions at Enryaku-ji that earned him the sobriquet ‘Devil King’. I did not want to see that happen again. I will bear the cost of my own actions.”

“Well, but what about -”

Mitsuhide shook his head. “No, there is no one I would share the burden with. And none suited to this work, regardless.” He smiled and gave a slight shrug. He thought of explaining further, but his eyelids felt so heavy and his body was aching to lie down again.

His little mouse looked as if she might cry again. “But you’ve sacrificed everything. For what?”

“Peace.” He sighed. “Before Nobunaga, hundreds of petty warlords fought and wasted the lives of their vassals for nothing but pride. People starved. Life was a coin to be spent, and lower class lives were spent cheaply.” Mitsuhide did not want to tell her what it looked like to clear the streets of bodies dead from starvation. Nor to ride through towns where the only men left were ancient and toothless or still suckling because the rest had died in war. He fixed his gaze on her. “That kind of chaos must never be allowed to happen again.”

She leaned forward to rest her head on his chest. “I - I think I understand.”

He settled an arm around her, taking comfort from her touch. “Little one . . . I am not a kind man or a good one. I do these things for my own purposes. Don’t think of this as a noble sacrifice.” 

“Mmm, you say that but . . . you won’t even get to see this peace you’re working for. You will die first. And people will curse your name. Even your friends. No one will know what you did. That sounds pretty noble to me.”

“If you say so, little mouse.” He kissed the top of her head. Her words were so sweet. Just as she was. He wished they were true. Mitsuhide settled his chin atop her head and pulled her closer. “You know. When I left Azuchi, I wanted to say goodbye to you. You have a home to return to. A life that is safe and good. But I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t able to lie to my own heart. There is no one I treasure more . . .” Speaking the truth to her felt right. Like freedom after a lifetime in shackles, yet he could barely get the words out.

She looked up at him, nestled in his arms as if she belonged there.

Mitsuhide wanted to kiss her, but he held himself back. “I cannot change who I am and I would not. Yet, despite all my sins . . . my faults . . . I want you - I want you to stay with me.” The words tumbled from his lips, heedless of the consequences.

His little one gave him a slow, warm smile. It lit her from within, and somehow made her even more beautiful. “I never want to leave you Mitsuhide. I don’t want to be apart.”

“I hope you know, it is too late for you now that you’ve said this. I won’t let you go again.” He leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss so deep he felt it in his soul. There was no release from a love like this, he knew, and yet, he didn’t want to be released. He wanted more.

When he broke the kiss, she was pink cheeked, lips red and swollen. A look that stirred him and made his aching body want more than it could handle. He could see the desire in her heavy-lidded gaze too.

“Y-you should probably . . . get some rest,” she said unconvincingly.

“I should,” he nodded, and kissed her again. His hand slid beneath her kimono, caressing her skin lightly. He wanted to pull it from her. To see her . . . and worship every inch of her with kisses. He might have, had his vision not burst with little sparkling lights, darkness framing the edges. Mitsuhide released her regretfully.

She pulled away from him with great reluctance, slowly adjusting her clothes. “You ah, you need to- to recover.”

“I would sleep better with you beside me.” He wasn’t at all sure he would but he wanted her close. Even if it was a sweet self torment.

His little one smiled. “I told you I wouldn’t leave your side.”

Mitsuhide scooted over and she snuggled in beside him. It was as wonderful - and terrible - as he’d feared. She smelled wonderful, and he could feel every inch of her pressed tight to him. The thin layer of cloth did nothing to hide her curves or her softness. 

“I love you,” she told him sleepily.

“I know.” He kissed the edge of her ear. “I love you too.”

Sleep took him by surprise, hidden in the rhythmic breath and comforting warmth of his love.

Next: Reunion

[moon-lixie]

Never mine - Bang Chan & Lee Minho

word count: 2.268k

song: Control - Halsey

cw: royal au, explicit depictions of violence and death, tons of angst, yay! :)

Kingdoms were meant to perish under the flame of his rage. The universe was intended to evaporate under the pressure of his heartache. And he was more than ready to tear everything apart, just for the soul that had been stolen from his side.

His feet impatiently tapped against the floor just like the seconds ticking by and eating away at his head. Knuckles turning white at the pressure with which he gripped the handle of his sword; he was ready to attack and yet all he could do was wait there.

Steps filled the hallway making the thick air fill with the first noise in hours. Black doors opened to reveal to the king's eyes his friend that shared grief with him.

“Everything is ready for battling, your majesty.” Minho bowed slightly at his friend that he had long lost to rage and desperation. But he was still there, somewhere deep inside and that’s why he wouldn’t give up just yet.

Chan barely nodded before moving his soulesss orbs towards the ground once more. The king was the terrifying example that the world could stain even the purest of souls.

Long gone was the monarch who deeply cared about his people and would prioritize peace over convenience at every chance he had. All that cruelty had left was a bitter man who was ready to risk it all in the name of vengeance.

“I’ll be taking my leave now.” Minho didn’t even have the chance to fully turn around before his friend’s voice echoed on the walls of the somber room. It was the first time he spoke in days.

“I can see the fear in your eyes.” The king’s steps resonated as he walked closer to the man he had known since childhood. “You should’ve expressed your dissent with my plans from the beginning.”

The eyes of the youngest wavered on the familiar features of the stern figure standing in front of him. He missed the soft smile that used to grace his lips with frequency, but that had been stolen from them just as your life was.

“As long as it brings you peace. We’ll do anything for you, your majesty.” There went another bow, Chan could almost scoff with displeasure, but his words oozed honesty so he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt get ahold of his chest.

“It’s your job to clear my mind when I’m being irrational, not agree with me on every impetuous plan.” His steps took him back to the cold throne responsible from the war that was yet to come. If only he didn’t wear a crown over his black locks, then everyone could be safe. But that would be like wishing the sky wasn’t the sky and the sea to be nothing but a void without water.

“With all due respect, your majesty, I haven’t said anything because I believe this to be the only way in which we should proceed.” That’s right, no matter how much he cared about the lives of the rest of the kingdom, he couldn’t deny the uneasy dark creeping in his heart.

Chan’s gaze softened before he took a look at the confident expression taking over the other’s features. “May I ask why that is?”

This time it was Minho’s turn to curl his fingers on the handle of his sword with bitterness and the rage that wrapped his figure ever since that fatal day. His gaze quickly travelled to the marble floor as his knuckles turned almost as white as the surface his eyes found solace in.

“You’re not the only one grieving their death," he muttered under his breath as tears prickled the corners of his eyes. That’s right, the king wasn’t the only one mourning the death of your once lively soul.

Minho wouldn’t dare say it aloud but he loved you, he had loved since the very first time his eyes laid over your sweet smile. He loved you so much that his heart broke when you married the king, and even more when he found your body had been stripped from life.

Tears rolled over the top of his cheeks and finally travelled with speed to find their end on the floor. Even though he tried hard to hide his face while looking down, Chan could see the anger and pain that every droplet carried.

Jealousy and agony mixed slowly into Chan’s heart. He hated to see the consequences that your absence brought, it broke him even more than he already was. At the same time, even when he knew Minho couldn’t have you, the thought of his friend loving you possibly as much as he did never failed to bring bitterness into the picture.

Silence thickened the tension of the room and just one sigh was enough to dissipate it once again. “I wish the world to pay as much as you do.”

Chan only nodded slowly at his words before dismissing him with a soft movement of his wrist. Minho was quick to escape the scene after that, bringing you up even when you breathed along with them had always been a sensitive topic.

The king was left to drown in bitterness once again and Minho had left to be haunted by your memory like any other day.

You had been poison to him, but the loveliest there could be. His soul had been corrupted and his heart stolen by the same pair of hands, yours.

As he walked through the corridors he could still feel your soft touch. Fingers lingering on top of the soft skin of his face. Lips waiting dangerously close to his as you promised to give your soul to him. He would never forget your promise to leave that place by his side.

The thought of breaking his friends heart had many times stopped him from loving you the way his heart had always desired. But after you expressed the same interest in him, he convinced himself that there was nothing else he could do but return your feelings. That’s when his heart first started turning bleak black but the sweetness of your lips was enough for him not to care.

The king was unknowingly avenging the death of someone who had been days away from breaking his heart and exposing him to the greatest pain of all. But he would never know, Minho had promised himself to keep it a secret until the day that death brought him back to you.

For now all he could do was lead the war in the name of love. Because for the rest of his existence he would feel the warmth of your hand in his and the love of your lips against his.

Your back was etched onto his memory like any other part of you, but for some reason that’s all he could see now. He could only see you standing far away from him with your back facing his cold expression.

His sword moved swiftly before yet another person fell to the ground. The mortal metal piece cut through the air with the same ease that it robbed life from others. Any other day Chan would be reluctant to do such things but not anymore, he was a different person than the one you used to know.

He often wondered if you would still love him if you saw him like this, covered in blood and with no trace of mercy shining in his eyes. If you saw him end the life of innocent people that only tried to protect their coward king, the one responsible for your death, would you still see him with such a sweet and tender gaze?

Metal clashed all around the field and he kept moving forward, making sure to destroy everything that stood in his way. He was already dead so he didn’t fear the sharp blades of his opponents; he had died the same day as you did because your soul took his with it.

As the battle continued he allowed his mind to drift away, after all, his body moved on instinct and it had been weeks since he had started daydreaming all day about you. Today he remembered the last time he saw you, so lively and happy.

Unlike the last days you had been smiling so brightly and laughing with the same frequency that you used to before. He thought that nothing could go wrong then, if you finally were happy again then he would allow himself to enjoy everyday yet again, by your side.

With one last kiss on the cheek you had attempted to leave but he stopped you to plant a sweet kiss at the top of your head. “Be careful,” he said while allowing his thumb to trace the outline of your cheek affectionately. And after that you were gone, in a carriage, in direction to god knows where.

You had said you wanted to get some fresh air and he saw no harm in it; if only he could turn back time and stop you from leaving his side, then everything would be the same as normal. You wouldn’t have gone through such pain when life abandoned your body and he wouldn’t have gone to this extent to try and cure his broken heart.

But now he knew that no matter how far he went or how many people faced death by his blade, he would never be content. If he couldn't have you then he didn’t want nothing but the whole world to perish before his eyes.

He missed feeling like himself. He longed to hear your laugh or at least see your face one more time, that way he could perhaps smile again. But that was more than impossible so he knew his soul was completely lost in the dark.

After weeks of destruction he marched triumphantly through the streets of an unknown city that had fallen to his feet. Steps took him to the castle and even further in, to the throne room.

“An eye for an eye. One life for another.” He pronounced with spite as he held the shiny blade against the other king’s throat who only had his title to support him. The death of a kingdomless king would faze nobody so he didn’t even hesitate before slitting his throat.

The once reasonable and kind king was now the one who sat covered in blood on the throne that used to belong to someone else. For the first time in long a little laugh escaped his lips. He was now the ruby king that wanted nothing but destruction, because it brought him the joy that you could no longer, or so he thought.

Kingdoms were meant to perish under the flame of his rage. And they were, they would burn and fall until his soulless mind felt satisfied.

“I love you.” It had been the first time you ever said that and he felt his heart leap inside his chest.

It was wrong and foolish but Minho didn’t desire to hold back anymore so he pressed his lips against yours. He was going to ignore who you were married to, who his close friend was and what was decency. Because he loved you more than it’s possible to explain with simple words.

You kissed him back with eagerness and allowed your hands to learn how his soft brown locks felt tousled and dishelbed. In return he held onto you as if letting go meant you disappearing from his life.

With every second that passed his heart sunk more in regret but he could barely notice because he could only think of you. The way in which your lips moved in perfect synch against his and the way his hand seemed to perfectly fit in the small of your back.

How much did a man need to lose composure? Apparently it was just one touch because when your fingertips brushed gently against the nape of his neck he was definitely lost. There and then he wanted nothing else than to have you forever.

His lips parted from yours and in his eyes glowed intensely something that you couldn’t quite decipher, not until he spoke. “Be mine, please. Let’s just be together, without everyone else standing in the middle.”

He saw a tint of fear come to life under your pupils but you still agreed, you still told him you loved him once again. He was ready to break his friend’s heart into pieces if it meant never having to walk away from you again.

The warmth of his mouth travelled your jaw and then your neck. He moved slowly like how steps approached the door that hid both of you. And when those steps finally reached the door it was too late.

The owner of the lonely steps carefully turned the knob and peeked inside the room only to be faced with heartache. What Chan saw was perhaps the most heartbreaking view he could’ve ever witnessed. His friend kissed away at the skin of the person who was supposed to only share love with him.

He left like he had never been there and neither you nor Minho ever knew that he had witnessed the start of such treason.

Minho loved you everyday more and Chan lived like he was in oblivion, still wanting to have you by his side. Still, the universe decided that if one of you couldn’t have you then perhaps none could.

You were never mine. Minho had thought when he knew that you would never be able to live by his side.

[peachyteabuck]

remember what you love like

summary: is a lunch date still a lunch date after you leave the restaurant?

a commission for @buckysbunny

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

words: 2,014

trigger warnings: allusions to compulsory heterosexuality, fingering, fluff, mentions of sexting

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Natasha’s hands are tangled in your forest green cardigan, one hand on the small of your back while the other is pressed into the back of your neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs when you pull away to gasp for breath, head spinning as a trail of spit connects your mouths in a sight you wish you could see in one of those giant oil paintings that draw large crowds to art museums. “My beautiful little Bunny.”

You preen under her praise, your own hands shaky as they find purchase in her hair, the beltloop of her jeans, anything you can grab as she pushes you into your apartment, pressing you against each and every surface she deems fit. Somewhere between your front door and the wall directly opposite said entrance you lose your cardigan and your shoes, clothes falling to the floor as you’re pushes down the hallway and, finally, onto your bed. You’d made it that morning hoping your lunch date wouldn’t end after you’d left the restaurant just as you had cleaned the rest of your apartment. In truth you’re not sure whether the frantic scrubbing and organization of your kitchen was to impress her or distract yourself for how nervous you were, considering you and Natasha have been dating for about three months now and hadn’t done more than cuddle and today, today of all days felt like the right to rectify that. The two of you had spent all night sexting after you’d sent her a picture of you in your new bra – a pale pink one that made your tits look exquisite. Things had only escalated, you shoving your hands down your pajama shorts to get yourself off at her direction.

So yeah, given all of that, you were decently confident that you would end up with her tongue down your throat and her hands groping at your tits – a thought that left you some weird mixture of overjoyed and frightened.

As your back hits your girly, patterned comforter your heart beats against your ribcage, each chamber trying to rip itself from the rest of the muscle just so that it can travel to each of your limbs and make them shake. Something – someone – is screaming in your ears, the high-pitched sound nearly loud enough to drown out the woman who’s crawled on top of you.  

Nearly.

“Hey,” Natasha coos, peppering small kisses along your face and jaw and neck as her center presses into yours. “Hey, Bunny-“

You finally meet her eyes when that pet name – her pet name for you - falls from her lips. Only then does she notice how terrified you look.

“You good, Bunny?” she asks, her own heart now picking up not because her fingertips are on fire and your skin feels just as hot. “Is everything okay?”

“I, uh-“ you struggle to find the words, wishing you kept your blanket-like cardigan on so you could hide in it. “I haven’t done this with uh,” you trying to swallow despite your dry mouth. “With women.”

Natasha exhales deeply, face visibly softening. It doesn’t feel like pity, though, which suppresses a tiny bit of your nervousness; the last thing you want is for the woman responsible for the menagerie in your stomach each time she texts you or says your name or worms her way into every passing thought to think of you as some sort of charity case.

“Oh, babes,” she places each hand flat on either side of your jaw, both thumbs rubbing soothingly into your heated cheeks. “You know I’m okay with that – right? I don’t want you any less just because you haven’t done with women before.”

You sniffle, trying to keep the tears that prick the corners of your eyes in their spot. “A-are you sure?”

Natasha nods, leaving a small kiss on the center of your forehead. “Of course I am, Bunny. I don’t care how many women you’ve had sex with.”

“E-even though I’ve had sex with guys?” your eyes are big and scared, petrified of rejection.

Natasha just smiles, pulling you closer to her. “Yes, Bunny. Your sexual history certainly doesn’t define you as a person and doesn’t change how I feel about you. Okay?”

You smile back, leaning into her arms as you sniffle once more. “O-okay.”

“Now,” she smiles as she pulls back, readjusting herself onto her side as you stay on your back.  “Where were we?”

And just like that – with fear quelled and uncomfortable twisting in your stomach now loose and simmering below your skin – she returns to her original mission, one that involves ghosting her fingers over your clothed chest before thumbing at the hem of your denim skirt. “You’re so cute, Bunny,” she murmurs. “Such an adorable little Bunny all for me…”

Natasha then pushes your skirt up to your stomach, keeping it in place with her forearm as she begins rubbing the two middle fingers of her right hand along your clothed slit. Your chest heaves as she grins down at your scrunched eyes, furrowed brow, and kiss-swollen lips.

“So beautiful,” she murmurs into your neck, teeth barely pressing into the bruises that deepen with each passing moment. “So good for me, Bunny…”

Lewd moans fall from your mouth as circles your clit, the adorable pink cotton panties you had specifically chosen that morning hoping and praying this would happen now completely soaked through. They’re rough against your sensitive, desperate clit – pussy pulsing around nothing as you buck your hips frantically.

“P-please,” you moan, voice nearly unrecognizable now. “P-please N-Nat!”

She presses a firm kiss to your lips, smiling as she moves her hands to rub at your pussy under your panties. The feeling of her hand there without anything between her skin and your is intoxicating – her fingers easily finding your clit once more. “Call me Mommy,” she murmurs, free hand pushing the sweaty hairs from your forehead. “Call me Mommy, sweet Bunny.”

“Mommy, oh fuck-“ you gasp, the feeling of her hands and the mention of that title you’d been discussing the night before shooting another bolt of lightning through your nervous system, hands bunch the sheets in your palms – your fingers nearly numb as all of your blood rushes to your core. “Oh fucking shit!”

For the first time in what feels like hours you find the courage to open your eyes – another moan deep in your chest filling the hot, thick air. You always wondered why people described being fucked as being consumed, as being the main course in a large meal presented to some rich, old-timey monarch after they return from visiting the more desolate parts of the territory they rule over.

Now, though, under Natasha’s heated gaze with three of her fingers stuffed inside of you while the other hand presses into your stomach – you feel like some prized pig slathered in glaze and placed onto an obnoxious silver platter with a whole apple placed into your waiting mouth as fruits and vegetables circle your flesh. If you had ever felt desired, it certainly didn’t match up to the fire in Natasha’s eyes as she devours each time you twitch, moan, beg for more.

“You sure you want more?” she purrs, fingers stroking that spot inside of you that makes your legs shake and eyes tear up once more. “Does my greedy little Bunny want her Mommy to give her more?”

You nod furiously, mouth barely able to keep up with your racing thoughts. “Yes, fuck Mommy please please please I want-“ you moan as she fucks into you harder, reveling in watching you fall apart. “Please I’ll take anything you want to give me Mommy please!”

Without further delay Natasha moves between your legs, maneuvering you so that one of her hands fucked in and out of you while the other circles your clit in hot, tight circles. Your eyes don’t know where to focus – on the sight on Natasha’s hands working you into some kind of putty or the woman herself, whose smug grin and furrowed brow are almost intimidating in their determination.

“M-mommy,” you gasp out, legs trying to shut themselves involuntarily, stopped only by the woman between your legs. Your toes curl, spine bending forward as the white-hot pleasure in your stomach curls itself tighter and tighter around itself. “Mommy, Mommy, I’m gonna, I’m gonna-!”

You come with a guttural moan you almost don’t recognize as yours – a sound so animalistic you wonder if Natasha had rewired your brain into some pre-human thing incapable of speech. It’s hot, so hot, and in your post-orgasmic bliss you wonder if life could get any better.

“How you feeling, Bunny?” Natasha asks, trying to find some signs of life behind your glazed-over eyes.

“So fucking good! I feel so good, Mommy!” you gasp out, mouth dry and lunges seemingly devoid of oxygen.

The woman above you just laughs, though, throws her beautiful head back and laughs and oh God – oh God you need to find it in you to tell her to stop doing that because you’ve only been dating for a few months and her beauty radiates with the power of the sun and you weren’t born with UV-protection in your retinas and if her light doesn’t burn you to a crisp first you think you’re going to fucking explode.

“I’m glad,” she tells you, running her now-wrinkled fingertips over the inside of your trembling thighs. Silence settles of you both as you feel your bones…vibrate? Or maybe that’s chest your heart again – the stupid thing incapable of handling this much joy and pleasure at the same time. It takes a long while for Natasha to speak again, not wanting to spook you in your fragile state. “Hey Bunny?” she asks, watching to make sure you’d heard her. “I’m gonna get you some water, okay?”

You give her a small “okay,” body still as she climbs off your bed.

You’re boneless – inert as you lay there with your arms flat at your sides and your legs in the same bent position Natasha had left them in before she had oh-so meanly abandoned you. Just as before, your chest rises and falls as if a forty-pound weight was pressing into it – each inhale painful and a struggle with the exhales happening all too quickly. It’s unfamiliar, being so satiated. Being with men had left you feeling fine, maybe a little out of breath, but with Natasha? God, you wouldn’t be able to move if the fire alarms went off; you’d just lay here, vision fuzzy around the edges as the smell of smoke came through the air vents. (Then again, given the state of Natasha’s arms, you think she’d be able to carry you out of your apartment building just fine.)

She returns – just as she said she would – with a mug of cold water that she holds as if it was priceless and not something you thrifted for less than a dollar when you had moved from your last apartment.  

“Thanks,” you croak as she hands it to you, watching as you sit up and wince ever so slightly as your sensitive pussy presses into the sheets. You’ll need to change them – and soon – but somehow that feels like an impossible task as you gulp down what, in your state, tastes closer to ambrosia than the shit in your Brita. When you’re finished Natasha takes the now empty mug from you, placing it on your nightstand before hugging you to her chest and pushing you back until you hit the sheets once more, lying down next to you and throwing her arm around your waist.

“You good, Bunny?” she asks again, a part of her always worried about you no matter how much euphoria pooled in your veins.

You nod as you curl into her side, leaving a kiss on her collarbone as you listen to her heartrate slow as it returns its resting pace. It’s calming, that combined with the feeling of her fingers twirling in your mused hair lulling you into the deepest sleep you’ve had in weeks.  

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Hi again! I come to you today with a question that may simply be a continuity error, but I'm still interested in your thoughts! In the main story, le Comte *knows* it was MC that came through the door behind him. Yet in Comte's "One Night, Beneath the Crescent Moon" POV story, he said he "...had no idea of what would happen next... That she would end up using the same door and end up stuck on the other side." What's your take on it? Thanks in advance! 💛

Hiya! First off I wanna apologize for how long it took to reply oTL I had originally drafted a response and then lost it when I accidentally closed the tab, and whenever that happens I always have to like sufficiently mourn the words I lost 😂😂😂

But to answer your question! If I’m entirely honest, I can’t remember what it was Comte said exactly in the Main Story in regards to her entering the door. There could be a lot of explanations for him saying he “knew”: continuity error, him wanting to put her at ease by seeming “in control” of the situation (while he’s screaming internally), or maybe even him wanting to cast some doubt as to whether or not he’s a person that can be trusted (aka the whole like “MC nooooooo don’t trust me I’m a vampire very bad very scary run away” kind of like Leonardo). 

All that being said, given the evidence we have and the stories I’ve read from his POV--esp that Crescent Moon one you referenced--I’m most inclined to believe that he had no idea she would follow him that day at the Louvre. If anything I really don’t think he ever anticipated any human person could follow him through the door? Because remember Sebastian (and the suitors for that matter) only manage because Comte is their escort. Sure their will to live on was strong enough that he could hear them, but they had no capacity to approach or find a door on their own as far as we currently know. The door was closed when MC found it; this suggests that Comte fully closed off that avenue to make sure nobody wayward stepped in by accident. He did the responsible thing and he left long before he could ascertain her safe journey through time, but she still managed to make it across somehow.

That’s why I think MC’s mere existence is earth-shattering to Comte. I mean we have all the good basics: a lovely lady, sweet and hard-working, means well and does her best. And these attributes all do matter, for sure. But the door is perhaps a greater catalyst in their romance than we might have first anticipated.

There will be some semi-hefty JPN rt spoilers below the cut for Dazai and Comte, so I’m just going to keep it under wraps just in case there are people who want to remained 100% unspoiled:

TW: Mentions of suicide in Dazai’s rt

The reason I say this is twofold, based on information provided by Dazai and Comte’s Main Story route. In Dazai’s route, remember that the focal point of the story is that Dazai wants to go back in time to kill himself as a baby so that he can never grow up to write his books or cause anyone pain in the near future--essentially, suicidal ideation to a frightening extreme. One of the main reasons that he fails (though MC plays a significant role in stopping him, too) is that Dazai’s will to kill himself is too weak. In simpler terms, this means that--no matter how much he insisted he wanted to die, the truth of his heart was revealed in his constant hesitating and difficulty going through with it. This is very often a reaction from people who need sizable psychological assistance to overcome trauma; they don’t usually want to die, it’s more that the pain of surviving their experiences is outweighing any possible joy they can find in living. 

But back to the most important part in bold. When Dazai asks about being able to use the door to travel through time, Charles confirms that it’s possible to travel without a pureblood escort. HOWEVER. This type of travel is very, very difficult unless you have an intense sense of willpower. I imagine the implication here is that you have to have an overwhelming desire and firmly believe it’s where you want to be in order for the travel attempt to succeed at all. (I don’t think the tethering point necessarily matters, but there is a suggestion that strong bonds between people--whether platonic or romantic--can serve as powerful guideposts when the door is distorted.) In other words, the reason Dazai relies on Charles’ moral bankruptcy is because Dazai knows he doesn’t feel strongly enough to go through with the suicide. He needs someone else who has the sheer determination and unbending will to see it through when the door opens. 

This is why Dazai is forced to ask Charles to accompany him, even though Charles doesn’t necessarily want to kill him. For Charles, this is less about a desperation to kill Dazai and more about his intense obsession-love for MC, and his willingness to do anything to receive her love/attention in return. In Charles’ view, since MC is ostensibly in love with Dazai, removing Dazai from the picture permanently is ideal. While Charles’ judgement is clouded and a little horrific, he is nonetheless rock steady in comparison to Dazai’s nonstop wavering. Dazai knows that he’s fickle on a personal level; one moment he wants to die, another he’s too afraid to let go of what he does care about or upset anyone. He’s at a point where he doesn’t know what’s right or true anymore and he’s floundering, which is honestly fairly common among those who share his lamentable condition. (Most people don’t have a death wish--it’s more a combination of circumstantial problems and healing that has remained in stasis that constitutes the extremity of that behavior.)

Moving right along, Comte’s route also features a similar testament to willpower, believe it or not. This happens in the last few chapters of the main story. Basically, Shakespeare dumps MC on Vlad’s doorstep and she’s more or less suffering the latter’s monologuing for a good while. Not long after that Comte appears and nearly shoots Vlad in the head, the bullet just grazing his cheek. Comte demands that he let MC go, and Vlad--in a classic sadistic act of compliance--wrenches open the door and just tosses MC into the freefall of distorted spacetime.

Now this is dangerous to MC’s life in and of itself, but there’s a key element there: distorted spacetime. In this main story the door never returns to its normal state after that first month period. Rather, the expanse of the door is too dangerous to be traveled even by a pureblood, let alone a human being. The chances MC will ever be able to escape in order to survive are closer to zero than any other number. Remember that Comte is immortal. If he gets stuck on his own, he can’t die and the damage to his body is always more than able to heal when he’s back to safety. (He even warns Leonardo in Leo’s MS that the danger of getting stuck in some kind of pocket in spacetime is still too significant to be ignored, though I can’t be sure if that’s due to Leonardo’s inexperience with time travel/requirement for an escort, or just an inevitable risk you juggle anytime you travel through the door.)

Of course Comte leaps in after her to try to save her, but presumably their entry point is long gone now (Vlad shut the door), so they’re just kind of floating in amorphous time. They do and don’t exist. Comte is understandably distraught because MC’s life hangs in the balance; if they don’t find a way out, she is almost certainly going to die. Comte admits that--while he hates the fact that his very existence is a danger to her, he still doesn’t regret finding her by any extension. MC protests, naturally, that there’s nothing to regret. Circumstances be what they may, she loves him. 

Now, here is the key. While Comte is trying to think of a way out, MC is thinking hard about wanting to return to the mansion. Her mind reflects an acute, intense desire to return home to the place where they both belong. And wouldn’t you know it? They both suddenly tumble out of the door in the mansion and onto the carpeted floor, whole and alive, sputtering in disbelief. Comte is baffled at first but it can only give way to immense relief that she’s safe, and he just immediately breaks down.

The only reason the two make it out unscathed is because of--I can only assume--MC’s overwhelming will to live on with Comte and return to the mansion. While it would have been natural for her to be overcome by fear to the point where she could make no productive decision, or even humor the concept of focusing on their home, she does it all the same with immediate success. That’s also part of why I think Comte just 100% caves into both of their feelings in the next chapter. He saw firsthand that, not only does MC keep a level head under duress, but she also has the overpowering will necessary to survive amongst vampires. And it was perhaps this unshakeable will in the first place that landed her in the late 19th century all those weeks ago.

It’s interesting because, honestly? Her entry through the door is more or less a hinge point for their romance. While it obviously isn’t the only reason he cares about her, it definitely is one of the bigger reasons he even feels safe enough to court her in earnest in the aftermath. It is literally only after this event that he confesses everything. Why he created the mansion and the men. How he’s really felt about her and himself all this time. What Vlad showed her and the implications of Vlad’s existence. And finally the truth about what he wants. He wants a relationship with her, but he keeps being held back by the fear that he’s too much. That the demand of being by his side will outweigh any happiness she might find choosing him. (Granted MC and I find that preposterous given how attentive and considerate he is, but you know). But after seeing her pull off surviving Vlad and traveling through the door by her own willpower again? I think it sufficiently lessens his doubts as to whether she could handle a future with him. It gives him the courage to just ask her: Do you want a future with me? Can you handle the demands of a vampire that cannot accept a mere human lifetime to be in love? 

And so this is why I have unceasing Comte brainworms ladies and gentlethem. I need to go lie down before I start crying again, I love him oTL

[yukimoji]

Goodbye, My Beloved. ( Kyojuro Rengoku x Reader )

[ Muichiro pls or a Giyuu or Rengoku Specific request for rengoku that it’s an angst of reader reminiscing about rengoku after finding out he died maybe the reader is pregnant too. Oblivion ]

(a/n: my second attempt of writing angst! as usual, there will be grammar mistakes and typos here and there. thank you reading!)

Total words: 2100+ words

Genre: Angst

!!MANGA SPOILERS FOR THE INFINITY TRAIN ARC!!

---

Within a world full of suffering and loss, there was not much room for the warmth of happiness and love to settle in the dark pits of bloodshed and danger. The vast sky above mirrored this sensation, the shades of dark gray circling overhead as thick clouds threaten to shower the earth below with droplets of heavy rain.

You scurried to the backyard of your humble abode, scrambling to grab the damp pieces of clothing that had been put on the drying rack. You proceeded to relocate them inside, as the possibility of heavy rain was looming over the area. After you took care of such a heavy load, you won't allow the rain to throw all your hard work to waste.

Your shared cottage, which was usually filled with joy and excitement, now felt lonely without the warm presence of your husband. Kyojuro was on a mission to investigate a demon riddled train in the far regions. Reports of Demon Slayers assigned to the train and not coming back were gradually increasing, and the Demon Slayer Corps ought to decide to finally send a Hashira to look into the matter.

It's been days since your beloved had journeyed into the far regions, and the knot in your stomach grew tighter in each passing day. In these lonely times, the feeling of fear and doubt has always been with you. While Kyojuro was out and slaying demons, you couldn't help but give in to the sensation of a knot in your stomach twisting and turning as you pray to the gods above for your husband's safe return.

However, you did not doubt your husband's abilities in any kind. He was a Hashira; one of the best of the best in the Demon Slayer Corps. He had decapitated countless demons with a simple quick slash of his Katana, the heads of the Lower Moon demons he defeated considered as prized victories. His breathing style had been passed down throughout centuries, the techniques filled with such precision and finesse that would have taken any demon down.

He always promised to come back to you.

And he did.

Besides, there was something else that increased his desire to come back to you.

You wobbled inside the cottage, a hand caressing your swollen tummy. Months ago, you announced to the world that you were carrying Kyojuro's baby. He was ecstatic by this news, pampering your face with loved-filled kisses as he lifted you up, laughter escaping both of your lips.

Ever since then, he doubled his efforts in his missions. He would take extra-precautions to keep himself safe, as he could not wait to come back home and meet his child.

You sighed and stood in front of the window, looking over the beautiful and vast plains of the area. The sky was getting darker, and you wondered if a big storm was coming. You were beginning to wonder; how was Kyojuro doing? Did he finish the mission? Is he making his way back to you already?

Humming softly, you tenderly caressed your stomach, singing out little lullabies for your unborn child. You felt your baby kick, and a smile tugged its way to the sides of your lips. You were excited for the day when you would finally meet your child. You daydreamed how your days would go by, the images of Kyojuro and you cuddling with your infant filling your heart with so much warmth that your eyes were threatening to water.

As if the gods had heard your pleas, you heard soft knocking coming from your front door.

Your eyes lit up, your [E / C] sparkling with anticipation as you staggered your way to the door. A giddy smile painted your lips, relief washing all over as as you stood in front of the door. As you lifted your hand to grasp the handle, you were a little confused as to why the feeling of dread did not cease. Surely, it was Kyojuro behind the door, right?

You shook your head from your intrusive thoughts. Kyojuro is alive, he must be. And here he was, waiting in the other side of the door, arms open to surround you in his warm embrace.

As you opened the door, you expected to meet a pair of golden eyes that you loved so much, but you were shocked when you saw a single Kakushi in the doorstep. They had a solemn expression on them, their eyes filled with so much worry and remorse that you felt the knot in your stomach grow tighter than ever before. Behind them was another Kakushi, who held some kind of rectangular object in their hands as they looked at you with a wry expression.

You gulped as you started to sweat. Your hands were trembling, as the unwanted thoughts of the unthinkable began to overwhelm you. Despite your increasing doubt, you forced yourself to give the Kakushi a welcoming smile.

"Hello there! What brings you here?" You asked, a slight tremble evident in your voice that gave away how you truly felt at that moment.

"Are you Mrs. [ Y / N ] Rengoku?" The Kakushi asked, their voice filled with concern.

The feeling of dread rose even further, as your heart began to thump wildly in your chest. You nodded, never breaking your smile as their eyes drooped even more.

You wanted to hurl as fear suffocated you.

"Ma'am, we came here to bring you news." The Kakushi started. Your eyes widened when the Kakushi brought out a letter, and began to read out it's contents;

"On the XX day of XXX, The Flame Hashira, Rengoku Kyojuro has been killed after an encounter against Upper Moon Three."

What?

What do you mean my husband is dead?

"His body is now relocated back to the Rengoku Estate, where his father and brother are beginning to make preparations for his burial."

No, no. There must be a mistake. There is no way my husband is dead.

He promised me he would come back for us.

"As you may know, the Flame Hashira was sent to investigate a train where a demon was thought to have caused havoc. With the aid of reinforcements, Rengoku successfully saved countless human lives while the demon was successfully destroyed. Upon the sudden emergence of Upper Moon Three, the Hashira Flame gave his life to protect those in harm's way. In the end, Upper Moon Three retreated and all the victims of the train returned to their homes."

No.. No.. No..!

"We sincerely mourn the loss of such a strong-willed man. Rengoku Kyojuro will forever go down in the history of the Corps as one of the strongest. His sacrifices and tribulations will live on, as his death will not be in vain."

As the Kakushi continued to speak, the smile on your face was no longer there. You stared at the Kakushi, eyes blazed with disbelief. You couldn't properly comprehend the information being stated to you. Your chest ached with so much pain and pressure that it was suffocating you. The only thing your mind could do was repeat a sentence;

Kyojuro is dead.

With the last of your willpower, you looked up and met the eyes of the Kakushi.

"..I see." You forced yourself to voice out.

At this point, all you could hear was the heavy beating of your heart. Your eyebrows were scrunched together, and your eyes as wide as saucers. You began to draw labored breaths, placing a hand in your chest as you gripped your clothing tightly.

The clouds above became even more darker, as small droplets of rain started to come down. The gloomy atmosphere was unironically fitting, as you could feel your resolve rapidly decline.

Surge of overwhelming emotions overtook you, as tears continuously spilled from your [ E / C ] orbs. Your body shook violently, and your knees were threatening to fall as each second passes by.  You felt sick, as the urge to vomit started to arise from your throat. Your knuckles were beginning to whiten from how hard you were gripping your clothes.

You couldn't speak, not when the only thing that came out of your mouth was the agony of whimpers and sobs. Your eyes shut tightly, as the tears continued pouring down your cheeks. You let out a pained wail as your knees finally gave in, falling to the ground as you allowed yourself to be racked with cries and sobs.

The Kakushi immediately caught you, holding you in their arms as they gently placed you down. You were a mess, tears wouldn't stop falling down from your face as you screamed into the horizon. The Kakushi holding you proceeded to draw long circles into your back in an attempt to comfort you.

"..We were also given orders to give you this. Rengoku-san specifically asked to give you a parting gift, along with a letter inside." The other Kakushi spoke up.

Without thinking, you stood up, startling the poor Kakushi in front of you. You hurriedly made your way to the other Kakushi, their eyes drooping from your swollen and tear stained face. Your eyes held a silent plea in them, begging the Kakushi to give you Rengoku's final gift.

They held the rectangular object in front of you, as you immediately took it from their hands. You traced the edges of the box, and with a deep sighs, you slowly opened it. You let out a pained cry as a little stuffed toy was inside the box, along with a piece of paper with your beloved's handwriting on it. Your trembling hands grabbed the letter, and you felt yourself fall on your knees once more as your eyes scanned over your husband's penmanship.

"My dearest, [ Y / N ],

My love, thank you for all those years you had spent with me. I will always cherish those moments were it would seem like that there was more than just a cruel world. Thank you so much for making me feel like the most loved man in the world, even with all my flaws and shortcomings.

I wish I could have met our child. Everyday, I anticipate for their arrival and I had always hoped that we could've had a happy family like you deserve to have. I hope this little toy would always remind our child that their father will always love them wholeheartedly, even though I am no longer here.

I wish I could've written more, but my injuries is against me.

Farewell, my love. You and my child were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I would not dare to replace every little moment that we shared together. Embrace my darling child for me, beloved. I will await the day where I could finally meet you again in a better world.

Always and forever,

Rengoku Kyojuro."

Your eyes stared at the letter in front of you. Your tears dropped into his signature, and you shut your eyes once more as you held the letter and the toy tightly in your chest. Heavy rain rapidly streamed down, as mud and puddles started to form around your body.

Your body was soaking wet, but you didn't care. You continued to wail, your cries almost reaching the heavens above. Images of Kyojuro flashed in your mind, as you continue to scream out for your deceased beloved.

You remember the times were he would always come home to your embrace after every mission. He would whisper sweet nothings to your ear, a declaration of love escaping his lips as he would shower you with affection.

Every time he comes back to you, he would always make love to you in the most intimate and passionate way a man could ever do.

And then, you realized.

His eyes.

His smile.

His warm embrace.

You weren't going to experience that again.

After a while, the rain suddenly died down a bit. Your throat was already sore and raw from your screaming, but you still continued to weep under the rain. The Kakushis were trying their best to keep you dry, even putting an umbrella over you, but to no avail. Your clothes were already stained with mud, and you were soaking wet.

Even so, in your daze, you swore that you could feel a pair of familiar arms curl around you. Warmth engulfed you, which seemed like an attempt to comfort you, as you continued to mourn the loss of your beloved. The wind brushes your hair, and you could faintly make out a familiar voice;

"Goodbye, my beloved."

[firerose]

Dark Leo -Dark  seven au part2

@reading0mens Hope you enjoy it, I put a bit under read more because it’s kinda long XD

Leo‘s world is shattered after Jason‘s death

He knows it was a storm or fire

He knows that his cheating death caused the fates to take Jason away

At Jason‘s funereal he cries into Piper‘s shoulder

The boy that told him he was important, that made him believe he was worth something was gone

His sorrow makes him burst into flames and as Piper lets go he sinks over his friends grave

Things only got worse from there

He can‘t look at Calypso anymore

She was the reason he cheated death after all

He thinks about how she always complains about him, never truly helped him as Jason did

He goes back to Camp half-blood not caring that there is a battle coming for the Romans

He couldn‘t help them anyway

He locks himself in Bunker 9 building machines to distract himself from the cruel reality

Jason Grace was dead and he was alive

Calypso tries to get through to him but he yells at her that he regrets having saved her

He doesn‘t mean because of her of course but it is still her that he cheated death for

Calypso leaves in tears

Leo continues building and as his hands work on inventions his mind goes to Hera

Why didn‘t she save Jason?

He was her hero, wasn‘t he?

The bridge between greeks and Romans

So what kept her from saving him?

Anger begins to rage in him

Maybe Jason was just a tool for her

A weapon she could use and then forget

A scream breaks out of him and flames start floating over everything

He begins to despise the queen of Olympus just like he once hated Gea

At least Gea never acted like she wanted to protect them

He feels a desire to make Hera pay, to play with her just like she did with him

He knows that he can't take revenge on Hera all by himself Isn't there an emperor in new york

A plan starts to form in his head

Nyssa brings him the news

Camp Jupiter beat Caligula and Commodus now only Nero is left

The only change for Leo to take revenge on Hera

He leaves in the early morning

He is not nervous only strangely excited

Finding the emperor was not hard he could oversee the whole city on his metal dragon

„What do you want demigod?“, Nero asks coldly sitting on his throne arrogant as always

Leo only smiles darkly „I want to treat Hera just like she treated me and my friends.“

Nero has picked up many demigods from the streets but this one is special

He has an almost feral look in his eyes like he would be ready to burn the world

„And how exactly do plan to do that? Nero asks his voice full of curiosity

After hearing the plan Nero allows Leo to stay

He has a big room full of machines, engines automatons

Leo loves it

He builds robots small ones at first but his anger makes his talents grow

Somehow he manages to equip them with laser eyes ten arms that shoot fire canons, their fingers made of blades

He makes other inventions to ones that he prays to one day use on a certain goddess

A part of him is terrified of his work but another screams justice for Jason so he continues

Two weeks later Leo gives Hazel and Frank a surprise visit

They are happy to see him, they are his friends after all

Leo laughs with them, jokes as if everything was normal

One night he and Frank even mourn Jason together

When he feels real tears form in his eyes he is grateful for Franks hug

He can tell that Frank wants him to feel loved just like Jason once did

He is thankful and when Frank leaves his firewood feels heavy in Leo‘s hand

The next day horns are blowing, demigods scream in terror

A huge robot army is threatening to enter new Rome

The Legion is horrified but they swore to protect the city so they get ready for battle

None of them is showing their fear when they stand between the robots and their city

Reyna and Frank stand before their cohorts but Frank is not too worried

Those robots are made of metal and he sees in Hazel‘s smile that she knows this too

The daughter of Pluto raises her hand to save those she loves

But then a voice close to her speaks up coldly

„Hazel stop “, She almost did not recognize it

Leo stands a few feet away eyes gleaming darkly, Franks stick lays in his hand

Franks feels a cold dread in his stomach

„Leo…...what are you doing? Frank asks unable to hide his fear

Leo lets out a pained humourless laugh, I‘m destroying the god's ego by crashing their glorious temples.“ he explains and Hazel feels her heartbreak at his words

How is this the same boy who made her smile with his jokes

Reyna curses“ How dare you betray us? After Jason-“

Leo interrupts her with a mad shout

„That's exactly my point! Jason died because Hera for some reason refused to save him. We are all just puppets for the gods don‘t you see that!“I'm trying to save us from them but if you don‘t surrender now I will be forced to let you suffer for the god's crimes.“, Leo explains his tone almost hysteric

There is silence for a moment

The robots stand like dead status, new Rome's citizens glance towards them from behind the barrier, the roman soldiers are glaring at Leo

„Romans don‘t surrender.“, Frank finally responds his voice brave, his eyes full of pain

Leo smirks like he expected that answer

His whole body bursts into flame

Frank falls to the ground as his stick is swallowed by fire

Pain ignites in his heart, he hears Hazel‘s scream

He looks at his girlfriend a hand stretched towards her as if to hold her one last time

She stretches her hand towards him as well, her mouth moving as she sobs

A weak scream leaves his lips when a Robots blade impales her neck the blade coming out bloody at her throat

Her hand sinks, her body collapses into a puddle of her blood and Frank‘s world goes black

Leo stares at their unmoving bodies

The stick in his hands is now only ashes

He knows he should feel something

He should feel remorse

Instead, he just feels empty

The gods could have saved them but they didn‘t

If the gods would just be better he would not have done this

The gods are to blame not him

So he joins the massager

The demigods are fighting bravely but nothing prepared them to fight eight feet high machines

Blades are piercing through their bodies, the fire burns their flesh, dozens get trampled

Leo is in the middle of it all shooting fireballs burning everyone who gets too close

A fireball hits Reyna‘s hair and the Praetor is doomed to a firey cruel death

Soon the city falls, Terminus  barrier is not strong enough to hold the metal beasts off

New Romes citizens are slaughtered in their streets, their buildings, temples destroyed

Their screams ring in Leo‘s ears but he continues to fight

This is for Jason. This is for Jason

He keeps using this excuse even though a part of him tells him that Jason wouldn‘t have wanted this

When Leo the last screams finally have died new Rome is in ruins

On Olympus, the gods are raging

Their pride has never been attacked like this

Hera looks at Leo wandering through the dead city with worry

He was her hero once just like Jason but now he seems …..changed

Maybe somehow she could convince him to come back to her

She is his grandmother after all

So she goes down to him in the form of his old babysitter

Leo growls when he sees he sees her

„Now you decide to show up? After I slaughtered thousands of People? Wow you are a horrible patron goddess!“, He snarls

Hera looks at him in pity

„Leo I know you are angry but this is madness. Jasons death was in the hand of the fates and I couldn‘t do anything sometimes even we gods are powerless. Don‘t go down this road my hero it will only bring you to suffering.“ Hera warns but that only makes Leo more furious.

They are standing in the smouldering ruins of her city and yet all she can do is makeup excuses

„You ……..you are so arrogant Hera! First, you act like my protector, my babysitter for years and then you don‘t even save my mother, then you give me fake memories about my best friend and then when I‘m finally growing closer to him you watch him die too. I bet if I hadn‘t killed Frank today you would have done it! Jason Frank and I were just pawns whose lives you controlled and that you now don‘t need anymore!“, Leo yells his hands balled into fists.

Hera listens to her face showing guilty embarrassment

She is too lost in thought, that is why she sees the net that Leo throws over her too late

The strings are made of celestial bronze but when she tries to escape the net only grows tighter cutting into her skin

Leo smiles at her in amusement.

„I hope you enjoy your new home your high majesty., He mocks

Hera realized that this was all part of his plan

Destroying new Rome to get her attention, louring her here so he could capture her

„Let me go immediately demigod or my wrath-“. She is cut off when Leo gags her

He has enough to listen of listening to her

He just wants to visit Jason's grave one last time

Leo returns to Nero with his army and with Hera

She is carried by one of the Robots trapped in metal strings

Nero welcome Leo with open arms

This child is a blessing even better than Meg Mc Caffrey

He tells Leo that he wants to wait with his attack on the greeks

He wants the news about camp Jupiter to reach them first

Leo agrees and grins at Hera

The goddess tries to change from even her real one but the strings only golden

„They drain your godly essence. The emperors are no strangers to dark magic Hera. You won‘t get out of here unless I allow it.“, Leo mocks once he has taken her to his room

The image of Her lying helpless and restrained on the ground gives him chills of joy

He picks out a knife from his toolbelt, Heras's eyes widen

„Now let's see how you like being hurt without someone there to help.“ Leo muses and drives the blade into the goddess's arm.

He smiles at the golden blood and Heras agonized groan

He is going to have so much fun with her

Leo almost feels disappointed when Nero tells him that it‘s time for the attack

By now all demigods know what happened

Chiron evacuated Camp half-blood taking the younger Campers to safety

Nero knows it‘s only a matter of time until the rest disappears to

So Leo and the emperor fly to  Long island alone with Festus who hold Hera in his claws

The robots are deactivated until Leo's command, Nero wants to give his enemies hope of winning

A handful of Campers is already waiting for them at the top of Half-blood hill

Leo winces when he sees Percy and Nico

He had forgotten the people close to Frank and Hazel

„Surrender or face the same end as your roman friends!“, Nero demands

Percy spits to the ground

Nico gets out his sword his eyes piercing into Leo soul

„Do you think Jason still loves you after what you did Leo?“, Nico asks coldly

Leo‘s heart feels like it‘s torn apart

Nico‘s words are the truth in the back of his mind. The truth that his lust for revenge drowned out

Jason, sweet kind Jason would never love someone who killed his friends

Leo feels panic, he has to move forward he has to distract himself from his thoughts

„Let that be my concern.“, Leo spats and drops Hera to the ground

Her body is covered in deep cuts, golden blood covers the strings

The attack begins

Leo decides to take out Percy first

He shoots fire but Percy uses the lake to his advantage

Water and fire clash together in the air squishing as they meet

Leo gets more furious

He creates big flames that lit the threes next to Percy on fire, tiny flames to grasp Percy‘s hair

Percy seems to be prepared for everything

He protects himself with shields of water and creates tentacles in an attempt to drag Leo to the ground

Their fight is hard, full of hatred and so none of them notices Nico‘s fight against Nero

Until the emperor screams while he's being sucked into the earth

Neros household, all young brainwashed demigods panic and run

Leo yells in frustration

Why did he choose such bad allies?

Nico collapses from the uses of his underworld powers, the grass around him black

Leo wants to take his chance and flames flicker from his hand#

But then a big hand of water grabs him and lifts him off his dragon

Leo is taken by surprise but soon blind rage follows

„Now!“, He hears Percx yell and when he turns his head he sees Annabeth cutting Heras net with Nico‘s stygian sword

Desperation and fear will Leo

„No please!“, He Beggs but Percy drops him on the ground without mercy

Hera although wounded immediately grows to full size her eyes blazing with fury

„I WARNED YOU MY HERO NOW FACE THE CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR ACTIONS.“Hera yells her form glowing

„No wait!“, Percy says his eyes widened in shock

Leo knows what is coming, he has seen it once before

Tears of sorrow, of fear, of anger stream down his cheeks

He wonders if Hades will let him see Jason again after he murdered his daughter

In a last attempt to turn his fate he reaches for his toolbelt

But then he stops

How can he destroy the greeks after they took him in after they tried to make him belong somewhere?

His thoughts wander to Piper and his heart is split by deep guilt

Leo Valdez opens his eyes and stares right into the godly flames that even he can‘t survive

His last thought is a prayer of forgiveness to all he has killed in his path for revenge

Leo is buried at Camp half-blood

There are a lot of discussions about it but no one can think of a better place

Hera assures the Campers that in a few years there will be new roman demigods

This does not help the losses though

Percy and Annabeth spend many nights crying with each other about their lost friends, their lost future

Will has to hold Nico for countless nights too, Has to remind him that he always will be there for him

Apollo becomes a god again

And in California Piper Mclean cries out her prayers to the gods

She prays for them to free her out of these new fake mist reality

She prays for them to let her wake up in a world where her best friends are still alive

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

Honestly I wished Hoo went more into the fact that frank Jasons and Leos lives were all controlled by Hera! That would have been such an interesting dynamic!

[elizabeethan]

Watch the Sunlight Fade: 13 / 17

Emma Swan finds out that her boyfriend has been hiding something from her: he’s in a gang and trying to get out. Reluctantly, she decides to support him, sticking it out with him until they have enough money to flee to Florida. All she has to do is wait and ignore that feeling in her gut that something is seriously wrong. With the help of a kind and handsome stranger, she just might make it out alive.

Or, alternate summary: I’m horrible at summaries, please just read it.

Something of a cross between a What Still Remains AU and a Sons of Anarchy AU.

A/N: Heyooo time for more smut! And more answers. And more cliffhangers.

Rated M

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Read on Ao3

~~~~

The destruction in the apartment is clear the moment she walks in, feeling Killian’s watchful eye leave her as she shuts the door. There’s broken glasses and plates on the floor, Neal having cleared off the counter in what she assumes is his anger. She can’t think of another reason for him to be so destructive, picture frames smashed in the living room and fluffy pillow feathers flying through the air, but she certainly allows her mind to wander. 

  What if he knows? They’ve been careful, but what if someone besides Rufio had seen them? 

  “Neal?” She asks tentatively, clutching the strap of her purse tightly. 

  She hears another crash from his bedroom in response to her voice and cringes. The door opens forcefully, slamming shut behind him as he storms into the living room to meet her. 

  “Where the fuck were you?” he asks threateningly. 

  “I was at the store,” she answers, her voice small and weak, although she thinks it unwise to make a show of strength. “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong?” he spits. He fumes in anger again and picks up a vase that she had filled with flowers she bought herself, hurling it at the wall to her right and sending water and glass towards her. “Rufio is fucking dead , that’s what’s wrong!”

She pales immediately, realizing that he must know of their involvement in his death. There’s not much for her to say, unable to defend herself as she and Killian both know that their actions were wrong. She only wonders now if he also knows of the affair they’ve started. “Neal…” she croaks out in terror, unsure how to continue. 

  But to her surprise, he falls to his knees, his hands catching his head as he lets out a sob. “Who would do this?” he cries, sending her mind racing. “Who would kill my friend?”

  She shifts, the sudden realization striking that he isn’t angry at her, he simply finds it appropriate to take his anger out on her. She has to adjust now, unable to hold onto the fear of him discovering her dangerous secret and required to shift into her role as doting girlfriend. She has to keep up appearances, as much as it pains her to do so. 

  “Babe,” she says softly, “I’m so sorry.”

  Once she’s close enough to him, he grabs at her hand, pulling her roughly into his arms and squeezing her too tight. His actions are forceful, but not at all surprising. He holds onto her, sobbing into her hair and making her cringe as he cries for his loss. He says things like, how could someone do this to me, and it makes her realize that he isn’t sad about his friend’s death. He’s sad that someone has hurt him. He thinks this is personal. 

  While he cries, she looks around the apartment and wants to cry herself. He’s broken so many things, and even though almost none of it was hers, she still feels sadness in the wake of the destruction she sits in. When she looks to the bookshelf frightfully, she realizes she doesn’t see the one and only object that she covets as hers and lets a tear escape. 

  He’s angry. But he didn’t have to take his anger out on the one thing that he knows means something to her. 

  ~~~~

  “The Kings of Elsinore will pay for what they’ve done to us,” Peter says commandingly, his fist slamming against the table before him and making Emma startle. Many of the men around the table nod, grunting in agreement, including Killian. 

  He’s careful not to stare at her too much, although it’s difficult. Aside from his love for her and his disbelief at her beauty, it’s hard not to stare in an attempt to ensure that she’s alright. They haven’t been able to talk since she left this morning, but he doesn’t see any evidence that she’s been harmed. He knows that doesn’t mean she hasn’t been, though. 

  “The murder of Rufio was a heartless and psychotic act with the intention of hitting us where it hurts. Rufio was heir to one of our club’s founding members, and his death will not go unpunished.”

  Killian shudders in his seat, the action making Rob turn to look at him and cock his head. He’s sure Peter means it, and he’s sure Killian’s punishment will be worse than anything he doles out to the Kings if he finds out. 

  He can’t find out, though. Because if he does, he could find out why it happened, and he can’t risk Emma’s safety like that. 

  “We’re going to hit back, which is why Miss Swan is here today,” he continues. His words draw Emma’s attention up from her hands as her big eyes stare at Peter. “It has become imperative that you identify something we can use against the Kings. Any help you need, you’ll have. Hook,” he calls, shifting his focus.

  “Aye?” 

  “Continue to assist Miss Swan in her search. Remove the security features if you have to.” 

  “If it’s alright,” Robin starts, causing Killian’s eyes to grow twice their size, “I’d like to help as well. I believe my tracking skills may be useful in helping Miss Swan decide where to look.” 

  “Fine,” Peter agrees, waving him off. “As for the rest of you, prepare for a battle. If it’s a fight they want, then a fight they shall have.” 

  ~~~~

  She drops into the too-firm chair and it squeaks under her weight, a groan escaping her lips as she jimmies the mouse of her computer. He can’t help the small smile that pulls at one corner of his mouth, her dramatic entrance bringing him joy despite the stress they're all under. 

  No one says anything at first; it’s awkward with Rob being here despite him being one of Killian’s closest friends. Even though he trusts him with his life, he isn’t sure he’s ready to hear the truth of their relationship after how many times he insisted that Killian avoid this. 

  Once her computer boots up, she straightens and he takes a seat in his usual spot, gesturing to another folding chair across the room in an invitation for Rob to sit. “Want me to remove the securities, love?” 

  “No, I don’t want you to remove the securities ,” she responds in a mocking tone, mimicking his accent as she rolls her eyes. “I’m not a damn child; I know how to take off parental controls.” 

  Killian raises his brows, looking at her in surprise, and asks, “then why haven’t you?” 

  “Because I’m also not an idiot,” she responds, glaring at him before turning back to the aged screen. “I’m not stupid enough to try and go against Peter’s rules.” 

  He gives her a small smile, one that he can’t seem to give to anyone else, and can't seem to help giving her, and nods. “That’s right,” he agrees softly, his voice just barely above a whisper. He almost forgets his place, wanting nothing more than to lean forward and plant a kiss on her beautiful-- if not thoroughly chewed up-- lips. It’s obvious enough that something’s irritated her, and he wants to get to the bottom of it and console her so that the light comes back into her eyes. He’s greedy like that, he supposes. 

  “I bloody knew it,” he hears, Rob’s grumbling voice yanking him violently from his thoughts and his desires. 

  Killian turns quickly, as does Emma, both of them staring at Robin in surprise, as if they forgot about their audience. 

  “You’re fucking her,” he accuses, nodding and tightening his jaw. “Killian, mate, how many times have we talked about this--” 

  “Rob,” he starts hurriedly as he stands, his hands held out in a plea. Without words, only his eyes communicating to his friend, he begs for forgiveness and discretion and kindness. “Mate…” 

  He can’t even look at Emma yet because he knows that the look on her face will break him. He knows that she must be gnawing at her lip, her brows high on her forehead and her eyes desperate and terrified. “I’m not going to say anything,” Rob finally says, his eyes meeting Emma’s rather than Killians, confirming his hunch. “You two have royally fucked up, but your secret’s safe with me.” 

  He hears her sigh and worries that she could be crying, so he turns to her. He’s met with her dropping her head into her hands in relief, and he hurries to squat in front of her, taking her hands in his. “It’s alright,” he whispers, running his thumbs over her knuckles. Her dim, glassy eyes meet his and she shakes her head. 

  “We can’t-- he knew after two minutes. We have to go,” she murmurs softly, but he sees something shift in her. She sits up slightly straighter and gazes into his eyes seriously. “Can we trust him?” 

  “Yes,” he confirms while he squeezes her hands. He knows they can, but he turns back to look at Rob anyway. 

  “You can trust me, lass,” he vows, understanding as Killian begs him to. “I swear I won’t say a thing, but you’re playing a dangerous game. What’s the plan here?”

  “We’re leaving,” Killian answers simply. “As soon as possible. We would have tonight, but Neal came back early.”

  “He didn’t come back early, you dolt. They never left.”

  He pales, his face falling, and he feels Emma's squeezing his hand. She must be thinking exactly what he is. They had both assumed that Peter and Neal somehow heard about Rufio and had returned, but the fact that they hadn’t even left is somehow more concerning. 

  “How… how did they find out?”

  Rob snorts, shaking his head. “Right, you were too busy to-- hang on. Killian… tell me you didn’t--”

  “Rob--”

  “You didn’t. ” His face falls pale as well, the look he gives his friend chilling. Killian can feel the disappointment and terror radiating off of his oldest friend easily, and it does nothing to quell his nerves. “Killian, tell me right now that you didn’t kill him.” 

  “I had to,” he whispers, shaking his head in self hatred. “He attacked her. Said he would-- he said--”

  “ Fuck, he caught you, didn’t he?”

  “Robin,” Emma interrupts, trying to stop the two of them from going at it and speaking too loudly. They’re bound to tip someone off if they keep this up. “What Killian did… He knows it was wrong, but there wasn’t much of a choice. Rufio attacked me. He was protecting me, and now… I have to protect him. We have to get out of here, because if they find out that Killian shot Rufio, he’ll be worse off than your friend, Liam.”

  Rob is quiet for a moment, allowing Killian to absorb her words. She’s right, of course. They’ll deliver him a fate much worse than that of his brother if they find out. 

  “Too right, love,” Rob agrees finally, nodding and running his hands over his face. “I’ll help you however I can, so long as the two of you take me as well.”

  “Of course, brother. I’d hoped to grab Tink and Elsa as well.”

  He and Emma hadn’t spoken of his previous dalliances, and he only hopes that his intention to bring Tink along with them doesn’t offend her. It’s not as if he plans on staying with her long, but she deserves to get out just as much as they do. 

  “Only because of Liam, and Tink is--”

  “It’s okay,” she cuts him off with a smile, her hand squeezing his. “Of course we’ll bring them.”

  He can hardly take the amount of love he has for her, her unequivocal understanding of every piece of him hard to wrap his mind around. He gives her a genuine smile, and her gaze meets his, giving him the beaming sunlight in her eyes of which he’ll never tire. 

  ~~~~

  The service they hold at the Rabbit Hole is only slightly deranged. The message is clear enough: Rufio’s loss of life is seen as a personal attack against the club. His death is not sad because his life ended, it’s sad because the club is suffering. 

  It’s nauseating. 

  The only thing that keeps her head on straight is Killian, the gentle looks he shoots her from across the bar where he sits with Rob shooting warmth through her heart and to the pit of her stomach. His presence is so soothing, so grounding. It makes her feel steady and strong to be with him, to even be near him. 

  Each time she catches him glancing at her out of the corner of her eye, she feels her heart rate picking up. He drives her mad, she’s discovered. They’ve only just begun their relationship with one another, but it feels stronger than any she’s ever been in if only based on the physical connection they have with one another. She’s never felt this way about anyone before. She’s been with men before, men before Neal, but it was always transactional and cold. It was fine, but it wasn’t great. With Killian, it’s mind numbing. 

  He reads her effortlessly and flawlessly. He knows exactly what she needs when she needs it. He’s known exactly how to bring her over the edge each time, and she can only foresee their sex life getting better as they grow closer and closer. She can’t wait to grow closer to him. 

  The overwhelming feelings of disgust and discomfort are washed away easily each time he stares at her and are replaced by a feeling of undeniable need. The pressure builds where she needs him the most, arousal washing over her and through her until she can barely stand it, and the feeling of Neal’s hand landing on her shoulder makes her jump. “Want a drink, babe?” he asks, as if completely forgetting the conversation they had last night. He hasn’t even bothered to ask her of the results of her tests yet. 

  “I’m actually gonna just run to the bathroom,” she says with a smile. “Not feeling great, I’ll be back.” 

  She doesn’t give him a chance to respond before she stands and heads towards the bathroom, relying on the dank darkness and the slowly dripping faucet to distract from the overwhelming moodiness of the bar and her overwhelming arousal at the thought of Killian’s hands on her. 

  She focuses on her breathing for a moment, hoping to slow things down around her and calm her racing pulse. The sense of peace is short lived; the door opens slowly, making her heart rate pick up. But when she sees him, she relaxes easily, a smile creeping onto her face. “You need to be careful,” she insists quietly, although she can’t help but giggle as he locks the door and pounces on her. 

  He lifts her onto the counter and his lips are on hers instantly, his hands gripping her ass and pulling her towards him. Her legs wrap around his and her arms grab for his shoulders, her nails digging into the rough fabric of his button down shirt. 

  With his mouth trailing hot kisses along her flesh, his teeth scraping against her neck, he finds his way to her collarbone and murmurs, “I couldn’t stand being away from you a moment longer.” 

  She gasps in surprise at his words, a wave of arousal rushing through her and landing in her core, twisting her and encouraging her to tighten her legs around him in search of friction and pressure. “Fuck,” she whispers as his hands and lips move the cup of her bra to the side. 

  “Do you want this?” he asks, seeking consent before latching his lips to her hardened nipple. She nods fiercely. “ Gods , how I crave you.”

  “Killian,” she breathes, “touch me.” 

  His mouth devours hers again, his hand sliding down the front of her and finding the waist of her jeans. He tugs, drawing her closer to him and, without breaking their lips apart, snaps her button undone and slides her zipper down quickly. 

  “Are you wet already, Emma?” he asks roughly, his fingers sliding over the cotton that’s already nearly soaked through. He growls. “You are; that’s a good girl.”

  “Yours,” she mumbles, her arousal taking over and her mind barely able to keep up with what her mouth says. 

  “Aye, mine,” he agrees, nipping at her bottom lip. He pushes her garment aside and slips his fingers through her folds, groaning when he finds her sodden for him. “So responsive,” he praises. “So perfect for me.”

  With a moan as his mouth presses to the sensitive skin under her earlobe, she nods again, wanting to reinforce to him that she’s his . Only his. Simply, she tells him, “I love you.”

  His fingers glide over her clit, pinching quickly and dragging a whimper from her throat. “I love you so much I can scarcely breathe,” he whispers. “I can’t stand to be away from you.”

  “Then don’t make me wait,” she begs in a whisper herself. 

  He moves his hand away from where she craves him and quickly moves his own jeans, and Emma wriggles until her pants are falling around her knees. “We’ll leave tomorrow,” he vows, smoothing his weeping cock along her clit as she wrestles with the condom wrapper. When she finally has it open, she places it over his tip and slides her fist down to the base. 

  “Where will we go?” 

  She gasps when one finger slips into her followed closely by a second, curling against her expertly and sending her searching for his mouth with hers. He swallows her cries when his thumb gently presses against her clit. 

  “Your heart’s desire, Swan,” he says, lining his cock up to her waiting entrance. “I promise, that’s all I want you to have.” 

  Their foreheads press together, their noses too, and she bites her lip as he pushes inside. She clings to him, her fingers gripping the back of his shoulders, her heels digging into his backside, her core squeezing around his cock. After a few perfectly timed, perfectly angled thrusts, she whispers, “I just want you.”

  He holds her so close to him as one hand grabs onto her ass and the other holds her jaw and neck. His thrusts are quick, but deep and effective, striking her exactly where she needs him. He groans when she clenches around his cock again. 

  His hand slips around from her back so that his fingers can dance over her clit with each thrust. Emma moves her hands up to the back of his neck, gripping his hair and begging him for more in each moan against his mouth. It’s not long before he has her a writhing mess in his arms, pleading for release. 

  “Come on, angel,” he encourages gently but firmly as he gives her another flawless thrust. “Nice and tight for me, aren’t you? I know you’re ready, love. Come for me.”

  His voice is tenacious, but still so tender, so caring in the way that he loves her. She’s never felt so loved and safe while being spoken to in such a dominating tone, and she loves it. She loves the freedom that comes with being commanded and feeling safe at the same time. She never knew the two could coexist. 

  At his behest, she clenches once more and cries out his name, his mouth muffling the sound as he spills into her. They hold each other firmly, panting as they ride out their highs together, although they’ll never be sated. They’ll never have enough of each other, always craving more. 

  “Bloody hell, I love you,” he says when they catch their breath. 

  She hums happily, if only because she’s still panting too hard to speak. She kisses his neck, her lips lingering on his soft, sweat coated skin. “I love you,” she whispers. Then, because telling him once will never be enough, she moves so that her tongue traces his earlobe and repeats, “I love you.”

  He moves her hair out of her face when she pulls away slightly, then presses a kiss to her cheek. “I’m sorry to come in here so… rudely,” he laughs. “But I--”

  “I’m glad you did,” she smiles. She winces slightly as he pulls out, stepping away to dispose of the condom and exposing his bare ass to her, tempting her to pull him back to her. “Are we really gonna be able to go tomorrow?”

  “Aye,” he smiles and returns to her to kiss her once more. “I just need to tell Tink and Elsa. We’re to meet by the docks; Robin knows already.”

  “You have a plan?”

  “Somewhere quiet,” he answers, “hidden away, unsuspecting… but it must be by the beach, aye?”

  “Aye,” she giggles and he straightens her shirt with a smile. “And?”

  “Nantucket.”

  “Nantucket?”

  “Mmm,” he hums as he helps her off of the counter so that she can fix her pants. “Quiet, secluded island, enough tourists to help us blend in. Plus, infamously beautiful beaches for an infamously beautiful woman.”

  She wraps her arms around his neck, pushing onto her toes and kissing him. “Sounds perfect.” 

  “Emma…” he starts, and she can sense the shift between them. He’s thinking, his self-anger and self-hatred sneaking through the joy he felt moments ago. “If it weren’t for what I did--”

  “Please,” she whispers. “You know that I love you. The fact that you killed Rufio doesn’t change that. I know you regret it, but if you need forgiveness, you have it.”

  He leans against her heavily, forehead to hers again, and nods. “I do regret it. But I know it had to be done.”

  “Exactly. And where will I meet you?”

  “I’ll find you, my love. The less you know, the safer you’ll be with Neal. Robin knows the plan, though.” She nods against him now. “You’ll be alright,” he whispers, and she almost wonders who he’s promising. 

  “I know; I trust you.”

  ~~~~

  A knock sounds against a heavy door. It’s pushed open slowly, and behind it stands a young and conflicted soul, trying to make the best decision for her family. The things she overheard as she stood outside of the women’s restroom serve to threaten the family she has found, and she cannot let that stand. 

  “Enter,” commands a strong and powerful voice, the man looking up from his ledgers and giving the woman a pensive look. “Elsa, to what do I owe this pleasure?” 

  “Peter,” she answers, moving towards the chair across from him. “I’m afraid I have some… troubling news.”

  The man hums, leaning forward and pressing his arms to the desk. “And what is that, my dear?”

  The woman takes a deep breath, sadly shaking her head at the truth she’s uncovered. She didn’t think her friend Killian capable of such a thing, but discovering that he’s murdered a member of the club has stunned her. “It’s Rufio,” she says wistfully. “I found out who killed him.”

  “That’s very interesting indeed,” the man agrees. “Are you implying that it wasn’t a member of the Kings of Elsinore who murdered a member of our family?”

  “Yes,” she nods with a deep sigh. “But it pains me to put the truth to words.”

  “Elsa,” he starts again, leaning back in his chair authoritatively. “If you know something, you must tell me. How can we protect you if you don’t protect us in return?”

  “Of course. After what happened to Liam, of course I want to protect the club.”

  The man nods in sad agreement. “Yes, his death was a tragedy, but the club has been keeping you safe ever since.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Go on, then,” he gestures towards her. “Whatever you’ve discovered, you must remember that the club’s interests as a whole must come above those of one.” 

  The woman nods once more and takes a deep breath in, feeling the cool air hit her lungs. “It was Killian,” she whispers. “Killian killed Rufio.”

~~~~

~~~~

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