#because for some reason she expects me to have a perfectly rational and explainably reason why it was traumatic for me

[black-rose-irl]

Trying to explain to someone that this thing that they do for fun was actually like, really traumatic for you the last time you did it (and is pretty directly responsible for you ending up on antidepressants) and that the mere suggestion to do it again triggers your fight or flight response, is really something.

[doublesunsets]

Experiment 003

Tech x Reader PWP - NSFW - Explicit Word Count: 4.4K

Summary: It’s time for your experiment, but even if Tech encourages your scientific curiosity, can he let you take control?

Warnings: female reader POV, smut, oral sex male receiving, vaginal sex, brief mention of scars (Tech's), I'm going to say it: unrealistic expectations of sex (really, this is purely indulgent, real sex is not like that)

Author's note: I wanted to write something else, but it didn't work, and it blocked me in such a way that it took me a month to finally be able to finish it. No beta. I hope that at least you enjoy it a little bit, please have mercy with this autistic ace girl that doesn't remember how sex works but likes to pretend she can write about it. -Sunset

part I & part II 💜

✩ AO3 link to the whole fic

The galaxy is a vibrant never stopping place, with dangers lurking in every corner, so if someone had told you a couple of rotations ago that you would be able to pass your time sat inside the Marauder’s cockpit, listening to Tech latest obsession, you would have laughed. Mostly at the Tech part, because you were still wrapping your mind around it. After his experiments, his behaviour towards you had drastically changed. It was obvious to everyone that he felt more at ease with you, small touches were now common, and he actively sought you out to tell you facts or show you his new cool gadgets. 

For that reason, while everyone was around town enjoying their free time you had felt like it was perfectly reasonable to stay with him, just for the sake of it, no need for excuses or ulterior motives. As you suspected, he had been pleased about it, and accepted with a small smile your kiss to his forehead before seating next to him in the copilot seat. As soon as you were seated, he started talking about his topic of the day: gravity, and you listened to him eagerly. Contrary to Hunter’s belief, you didn’t think that Tech filled your head with useless information, you enjoyed learning new facts, and he always captivated your attention. The sound of his voice and being able to look at that pretty face was a pleasant bonus, of course.

For your utterly dismay this time though, after almost an hour of intermittent info-dumping, you were as confused about this topic as you were at the beginning. At first, you had managed to follow up, but at one point he had beamed at you and touched your knee because of a particular sharp question, and as he began explaining, illustrating it with his hands, your mind short-circuited like a faulty droid. He had moved one hand in front of you, while the other had stayed on your knee, fingers splayed, and a shiver had gone down your spine remembering what those fingers could do, and how they looked inside of you. By the time he finished his explanation, you were so flustered by your thoughts that you didn't dare to open your mouth in case some inappropriate sound escaped.

The issue kept happening, no matter how hard you tried to focus on what he was saying, you kept getting distracted by who was saying it. His voice, his eyes, his hands; your body reacted to him like a well-trained soldier, and apparently today it could only think about Plan 69.

“Therefore, there will be only insignificant forces of friction, and dynamic force acting on the system. It should allow me to–” his legs fell open at his sides, and your mind disconnected again, or at least the rational part of it. The only functioning one was the one capable of focusing on those ridiculously tight blue trousers which hugged those obscene long legs in such a sublime way, besides that, he was not wearing the plastoid armour which made the temptation of kneeling in front of him impossible to ignore. 

Your mouth watered at the image that formed in your mind, and by the time you managed to stop daydreaming, he had already finished his commentary and was back at looking down at his datapad. You were sure that even if he obviously found you attractive, he wasn’t as obsessed with you as you were with him. Every time he put his hand on your back, or moved your hair off your face, an aching filled your chest. You haven’t stopped thinking about that bulge you glimpsed after he touched you that first time, but couldn’t find the way of bringing it up again. It was clear that you had reached your limit today.

Maybe you didn’t have to bring it up, maybe you could just take a scientific approach. Because, scientifically speaking, what would Tech do if you just kneeled in front of him?

Only one way to find out, you told yourself. 

“I want to do an experiment.”

“That’s great, darling. I highly recommend you follow your scientific curiosity, please let me know if you need my assistance.”

“Well, I do need your assistance,” you chuckled, “you are the experiment I want to do, Tech.”

He put his datapad down and looked at you, shifting his focus from the gravitational rotatory forces of outer rim planets, to you. His eyes roamed your face, he studied your expression, noticed your small smile, and the flustered look of your cheeks, and seemed to catch up rather quickly, “Oh. That kind of experiment.”

“Yes, that kind,” your smile only grew at seeing him wet his lips and squirm on his seat.

“There were some things I would like to–,” he put aside his datapad while starting to stand up.

“Oh no, you didn’t understand,” you cut him, and put your hands on his knees, forcing him to sit back again, and looked at him through your eyelashes. “You are going to be the subject today.”

He audibly gulped and took a deep breath through his nose. It wasn’t easy to render him speechless, and pride filled your chest and encouraged you, making you bolder than you would be otherwise. 

“You don’t have to do anything at all, just allow me to explore, is that alright?” As you spoke, you leaned towards him until your lips were a breath away from his, using your hands on his legs to balance yourself.

“It seems acceptable.”

You moved your lips to his neck, trailing your path with the tip of your nose, and gave him a small peck under his jaw, carrying on down until his turtleneck blocked your path.

“Tech? Would you be so kind as to pull down your shirt? My hands are busy.” 

To make your point, you gave his glorious thighs a firm squeeze. He raised his hand and pulled down the turtleneck, and as he was about to comment something very pertinent, you had no doubt, you bit down on the tender flesh of his neck and his witty remark turned into a strangled moan.

“Were you going to say something?” You licked the spot and continued with small kisses up again, towards his ear.

“Not at all, please continue,” his voice was steady, but the hand holding down his shirt was trembling slightly under your chin. His other hand was clenched on a tight fist, and you smiled against his neck. It just occurred to you that he was not used to being the one staying still, moreover, he was not used to relinquishing control in any situation, you were mildly surprised he was not telling you how to kiss him.

You gave a last bite to his earlobe and dropped to your knees between his legs in a smooth movement. He raised his eyebrows and his chest expanded in a deep breath that he let out slowly. Oh, it was so hard for him. Speaking of which. You shifted your attention to his crotch and let out your own breath shakily at the bulge you could outline through his trousers already.

The rough fabric felt stiff under your fingers as you moved your hands up his thighs until you reached the button, which popped open easily. The utility belt was next, and judging by the squirming of his owner, or he did not agree to your actions, or you were being excessively slow undressing him. By the time you finally opened his trousers wide enough, he was fully hard and a wet patch was visible where the tip was. So probably the latter.

“I’m going to suck you off, would you like that?”

“I believe I would, yes.”

You hummed, laughing internally at his oddly polite answer but chose to not make any comment in favour of getting closer to mouth his cock through his underwear. It was warm and solid under the fabric, and you slid it down with your fingers until your lips were no longer feeling the rough material, but the velvety softness of his cock. The musky smell of his pre-cum hit your nose, and you stuck out your tongue flat, dragging it up his member until you reached the tip and could taste the saltiness as well.

Tech’s voice got you out of your reverie, and you looked up at him without moving back, your lips softly resting on the tip of his cock. He was mumbling something, but one of his hands was covering his mouth and you couldn’t hear him properly. He caught you staring and stopped, removing his hand from his face and bringing it down to yours, brushing the side of your mouth with his thumb. 

You opened your mouth and let the head of his cock pass through your lips, until you could feel the ridge with your tongue. His thumb stayed on the corner of your mouth, feeling it stretch around himself, and his eyes were fixed on you behind those tinted lenses. He looked as if he wasn't breathing and the intensity of his gaze was too much for you, so you closed your eyes and focused once again on your task. Breathing through your nose, you let it slide further into your mouth and out again repeatedly, the weight of it in your tongue making you moan, and you wondered if he could feel the vibrations. At the back of your mind, you also noticed the wetness gathering between your legs at finally having his cock in your mouth, and your left hand crawled down to your inner thighs, resting it there and pressing the back of it into yourself to relieve some tension.

When your jaw started to ache, you reluctantly moved back and let it slide out, taking it in your hand, rubbing your spit and his pre-cum all over it. You were being carefully slow, trying to make it last as much as you could. Now that you finally had the courage to do this, you were going to enjoy it. He was rock-hard and flushed, and you might have been biased, but it was the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen. His hand was still holding your jaw and didn’t allow you to move too far back.

“Are you afraid I will stop? Is that why you won’t let me go?” you asked him teasingly, looking up again. You kept pumping him, enjoying the smooth feeling of his hardness, his breath hitched in his chest every time you twisted your hand when reaching his tip.

“On the contrary, I ah– apologies,” his leg had started bouncing at some point, and it kept brushing against your shoulder. “I am stopping myself, darling.”

His statement was followed by a deep moan, triggered by your hand clenching on his cock at hearing his words. Unconsciously, your left hand pressed more insistently against your cunt, starting to rub slightly up and down.

“Stopping yourself?” your voice wavered when you finally paid attention to the man above you. His flushed face had an almost crimson shade and sweat pearled on his forehead, which, paired with his laboured breath, made him look absolutely wrecked. All because of you. You licked your lips and pushed yourself up, on the movement your breasts ended pushed against his balls and Tech closed his eyes while his hand gripped your jaw tighter. “Stopping yourself from doing what, Tech?”

“It is being excruciatingly hard to not push you to the floor of my ship and fuck you right there.” You gasped loudly at his words, and he reopened his eyes, completely black, and focused on you with an intensity that made your left hand move faster. “It was hard enough to ignore the way you were looking at me earlier.”

“Did you notice that?”

“I notice everything. Particularly if it’s about you, always if it’s about you. By how you were biting your lip while looking at my hands, I could assume exactly what you were thinking. Which, I must confess, made it impossible for me to focus on anything that wasn’t your flustered look.”

“Do you find me that irresistible?”

“I assume that’s a rhetorical question.” You had to laugh at his answer, but it came breathless and short, punctuated by a small moan when your knuckles brushed against your clit at your movement. This caught his attention and followed the motion down your body. “Are you— you are touching yourself, that’s unacceptable.”

Before you could process what he had said, he dropped to the floor with you and brought you both down, until you were laying down on your back with Tech looming over you. His arms encased your body and a thrill went down your spine at the look on his face, dark eyes, furrowed brows, he looked determined and dangerous. A soldier with a mission. Same as yours, you hoped.

“I was restraining myself because there’s nothing I respect more than the desire for knowledge, I didn't want to take control again, I was going to behave and let you do it your way,” he started to remove your clothes swiftly while talking, and you hissed when your back came in contact with the cold floor. “I was behaving, even though you were driving me crazy, but I am nothing if patient. But dank farrik, seeing you touching yourself and not doing anything? I don’t think so.”

By the time he stopped rambling, all your clothes were gone and you laid naked in front of him. He kneeled on the floor between your legs, and the vision was almost as good as before. His cock was forgotten, but still out, hard and leaking, his chest rising with every breath, the light that came from the window framing his silhouette, and he was looking at you again like the most fascinating creature in the whole galaxy. You reached for his vest and pulled him to you hastily, smashing a hard kiss to his lips. Your hands scrambled for the hem of his shirt and tried to pull it off unsuccessfully, until you realised that for that you had to stop kissing him, so reluctantly let him go and finished taking it off. When his head emerged again, you couldn’t resist giggling at seeing his goggles askew.

“Goggles stay on?” You asked, fixing them, and holding his face with both your hands.

“I would rather prefer that, yes,” he turned his face and dropped a kiss on your palm. “I prefer to see your face at the same time I hear you moan.”

You gave him one, as a treat, as he gave another open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your wrist. He lowered his head to your chest and started peppering kisses, and you tried to reach the last piece of clothing covering him, but it was too far, so you tried with your legs unashamedly, pushing his trousers down. You had managed to get them past his ass, when he lifted his head, a smirk on his face.

“Someone’s in a hurry.”

“Oh, shut up, you were just now rambling about how much you wanted to fuck me on the floor of your ship,” you lifted your hips, still trying to get leverage to keep pushing his trousers down, but his knees won’t let you go further. “You cannot say that to a lady and not expect her to become a little desperate about it, Tech.”

His smile turned sweet, and he stood up to finish lowering his trousers and removing his boots. You pushed yourself up on your elbows and enjoyed the show, those long legs looked good from every angle, and you were tempted to get to your knees again when he crouched and came back on top of you, this time completely naked. You kissed him, opening your mouth and letting his tongue in, while your hands explored the expanse of his back, his muscles shifting beneath them as he started dragging his whole body against yours, skin against skin in the most delicious friction.

He shifted and started kissing down your neck, leaving small bites, same as you did before with him. His hands moved down your body, and while one of them stayed fondling your breast, the other kept going until reaching your inner thighs. His dexterous fingers found your cunt, and he groaned deeply at how wet you were already.

“All this for me, darling?” He introduced one finger, and your hands grabbed his shoulders, trying to get him to get closer. “I think it is safe to say that you enjoyed your experiment.”

“I did, but please, now I need you, I—” your own moan cut you off when he inserted a second finger, and started to move them inside you, crooking them. “Please.”

He placed a kiss to your cheek and kneeled again between your legs, removing his fingers from inside you with an obscene wet sound, and took his cock, smearing it with your wetness. In your haze, you made a mental note to ask him to masturbate for you at some other moment because the show looked glorious, but right now you needed him inside you as soon as possible. 

Tech grabbed your hips and lifted them with his other hand until your ass was on his lap and your legs fell open at his sides. He positioned his cock at your entrance, dragging it through your slit up and down, gathering more of your wetness. Every time he pressed your clit, you tried to chase it, but his grip on your hip was firm enough that wouldn’t let you move.

“Are you ready?” His gaze was focused on your cunt, or on his cock dragging through it, you couldn’t be sure, but the image had to be good enough for his usually steady voice to sound low and breathless.

“Like a rotation a—aah.” Before you could finish your clever answer, he moved his hips and his cock penetrated smoothly inside you.

“Were you going to say something?” he repeated to you, but you were too busy enjoying the feeling of him filling you to actually appreciate the joke.

He stopped when he bottomed out, his pelvis fitted between your thighs, and took a moment to collect himself. You could see the sweat dripping down his face and the deep scowl of his eyebrows, his eyes were closed and both his hands were gripping tightly your hips now, keeping you in place and completely at his mercy. He took two deep breaths, in and out, and you let him took the obvious time that he needed to centre himself, but you also needed him to move, and soon. He felt the same way, because by the third breath his hips made a short thrusting that had both of you moaning, and he opened his eyes, as black as the void of the galaxy, and an unhinged expression crossed his face. You could almost hear his brain analysing what he was experiencing, and for a moment you thought that he was going to grab his datapad and write it down as he always did to process things, but his hips had not stopped, couldn’t stop it seemed, and his thrusts were growing in intensity, the pleasure overwhelming him.

“Tech, look at me, hey, look at me,” you grabbed his wrist and caught his attention, trying to make your voice firm, even though it came more as a desperate plea, “focus on me, don’t try to control it, it’s okay. Let it go and give it to me, I’ll take it.”

Your words seemed to snap something inside of him, his fingers digging into your flesh and the next thrust drove into you with no hesitancy, hitting a spot inside of you that made you mewl. He kept thrusting firmly against you, in powerful short lunges, and your nails scratched his forearm, trying to grab at something. There was no finesse on his thrusts right now, just an overwhelming power, but the position allowed him to go deep inside you and left your clit exposed to his blows and to the friction with his pelvic bone, making the knot inside you grow hot. 

A particular hard thrust made you gasp loudly and lose the grasp you had on his arms. Eager to do something with your hands, you grabbed your own breasts, which had been bouncing with every hard push from Tech, and started kneading them, playing with them and moaning at the added sensation of your hard nipples between your fingers. A wet and lewd noise engulfed the cockpit, the metallic walls echoing back your own moans. Tech’s movement stuttered, his gaze locked on your hands playing with your breasts, so you dropped one and motioned for him to come closer. With no hesitation, he let go of your hip and leaned towards you, your right leg dropping to the floor on the movement, while his mouth attached itself to your breast and sucked. You cradled his head, entangling your fingers with his hair and pulling softly, his moan vibrating through your skin.

The new position made him falter and for a moment he just kept thrusting superficially, out of inertia, his focus in devouring you. One hand was supporting his weight on the ship floor, while the other had travelled up, replacing your hand with his. While he was distracted, you grabbed his shoulders and flipped you both, putting yourself on top. You straightened your back and almost laughed at the offended expression on his face, if because of the switching positions or because you took your boobs away from him, you didn’t know. His face quickly changed when you spread out your hands on his strong chest, allowing your arms to push your tits together on display, and circled your hips.

“Oh,” he breathed out, his hands flying to your thighs, but only resting them there.

He seemed content with the show, so you focused on chasing your pleasure. Using his chest as leverage, you rolled and circled your hips, rutting against him at an increasing pace. The build up had you already so close that it didn’t take you long until you were panting, the edges of your orgasm present on every cell of your body, almost within your reach.

“You are almost there, aren’t you, darling?” Tech’s deep voice only pushed you closer, he sounded breathless, clearly enjoying this as much as you. “I think you would be able to bring yourself to completion just by fucking yourself on my cock, would you like that or do you want me to help?”

You clawed at his chest, your now jerking motions increasing speed, and some of the gasps leaving your throat might have sounded like a call for help because suddenly Tech’s fingers were firmly against your clit, pressing and circling in a rapid movement. Your orgasm crashed onto you, the force of it doubling you over, and collapsed against his chest, while he continued circling your clit, helping you to ride it out. Still not completely back from it, you noticed Tech’s small thrusts against you and lifted your head.

“Fuck me, don’t stop, I want you to cum in me, now.”

Your permission was all he needed, he planted his feet on the floor and started fucking you with a strength you didn’t know it was possible from his position. He surrounded your body with his arms, locking you in place, with his cock pounding against your pussy in a relentless pace, his delightful grunts reaching your ears mixed with the wet slaps. You were so sensitive from your recent orgasm that your moans turned into screams, but your body surprised you, and you felt another one rapidly growing and hitting you again. Your second orgasm dragged Tech with you, and he came with a deep and long moan that made you shiver.

You were exhausted and would have happily laid down on his chest for a nap, but the mess you both made was leaking out of you and Tech didn’t seem comfortable about it. He gave you a soft kiss and manoeuvred you back onto the floor, grabbing his own shirt, and started cleaning you methodically.

“How are you? Did I hurt you?” He anxiously inspected your body, noticing the faint marks on your hips. 

“No, but I did.” Your fingers grazed his forearm, where your nails had left your mark. There were angry red lines down his chest, as well, and they looked glorious.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, darling, these are hardly the worst injuries I have sustained,” he raised his arm, the blaster bolt scar that decorated his left side on display, and playfully hummed, inspecting closing his forearm and chest. “I rather like them.”

You chuckled, and not without effort sat up to give him a kiss on his cheek that made him smile. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you whispered cheekily, before kissing his lips this time, and putting your head on his shoulder.

For what seemed like an eternity, both of you stayed there, sitting on the floor, your fingers drawing patterns on his skin while listening to the steady rhythm of his heart against his chest. The sweat was cooling on your skin, and you were starting to feel cold. Now that you were not distracted, the floor was not exactly comfortable. But even though, it was the most perfect moment you could think of.

“Gravitational pulls,” he said, startling you.

You lifted your head and found him already looking at you with that glint in his eyes that signified that he had had a brilliant idea.

“Are you about to lecture me about what I didn’t pay attention to earlier?” You wouldn’t be surprised if that was his idea of aftercare, to be honest. You wouldn’t mind, either.

“I could, if you want, it is a fascinating topic, and very useful during interplanetary travels,” he pointed out, finger raised. “But actually, I was talking about us.”

“Us?”

“Indeed, I have been trying to find a suitable way to explain the way I feel about you. Simply saying that I love you does not suffice. It just came to me, it has to be a force of nature, I believe that scale does it justice. It is not a figure of speech, though, I do believe that physics might be the only way of explaining you and me.”

“Tech, I—“ you looked at him, confused for a moment, but then you thought about everything that had happened and smiled.

“Yes, darling?”

“I gravitational pull you too.”

“I know.”

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are appreciated because they keep the Dark Side at bay ✨

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be included or deleted from it)

@motte-the-goblin @fenharel-enaste @nahoney22 @stunkbiggu

[curvedspace]

Lo-li-ta

So. I read Lolita.

Oddly enough, despite the numerous warnings about the sheer deviancy of the book, I found myself completely enthralled by it. I mean this in the most normal, morally-sound, anti-paedophilia manner. The fact that i have to add these assurances before jumping into my tirade is part of the reason i wrote this tirade, so.

Somehow, without a single sexually explicit paragraph (in the modern sense, of course), and without gratuitous usage (or, in some cases, any usage at all) of vocabulary that would aim to objectify and demean, the picture painted of Humbert, a pervert and scum of society, hidden behind the charming mask of a handsome, intellectual man, and Lolita, rash and abrasive and altogether a panicked child, painted from his perspective as not only an equal, as a lover, but also as a wanting party, was an absolute delight to read.

AND. I would end there. I would express my utter admiration of this book and go, BUT, it seems, my admiration for this book has been taken to mean, time and time again, as approval for Humbert's actions (insanity bc. why), so i will be expressing my rage here.

Breaking it down, Lolita is more than just a book. It's been written on paedophilia, on grooming and child sexual abuse and a wide array of horrifying topics, the sort polite society would wrinkle their noses at. And while a number of books discussing these topics do exist, none of them exist, as beautifully, from the abuser's perspective. Lolita is more than just a book, it is the psychological study of an offender.

Humbert is, without a doubt, an abhorrent, abhorrent man. and Lolita is, without a doubt, simply a child, awkward in her existence, growing into her body still, fumbling through adolescence and the venom of her mother in whatever way she knows best. She seeks respite in Humbert, a caring, paternal figure, and he simply takes advantage of her.

However, the real kick, the twist, the reason I worship this book on a daily basis mentally, is because of the fact that it expresses its duality gorgeously. There is Lolita, victim. There is Humbert, abuser. These are facts that remain constant throughout the book. But, since this book is from his perspective, there is Humbert, the sad, lonely, intellectual man, handsome and charming and an adolescent fantasy, and there is Lolita, temptress and nymph and magnetic.

While the common thread of criticism seems to be about a lack of condemnation of his actions, the fact that the book is from his perspective explains that well enough. He is, in his eyes, perfectly right in his stance. He is a bewitched sailor at sea, and she the siren.

She is painted as such, too, when seen from his eyes, but when analyzed rationally, for even a minute, her suffering comes into full-view. This is what's simply so addictive about the book, to me. This constant interplay of condemnation and approval.

In the background, Dolores sits, trying her best to escape the constant horrors of her life. In the background, Humbert, literal monster in the body of a man, preys on the little girl. In the foreground, however, his thoughts, his biases, blend into the narration. Beneath the elegantly crafted narrative, the flowery language and shimmering descriptions and multiple self-appraisals and, on the rare, horrifying occasion for the reader, moments of genuine appreciation of the character, for his wit or his wiles, before realizing who he is and what he's done and snapping out of the trance he's managed to put everybody under, lies a maggot-infested corpse, Dolores' innocence decaying at the bare bones of the book.

To expect a man to write a book from his perspective, justifying his crimes, and yet be shocked when he does not condemn himself would be idiocy. but to write a book of this sort, and simultaneously condemn and appraise him, to put him upon a pedestal and crush him beneath the (unfortunately) metaphorical heel would be GENIUS. there, i said it. nabokov is a genius.

BUT. i am not done. i will never be done. i need to personally thank vladimir nabokov (somehow) for having created this magnificent masterpiece, and i need to personally smack everyone whose selective hearing has allowed them to completely disregard his orders for the cover designs. Dolores, his child, being painted on the front cover was not what he wanted.

AND THE MOVIE. The infernal rage that fills me at its existence would be enough to fuel a continent's electricity through sheer combustion heat alone. but. a topic for another day.

[witcherhomeinspector]

anatomy of a ""true"" scary story

1. the needlessly detailed intro. explains too much about the characters, their motivations, their beliefs/expectations, and why they end up in the setting they do. each character is perfect for the role they will play in the story, and they never do anything unexpected or out-of-character unless it furthers the evidence in an extremely obvious way.

(e.g., "mandy was always the most level-headed and skeptical of us, so why was she the most scared by the lights in the sky? it must be because she had finally seen something her logical mind couldn't explain away with facts and reason - like a real UFO.")

2. the blatant ethos-building. attempts to build up the narrator as knowledgeable, reliable, and objective. often cites hunting/camping/military experience, stresses how much of a skeptic they are/were, and usually finishes up with some sort of claim about how they know "everything there is to know" about a certain field or location. writer assumes that everyone who reads the story will have the same degree of knowledge that they have and so will trust their narrator's expertise, which becomes apparent when the evidence they describe and the conclusions they come to are inconsistent or just plain factually incorrect.

(e.g., "trust me, I've been hunting in these woods since I was seven, and I know all of the animals that live around here. none of them have orange eye-shine, let alone orange eye-shine nine feet off the ground." <- has apparently never heard of owls sitting in branches, despite having perfectly described the call of a screech owl earlier as part of the "evidence")

3. the purely emotional foreshadowing. insists that narrator or others around them "had a bad feeling" or "sensed a dark energy" in the place where the main action would later take place. rational reasons for unease either excluded or dismissed as unrelated.

(e.g., "we all had a weird feeling about being inside this old abandoned building. sure it was dark, moldy, rotting, and unsafe to be in, and sure we had spent years listening to stories about how often people got hurt or scared in here, and sure we heard noises that could easily be interpreted as signs of danger, but none of that explains why we all felt like something was watching us, or why we suddenly felt the icy grip of dread around our hearts.")

4. the stupid decisions that lead to the climax. often described ironically, as though the narrator is aware of their poor decision-making. the equivalent of comic book characters going "i know this isn't realistic, but just play along, okay?" may or may not be justified ("i know it was stupid, but i had to because ___"), but if so, justification usually over-reliant on ethos ("i'm a skeptic - I had to see for myself, because i wasn't going to believe it otherwise") or pathos ("my beloved dog who saved my life once ran towards the scary sound so i had to go after her").

5. the mimetic climax. the "encounter" with the allegedly paranormal thing is just a magazine-cuttings ransom note of things other people have said/written in other stories on similar topics. sometimes it's juiced up with wildly over-the-top detail such as gore, poetic imagery, or unlikely dialogue, but the bare bones default to the list of tried and true horror elements. talking about a voice-mimicking shape-shifter? describe the voice as "staticky" and "distorted." talking about aliens? check wikipedia for the most agreed-upon descriptions of "greys." talking about demons? put that shit on the ceiling and make sure it's scared away by christian imagery and prayer!

6. the convenient black-out. in attempting to build drama and suspense, the storyteller writes their narrator into an inescapable bind, or else runs out of steam and doesn't want to come up with a detailed detente. the narrator, often wracked with terror and sure of their impending demise, mercifully passes out from fear or exhaustion and wakes to find the danger is past. especially common in stories about demons, shadow-people, and aliens - this definitely doesn't coincide with how often elements of these stories mock or mimic real-life experiences with sleep paralysis, schizophrenia, hallucinations, and other neurological conditions.

(e.g., "the pure malevolence of the black shadow suffocated me, and i couldn't move, not even to close my eyes. my legs gave out beneath me, and i crumpled to the floor while the shadow moved towards me, bending over me and filling me with dread. then everything went black, and the next thing i knew, i was lying on the kitchen floor with sunlight streaming in through the windows, and the entity was gone. my whole body hurt, and i was exhausted, but i didn't feel afraid anymore, just confused and a bit fuzzy. i definitely did not just have a seizure, and was instead the victim of a psychic attack by some unknown entity. posting this here so that anyone else who definitely isn't having seizures can see that they are not alone and should take my experiences as a sign that the shadow realm is real and that anyone who wants you to see a doctor is gaslighting you and calling you crazy. i believe that you're having real visions of the shadow realm, even if no one else does <3")

7. the reifying lesson. the conclusion of the story affirms that all of the rumors, legends, tales, etc. that the narrator had originally disbelieved are, in fact, unassailably true. often involves the narrator sharing their experiences and having them confirmed by others, and stresses the long-term impact of the story's events. the narrator might be dogged by visions or memories of what they saw, or maybe they got a friend who conveniently specializes in the "occult" to give them an amulet or ritual to keep them safe. either way, the narrator now feels that it is their moral duty to share their story with as many people as possible in order to prevent others from making their same highly specific and easily avoidable mistakes.

bonus 1: stresses that the narrator and co. are the only people who could possibly be where they are. establishes isolation of location such that normal human activity could not possibly account for experiences, even though humans famously love to fuck with each other and are extremely good at it. "it made absolutely no sense that someone would be out in these woods at night, without a flashlight, so far from civilization, so who - or what - could be making that noise?" my brother in hypocrisy you are (purportedly) out in these woods at night, without a flashlight, so far from civilization, stomping through the undergrowth and making a ruckus.

bonus 2: inappropriately references or claims legitimacy through native american lore. a white lady successfully "smudges" a demon-infested house, or a conveniently appearing native character shares a sacred cultural artifact with a complete stranger who reports to have experienced something the native character solemnly identifies as a piece of their cultural heritage.

bonus 3: attempts to beef up an otherwise unremarkable story with the addition of Scary PeopleTM. Scary PeopleTM can include anyone who is walking, moving, acting, or talking in a way that the narrator does not consider "normal," and can also include people that the narrator doesn't think should be in this setting - such as people wearing certain clothing, people from a certain ethnic background, poor people, disabled people, and houseless/transient people. if these people are not outright described as "creepy," "inhuman," "possessed," or "unnatural," then they are posed as probable threats or perpetrators of violence, either against the narrator or against others, instead of just people who are living their lives and don't want to be harassed.

[aro-is-gay-af]

The Midnight of Despair | Volturi Kings x fem!reader | Part 3

I reckon, that if you’re reading Part 3, then you know two previous ones. In case you didn’t read them yet: Part 1 | Part 2

Thank you for all warm words and praise! It means world to me. 

I also love this series, folks! I need to admit, I did get addicted to it a little, so I thought it’d be great to set updates schedule. It won’t be precise, but you can expect another part roughly in two weeks time from now. 

As per usual, sorry for any confusion and grammatical mistakes. 

Warnings: Rape (mentioned), Depression, PTSD, Forced Pregnancy, Blood

Word count: 6200

No summary this time. Also, this one has very sweet parts in it!!!

ENJOY!

The next day, you had your appointment with the doctor. A doctor was apparently a woman and you were sure the kings were paying her something extra for the visit to be immediate. Unfortunately, she didn’t know any English, as she was a local gynaecologist. Your mates didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable in any way, so before the visit, Aro asked you, who you’d like to be the translator for you.

The ideal situation would be a woman, but you didn’t trust anyone in the castle, except the kings. For this reason, your first shot was Aro, as he had already seen your memories. There was nothing that would shock him, you also didn’t need to hide anything from him and you knew, he was the best at dealing with others. You figured it’d be an ideal solution and you had to admit to yourself that you simply wanted him to accompany you.

The whole visit took place in your room, which meant a lot of carrying the necessary equipment, but more mental comfort for you. In those two days, you managed to get quite settled in and didn't want to leave the castle. You felt safe and secured in your suite. Kings seemed to notice that, as it was Marcus, who proposed, it would be a great idea to have an appointment without the need of leaving your room.

While you both were waiting for the doctor to come, it was the first time you had seen Aro with brown eyes. He looked really out of place. You shared this thought with him, by saying you prefer when his eyes are normal. That’s what it took. Two days, to consider red eyes normal. As usual, he was polite and revealed to you that he also hated the colour, let alone the lenses.

When the doctor finally arrived, you were already a nervous wreck. Aro tried to distract you, asking questions mainly about your house in Forks and whether you had already spoken to Bella about family heirlooms. He succeeded for a while, but it couldn't last forever, could it?

The lady was extremely kind and gentle. The truth was, it was hard to hide how stressed you were about this visit. You didn't want anyone to touch you, not when you weren't ready, and this time you definitely weren't. Despite the doctor's initial efforts, you were unable to shake her hand in greeting. She only smiled sadly, as if understanding perfectly what you were going through. Aro assured you beforehand, for he had not told her anything and only if you wanted to, you should share your trauma with her.

The doctor, seeing your nervousness, decided that you should talk first. While she asked you questions, you noticed that she chose her words carefully and only then did you realise that she was also stressed, but in her case it was probably Aro's presence that made her uncomfortable. Although Aro tried not to impose his presence on her, you understood why it might overwhelm the doctor. You felt confident being in the same room with Aro, while she probably sensed danger, even if she could not rationally explain it to herself. You promised yourself that you would try to learn at least the basics of Italian before the next visit.

She needed to ask you about exactly everything since, unfortunately, you didn't have any medical records with you - neither from the obduction, nor from the subsequent visit to the doctor, where you confirmed the pregnancy. You made a mental note to tell Bella about it, so she could send your documents, along with the things she was supposed to take from your house.

Aro was great in his translator role. Of course, you were still looking at the doctor, while answering the questions, but Aro’s voice, at least, soothed your shattered nerves just a little bit. When the questions started to get more complicated or more intimate, Aro used such words as to not make you feel uncomfortable, while still conveying the meaning.  The more difficult part started, when you had to describe the situation from the hospital and how long it took for the bleeding to stop. Every word seemed linked to a particular image or smell from that night, until finally, you were unable to say anything at all.

The doctor was very understanding, probably having already guessed what exactly was your weird behaviour all about. You didn't say anything directly, you only described the situation from the hospital and then told her the details of this strange bleeding after the rape. Mainly because the doctor was very concerned about it. She explained to you that it was definitely not normal, even if you had wounds inside.

The worst part, however, was the examination. You didn't even want to think about whether you would have to undress, but it turned out to be unnecessary. The doctor had a great intuition, even if she herself was under a bit of stress. You told her that, indeed, you had been to the check-up before and that was how you found out you were pregnant. And that the doctor then checked if all the wounds had healed. The lady didn’t discuss the issue, for which you were very grateful.

After the interview, the doctor told you to lie down on the bed and only pull your blouse up, high enough for your belly to be visible. You didn't feel comfortable with this, but you preferred this way to undressing from the waist down. This was the first time you didn't feel comfortable lying on that bed. You knew that once the visit was over, everything would return to normal, but it wasn’t meant to become a memory you would return to with pleasure.

As it turned out, your first trimester was long over. The pregnancy was about 14 weeks old and that would explain the slight curving of your belly. Before the appointment, you were not sure if you would even look at the monitor to see the baby, but you did. You could not deny yourself this. The room fell silent and you could not tell what you were feeling.

The doctor pulled out some kind of a strange device and after a moment, you could hear the baby's heart. You glanced in the direction of Aro, who was obviously alarmed by your face. You grimaced, too overwhelmed to say anything to him. Up until this point, you were sure that the decision, if you should terminate the pregnancy or not, would be fairly easy. Now, you were certain that nothing in your life could be simple enough.

 *

 Over the next few weeks, your day usually looked the same or similar, yet you managed to do something completely different every day. You were glad you had so much to do, because you didn't have time to think about what had happened. You didn't want to analyse it over and over again. The kings respected your choice - unless you yourself mentioned the traumatic events, not a single insinuation or implication about it fell from their lips.

Your days were filled with various activities. Every day you spent at least some time with each king in private - you knew you needed this to create and strengthen your bond. To keep you from being inundated with information, you learned something new from each of them about vampires and their lifestyle. After all, it was supposed to become your lifestyle in the nearest future. You discovered that thinking about your transformation caused you far less anxiety, than any memory associated with rape. Even after you learned that it more or less consisted of burning alive for a few days.

During your time with the kings, you tried not to show the insecurity you had acquired about your body, and yet, you were sure they knew anyway. However, the time spent with them was what you treasured most. With each of them you did something different, as you wanted to know what they like to do in their free time. Marcus, as he had promised on the first day, taught you Italian for two hours every day. It was not easy, but after a few weeks of intensive course and communicating in broken Italian, not only with Marcus, but also with the other two, you were able to maintain basic conversation.

Marcus was a great teacher, but that wasn’t the only reason why you loved spending time with him. He was the one who had the most time for you - he wasn't as busy as Aro or Caius, and besides, he had countless amounts of patience. He wasn't tired of your constant questions, not only about vampirism, but also about his past. You would often sit for hours in the library or in the gardens, which, by the way, were breathtaking. You both loved books and your only regret was that you weren't able to read most of their vast collection. Marcus assured you, you would have all eternity to do so. You could talk with him endlessly, as these conversations were truly effortless – even the most difficult topics seemed simple and uncomplicated.

You were surprised to learn about a gift of his. Your human mind was unable to comprehend it in the full sense of the word. Mostly because of this, he was the one to explain to you, what your bond even was and how exactly it worked. You have learned that after your transformation, you will feel the bond even more strongly. It is not often that one person has as many as three matches and is able to feel the bond while being human. Marcus explained to you that for now, both your mind and body are only subconsciously sensing the presence of the mates, as it’s impossible for human senses to do anything else.

It was so remarkable to you that you discussed it for hours. You also learned that the bond can be broken, as it is not forced in any way. However, this would be emotionally painful and very few vampires would choose to take such a desperate step.

One afternoon you were spending time in the garden again. You loved being outdoors, but for your own safety you did not go outside the castle grounds. Together, you decided that it would be safer to do only after your transformation. Besides, you didn't want to go anywhere. You were safe under the watchful eye of your mates and Renata, who, apart from the time spent with the kings and in your room, followed you in a constant manner.

The gardens were gorgeous and you wondered, who was taking care of all those magnificent flowers. You were strongly convinced that this was exactly what Eden might have looked like. You and Marcus had your favourite bench. You spent a lot of time outside, especially on sunny days. When you first found out why sitting in the sun might be a problem, you couldn't take your eyes off Marcus. He shimmered brilliantly, but your eyesight couldn't stand it for too long, because of the blinding effect. The gardens, however, were fenced off and inaccessible to the common passer-by, so you were safe to stay, as long as you wanted to.

“I asked Aro recently, if vampires can be killed in some way,” you began cautiously, not wanting to scare him away from this conversation. No one had talked to you about it, however, it still crossed your mind what state Marcus was in when you first saw him. You were willing to swear you looked exactly the same after your mother died. Now, knowing what all the mating bond was about, you were convinced that Marcus had lost someone dear to his heart.

As per usual, he smiled gently at you.

“I'm sure his answer was sufficient, my dear. What are you aiming at?” he asked, looking at you obliquely.

You took his hand in yours. With Marcus, physical contact was as easy as a conversation. He, however, never initiated any touch. He waited for you, just like he was waiting now, to reach for his hand or gently grasp his arm. The only movement he allowed himself was to stroke your hair every now and then, but only when he was absolutely sure you were willing.

“I wanted to ask what happens to the bond, when the vampire…is no longer here,” you said bluntly, not taking your eyes off him. Your understanding was unique. Marcus was gentle in manner, patient and extremely caring towards you. In no way did you want to ruin, what you had built over those few weeks.

His smile turned into one of the saddest you've seen on his face. By the time he answered, you regretted asking at all. You didn't want to cause him pain. You squeezed his fingers in your palm.

“Until you came to Volterra, I was sure that a vampire could only experience this special, unique bond once in a lifetime. I did experience it, yet this story does not have a happy ending,” he said, with utmost sadness in his voice.

Your heart ached, as you watched his suffering and grief. You had asked the question unnecessarily, but now there was no turning back. You continued to stroke his fingers, holding his hand securely in yours.

“When one of the vampires connected by mating bond dies, it does not mean that the bond disappears. It exists, but only on one side. It cannot be cherished, it cannot be repaired in any way. It isn’t reciprocated. What remains are the memories, and they are the only reminder of what the bond really meant, when it existed,” he explained in a distressed voice, slowly and carefully.

Holding his hand, you laid your head on his shoulder and sighed heavily.

“I'm so sorry this happened to you,” you whispered after a moment, feeling tears stinging under your eyelids. Even now, you couldn't imagine losing any of them and you couldn't possibly envision the amount of pain Marcus had gone through.

He embraced you carefully and gently hugged you to his side.

"Don't fret over it, cara. I've made my peace with it. However, that doesn't mean I've forgotten. I still miss her, after all these years," he said with longing in his voice, stroking your shoulder gently.

After a long moment of silence, you were in a genuinely poor condition. Tears dripped down your cheeks and your breathing quickened. Not only because of the pain Marcus must have gone through, but also because of your own yearning. You had come to terms with the death of your parents, but you missed them so much. You wanted to have them at least a little longer. Now, standing on the verge of immortality, you wished you had spent more time with them.

Marcus placed a kiss on your hair.

“Sob it out, dear. Nothing helps the soul more than honest tears,” he whispered, and you were ashamed, because you should be the one providing comfort for him. However, the memories were too fresh and you couldn't hold it back.

Once you had calmed down a bit, he handed you a handkerchief to wipe away your tears.

“I wish I could change my memories. Even if it was only for a brief moment to be able to forget that I will never see them again. To be able to forget what this…this monster did to me,” you whispered, snuggling tighter into his shoulder.

You heard his sigh and his embrace around your shoulder tightened.

“You have been terribly abused, cara. No one deserves such a fate. The most important thing now, is to get on with life. Our loved ones would not want us to dwell on their deaths,” he said, as wise and thoughtful, as ever. The hatred towards your abuser was palpable in Marcus’s voice.

“You are so good to me. I don't deserve this,” you whispered after a while, your voice swollen with emotion. He only smiled indulgently.

“You deserve the very best, dear. I've already lost one mate. I won't let anyone hurt you.”

“I’m sure she would be proud of you,” you said with compassion, after another moment of silence.

“I’m not quite certain about that,” he said, placing another kiss on the top of your head.

But you were sure. You were also sure, you would do anything to prevent Marcus from experiencing something like this again. You knew all too well the taste of grief.

 *

 You truly had little time to think about the rape and pregnancy at all. If you weren’t with Marcus, it was Caius who loved to kidnap you, so he could spent some private time with you. Caius was the complete opposite of Marcus – absolute chaos, you could say. You had no idea how the brothers even got along. You had already noticed that Marcus rarely spoke, while Caius was rather impulsive and liked to discuss things in detail. However, until you started spending time alone, you had no idea what he was really passionate about.

It turned out that his greatest passion was art. He would show you countless paintings he himself had painted throughout the centuries. He could talk for hours about types of paint and how to mix colours properly. Although you were not very good at painting, you tried to learn a little with Caius’ help. When he was alone with you, he was still abrupt and impulsive, but in a charming way. He never imposed himself on you and you discovered that annoying him was really great fun. So banter and frequent teasing were the order of the day.

You often spent afternoons and evenings with Caius. He taught you how to paint, but not only. Art history was his passion and you loved to listen to him tell stories. His voice was mesmerising and hypnotic. He also eagerly answered all your questions about vampire race. You listened about the horrible children of the moon and how Caius singlehandedly had almost slaughtered them all. He warned you that after the transformation you would be violent and impulsive, that you would have nothing on your mind but to satisfy your thirst. This frightened you slightly, but at times when things got weird or dangerous, Caius assured you that you would always have full support of your mates. You never doubted that. You knew they would help you to grow accustomed to your new life.

Caius loved every variety of art you could name. When he asked you for permission to sculpt you, you were so surprised that you made a strange sound. He said that, of course, he wasn't going to overstep your boundaries and you yourself would choose some beautiful casual attire, so he could portray your beauty in sculpture. All you had to do was dress once as he asked and stand in the right pose. He remembered every detail of your posture, including your facial expressions. Often, he would sculpt you, while you would talk about insignificant things also learning how to sculpt...well, things that didn't resemble anything. Yet, you wanted to be as good as he was.

You were in your nineteenth week, when he invited you for a long painting session. His studio was huge and consisted of nothing but breathtaking works of art. You were decorating some random sculpture that you had never seen before. Caius also loved contemporary art, so you could go wild. Taking classes with him was better, than any therapy. You could smear paint on everything - the canvas, the sculptures, yourself, and even him, because he was usually in a good mood and you could enjoy it. He never showed you even a trace of anger, and you, fooling around with him like that, were genuinely pleased and happy.

When you finished, the room looked rather bad, not to mention the clothes or your hair. Caius would never have appeared that way to the guards, let alone on trial, but with you it was different.

“I wanted to show you something,” he said, wiping the paint off your cheek.

You took his hand. Caius, like Marcus, did not invade your personal zone, unless you specifically gave permission. However, carnality and touch were important to him, and so, once you were more comfortable in his presence, he liked to show you affection by stroking your cheek or your back, and intertwining his fingers with yours, when you held hands. You didn't mind his cold skin – by now you were accustomed to it, as three of them had similar body temperature. You were the hottest here. Literally.

You walked slowly to another room.

“I didn't tell you, but I finished craving” he said, and you could hear the excitement in his voice. You smiled at him. That was the main reason why you had agreed to have yourself sculpted in the first place. You wanted to get close to him on a level, which was inaccessible to do in any other way.

“Before you show me, will you tell me as to where you even got the idea of carving me?” you asked, amused. Caius was much taller than you, you had to slightly lift your head to look him straight in the eye.

At first, he smiled archly, but immediately his smile softened. He pulled at the material that covered the sculpture, so that it fell to the floor. You were simply speechless. The woman, who stood opposite to you was over four metres tall. The sculpture was made of marble and the woman looked, as if she was an actual person. There was something elusive about her. Her face, thoughtful yet serene, her hair flowing freely over her shoulders onto her back. She was clad in a fine fabric that flowed in waves down to her bare feet. She looked nothing like you and yet, you two looked exactly alike.

You had no idea that you started crying. The woman was beautiful. You could feel the power and dignity emanating from her, and on the other hand, she seemed to you as if... fragile and ephemeral. Caius had captured in this sculpture all the feelings you had been feeling, without even knowing it.

You felt his hand on your cheek, his fingers gently wiping away your tears along with some paint, which remained on your face.

“I thought I would like you to see yourself through my eyes. Exactly as I see you – without a single flaw, yet with all your imperfections. I don't want you to be unable to look at yourself, because of what this animal did to you. I don't see it. I only see you, [Y/N]. The real you. Beautiful and fragile, yet powerful, without inhibitions or scruples. Capable of anything.”

The words were trapped in your throat. You wanted to say something, but you were sure, that as soon as you were going to open your mouth, uncontrollable sob would come out. You looked first at Caius, then at the woman carved in marble, then back at Caius. He only smiled gently.

“Who we are – we decide that ourselves. No one else does. To me, you are beautiful. Pure. Never think otherwise, dolcezza.”

Without warning, you hugged him so hard, that it hurt. You forgot that his skin was different from yours. He embraced you without hesitation, even though you were all covered in paint. You wept, cuddling into his chest, as he soothingly stroked your hair and back.

Once you had slightly calmed down, you looked up at him. His blond hair looked like a halo over his head. He amazed you in every sense of the word.

“Thank you. Thank you for letting me see this,” you whispered poignantly, and then went straight back to hugging him.

“There's nothing to thank you for, my lovely [Y/N]. I would like you to accept yourself as you are. Because you are truly magnificent.”

 *

 The only person you talked straightforward about pregnancy was Aro. Was it because of his gift? Most likely, and you simply felt you could trust him. From the moment you first found yourself in his arms, the bond between you two only strengthened. Also, a memorable visit from the doctor was also significant, and then, together with him, you went through the documents that Bella had sent you. To say he was furious, was an understatement. Yes, Aro saw your memories, but the reports were written from a third-person perspective. And the other evening was really awful – you couldn't stop crying because you couldn't block out the flow of memories.

You were close with each other; close enough for you to try to overcome your insecurities, to talk about how you really felt about this whole situation you found yourself in. It was far from easy, but Aro was a really patient specimen. In the course of these talks, you discussed practically everything. You knew that every scenario had to be worked out and discussed, because there were many different options of the outcome.

Despite many conversations, you were still unsure about keeping the baby. You didn't know if you wanted to, if you would be able to raise it and then tell it that it would forcibly have to become a vampire. After the doctor's appointment, things did not get any easier for you. You heard the heart and knew that the child was not to blame for its father’s actions. You were raped, but this child had nothing to do with it.

So you waited. You waited for a miracle to decide for you or for the baby to move when you were thinking of having it removed. It’d be a sign not to do it. However, nothing of the sort was happening and fate was not deciding for you. Aro convinced you that, even if you decided to have an abortion, there was nothing wrong about it. No one would blame you for it. The only person to blame here, was the monster who raped you.

You hadn't decided what you would do about the pregnancy, but you and Aro knew what would happen, if something went wrong. For your mates, it was your health and life that came first. Aro assured you of that a thousand times over. Because of this, if anything went wrong with the birth or if there were any complications, you were to be changed immediately. Also because of this, Aro talked to you about all aspects of your transformation. He was the one who introduced you to what transformation actually looks like. He didn't scare you with the pain you were about to go through, but only gave you the facts. Facts that you needed to know.

When you weren't talking about such serious matters, Aro also loved to spend time talking to you, but about different topics. He seemed to know all your thoughts, but you were still able to surprise him. He explained to you, that the human mind was more disordered and chaotic, than vampire one and that he certainly didn't see everything. Your brain chose the memories, often associated with strong feelings and emotions, which were meant to be remembered. You were joyful about this, because you could talk endlessly and he kept finding out something new about you. And you kept finding something new about him. You knew from the first moment that he was extraordinary, and the more you talked, the more you became certain about it.

Besides, Aro adored dancing. You were not convinced about this form of activity, but it was the intimacy of this act that convinced you. In his arms, no one was able to hurt you. You felt safe and, after many attempts, quite confident in your movements. He literally beamed, being able to teach you to dance and to be so close to you. You found nothing in his eyes but the infinite adoration he had for you. When you found out the reason behind this, your heart almost broke with sorrow and compassion.

“I must confess something to you, cara mia,” he whispered, holding you securely in his arms. It was evening, you had long since been prepared for sleep. He found your long nightgown to his liking, when he came to check how you were doing and if you needed anything. You rested your head on his shoulder. There was no music, he was the one giving the rhythm to your movements, yet it was the most wonderful dance you had yet had the chance to dance with him.

“Do tell, please,” you said, trying not to lose the rhythm. You were tired, as throughout the day you sorted through the things Bella sent you from Forks. In addition, you worked with Marcus to sell your house, because you were, after all, a little concerned about what hands your family home would pass into.

“I have been bound over the centuries to both men and women. My ex-wife, Sulpicia, whom you know and, to the best of my knowledge, whom I permitted to leave, was my faithful companion, basically from the beginning of my immortality. However, until now, I did not know what it meant to have a true mate.”

He tilted you gently, wishing to look into your eyes. You continued to sway to a non-existent rhythm, completely oblivious to your surroundings. You furrowed your brows.

“Are you serious?” you asked in a whisper, not wanting to ruin the moment. The light emanating from the candles, illuminated half of his face. He smiled, and you were unable to take your eyes off his red irises.

“Yes, my dear. I have waited over three thousand years for you. I must tell you, that I could wait another three millennia, only to see your beautiful face,” he said affectionately, holding you tighter against him to stroke your flushed cheek with his fingers.

Your eyes welled up with tears and he slowly bent down and kissed your forehead.

“That's enough for today, cara mia. You must rest well. Caius has something planned for tomorrow, but he didn't want to reveal what, under any circumstances,” he said amused, giggling under his breath. You loved when Aro was in a good mood, because then you were in a good mood too. Before he walked you to bed, he wiped away your tear. You squeezed his hand in yours, then climbed onto the bed. He covered you carefully with a duvet and stroked your hair.

“I'm glad I came here,” you whispered, looking into his eyes. “I never want to leave you,” you said with force. He smiled softly at you and stroked your hair once more.

“We will always be by your side, [Y/N]. Good night, cara.”

His voice so soft and tuneful that as soon as he snuffed out the candles, you drifted off to sleep in an instant.

 *

 Apart from the fact that almost everything was going great and your mental state was in constant improvement, your relationship with Bella had severely worsened. In the beginning you talked every evening. She still couldn't understand why you were selling the house and why you wouldn't, at least, want to visit Forks. After a while, you got fed up with explaining it to her. There were an awful lot of things she wasn't happy about and she didn't hide it. She kept criticising the Volturi without knowing them and having no idea, what they were actually doing.

You loved her like a sister, but because of that, she could annoy you exactly like one. Because of her pinching remarks and your lack of patience, you called each other less and less. You didn't want to keep getting annoyed and you were tired of explaining things to her. Besides, you didn't like that she didn't say a single good word about your mates. You at least tried to accept Edward. Suddenly, what he did to her was all forgotten and you couldn't understand it. You didn't know, what was happening to your sister and your stay in Italy didn’t exactly make things better. You still hoped that once you saw each other after the transformation, you would be able to explain it all to one another. You didn't want to lose Bella, the last person you considered family.

So you talked less and less or not at all, and when you did, you avoided difficult and sensitive topics. It was not like with Bella at all and it made you anxious. You were at ease with each other, almost always, and you didn’t get why she was so bitter and hateful towards your knew, chosen life. Especially, because partially your presence right then, in the trial chamber, was the reason for her to be alive at all.

Shortly after Caius presented you with your sculpted self, you were to spend the whole day together, the four of you. These were the days you loved the most. Although you cherished the time spent with each of your mates separately, the presence of all three put you in an ecstatic mood. You usually spent your afternoons like this – there were still a lot of things to do and solve, and a lot of trials to carry out.

Being in Volterra for so long, you learned a lot about the existing laws and how to enforce them. You knew that kings were not flawless, but it was logical to you that keeping the entire vampire world in line, required some sacrifices. Some greater than the other ones.

You usually sat down in the study, where you had ended the very first day, at a round table. You listened to the discussions and arguments, but also just spent time with your mates. You often sat on Aro's lap or tried to calm Caius down, when he became too agitated.

You were extremely excited since the morning, because they promised you a whole day outside. It wasn't often that all three of them wanted to spend time with you in the gardens, so you couldn't restrain your exhilaration. However, there were also days, or rather moments, when, under any circumstances, you could not leave your room. Such a moment was to occur today, after breakfast. You slept for a long time, almost until eleven o'clock. When you ate your breakfast, it was Renata who informed you that it was time to eat. Of course, you knew what it was about.

The only situation, in which you could not leave your chamber, was at lunchtime. Not yours, though, but the lunchtime of all the vampires, who inhabited the castle. For your own safety, usually for about two hours, you were not to leave and to occupy yourself with whatever you wanted. The only two hours, in which Renata or anyone else was not around you. Not many people knew about your stay in the castle and because of this, the kings decided that Renata should eat with the rest of the company.

You did not consider it strange in the slightest. Of course, you tried not to think about the fact that people would die, but you knew that they were chosen at random. Which meant that they could just as well have been run over by a car or they could have died in a fire. You did not think about it. You were just enjoying your two hours of freedom. Sometimes you sunbathed on the balcony, prepared your outfit or just played on the computer. These were little things that still reminded you of being human.

This week, when Renata told you that she would be gone for a while, you were already enjoying a long soak in the bathtub. The home spa was one of the favourite things you and your mum liked to do together. You poured hot water into the tub, applied a mask that you had prepared yourself with a few ingredients and relaxed.

Since you had no idea when, you were no longer afraid to look in the mirror. Sure, your body shape was far from ideal, but at least you weren’t terrified to look. You weren’t terrified to acknowledge that, yes, your body was raped, but you were recovering from it. And that you started to think that your body didn’t cause any of this.

After some time you spent in the bathtub, you felt a little dizzy. It wasn’t exactly a good sign, so you figured it’d be wise to get out of the tub. When you rinsed yourself off with clean water, you stood up, and that was the moment of terror. The room immediately started spinning, like you were on roundabout for the last forty minutes. You felt nauseous, but there was nothing near you to which you could cling to. You managed to step out of the tub, on the marble step, and then you felt it. Pain, excruciating pain, suffocation. Streams of blood went down your legs and before you fell onto the ground, you could only see white marble floor all covered in sanguineous blood.

[irrlicht-writes]

of Rex Lapis and a young boy

“Do you love her?” “What do you want me to say?”

Say yes. Say yes so I can tell myself to stop. If you love her still, then there is no way that there’s place for me in you. Say yes so I can stop thinking, stop pretending. Say yes so I know that you don’t care for me. Say yes so that I know, once and for all, that mortals and gods are not supposed to be next to each other. Say yes so I can try to forget that you are my friend. Say yes so I can forget that you are my only friend. Say yes so I can slap myself and laugh and make a joke about how stupid I am. Say yes so I know that anytime you looked at me, you didn’t look at me at all. Say yes so I know that I’ll never be curious or kind enough. Say yes, so that I know I never mattered at all. | Zhongli would never love him. Zhongli could only love things that were long past, and Childe walked ever toward the future.

Ao3

*

Azhdaha.

Zhongli-xiansheng and the Traveller had left the Harbour for a while to go look at some stones – or something, Childe didn’t ask – and now they’ve returned.

It had stung, just a little bit, when he realised Xiansheng had just dumped him for their meal but that was okay. That was perfectly, absolutely fine. He hadn’t sat there for hours upon end, waiting for him and then heading to the Funeral Parlour just to learn that Zhongli had left the Harbour entirely. That was cool. It wasn’t like they told each other everything, right?

It’s not like Zhongli knew everything Childe was up to in Liyue.

But now they were back, sitting at the Storyteller’s. Zhongli-xiansheng looked great, even. Like he hadn’t missed Childe at all. Yeah. That was cool. Perfectly cool.

He wasn’t even interested in rocks, so no wonder they didn’t ask him to come along. Yeah. Right.

Zhongli told him about Azhdaha in a quiet tone, and Childe knew he wasn’t getting the whole story. The Traveller sat beside them, silent as ever. It was cool. Childe got the picture. He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t as dumb as they thought him to be. Childe had heard that tone in Zhongli’s voice many times. For some reason, that tone had always struck him, but he had never been sure why.

He thought he knew, now.

It sounded like Zhongli was talking about something incredibly dear to him.

Not long after, Zhongli left, the Traveller close behind. They barely said good-bye and Childe smiled at them. He was acutely aware of the fact that they left without paying their tab. Yeah. That was fine, he’d just cover it.

“Storyteller,” he requested as he ordered himself the strongest drink this bar had, “can you tell me of Rex Lapis and the Mountain-Dragon?”

And so the Storyteller did.

*

The next day, Childe ventured into Nantianmen. He had seen the tree there before, but had thought little of it. Now, it was different. This is where Azhdaha had been sealed away, right beneath his feet. Zhongli’s friend.

Zhongli’s lover, even.

Back then, hearing about the Goddess of Dust had felt weird, like a mortal Zhongli pining for a Goddess dead way before his time. Now, after everything, it made more sense. When he talked about Azhdaha, Zhongli-xiansheng had the same look in his eyes. A soft, far-away look in his eyes that had always made Childe feel small and unimportant. Which was why, whenever he’d catch that look, he’d crack a joke, or point out a merchant stall.

He stepped closer to the tree and put his hand on the bark.

Did Zhongli come here, to be close to his old friend?

Zhongli never came to him, just to get him.

Always, it had been a matter Childe would have to settle with Mora somehow.

Had he ever been Zhongli’s friend, at all?

“What makes you so special?”

The tree, and the dragon hereby-under, don’t answer.

“Zhongli-xiansheng is rather busy, I apologise.”

To her credit, the Ferry lady did actually look sorry. It did little to stifle Childe’s mood, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. He wondered, idly, why it’s always him that reached out to Zhongli. Why was he the one clinging to a God that lied to him?

Well, maybe he was stupid after all.

He smiled at the Ferry lady and left her. He didn’t tell her to inform Zhongli that he’d been here. Somehow, he doubted that Zhongli would care either way. He pretended it didn’t hurt something in his chest, and returned to Northland Bank.

At least Ekaterina and the others there were forced to care about him. Oh, the luxury of being a Harbinger.

*

Despite him talking about her all the time, Childe knew next to nothing about Guizhong. There also wasn’t that much to find in books. Despite what people might think, Childe actually was a vivid reader. Granted, it tended to be adventure stories, not dry history, but he could expand.

But she had been Morax’ best friend.

And while the dry history books didn’t say it outright, it was clear as day: they all suspected the two to have been lovers in some capacity. The all-powerful Morax, and the sweet, gentle-hearted Guizhong. The perfect pair, even. He was strong where she was weak, and she was wise where he was not.

Childe wasn’t a romantic where it counted, but even he could see the potential in writing stories about a couple like that.

And she died, leaving Rex Lapis behind.

Childe looked out the window.

To be fair, he wasn’t sure why he read about Guizhong in the first place. What was he hoping to achieve? All the books he consumed about Rex Lapis have had a clear goal in mind: stealing the God’s Gnosis.

Not that that had worked, but semantics. Maybe Childe just wasn’t meant to steal someone’s heart.

He went to Guili Plains the next chance he got. He wasn’t sure why, but this place had been named after Guizhong and Zhongli. For all its historic worth, it look desolate. Rationally, Childe knew that a war has taken place here, but still, he had expected more, somehow. He had expected Rex Lapis to try and restore this place that he and his lost lover shared.

He was also a bit disappointed that there were no Glaze Lilies here. The books hadn’t shut up about Guizhong and Glaze Lilies. So much in fact that Childe had had his doubts on whether or not she’d really been the Goddess of Dust or Glaze Lilies.

He wondered what kind of man Zhongli would be today if Guizhong had not died. What kind of man he’d be if he hadn’t needed to seal the dragon away.

If that had been the case, then he probably wouldn’t have cared about Childe at all.

The hole in his chest hurt and he didn’t like it.

With his past dead, Zhongli’s eyes would glance across Childe.

If they had been alive, he wouldn’t have looked at Childe at all.

Wanting to stop, he killed the abyss mages.

*

There were Glaze Lilies blooming in the Harbour. He’s heard that they were cultured there artificially, because they were dying out. Zhongli must hate that fact. But that also meant that Childe of all people would probably not be able to actually approach the stupid flowers.

It had been days since they’ve last met, and Zhongli hadn’t come to him.

Childe felt like a broken tool. He wondered how long it would take him to get used to that feeling.

He wanted to see the flowers, so he snuck out at night. He knew there were some blooming behind the house on the Terrace, so he hoped he wouldn’t be spotted by the Millelith. It’d be hard to explain himself to Lady Ningguang for this, so he’d rather not.

Childe climbed the wall easily and quietly and sure enough, there they were – two Glaze Lilies, blooming under the moonlight. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. Did he want to pick them to present them to Zhongli? Probably not.

He reached out with one finger, gently touching one of the petals. Somehow, he was afraid they’d wilt under his touch and die. But nothing happened. Childe sighed and lied down beside the flowers. The sky was clear and bright. When he closed his eyes, he could hear a soft humming in his ears and it filled him with longing for... something. Not a fight, not a victory, not even a loss, just – something. Something he couldn’t have.

“How did you do it?” He asked the flowers.

How did you make Zhongli fall in love with you? How did you make him look at you proper? How did you make him see you? How do you put that tone in his voice and how do you put that look in his eyes?

Childe sighed.

The flowers didn’t respond.

He thought of Azhdaha, who had looked upon the world with curiosity and had learned to love it through Morax.

He thought of Guizhong, who had looked upon her people with endless kindness and had taught Rex Lapis to do the same.

He was neither curious nor kind.

No wonder that Zhongli didn’t care to look at him.

*

Why had the Tsaritsa sent him here? Why couldn’t he have been in on the plan? He could’ve caused a havoc even knowing where Morax was. Why couldn’t he have taken the Gnosis after a done deed? Why did it have to be Signora?

He was Her Majesty’s vanguard, was he not?

Didn’t she think him capable enough?

Why couldn’t Signora have wrecked the city?

Why him?

Was he really only good for front-line mayhem, and nothing else?

The God he had spent so much time with hadn’t even looked at him when he handed his heart away.

The God Childe had believed to be his friend.

He had no friends, now.

Childe put his report away and left the Bank.

It was late, and everything in him yearned for his home.

His home, where his parents would watch him with wary eyes.

Maybe he shouldn’t have come back, when he’d fallen.

When will he hurt Tonia? When will he take Anthon and Teucer, and turn them into monsters too? When will he reveal that our son has never come back at all? How long will this facade last?

He would smile at them, and pretend he didn’t know. He’d pretend that these months had never happened and that they still loved him unconditionally.

He reached the pier and sat down. He wanted to go fishing again.

The water gently dipped at the stone and Childe sighed. He wondered, did Morax laugh at him? Each time Childe had thought he’d been sleek, getting more information from Zhongli, had the God laughed at his ignorance?

But Zhongli had seemed so content, so willing to answer all of Childe’s questions.

It’s an important part of Liyuean’s cuisine, Childe. Please use the chopsticks.

Had Morax been making fun of him?

He’d never hear the end of it, back home in Snezhnaya. He could already hear Scaramouche’s snicker in his ear.

His mark had been right there next to him, ever-correcting the Harbinger’s grip on the chopsticks, and Childe had never known.

A one-way tool of war was probably the best thing he could ever be.

He could neither be curious or kind.

How would a guy like him ever gain the affection of the divine?

“You cannot sleep?”

Childe didn’t turn around.

What did it matter, anyway?

Zhongli sat down beside him with a small sound, reminding Childe how old this man truly was. He’d been a fool. How could Zhongli ever be his friend, with all their differences?

“Tell me a story.”

“What do you want to hear?”

Childe was silent for a moment.

Tell me how I can make you look at me. How can I be kind, or curious enough for you to gain your affection? Tell me how I can make myself significant to you. Tell me how I can be a friend that you’ll remember. Tell me, please. Tell me how to be important to you.

“I don’t know.”

Childe was staring at the water down below. Zhongli’s contract was fulfilled. There was nothing more they had to talk about. Why did Zhongli even acknowledge him? He should’ve just kept walking.

“You have gone to Guili Plains.”

“...yes.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to see,” Childe replied in a hushed voice.

Truth was, he didn’t know. Maybe he had expected the ghost of Guizhong to descend upon him and tell him everything he’d need to know. A stupid, childish thought. She hadn’t come, and his questions have been left unanswered. A god would never descend for him, anyway.

“What did you find?”

“Nothing,” Childe said. “Why didn’t you restore the Plains?”

“Why would I?”

“Because of Guizhong.”

“It’s the place I lost her in. It is difficult to go there, even after all these centuries.”

What did it feel like, making such an impact on an immortal being?

Every time he returned home, he ventured out into the woods again. Some part of him wanted to find the crack in the earth again, where he lost himself and found himself at the same time. Maybe he also hoped he’d find a little Ajax lost in the woods. He didn’t know.

“Do you love her?”

“What do you want me to say?”

Say yes. Say yes so I can tell myself to stop. If you love her still, then there is no way that there’s place for me in you. Say yes so I can stop thinking, stop pretending. Say yes so I know that you don’t care for me. Say yes so that I know, once and for all, that mortals and gods are not supposed to be next to each other. Say yes so I can try to forget that you are my friend. Say yes so I can forget that you are my only friend. Say yes so I can slap myself and laugh and make a joke about how stupid I am. Say yes so I know that anytime you looked at me, you didn’t look at me at all. Say yes so I know that I’ll never be curious or kind enough.

Say yes, so that I know I never mattered at all.

“...say yes, then.”

Childe didn’t remember when he drew his legs in and hugged his knees. He felt smaller and younger than he had in years. Skirk would kill him for this position but she’d never know.

“You’re in pain,” Zhongli said instead and Childe almost wanted to laugh.

“No,” he responded, “I haven’t been in a fight in days.”

“Not all pain is physical, Childe.”

What did he care? Childe wished he’d stop. It was these sorts of talks that put Childe in this situation. If Zhongli would just stop pretending he cared, it’d be all so much easier.

“Kun Jun gave this to me,” Zhongli said and held out his hand, a pretty rock upon it.

For the first time, Childe turned his head. It was a pretty thing, he thought.

“Kun Jun?”

“One aspect of Azhdaha.”

Ah. Yes, the other lost lover. Childe tensed his jaw. Why was Zhongli showing this to him? Was he mocking Childe?

Look, all these pretty things you bought me, and still I value the rock my old lover gave to me more.

There it was again, the pang in his chest. Zhongli never carried around the things he made Childe buy. And now here he was, carrying around some rocks this Kun Jun picked up from the ground?

“It’s pretty,” Childe said then. He didn’t know what else to say and Zhongli clearly cherished this rock.

Mora couldn’t buy someone’s affection. It could buy him any favour he’d ever wanted, but he could never buy genuine feelings. Their friendship had been a farce from the start. Zhongli had used him, just like Her Majesty and Signora had used him.

“It was good, seeing him again,” Zhongli sat, gently holding the stone in his hand. “But it hurt, as well, knowing I’d have to seal him away once more.”

“I’m sorry,” Childe said and he wanted to take the rock and throw it in the ocean.

He bought Zhongli so many things, and he valued none of them. For all he knew, Zhongli had thrown them aside the second Childe had turned his back. He’d never be important enough to Zhongli, so why did he even try? Why did he ever bother? He had wanted to invite Zhongli to his home, to meet his family. He had wanted to show his parents that he was still good, still their son, and that he made a genuine friend.

He couldn’t do that now. At best, Zhongli was a former business associate. Not his friend. Never his friend.

Zhongli didn’t say anything and Childe suspected he was deep in memories. He wanted to stand up and leave but he couldn’t.

“Liyue Harbour exists today because of Guizhong,” he said then and Childe curled up in himself. Just rub it in. How would Childe ever compete?

A curious dragon with pretty eyes and pretty rocks, and a gentle soul of a Goddess with beautiful, humming flowers next to her, an entire city dedicated to her?

What was he against them?

A reckless, arrogant toy soldier. The only thing he was good at was fighting and even then, Morax would be able to beat him blind-folded.

“Without her, I would have never been able to appreciate humans. To me, they were barely a duty, a responsibility, not something worthy of love. But she walked among them, empathised with them and through her and for her, I was able to do the same.”

Childe was a human. But he wasn’t part of the humans Zhongli spoke about. He wished he could take that part out of himself; the part that made his chest hurt. He’d rather endure the pain of his transformation.

“When she died, I was devastated and I wrecked havoc on my enemies. They had killed the gentlest soul I would ever know and they did not deserve mercy for it. But I knew, I knew that that wasn’t what she’d want. She’d want me to protect our people, to become the leader she never got the chance to be. So I taught them to build houses, I taught them to make stoves. And these days, I believe she would be proud of what I achieved.”

He was saying yes, and it hurt. Everything Zhongli had done had been for her. But maybe – maybe that was a good thing. He could let go now, right? He knew know, he had audible confirmation that Zhongli would never look at him, would never care for him. He wasn’t good enough. Nobody would ever build a city for him.

He had to go. He had to leave. He couldn’t see Zhongli again. His feet itched, but he couldn’t move. Zhongli would never love him. Zhongli could only love things that were long past, and Childe walked ever toward the future.

“Why are there no Glaze Lilies in Guili Plains?”

“They are a delicate flower, and Guili Plains turning desolate was too much for them to handle. But if you want to get poetic, then Guizhong’s demise surely had something to do with it.”

Childe wondered. If he died, would – would something wither for him? The seashells he was so fond of, would they crack?

“You miss her.”

“Yes.”

Will you miss me is a question left unasked.

Childe took a deep breath. He would fill the gaping hole inside his chest with blood and glory.

“I have something for you.”

Childe blinked. He didn’t remember buying something. He looked over to Zhongli, who held a sword out to him.

“I have been meaning to give it to you for a while but ah, things got in the way.”

Childe reached for the handle and held the sword up against the moonlight. The blade was green. He’d never seen a weapon like that before.

“I crafted it myself long ago. The blade is cut from the purest jade. I made it for a friend, but sadly, they never got to use it.”

“I...” Childe didn’t know what to say. He didn’t use a sword much these days, but he could appreciate good craftsmanship. And really, he could never have enough weapons.

“Thank you,” was what he settled on and Zhongli smiled at him.

“You wished to hear a story,” Rex Lapis said and Childe nodded, holding his new gift close.

“Once, a long time ago, Rex Lapis encountered a boy. The boy would never learn to fear the God he met and instead, would always smile brightly at him. Some might say the boy was ignorant of who he met, but Rex Lapis greatly enjoyed the company of the boy, unburdened by the past. It’s the tale of Rex Lapis, a god feared for his wrath, and a young boy with kind eyes and a gentle soul, ever ready to overtake the world and unafraid to walk in front of a god he ought to fear.

Once, a long time ago, Rex Lapis encountered a young boy who showed him the light of the sun again.”

Perhaps this was alright. Maybe Rex Lapis would always be stuck in the past and Childe would always walk ahead into the future. As Childe listened to Rex Lapis tell him an ancient tale, he fell asleep next to his friend Zhongli, a green sword tightly hugged to his chest.

He dreamed of a field full of flowers and a god and a boy, holding hands, walking towards the gentle brushing of the sea at the shore.

[chokemeanakin]

I dont know if you are taking requests but if you are, could you please write something where reader has trouble masturbating, every time she tries she just CANT, so anakin (theyre just friends but they always had lots of sexual tension) helps her out and does it for her so she cums for the first time. THANK YOU!!!

A Dream Come True - Anakin Skywalker x fem Reader (smut)

Masterlist

Read it on ao3

Wc: 5.4k

A low warmth is rising in your belly, pulled from the depths by your wandering fingers. They’re working against your clit, rubbing it side to side, faster and hard, trying so desperately to remain in that warm haze of pleasure you’ve spent so long building up. It feels good, but you need more. 

The many late nights spent with your girlfriends cross your mind, and how you would sit by idly during each one as they discussed their own personal affairs in the bedroom. You were the least experienced, but listened in awe as they told you the latest on what their partners have done to surprise them in bed. How they made them scream and shake, their eyes roll back into their head, and cum all over until they couldn’t take anymore.

You were too embarrassed to admit you’d never felt that way before. You thought you were broken.

Which is why you’re here, fingers glued to your hard nub, rubbing furiously to try and get yourself to feel something. You do feel something, but it’s not earth-shattering, leg-shaking, eye-rolling like your friends had described. Frustration fuels your movements as you attack your clit, holding your breath, forcing the warmth to build and build and build--

Nothing.

Your arm aches with the strain as you halt your movements, chest heaving when you allow yourself to breathe. Self-pity outweighs your disappointment as the subtle warmth dissipates, any pleasure that you had given yourself slipping away. 

Broken, a small voice whispers inside your head. There’s something wrong with you.

What other reasoning could there be to explain why you can’t feel good? 

Maybe, you argue, there needs to be something inside. That was always a big topic of discussion with your friends, how they “loved being filled.” Gathering your wits, you move your finger down, exploring your folds until you find your opening. Squeezing your eyes shut, you push a finger in, wincing at the sudden intrusion. 

It stings more than anything, but you’re desperate so you decide to give it a chance. You’ve tried this before, and it’s never felt like anything more than a finger inside of you-- which is exactly what it is. And now, this situation proves to be the same. You feel around, hoping to find that spot everyone raves about, but your fingers are too short and the angle is weird. You push your finger in and out like how you think you’re supposed to, and it feels like nothing.

Maybe you need two?

You let another finger join the one that’s already inside, struggling to get it in. 

Ow, you wince as your body rejects the intrusion. Your heartbeat picks up, a sudden anxiety joining the whirlwind of exasperation and discontent that has come from this situation. Is it supposed to hurt this much? The remnants of the need to satisfy yourself are still present, so you try again.

Making it back to your apartment had been a relief this evening, as all day you had been battling a relentless urge down below. You’re not too proud to admit that your… situation… had been a direct result of spending the day with Anakin, a good friend of yours who needed help finding a data entry in the corner of the Temple library. The entry supposedly had something to do with a cloaking mechanism for battleships, and when you had asked why he needed it when the Republic already had cloaking mechanisms, he mentioned that he was trying to translate the same technique to his own personal starship. No battlecraft as small as his has that ability, and with a ship as fast as his, it would give him a huge advantage on the battlefield. 

You could listen to him talk about it all day.

You virtually had, as the data entry was just one small piece of paper-- a piece of scrap blueprint scrawled on a fragile, worried edge of some larger text, worn with time. You spent hours searching all over for it. Once you had finally dug it out of a dusty box in the deepest corner of the library, Anakin had lifted you into the air effortlessly, swinging you around as he hugged you and laughed.

You had walked home with a damp spot in your underwear, an undeniable throb that needed to be relieved. 

He had no idea. No idea that his hands shot sparks up your spine as they closed around your waist. That his laugh turned your blood to lava, and his beautiful, smiling face made your heart skip a beat. He had no idea that he is the cause of your desperation, the reason you are torturing yourself by dangling an unknown pleasure before your face, knowing you can’t have it. 

You manage to sink your second finger in a little, but the sting is too much, and you have to pull them both out.

Broken.

The door to your apartment suddenly swings open, and you throw your sheets over your bare legs in a panic. Your eyes find the clock next to your bed-- Shit. You’d lost track of the time. 

The sound of those boots are unmistakable, and you find that praying you’re wrong is pointless when he calls out your name. 

“Y/n--?” Anakin rounds the corner to peer into your room, features lighting up when he finally finds you. Curious eyes roam over your figure, wondering why you’re in bed when it was barely evening. “Are you feeling okay?”

Your cheeks flame with heat, and you can’t find the words to explain yourself out of this situation. Mentally, you’re beating yourself up for losing track of time, especially since you knew Anakin was coming over tonight. While searching for the data log, you mentioned you had always wanted to try his favorite childhood drink-- ruby bliels-- and he promised he’d treat you tonight after you found the blueprint. It was his thank you gift to you, but now you needed to find a way to get him out of your apartment before he realized what was going on.

Your mouth hangs open like a gaping fish, and you know it’s too late. Anakin’s brain is as fast as his superhuman reflexes, and you can see the gears click into place as his eyes flit from your red cheeks, to the messy covers strewn over your legs, to the crumpled panties lying discarded on the floor. Your hand is even still frozen between your legs, your activities becoming clear as he senses the remnants of pleasure and disappointment still hanging around the room. 

“Oh…” is all he says, looking lost for a moment. You expect him to apologize and turn away, run out of the apartment and then never speak to you again. You wouldn’t blame him. Finding a friend in this position can never be a comfortable experience.

Instead a slow smirk crawls onto his face, and he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You need some help with that?”

You should have known. The smug little bastard-- of course he’d find this amusing. Your face grows impossibly redder, and you wish a black hole would just open beneath you already and swallow you up. Anakin finds your humiliation endearing, and laughs good-naturedly. 

“Alright, okay, I’m sorry. I’ll leave you to it,” he slinks out of the doorway, crooking his finger in the air to close the door after him. “I’ll be in the kitchen setting up for the bliels when you’re done--”

“Wait!”

You’re just as shocked as he is at the words that leave your mouth. He freezes in place, the door still open a crack. There’s too many thoughts running through your head right now, but the one that stands out the most has you pulling your hand away from your center, sitting up in bed so you can address him clearly. 

You never thought you’d be able to speak these words to him. For so long, you had wanted him in every way possible. But he’s a Jedi, unable to form attachments, and more than that-- a friend. A very good friend. And breaching the topic that you know you both feel for each other had the potential to ruin it all. 

But the minute he had opened that door, still dressed in that black leather armor, hair perfectly curled and messy, so tall and strong and devilishly handsome leaning against your doorframe-- he was beautiful, and you’d be a fool not to take advantage of his offering. Even if it might have been a joke. 

You had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t. 

“I… I do need help.”

There. You said it. And you’re pretty certain the only reason you could force the words past your lips is because his back is still facing you. But then he opens the door again, turns to meet your eyes, and cocks his head.

“Really?”

You’re not sure how to feel about the concern on his face. You guess it’s better than him being disgusted, or awkward, or uncomfortable. And it’s not an outright rejection. That realization gives you the push you need to explain yourself.

“I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Now he looks concerned. Walking a few steps into the room, he stops by the edge of your bed and folds his arms across his chest. He’s studying every inch of you, reaching into the force to try and gauge the nature of your words. “What do you mean?”

He’s standing so close now, you can see the blue of his eyes and the wrinkle between his furrowed brows. It does nothing to calm your sizzling nerves. However, you’re concrete on your desires now. While you would have liked to confess your feelings for him in a more… romantic way, the intensity of your need for him in this very moment overshadows rational thought. Besides, it’s not like this is a declaration of love. That could always come later. For right now, you need his help, and you’re certain that you can trust him not to make fun of you or shame you for trying in if he declines.

“I can’t…” you take a deep breath, staring at your hands in your lap. “I can’t make myself feel good.”

Your voice is so quiet, embarrassed and ashamed, but he catches the yearning under it all. His face smooths, comforted by the fact that you’re not injured or dying in some way. Deep down, something sparks alive in his veins. 

That’s the issue? Well… it’s definitely something he can help you with.

“Hmm.” His face is thoughtful as he scans your position. His hand gestures vaguely down your body. “Do you want to show me what you’re doing?”

Your blood freezes at his request. For some reason, it didn’t cross your mind how asking for his help would require him to see you… naked. 

“If you’re too embarrassed, we can just--”

You cut off his words by throwing the blanket off. There, like ripping off a bandaid. His eyes drink in the exposed skin of your legs, and although they’re closed and he can’t be seeing much more than he’s already seen before, they darken. A small twitch of his fingers, and the door clicks shut behind him. 

He takes a seat on the side of the bed, next to your legs, and rests his metal hand on your knee. Your heart beats like a hummingbird's wings at the sudden proximity, and the nerves pile up again at the thought of what’s going to happen.

“Wait-- um… actually, can you come here?” 

You reach out to take his metal hand from your knee, and pull him up the bed so that he’s hovering over you. He’s still sitting, the upper half of his body twisted toward you, caging you in with a hand on either side of you. He’s smiling softly, and his eyes twinkle with something fond.

He doesn’t need to ask to know that you’re nervous. The rigidity in your muscles, the flightyness of your eyes, the hammer of your heart-- he can feel it all, and he wants nothing more than to quell your fears. So he lifts an arm to cup your face in his large hand, smoothing a thumb over your cheekbone in a silent request for you to look at him.

Once you muster up the courage to meet his eyes, his smile grows, and he says something that steals your breath.

“Can I kiss you?”

Oh, how long you’ve wanted him to say those words to you. Countless nights, you’d run them through your head, imagining all the scenarios in which it could happen. Certainly, this was not one of them, but you definitely aren’t going to complain.

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you give him a nod, and lean forward a fraction in invitation. Your veins sing with anticipation, warmth spreading from your cheeks to every small nook and cranny of your body as he angles your face up toward his. Your eyes flutter close, and he leans down, and--

Bliss.

His lips are warm against yours, soft, applying the gentlest of pressures. You always thought he’d be a good kisser-- he was experienced, and he’d hinted at some of his more scandalous escapades a couple times in passing conversation. You’d asked him before, how he could do that when Jedi aren’t allowed to form attachments, which resulted in him going into a full lecture on how non-attachment didn’t translate to abstinence being “The Jedi Way”, even if it was supported within the Order. Really, it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anything, until he fell on the defensive position that he was almost certain Obi-Wan had done stuff as well.

Which-- great. Now you realized you were less experienced than even two Jedi. 

These thoughts are snuffed out like candles, one by one, as Anakin kisses you. In fact, your whole mind goes blank, a wave washing over all of your worries away and dragging them out to sea. You’re drifting on that wave, drowning in the heady feel of him, the warm taste of him. His slow inhale reminds you to breathe as he moves his lips against yours languidly. It’s heaven, the way he’s yours for just this moment. He might not think anything of this kiss, but to you, it’s like your deepest fantasies are coming true. With each moment that passes where he tilts his head and closes his lips over yours, you can pretend that he is yours, completely and unconditionally.

Eventually he pulls back, eyes fluttering open, and you realize you’re still lost at sea.  

“Good?” his voice is low and raspy as his gaze bores into yours. You wonder if he knows how intense his eyes can be sometimes. 

“Yes.”

He presses another quick kiss to your lips, your heart spasming at the act, before he trails kisses down your jaw, tasting the skin of your neck. Your breath picks up again, hands finding his curls as you gasp at the feeling. His teeth skim over the junction of your neck and shoulder, and he presses a kiss to your throbbing pulse. He means for the kisses to be distracting, soothing, so that you’ll be more comfortable with him, and he thinks it’s working until a faint moan leaves your mouth.

So it’s really working.

Anakin’s eyes flick up to yours, and you can feel the smirk against your skin. Embarrassment crashes down on you again but Anakin repeats the motion, nipping at your skin and then smoothing his tongue over the mark, sucking gently to try to elicit another reaction. You gift him one against your will, and suddenly he’s got lava pouring into his veins.

You’re so lost in the feeling of his mouth on you that you don’t even realize his warm hand has travelled from your face, down the middle of your body, gripping onto the pliant flesh of your thigh and pulling you toward him. You let him, rolling your body into him to try and relieve that reappearing ache in your center. 

It’s the same feeling that had built up all day, and it’s returned with a vengeance. You can feel the wetness seep out, slicking your thighs up. Your clit throbs and your pussy clenches around nothing, begging for something to satisfy the ache. You rub your thighs together to help, but Anakin slides a hand to the inside of your thigh and coaxes your legs apart. Any embarrassment you felt before has been beat out by a yearning for his touch, the need to have his fingers on you, inside you--

“Show me how you’ve been doing it,” Anakin mumbles into your neck.

You open your eyes, pulled up from the haze of pleasure he’d submerged you in. Your hand only shakes slightly as you release his hair and bring it back to your skin. He pulls back a few inches to watch, the heat of his body so close to yours causing goosebumps to erupt all over your body. 

His eyes hone in on your hand, following its descent to your warm center. You still can’t wrap your head around the fact that someone is seeing you like this, but now your veins sing with a satisfied realization that he’s the one seeing you like this. He’s the only one who ever has. And he seems to like what he’s seeing.

You don’t miss the way he inhales, the way his teeth capture a sliver of his bottom lip as your fingers finally reach your heat. You begin to do what you’ve always done-- rub your fingers back and forth over your nub, working that pleasure from it.

It feels good, different than what it felt like when you were alone. You’re sure his eyes on you, the proximity, his mere presence has something to do with that. You can still taste him on your lips and you close your eyes, licking them to relive the kiss. You focus on the warmth of his body, the dip of the bed where his arm is planted beside you, the weight of his other hand still holding your thigh open, the scent of his black leather and spice of his shampoo. It definitely feels better when he’s here, the knowledge of him watching adding to your excitement.

But still, you can only build yourself up to a certain point. The pleasure plateaus, and soon you begin to feel awkward at the fact that nothing is happening. It’s not enough to make you moan, or move, or show any reaction really. Your hand stills, and you look at him uncertainly.

Anakin blinks and brings his eyes back up. “Have you tried fingering yourself?”

You almost choke. You’re not sure why his blunt nature surprises you anymore. 

He’s looking at you curiously, completely serious, waiting for an answer. So you clear your throat and slide your finger down to your entrance, pushing in.

It goes in easier than before, and there’s no sting. But you don’t even have to move to know you’re literally going to get nothing out of it, and trying is useless.

“This is what I’m talking about,” you tell him. “It doesn’t feel like anything. And when I try two, it hurts. I think I’m broken.”

“You’re not broken,” he frowns, smoothing your hair away from your forehead and replacing it with a kiss. Your heart melts at the action that you’re sure is meant to be comforting, but only deepens your adoration of him. He sits up and you immediately miss him, although you understand he needs a better angle as he slides his hand from your thigh to the top of your pelvis. He hesitates, questioning. “Can I?”

You pull your finger out and push yourself up onto your forearms, nodding for him to go ahead. 

His touch is light as a feather as his fingertips make contact with your swollen nub. Your breath hitches in your chest, thighs immediately opening wider on their own accord to get him to increase the pressure. He watches your face as he fulfills your silent request, massaging your clit in slow, gentle circles. 

Fireworks are exploding behind your eyes, and you melt into a puddle on the bed. He’s barely even touching you, and somehow it already feels so much better than anything you’ve done to yourself. Quiet whimpers fall from your lips and the sounds make him need a steadying breath, reminding himself to go slow. Obviously, no one has ever touched you before, and he doesn’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.

The sight of your head tilted back, teeth biting at your lips to quiet your sounds, fingers clutching at the bedsheets-- a very sudden, very real desire to absolutely ruin you slams into him. 

But no. That can come later.

He brings his metal hand up to your face, thumb tracing over your bottom lip and pulling it from your teeth. “You don’t have to be quiet with me,” he tells you, the ministrations on your clit with his other hand never ceasing. Instead, he picks up the pace, increasing the pressure, drinking in the sight of your hips moving against his fingers.

You’re absolutely drenched, dripping down your thighs and puddling onto the bedsheets. You’re not sure you’ve ever been this wet before, or felt this good before, and the warmth you’ve always felt is transforming into a ball of heat in your stomach. You hone into the feeling, the heat pulsing with each pass of his fingers, each wet slide of him against you--

“You have to breathe, Y/n,” Anakin chuckles, slowing his touch. You gasp in a deep breath, whining at the loss of friction, but he appeases you by slipping his fingers from your clit to your entrance. He doesn’t push in-- instead he circles his finger around it, collecting your slick, reading your every response. 

“Please, can you…” you buck your hips up, but he doesn’t allow his finger to slide in until you finish your sentence. “Can you put it in?”

He can’t keep the tiny, darkly satisfied smile off his face. He’s always had fantasies of you like this, squirming beneath him and begging for his touch. He basks in the fulfilled wish of his, drinking in every second so he can remember it for later. Meanwhile, his finger massages your hole, dipping in with just the tip before pulling back out. 

“Fuck,” you hiss, once again surprised at your own reaction. Your head is far past the point of clouding with lust, and now you’re dizzy with pleasure and the need to just have him inside of you already. “Anakin, please.”

“Patience,” he answers teasingly, although he does mean it. You can’t rush these things. And… he does have to admit that he loves seeing you so desperate and messy for him. Your neediness has him strain against his own pants, but he pushes that aside. For now, another dip of his finger into your throbbing pussy has you arch off the bed, urging him deeper, and it’s heaven to witness.

He didn’t want to go all in just yet, but you’re gushing around his finger and taking it so well. So he lets you have it, sinking his finger all the way into you. You feel him go deeper and deeper, the never-ending length of his finger a stark contrast to your shorter ones. He’s reaching places you were never able to, and even the slide of him inside you elicits a deep, warm pleasure that spreads to the tips of your fingers.

He keeps his finger all the way inside for a moment, still as he feels your walls clench around him. Once he’s sure you’re all good, he begins pressing into you with shallow thrusts, thumb returning to your clit and rubbing in time with each push of his finger.

Curses spill from your lips, and Anakin can’t help himself. He leans down over you and captures them in his mouth, swallowing your cries of pleasure. The kiss is wet, dirty, and the muffled sounds of your moans combat the indecent slick and slide below. Soon, another finger is nudging at your opening, and you press yourself deeper into his lips in anticipation of that painful sting.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, his finger slides in a couple inches and he keeps both of them there, letting you adjust as his thumb rolls over your clit. You had never been able to use two fingers before, and your head goes fuzzy as he pushes them deeper. Your walls stretch around him pleasantly, accepting the welcome intrusion as he reaches deep inside you.

How is it fair that he can make you feel so much better than you can make yourself? It doesn’t seem right in the whole grand scheme of things, but you decide not to question it as his fingers suddenly curl inside you, searching. It feels odd, and he pulls back from your lips to concentrate for a second until-- there. Found it.

You almost knock your head into his as you shoot up, a startled cry leaving your lips as your vision whites with pleasure. Your fingers claw at his back, meeting the leather that still sits on his shoulders, and scrabbling over the smooth material for purchase. Anakin laughs at your reaction, easing you into a more comfortable position as he holds you against him with his metal arm behind your back.

You can’t find it in you to care that he’s laughing, not as long as he keeps rolling the pads of his fingers into you like this. His wrist curls, applying a harder pressure as he rubs against that spot, and your head falls back, hips pushing forward, the lewdest sounds you’ve ever heard leaving your mouth. 

“You like that,” he notes, proud smile ghosting over your lips. He kisses the corner of your mouth quick and sweet, then asks, “Is it better when I go slow or fast?”

“Both,” you gasp. “Either. All of it. Oh my--”

“Soft or hard?”

“Anakin--”

Your brain is unable to focus on much else other than the feel of his fingers coaxing that blissful heat from your center. He plays around with paces and pressures, but everything feels good, it feels great, it feels amazing, it feels euphoric. Before long, your legs are shaking and a weird feeling comes over you, and you’re crying out,

“What’s happening?”

Anakin pauses, his entire body stilling as he meets your eyes. You’re completely serious, that much he can tell by the vulnerability in your eyes. He frowns, unbelieving at this revelation.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Have you ever had an orgasm?”

You whine and shift your hips into his hand, trying to get him to keep making you feel good. If this wasn’t your first time being with someone else, Anakin would have held your hip still and forced you to talk to him no matter how much you begged and pleaded. But, it was your first time with someone else, so he was deciding to be nice. He soothes your craving, resuming his movements but at a much slower pace. A pleased sigh from you fills the silence of him waiting expectantly for your answer.

“Um..” you swallow, hips meeting his hand with every thrust. “I don’t think so. No. Nothing’s ever felt… like… this…”

It’s like a sneeze, except much, much better. The way his fingers prod into you, slick with your arousal, the tips brushing and massaging against that spot that have you careening into his body. You would have toppled over on top of him if he wasn’t so strong and rooted to the bed. He holds your shivering body against his chest with his metal arm, lips marking their way around your chin and jaw as your head falls back in ecstasy. 

He’s immensely turned on, that much is obvious from the painful straining in his pants. But it’s easy to ignore, knowing now that you’ve never fallen off that brink of pleasure before. He’s curious about it, oddly saddened by the fact, and wants nothing more than to show you the absolute highs he could help you reach. So he focuses back in on rubbing your clit with his thumb, fucking you deeply on his fingers. He allows you to clutch at his back and bury your hands in his hair, moaning in abandon.

Anakin shares you pleasure as the ball in your stomach unleashes, a blissful warmth crashing over you and invading your every cell. For a moment, your body isn’t yours-- it convulses and clenches around Anakin’s fingers, your cries bounce off the walls, your eyes squeeze closed. You hope the hands twisted into his hair don’t hurt him because you physically can’t let go as you ride that pleasure-filled haze, the feeling in your limbs abandoning you to be replaced with something much stronger. 

For a while, the only sounds in the room are your gasps of air and the blood rushing through your ears. Anakin waits until your muscles relax, and then he slides his fingers out of you, smoothing his hand around your waist to join his other behind your back. He lays you down into the pillows again, burying his face in your neck as you struggle to get your legs to stop shaking.

“Y/n,” he mouths a line up your neck. “You there?”

“Mhm,” you gulp, the shock of that intense, pleasurable feeling just beginning to fade.

He pressed his deep chuckle into the spot right under your ear. “Good. I thought I lost you for a moment.”

If you were in your right state of mind, you would have laughed at his teasing. Now, all you can do is cup his face lazily in your boneless hands, pulling his face up so that you can look at him. His cheeks are flushed the slightest pink, eyes dark and sparkling, lips so red and full and inviting…

You kiss him, and he’s yours for a moment longer. 

If only it could always be like this. If only this could be a daily experience, and afterwards you could take care of him, and you could feel that wonderful euphoria with him at the same time. If only he wouldn’t have to pull away soon, untangle himself from your still-shaking limbs, brush off what just happened, and be on his way. If only he could be yours forever.

All of this, you try to tell him through the kiss. Your lips are hot, sliding over with a wanton need. He feels your yearning, and he can tell it’s a different kind than earlier. You move to deepen the kiss, but he pulls away.

“I know what you’re thinking,” his low voice murmurs, and now he doesn’t look so playful. In fact, he looks very serious, and the rumble of his words causes your stomach to drop. “You should know, Y/n, I want you too.”

The whole room could be on fire and burning and falling to ash around you, but you wouldn’t notice. Everything pales in comparison to the flames that erupt in your heart at the sound of his words. 

“You do?”

He purses his lips, running his eyes up and down your face. You’re nervous, and hopeful, and so, so scared. And also… still shivering. Most likely due to the cold, at this point. And he’s sure the drunken affects of your orgasm are still holding sway over your mind.

“This is a conversation I think would be much better held over some ruby bliels,” he decides, and begins to unwind himself from you. You let him, that hopeful spark still searing through your veins. Before getting off the bed, he presses a kiss into your hand and then smooths over it with his thumb.

You want to say something cute or witty, but the only thing your dumb brain can come up with is, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he smiles fondly, moving toward the door. “I’ll meet you out there. Feel free to remain pantsless.”

This has you rolling your eyes, laughing lightly as you fall back against the pillows. Don’t tempt me.

The prospect of a future with Anakin is at the forefront of your brain, blood pumping thick as molasses as you struggle to convince yourself this is reality. He shuts the door behind him as you leave, and you roll onto your stomach to scream into the pillow. 

This was a dream come true.

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 30: Waiting

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Some comic relief. Kung Lao and Liu Kang have an adult-ish conversation before it turns into a much less mature conversation. Mostly about you. About some other stuff too. Sure hope that no one overheard it or anything.

A/N: Some humor to break up those last few chapters. Saturday is the chapter with the choice at the end then my posting schedule has to swap around a bit, will probably be Monday and Friday? One for Liu one for Lao? That cool?

Part 29 Part 31 Chapter Index

Liu Kang changed his bandages while seated on the floor of his room with his door open. Kung Lao leaned against the frame of the door with his arms folded across his chest. Liu turned his attention to his brother and offered a weary smile. Kung Lao had been checking on you for them both since Chen had sent them away. Liu had suggested that they wait patiently but even he’d had a difficult time not worrying about you. When Kung Lao had told him where to shove that idea, he’d relented. Liu had been the one to care for you when you’d first arrived. He wanted to be the one to care for you now.

Raiden had said something about them both becoming too attached.

Liu hadn’t argued even if he thought that was a ridiculous reason to keep their distance.

“Have you heard anything yet?”

“That woman taking care of Y/N turned me away again and this time she was mean.” The annoyance in Kung Lao’s voice was completely unjustified. His vendetta against the people working in the infirmary was extremely silly. But Kung Lao wouldn’t talk about it and Liu Kang couldn’t make him.

“She needs taking care of, Lao.”

“Yeah, which I am perfectly capable of doing.”

“You are not qualified.” Liu chuckled as he finished wrapping up his arm. It had healed as well as could be expected over the last few days. It would take a few weeks to be back to normal, but he was prepared for the climb. “You don’t even take of yourself when you need it.

“Only because they make me go to the infirmary every time. They don’t trust me to do it alone.”

“Because you don’t do it.” Liu stood and dusted himself off. “When was the last time that you checked your bandages or your wounds? Are you even bothering with them anymore?”

“No, because they’re fine.”

“I think I just made my point. Everyone’s point.”

“You get to take care of your wounds. Why do I have to go to the infirmary to do it?”

“Because I’m qualified. And I actually do it.” He threw away the old bandages.

Kung Lao grumbled and then tilted the door closed behind him before leaning against the nearby wall. Liu sat on the edge of his bed with a heavy sigh. He was listless. Doing nothing and waiting patiently was part of what they did in Raiden’s Temple, but it didn’t mean that he was content to do it. While he composed himself better than Kung Lao, he was just as worried and frustrated by the lack of control he had.

“I’m going to sneak in through her window. She can’t stop me from there. I’ll fall to my death. She doesn’t want to be responsible for that.”

“That’s a terrible idea. One of your worst.” Liu laughed in disbelief at his brother. “Sure, you’ll get in, but she’ll kick you right out after. Not to mention that you’re going to terrify the poor woman. And Y/N’s bed is right beneath the window. You could hurt her.”

“I could just use my hat.” He tapped the brim.

“Same results, Lao.” Liu rested his elbow on his knee and ran his fingers through his hair. “Chen is good at what she does. Y/N is in capable hands.”

Kung Lao took a seat next to him with a frustrated huff. They sat in tense silence.

“How is your arm doing, anyway?”

“It’s healing fine. Stitches will be coming out soon.” Liu patted the bandage on his left arm. He had a relatively high pain tolerance, and he wasn’t the type to complain. It’d hurt like a son of a bitch when the ink had sliced through his flesh, but he’d been more worried about you in the moment. “No more fever which has helped tremendously.”

“I hear that.” Kung Lao was staring wide-eyed in front of him. He had so little patience, which was something Liu usually gave him hell for, but in this situation, he was right there alongside him. They sat in silence again, a frequent occurrence over the past few days. So much had happened since they had last had a chance to speak and neither one of them seemed willing to talk about it. They’d spent plenty of time together waiting for you to wake up, but it had mostly been in frustrated silence.

“Did she tell you?” Lao didn’t turn his wide-eyed gaze away from the floor.

“Tell me what?

“That we kissed.” Kung Lao clasped his hands together in front of him and tapped his fingers nervously against his other hand. Liu Kang heaved a sigh and tried not to let it bother him, but he was sure that his silence said more than enough. He shouldn’t have been surprised.

“No, she didn’t. But I suspected as much after how she behaved in Huangshan. You had her all mixed up.” Liu tapped his foot and then let go of his frustration with a breath. He had gotten into his head that you were his Y/N. This wasn’t easy to talk about for either of them. “I think she was afraid to tell me. Afraid of how I’d react.” Rationalizing it had been enough to wipe the remaining frustration completely away. “She carries more guilt than she lets on, I think.”

“Funny that you put it that way because she didn’t seem to have a problem telling me that she’d kissed you.”

Was Kung Lao trying to get on his nerves? He did that sometimes, but Liu had gotten good at navigating his way around it. He laughed under his breath and Kung Lao seemed genuinely surprised not to have annoyed him.

“You have known her since you were nine, Kung Lao. You have a connection that is deeply rooted in your childhood. It’s nothing like the one I have with her. It is worlds apart.”

“Wow, I don’t think that I’ve heard that kind of jealousy from you since we were teenagers.” Kung Lao smirked. Liu tapped his foot and heaved another sigh. It wasn’t the connection that had caused his renewed frustration. This had gone on for too long.

“I don’t want to play this game anymore.” Liu frowned. “I can’t get it out of my head. I want out of the bet. I never felt good about it to begin with, Kung Lao. It’s making me act differently. I don’t want any part of it.”

“So, you’re chickening out, huh?”

Liu rolled his eyes.

“Why are you doing this, Lao?”

“What kind of question is that? Did I not explain the bet to you?”

“Are you sabotaging any chance you might actually have with someone you care about?” Liu watched Kung Lao instantly stiffen up and knew he’d hit the nail right on the head. “When I was brought to the temple and we became family, you spoke of Y/N so fondly. Now she’s here and you’re willing to risk any relationship that you have rebuilt with her so that you don’t have to do a few chores? It’s absurd, Lao. You don’t think she’s going to be upset? Feel gross about it? Because I feel gross about it.”

Kung Lao clenched his jaw and stopped tapping his foot and fingers and stared at the floor again instead. Liu waited patiently and rotated his left shoulder, feeling the stinging in his arm and the pain that radiated down to his fingertips. He would focus on stretching his muscles until Kung Lao was done arguing in his head. He did that sometimes, especially when he was arguing with Liu. This wasn’t the first time that he’d told Kung Lao a harsh truth and it wouldn’t be the last. Kung Lao had done the same for him, but it had been less necessary over the years. Liu Kang was the type who saw his shortcomings before others did.

“I really hate when you call me out on my bullshit.” Kung Lao finally chuckled.

“Call it what you will, Lao. If you won’t let me back out of the bet, then I forfeit. I’ll do your chores. I don’t care. I stand by what I said when you first suggested it. I don’t want to bet on someone else’s feelings. Let her feel what she feels authentically so that I can feel what I feel authentically.” He mussed up his hair in annoyance.

“It’s fine.” Kung Lao deflated next to him. It was comical. His posture had completely changed. “Honestly, I felt pretty terrible about it by the end of our trip to Japan. Like I was… manipulating her. I didn’t mean for it to be like that. I thought it was a harmless and fun thing but you’re probably right. I’m purposely… screwing it up.” Kung Lao unclasped his hands and stood then dragged the chair from Liu’s desk and sat on it backwards. He couldn’t seem to sit still since you had fallen unconscious. Liu had struggled with that too, but he’d always had an easier time focusing than Kung Lao had. “The bet’s off. I’ll tell her about it, I guess. I don’t want to feel like I’m hiding anything anymore.”

“Is that so?” Liu smiled, feeling a little relief. “Not going to make me do your chores?”

“Not over this at least. I’ll weasel out of them some other way, I’m sure.” Kung Lao grinned. He seemed like himself for the first time in days. Maybe it really had been weighing on him as heavily as it had been weighing on Liu.

“Does that mean I was right? Self-sabotage?”

“Ugh, can you not rub it in? Just for once?”

“Not a chance.” Liu Kang laughed, and Kung Lao leaned his arms on the back of the chair then rested his chin on them with a heavy sigh. Whatever happened, he knew that they would be okay. They’d broken the dam when it came to talking about it, which felt nice if not a little daunting. At some point, he had gotten nervous to bring it up again. He didn’t want to hurt Kung Lao, but he couldn’t give up on you either even if he couldn’t get it out of his head that it was selfish for him not to.

“So, she kissed you again, huh?” Kung Lao diverted attention away from his emotions, something he did very frequently. Funny enough, Liu thought that you did the same thing. You were similar in many ways. “…wait, you didn’t want to end the bet because you uh…” Kung Lao sat upright, and alert suddenly then made a motion with his hands that was rather crude. Liu Kang hesitated but then shook his head no. “You didn’t win and not tell me, did you?”

“Those weren’t the terms of the bet, remember? I would have never agreed if it had been.”

“That’s evasive, Liu.”

“I’m just saying that the conditions had to do with her choice and not any physical achievement, Kung Lao. We’re not stupid kids.”

“Wow, this is so incredibly defensive.” Kung Lao whispered in wonder.

“I dislike talking about this with you.” Liu Kang frowned. “Talking about her like this with you. It’s uncomfortable.”

“I hate it too!” Kung Lao laughed and threw his arms up in frustration then let them fall back over the chair dramatically. “Just… look, tell me if I lost. Tell me if I don’t stand a chance. I just want her to be happy.” He said this all with a grumble, as if it were like pulling teeth to say it. It was funny how uncomfortable he was with his emotions.

“That’s what I want too.” Liu Kang nodded to agree. “And I’m not the one to decide who wins or loses. And this isn’t a bet anymore.”

“No more bet.”

“The bet is off.” Liu Kang sighed with a relief. He wasn’t sure that Kung Lao was going to actually let it go. He was difficult to read. “That’s a huge relief.”

“Yeah, I mean… yes and no for me. You called me out and now I have to think about that.”

“Poor, poor Kung Lao. Having to think his own thoughts.”

“It’s a burden, really.”

“We have to tell her, Lao.”

“Yeah, I know. Can’t fix the self-sabotage thing if I don’t. And if you tell her and I don’t then that makes me look bad and we… we all know you and honesty, for the most part.”

“I can lie when I need to but I’m not going to lie about this.” Liu folded his arms over his chest. They sat in awkward silence again. There were plenty of things that they should have talked about, but it still felt weird to. Usually, they would have joked about this kind of thing and had the other to confide in, but they were both worried about hurting the other’s feelings and dashing their hopes.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“Hmm?” Hadn’t he? He didn’t remember not answering Kung Lao.

“I asked if you two… you know.”

“Can you not say the words, Kung Lao? Are you not an adult?”

“I don’t want to. I don’t want to picture you two doing that.” Kung Lao stuck his tongue out and then shook his head as if to dismiss the mental image. “But did you?”

“No. I thought I told you no.” Liu had hesitated again. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to on your trip. No, he had wanted to, but he had thought about that stupid bet and how much it could potentially hurt you to have done that and then found out there had been stakes attached to your emotions. He’d pulled himself back because of it more than once while you were in Huangshan.

“How am I supposed to interpret that, Liu?” Kung Lao was laughing, at least. Liu Kang hung his head and Kung Lao only laughed harder.

“Look, she had a nightmare, so I let her sleep in my bed.”

“I’m sort of disappointed that you didn’t get laid at the end of this story.”

“It was your stupid bet that ruined it.” Liu chuckled but he could feel his face turning red.

“What, did you wake up with a half chub or something?” Kung Lao was teasing him, but he’d gotten to the end of the story before Liu had found a less crude way to tell it and Liu covered his face in embarrassment. Kung Lao was wheezing with laughter. “Liu! You didn’t!”

“In my defense, I was having a nice dream and she was right there in my arms and…”

“Wow, Liu. That’s more me than you.”

“I’m only human, Kung Lao.”

“Just, wow.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Liu pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. His face was still burning but it felt nice to laugh about it with Kung Lao. He hadn’t talked to you about it because that felt like opening a floodgate and he’d needed to end this stupid bet first. Plus, it was kind of a difficult conversation to start. It was easier just to make a move.

“Did she… notice… or?”

“…I hate that you guessed so accurately. I never would have told you outright.”

“It’s amazing.” Kung Lao smacked the back of the chair in glee. “So?”

“Yeah. Yeah, she noticed, Kung Lao.” Liu Kang hung his head again, hands on his knees. Kung Lao was practically choking to death with how hard he was laughing at him. “You could try to enjoy my misfortune a little less.”

“This is the funniest thing that has happened in weeks, Liu Kang.” He wiped a tear away and tried to regain his breath. “Why didn’t you just go for it? I would have gone for it. Wouldn’t have given it a second thought.��

“Well, I’m not you. All I could think about was how hurt she would be if we did that and then found out about the stupid bet. And she had been so frightened after her nightmare. I played it off the best that I could given the circumstances.” Liu was laughing now too. He couldn’t help it. It was funny. And it felt good to laugh after having done nothing but worry and stress for three days.

“You know what, Liu? You are a much better man than I am sometimes.” Kung Lao wiped his eyes and regained his composure. “I never would have let that opportunity pass.”

“I know. I had no intention of telling you the truth either.”

“I’m glad you did. I needed a good laugh.”

“At my expense, of course.”

“Of course.”

Silence fell again, but it was at least less awkward. Liu supposed if that came at his expense than he was okay with it.

“What do we do now?” Liu sighed. Kung Lao was avoiding his eyes again.

“I don’t think it’s really up to us what happens next with that.”

“Yeah.” Liu nodded to agree. “…no hard feelings no matter what happens, right?”

“Not going to be that simple, I think.”

“Of course not, Kung Lao. But above all things, you are my brother.”

“Yes. Nothing will change that. It might just be weird while we figure it out.”

“Yeah, probably.” Liu didn’t have much else to say on the matter. Silence again. While he felt relieved that they’d cleared the air and sorted things out, it still weighed heavily on them both.

“…I’m going to check on her again.” Kung Lao stood and stretched his arms before nodding toward the door. “Want to come with me? Might overwhelm her.”

“No, I don’t need to see you harassing that poor woman again. She said that she’d tell us when Y/N wakes up.”

“I don’t believe her, Liu.”

“You have made that abundantly clear.” Liu Kang smiled, and Kung Lao bowed his head to say goodbye. “If I hear any jokes at my expense throughout the rest of the temple, Kung Lao, you will be sorry.”

“My lips are sealed, Liu.” Kung Lao chuckled again under his breath and then left Liu Kang alone with his thoughts.

[xxsmokeyy]

Levi x Reader (F) Tattoo

genre: smut, angst

summary: as he ends things, you desperately offer him your body, telling him to mark you even if it’s for the last time.

wc: 4,200

The darkness of the night takes over your flat, as you refuse to turn any source of light on, dead silence engulfing the space. It's comforting, the dim, solemn room. Lying alone on the bed you shared with your lover, you stare at the seeping light from the windows. If only you could switch the street lights off.

You don't know where it went wrong. This whole time, you settled with the assumption that everything was going well, that he looks at you the same way you do. But you have yet to learn.

It's like he's drifting away every passing day. Like he's growing distant every waking second. His change of behavior doesn't escape your scrutiny, even if his actions are as subtle as they can be. You notice how he scoots away from you on the sheets, and how he almost doesn't seem to need a share of the covers. How he disappears earlier than you can wake up, and how he only leaves you with a note saying he's off to work. It only tends to get worse everytime.

No, he's not seeing another person. After three years and a half together, you're quite confident you know him well. Quite. But eitherway, he isn't the type of man who'd cheat. He's a good guy, you know that for sure.

That's why you don't know how it came to this.

Were you not enough? Did you do something to throw him off? Is he sick of you? Has he lost his interest?

Thoughts and doubts flood your mind like crazy, leaving you wide awake with no room for rest. You check the time, and it's a few minutes past his expected return. He should be here any moment now.

Yet an hour passes by like years, and you feel your heart swell out of nothing good. As you check your phone religiously, you heave a sigh, toss, and turn. You just hope he's not drinking, though he's not the kind to drink until he's wasted. Heck, he's never even reached the point where he's tipsy. A smile creeps up your lips as you recall the times when you'd both drink, you ending up a mess and him always babysitting you, sweeping you up from your feet once you'd had enough and drive home, completely sober compared to you.

Before you know it, another hour passes by. Time feels like nothing. Void and numb. Maybe you should have taken your friends' night out invitation? You haven't caught up with them these past months. But you‘re aware you'll just space out and think of him when you're supposed to be having a good time.

Then, you feel your soul light up as you hear the front door open. Should you pretend you're asleep? Should you greet him and ask him if he's had dinner? Knowing him, he'll only scold you for staying up for too late.

You swiftly turn your back against the bedroom's door but don't bother to close your eyes. You sense him enter, and your heart flutters nervously. You wonder where he's been and what took him so long, just to eventually keep your questions to yourself.

His side of the bed sinks as he sits and loosens his tie, readying himself of some eyeshut. You wait for him to lie down, but he never does. Curiosity filling your brain, you ache to take a peek at what he's doing, but he's still steadily seated.

“You’re still up,” he says, perfectly aware. Your breath was queerly uneven, and you didn’t wrap yourself with the blankets the way you did. He knows.

Your breath hitches, freezing for a moment. Just how critical is he? Unsure whether to speak or not, undecided of what to say, you prop yourself up with your elbows and sit up, back leaning against the headboard. A long, defeated sigh leaves your lips.

It’s painfully silent. You take a glance at him and you’re greeted by his broad back. Both of you stay quiet, waiting for whoever initiates a conversation. It’s not awkward, nor is it uncomfortable. Just… despondent. Low.

“You can tell me,” you suddenly blurt out, voice but a whisper. You look at your hands and mindlessly fiddle with your fingers.

“Tell you what?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know already.

“I’m not dumb, you know,” you inform, shifting your gaze to the windowpanes. Curse those street posts, you prefer complete blackness, else he’d see how broken you are.

“Nothing’s up,” he says, and it ticks you off. Does he think you’re stupid or something? This has been going on for months, it’s impossible to try and not talk about it. “Just to remind you, I’m your partner,” you state with a firm voice. Let’s not beat around the bush here, Levi.

His muscles strain upon hearing your “reminder”. You probably caught him there. No one dares speak, letting a couple minutes fly by like nothing. You know he wants to say something, you can feel it, he’s tense. What’s stopping him?

You sigh for the uncountable time, giving up. “Let’s go get our rest, alright?” you place a warm hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widen as you hear him. He less than seldom said that phrase, and it fears you the most that he’s saying it now of all times. You wish you were stupid to not get what he means. This is exactly how a guy like him would end it, but you want to play dense and pry it out of him. Everything. Because a sorry won’t be enough to answer your questions.

“Is it me?” you ask dryly, back to fidgeting with your fingers, heart thumping so wildly it’s like it’s about to explode.

“No.”

“Someone else?” It’s not.

“No,” he says, voice calm as ever. Figures.

“Then what?” your brows furrow as you question him, impatience starting to ring in your tone. His back facing you, his short words, his disinclined attitude, they’re frustrating. If he wants to end this, he better elaborate and be his most rational self.

He stays silent. You couldn’t take it any longer and open your mouth to speak, but before you could say a word, he finally answers, “I’m not fit for this.”

You fall mute, letting his words sink in. You wanted to burst into laughter, but you can’t. The atmosphere is simply too heavy, it’s weighing you down. Not fit? For what?

“Give me an idea. I can’t keep guessing here, Levi,” your pitch breaks as you call his name, the tension strangling you to death. “You have to tell it to my face!” you beg desperately. You’re right, he should quit cowering behind his excuses. He’s going to end this, and explain why, because you deserve it of all people. So he turns around to face you, but immediately regrets it the moment he does.

You are, indeed, broken.

No, you didn’t have the tear stained face a lady has when she’s been suffering long. No, your hair wasn’t a mess like you didn’t bother fixing yourself. No, you didn’t get thinner from neglecting food. In fact, you looked too perfect. Too organized, like you poured the whole of your attention into your appearance. Like you wanted to pamper yourself so you wouldn’t descend into an unrecognizable mess. Like you needed to look fine to convince everyone you are.

But the excessive effort goes to waste, the culprit being your eyes. Your eyes gave it away. The exhaustion in them is so unbearably visible, sabotaging your forged front. That, and a hundred more emotions underneath.

He hates it. He doesn’t like the idea of you hurting, especially if it’s because of him. And the way you tried to conceal it? He has to end this, fast. He can’t stand making you suffer even more.

“Listen, I tried everything, but I’m just not one for relationships,” he explains, looking you straight in the eye even though it pains him to. “I can’t love,” he averts his gaze for a fleeting moment upon saying the word. It’s too cheesy for his liking, but he has to go on. “And I doubt you can stay with a man who can’t show the least intimacy,” he adds.

Frozen, your brows furrow in helplessness. It’s all happening too quick. He’s definitely breaking up with you. He probably thought of this long ago but just can’t bring himself to do it. Now that you pushed him, he’s decided.

“I’m sorry.” And with that, he turns away and stands up, grabbing his coat and keys to leave. You witness as your world starts to crumble.

That’s it? Because he can’t love? What about the kisses you exchanged? The times you made love? The way he stays and listens as you go on about your day and problems? The meals you prepared for each other? His scoldings whenever you don’t clean to his standards?

More than three years of memories flash before your eyes as he takes his steps toward the door. After all these years, that’s the conclusion he comes up with?

“No…” you mutter, staring at his disappearing figure powerlessly.

You get up on your foot and run to him, later tripping over yourself from your weak strength. He hears the thud and spins around to help you right away. You’re on the carpeted floor, kneeling as you look at the ground. You‘re unable to feel your tears start to well on the corners of your eyes.

Levi grabs your shoulders with both hands to assist you up. “Brat, let’s get you to bed,” he says. A chuckle slips from your mouth by hearing the little nickname he calls you by. It’s funny how you find it more romantic than the sweet endearments people use with their lovers. Hearing something you consider romantic when he just ended things, ironic.

He ignores your unhumorous giggle and tries to lift you but you refuse. “I must’ve not been enough,” you mumble feebly. He doesn’t like it. You’re obviously drained of energy from pretending to be fine for too long, and now that he spilled it, you’re left with nothing but to show how affected you are.

“It’s not that.”

“Then it’s someone else,” you argue as if fully convinced, though you know it isn’t. You’re looking for excuses, anything else other than his reason. Because this is so much worse.

Because from here on, you’re going to blame yourself, look for some flaw, rummage your system for something wrong, and question what you lack. If only you could pinpoint anything, you’d be content.

“I told you already,” he presses, wrapping your hands around his neck to then carry you in his arms. But you refuse. You find the position convenient, and instead lean into his face for an unexpected kiss.

The moment you feel his warm lips, your tears stream uncontrollably. Oh, how you love kissing him. This is gonna be the last, right? There’s no making him stay anymore. You know Levi. Once he’s decided, he’s unbreakable. If so, you just want to savor it, one last time.

He pulls away, shocked by your sudden action. Shit. “Stop it,” he orders in a curt manner, catching his breath. He doesn’t want to see you like this.

“Please…” you beg, going in for another, and another, and another. Your soft tongue enters his mouth, searching for intimacy. He’s kissing back. He could easily push you away and leave right at this very moment, but he chooses to kiss you back.

Is it out of pity? No it isn’t.

He pulls you closer and kisses you back, trying to respond with the same passion. The same emotion. If there’s anything he can do to feel the same way as you, he’d do it at the end of his tether.

You take away one hand to cup his cheek lovingly, rubbing with your thumb his velvet skin. He’s flawless. Everything you could’ve asked for. But he just has to slip past your fingers, past your reach.

A quiet sob escapes your lips as you lean back for breath, face buried into the crook of his neck. He’s so damn warm, you don’t want to lose him. Though you know you have to let him go, you’re not selfish.

“All this time, you stayed with me knowing you don’t love me?” you ask, voice muffled as you speak into his skin. He doesn’t answer, and you hear another sorry. Aren’t you humble today.

You nod continuously before raising your head to look at his soothing, grey eyes. They’re the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen your whole life. “Please… just let me feel you.” You close the distance and kiss him, passion burning in your movements. You love the man so much, it might be a sin in another reality. Sure, you’ll leave him alone and let him be as he wants, but right now, you just want to feel him, deep inside your body. Just one last time.

“Please, Levi. Take me,” you breathe out in between the lip locking, a lone tear sliding down your cheeks. He doesn’t know how to respond, but he follows your request by picking you up and settling you back on the mattress.

Is this okay? Is this taking advantage of her?

It may be crazy, but you could hear his thoughts out loud through his eyes while he climbs on the sheets and sits in front of you. You gently shake your head to convince him that it’s alright, reaching out both hands to taste his lips once more. Levi answers back like nothing’s wrong, like you’re still together. He wants to find something. Anything.

Your hands crawl to his dark strands, running your fingers through them gently. You remember combing his hair with your hands randomly as an intimate gesture, and he doesn’t complain everytime. He’s certainly grown fond of you, but probably not in that way.

You help him unbutton his shirt and he helps you lift your silk top, exposing both your naked chests. He observes you for a second, the dim light casting abstract shadows on the dips and structures of your face. “Take me…” you whisper and he grunts in response as you both fall into the bed, him positioned on top of you. Deep down, you feel your heart sting in a mixture of pain and pleasure as he grazes his lips on your skin, inducing goosebumps on your whole body. You throw your head back to give him moving space and let him explore every inch of you.

He lets his mouth travel onto the peaks of your breasts, lips still wet from the exchange of kisses. The warm sensation forces a mewl out of you, and he continues. This is the last request you ask of him, and he’ll listen to your whims. It’s only one detail different from when you did it before.

He alternates from the two mounds once more, giving it a few shallow pecks before going down to remove your bottom. You’re now lying naked as he watches you for a brief moment.

You’re beautiful. You had what every man can wish for; a perfect body, a considerate nature, and a beautiful face. Of course you have more than just that, he never underestimated you. The problem really is with him and his apathetic psyche, and he can’t stay with someone as pure as you. You might be a mess right now, but you’re a tough one, you can stand by your own, even if he’s not there anymore.

"Hey, are you sure about this?" Levi asks as he hovers just above you. His voice is soothing like lulling you to sleep. You hum in agreement and sling your hands around his nape, kissing him yet again. Though still a bit reluctant, you hear him finally remove his trousers. Before you know it, he enters your depth, and you could feel him become one with you. It's another wonderful mix of pleasure and pain.

As your tongue spar with his, he then begins to buck his hips into you leisurely, earning him a couple stifled moans. His pace is slow and sensual, only adding up to the growing illusion that you were inlove.

Your eyes are closed shut, trying to prevent the tears from materializing so he won't see. You feel his length rub against your walls along with the stimulation of him kissing your neck. "Mark me," you beg quietly. He starts suckling on your bare skin just like you wanted, leaving a lone, but red lovebite.

Yes, you'd cherish that until it eventually disappears, because it's the last lingering memory of him you'll have on your body. Is it ridiculous to love someone this much within three years or so? Maybe it is. Maybe you are ridiculous. But can they blame you? You just loved.

As Levi thrusts further into you, the stray fringes of his undercut swaying back and forth along with your breaths running, he gives himself a chance to try and look for something he should feel with a lover. His lips slam into yours endlessly as he rummages.

The harmonious sounds of skin slapping against one another, catching of breath, and restricted grunts and moans cover the entire room, and for once, you feel less alone. The fact that he took on your pleas make you happy. He probably still feels something as well, just not enough. Not enough to stop him from leaving.

You run a hand along his muscular back, nails digging lightly as you feel him hit your good spot. He pulls away, a trail of saliva connecting your lips with his.

“Levi," you whimper. As you look at him with dazy, wanton eyes, he sees how you want more of him. He obliges by touching you everywhere, your love handles, your hair, your cheeks. You grab his jaw so that you're now holding each other's face and give him a small, weak smile. Is it pity that you feel, Levi?Your hand slides down his naked torso, index finger particularly stopping at his heart, vision darting on the same spot. Tell me, is there something there?

Though you know full well by yourself that even if it’s just pity that’s driving him to do this, you’d still gladly accept it.

To hell with dignity, you want to feel him tonight badly, even if this is nothing more than a plea of desperation.

A gasp leaves your mouth and you arch your back in fervor as he rams deeper, keeping his sensual pace at bay. He feels so good, everything feels so good, that you wouldn’t want it any other way. His eyes stay on yours, fierce gaze diving deep into the pools of your glowing orbs. It’s the kind of stare that’d make your knees tremble, and you still remember him using it on you when you first met.

He lets his hand roam around your body, fondling your breasts and tweaking your nipples, earning him a moan of pleasure. He lets his lips brush on your skin, sucking rashly on the red spot he made just a while ago to intensify it, making it last longer.

He knows just what you want, for him to embed his ownership into your body, burning into your skin. Emotions stir inside you like a tornado on the loose, you love him so much.

Levi grinds his hips down you firmly as he feels you nearing based from your shakier breathing and tighter walls. He uses his thumb to flick on your clitoris, and you transcend into a moaning mess upon feeling your orgasm building quickly in your guts.

You wish things would stay this way, wish for time to slow down, if possible, even stop. This is the last moment you could savor, because after this you know he’d leave the door right that instant, just like how easily he did it minutes ago. By that time, you can’t beg him anymore, nor can you make him stop. This is nothing but an inevitable goodbye.

He gently circles your most sensitive spot, as if you’re bound to break by any motion wilder. It’s almost totally contrary to how you both had sex before, the roughness not being there, the harsh movements, and the need to impose domination. You’re thankful he’s doing it nice and slow, just a little passionate, elongating the short time a tad more. Atleast he’s making an effort.

He was drunkening, starting from his ardent thrusts to the mere skin contact. You then feel your spasms closer, and you wrap your hands around his body for support, the brimming desire bottling inside you about to explode.

“Levi—!”

He continues moving to your will, and it takes you one last hump before an immense surge of pleasure rolls all throughout your body, to your limbs down into the tips of your fingers causing you to erupt and shake. Your trembling cavern wrap around him perfectly while you pulsate, heartbeat in exquisite sync. Momentarily, you forget the entirety. Your memories, his words, your current situation, him leaving you.

As you squirm underneath him, Levi stops to let you be and not make you feel overwhelmed from the aching sensitivity, waiting for your high to wear down before he pulls out. Earlier becoming one with one another, it’s only until then that you feel empty and lonely again.

You fall boneless, gasping for air, vision just a bit bleary. You fail to see him sit upright and buckle his belt to make off. It’s happening.

Levi glances at you to see if you’re out cold and senseless, but finds you covering your eyes with your forearm, hiding your threatening tears from his sight. You’re awake.

He mentally sighs. It’s no use. In the end, he felt nothing.

Once you’ve pulled back your tears before they can form, you uncover your face and give him a look so visibly painful no matter how much you conceal it. “You can stay with me. Even if it’s just as friends,” you mutter, voice almost inaudible, but he hears. He gently shakes his head as refusion. That’d be taking advantage of you, and he wouldn’t want to do that.

You look at Levi with worn and droopy eyes, feeling the most helpless. You couldn’t stop him. Your heart stutters vigorously from inside its rib cage as he leans forward and he kisses you. You’re dumbstruck upon feeling his pair of warm lips land flat onto your forehead. Laying back there, immobilized and unable, you couldn’t do a single thing as you watch him quickly slip away from your reach. He wears his clothes, grabs a couple of his important stuffs and finally leaves without looking back, not one time.

The sound of the door shutting echoes inside your lonesome suit, resonating repeatedly in your ears. A dry and excruciating chuckle leaves your throat as if to try and prevail over the looming desolation, bitterness seething inside your veins, crippling like venom.

How cruel. He’s that ready? And he didn’t even bother bringing with him all of his things, huh? Guess you’ll decide later on whether to throw them out or wait for him to get them.

You swear, you tried the best you could to keep it in. You were spent to the bones both mentally and emotionally, you thought you can’t weep any more.

But you cried yourself to sleep for only the heavens know how long, sobs so heavily restrained in such a way that you think he was just behind the door and might hear you. Your hiccups uncontrollable, bursting out in an explosive manner that brought you uttermost difficulty to pull air into your lungs. Months of trying to understand, same time trying to not break, your brain doesn’t understand if finally crying it all out is relieving or only becoming more unbearable.

Your resentment only fuels as you witness the morning sun start to pour into your room shortly before you drift into unconsciousness.

The next day was an even more awfully hard battle, the growing static in your heart devouring your body. Getting used to being without him, coping on your own, practicing your smile as you prepare yourself to work only to ditch it and ask for a sick leave. When you pass by a mirror, you see nothing but a wreckage. Your pain is clear as day it’s utterly impossible to forge a front or make believable excuses.

A wave of alien emotion hits you as you keenly eye the lovebite he left just above your clavicle. You touch it as if the tip of your fingers were magnetized into doing so, as if you can feel him through it. You want to think of yourself as a canvas, and the small mark as his artwork.

You look at yourself once more, gently pressing on the reddened skin. A tiny but self-assuring smile appears on your lips as you observe both the hickey and your physique. It’s surely going to take a while, but you’ll be okay.

Besides, even tattoos fade after time.

[masterthespianduchovny]

Part of the reason I’m so passionate about Mulder being understood as a character is because his existence literally influenced future fictional male characters.

I won’t call Mulder a flat out anomaly, but back then, he was a stark contrast to how men were usually portrayed: hyper masculine, rational (science), and logic based.

Mulder was masculine, but he also had what was seen as feminine attributes: compassion, sensitivity, his supernatural beliefs (yes, this too), etc. also, he wasn’t aggressive or posturing.

Because of this, directly and indirectly, Mulder influenced how male characters were written in many series.

And what makes this super important was that Mulder wasn’t seen as less than a man because of this. It was just accepted.

Now, as some of you have read previous post about how Mulder isn’t an anti masker, this is a continuation of that post. No, I’m not hung up on the assertion, but I do believe that topic opens up the discussion about the brilliance of Mulder’s character and why I believe some do not understand his character.

The series does several subtle things to ground itself and Mulder when it premiered.

1. Scully as the scientist and skeptic. Although she is there for Mulder in the universe, in real life, she’s there to serve as a mouthpiece for the viewer’s skepticism. Her existence is an important key to buying into the premise of the show.

2. Mulder’s credentials. Before we meet Mulder, we know he’s Oxford educated, graduated top of his class, majored in psychology, and was a brilliant profiler. He was so great as a profiler, people even talk about him at the academy. And then we find out he’s called “spooky.”

This establishes that Mulder isn’t out of his mind. He was/is a respected agent who is clearly intelligent and good at his job. When we meet Mulder this is further cemented when it’s revealed that he read Scully’s college thesis and could counter her arguments. Even the fact that he knows Scully was sent down there to spy on him underscores Mulder’s intelligence. The first scene literally is about this, so he wasn’t paranoid.

3. Mulder grounds himself. Often, Mulder says variations of “I know this sounds crazy.” It shows that Mulder isn’t off of the deep end and knows how his views are not only received, but how to level with people. If Mulder was just some guy who believe in wild shit and expected others to believe in it, the show wouldn’t have worked. It works because a. He knows how others see him and is willing to explain his beliefs b. he can prove how and why a conspiracy is going on.

Also, in addition to him not assuming people should just believe him, when he does expect people to be on his side (really in Scully), he points to their mutual experiences. Mulder constantly justifies his beliefs to Scully when she has no reference point to a phenomenon, but when she does, he references the shit ton of other cases they’ve worked.

Mulder is self aware and because of this, we are comfortable investing in Mulder’s crazy beliefs and theories. Mulder can be pulled back and rationed with.

4. He isn’t only intelligent, he’s well read. Mulder isn’t just book smart, he’s culturally knowledgeable. Mulder literally reads up on everything and has a reference for almost anything. Inadvertently, he validates other cultures and their beliefs. But, the fact that most of his knowledge can be traced back to a culture or cultures IS important. Mulder will explain the history of a thing and the various occurrences of it. You don’t find this in official, well respected books. He reads books, diaries, newspapers, etc. Mulder even listens to folklore.

He’s not pulling this shit out of his ass.

5. At the same time, Mulder can also be a skeptic. It’s not as pronounced as Scully or even just religion based. In “Clyde bruckman’s final response”, Mulder is skeptical of the psychic called to the scene and, as a result, kicked out of the room. This plays into the long running theme of Mulder’s instincts being right. Also, it’s a callback to “beyond the sea.” Mulder believes in psychics, but he is skeptical of them at times, such as murders or well known psychics.

He places truth and finding justice over indulging his beliefs and blind belief. Mulder even explains why he doesn’t believe certain psychics, which is another way the show grounds him. He explained it in a perfectly logical way.

There are other instances of Mulder being skeptical with information he’s given regardless of believing a case to be supernatural.

6. This is why the anti mask argument frustrates me: Mulder not only believes in science, he uses it to legitimize his work. Most of his cases are solved with science. He constantly points out how Scully’s science saved him and the x files. And the sign Idance of this point when it comes to anti maskers is that most of the people who are anti mask are also anti vaxxers and anti science.

For Mulder, if Scully’s science proves him wrong a. Either he reformulates his theory b. Realizes something is missing c. Goes back to square one (looked for bigger picture). Mulder almost never discards science, he just doesn’t want science to limit, but rather, expand understanding. Their cases are just things that science hasn’t come across.

I must explicitly state this: Mulder’s cases are solved with science.

Mulder regularly reads up on science shit, which is how he’s able to follow most of Scully’s rebuttals and even provide his own counterpoints.

He sees science as a tool that can be fine tuned.

And circling back to how anti mask is usually anti vax and anti science, these people usually believe the most bat shit things, which some of the time includes anti Semitism. Think of the most popular bat shit insane conspiracy theories and genuinely ask yourself if you think Mulder would believe them. He would think those people are kooks.

7. He wants to believe. Although Mulder 100% believes in aliens, he knows he needs proof. Mulder sees all of this wild shit and knows it isn’t enough to say he’s seen it. He almost never takes anything as a given and understands that he needs to bring something to the table if he wants to be believed.

8. His talent as an agent was still respected. Something I love about the series, it’s a low key great way to develop the character. Skinner comments on Mulder’s talent as an agent, kersh labels him a lost cause implying that he was great at one point, Mulder’s former partner used his profile for cool points, Tom Colton uses Scully to get Mulder on his case, bill Patterson finds an indirect way to get Mulder on his case and used to drunkly praise him.

9. His sense of justice and compassion for victims overrides his beliefs. At the end of the day, Mulder wants victims to be heard and helped. Whether or not his beliefs have anything to do with the case in the end, he cares more about giving the victims answers. Maybe this is the thing that grounds him the most, or humanizes him and shows that Mulder is more than his zany beliefs.

This is why more Mulder meta is needed. There are so many topics prime for discussion and yet some overlook that for a quick joke. Like, dig into this man, people. There are so many gems and fascinating topics. 😩

[fruitlicense]

I just finished watching Shadow and Bone (finally!), which was fun and interesting as expected, but I am now back in Petty STEM Major Mode and it’s still because of how the Darkling describes his and Alina’s powers.

(see my previous book-based complaints here)

I think this quote was what really set me off:

“It’s not magic. It’s science. Or rather, Small Science. We do not conjure from nothing. We manipulate that which already exists around us” (S1:E3, 11:53-12:04).

My first reaction was “oh shit, if the Darkling is applying this to light then he has no fucking idea about how photons work, huh.” Not that I expect people in real life to know how photons work off the top of their heads, but I don’t like the Darkling or his methods, so I’m allowing myself to hold him to unreasonable standards in retaliation. Anyway.

I was getting confused because as far as I have been taught, photons (which make up light) are massless, and Grisha power seems to depend on having something to manipulate - which... implies mass??? I think??? Since Alina at least has some kind of particle to theoretically manipulate as a Sun Summoner, even if it is massless, I was willing to give her a pass, but the Darkling doesn’t get that because a) I personally think he’s annoying and b) shadows aren’t tangible and they don’t have a corresponding particle, so what the fuck is he manipulating?

In my last post about this, I figured maybe he was banishing photons, but the more I think about it the more I think that doesn’t really work. Darkness can be defined as an absence of light, and the most logical way to achieve darkness in physics terms is to absorb photons. 

I’m starting to wonder if “shadow summoning” is just the in-universe rationalization for the Darkling’s ability to manipulate some unknown substance that completely absorbs photons. But then the question becomes... what is it? It can’t be darkness itself because there is no matter to an absence of light, but what the hell is this perfectly photon-absorbent, easily accessible substance?

The Darkling’s summoned shadows appear almost completely dark and sort of fluid, which almost makes me wonder if it’s just really dense air? Like how planets with thick, dense atmospheres will block a lot of the light trying to travel to the surface? I feel like this doesn’t work and the reason is probably because of something I haven’t learned yet, but it would be incredibly funny if the Darkling was just a really specialized Squaller and just let everyone think his bloodline was entirely unique.

Or maybe the darkness comes from ash or something, maybe a byproduct of Inferni’s combustion? They have to summon combustible material to set on fire, so something is burning, and they never tell us what the initial combustible materials or byproducts are. If there were a byproduct, it would be readily available in places where a lot of Inferni used their powers. The problem with that is that I think Inferni tend to use combustible gases in the atmosphere, since we never see anything visible, and that wouldn’t produce ash.

I guess a third option could be that he’s manipulating light/photons at frequencies that humans can’t see and therefore they appear dark, but that doesn’t explain how they would absorb other photons. Plus, I’m basing that off of two physics classes and some Wikipedia skimming, so who knows if that even makes sense. It probably doesn’t.

Basically, I have concluded that I have no fucking idea what the Darkling’s “shadows” are actually made of, especially since in this gif they seem a little bit iridescent? Which means they might be reflecting some light instead of absorbing it all?? And the Fold looks grey in some light, not black??? I have so many questions.

Anyway I’m sure Leigh Bardugo was not getting this pedantic about how the Darkling’s powers work when she wrote the books, which is honestly probably the wiser decision, but the fun part of fandom is that we get to be pedantic and overly detail-oriented, so if anyone has any theories PLEASE tell me, I want to think about it more.

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

#13: Relax

(Read it on AO3 here!)

It’s the morning after everything happened at Kingsmen Mechanics. Things are quiet now. Arthur and Lance are both asleep in their rooms. Vivi’s passed out on the couch, and Mystery is settled into a corner, asleep on a blanket. In a different corner of the living room, Lewis drifts curled up, not truly asleep but not really awake, either.

He stirs when he feels something shift, and then Arthur comes into the room. He’s trembling slightly, his hand pressed against the space between his shoulder and neck in what’s becoming a familiar nervous habit. He glances around as he enters like he’s worried about waking somebody else up.

Unfortunately, Vivi also manages to detect his presence – Lewis has to wonder if she ever really fell asleep – and shifts upright, running a hand through her hair. “Oh, hey, Arthur. Mm… what’dya want?”

“Just- uh- j-just came in to- to-g- to get a drink.”

Lewis frowns, finally uncurling all the way and standing up. His stammer is stronger than normal, his voice shaking and cracked – something’s not right. He looks almost panicked, too.

“You sure?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Arthur, seriously. You look like…” it takes Vivi a moment to think of a good analogy. “You look like you’re gonna shatter if someone breathes on you too hard.”

He shakes his head, the movement too twitchy to be at all convincing. “S-s-seriously, I- I’m- I’m f-fine.”

“No, come on. It’s totally reasonable to be upset! After last night-? But if you tell me what’s going on, I can help-“

“I’m fine!” he snaps, shouting her down despite the crack in his voice. “Just- st-stop. I’m jus- ju- just tired, th- is all.”

“Is it Lewis? If-“

He backs up abruptly, spinning and walking out of the room.

Vivi and Lewis exchange a look.

There's a pit of worry growing in Lewis’s stomach. Is it him? It's perfectly understandable that Arthur might not be comfortable with- with him, not after he’d tried to kill him so many times, nearly succeeded, and given that he barely even looks like himself anymore. But… he’d said it was fine, and he’d sounded so honest – surely he couldn’t lie that well, not if he was this scared, right? Lewis knows him well enough to be able to tell – right?

After answers, or maybe reassurance, he stands and follows his path out of the room.

He finds Arthur in his room, sitting on the bed, glaring at the wall. At a glance he just looks angry, but Lewis knows even before he looks closer that he’s not – he almost never is. And sure enough, there are tear-tracks running down his cheeks and his breathing is shaky and uneven.

He knocks on the doorframe, and Arthur’s head snaps up, brow unfurrowing into confusion when he sees him.

“Arthur, can… can we please talk? About… whatever’s bothering you?” Arthur inhales, but Lewis interrupts him. “Even if it’s nothing.”

His expression darkens again, and he shifts a little on the bed, moving closer to the headboard. “F-f-fine. Come in an-and close the door.”

He does so, carefully watching Arthur for cues as he sits down opposite him on the bed.

“You’re not gonna t-t-tell anyone, ri- r-right?”

Lewis can’t answer the question honestly, but Arthur seems to understand that when he meets his eyes. He sighs and looks down at his knees. “It’s… it’s Mys- m- Mystery.”

Oh.

Lewis silently replays a scene from last night in his head. After Mystery had explained everything – and admitted to keeping it all secret – Vivi had been furious. So had Lewis and Lance, to some extent, but Vivi was the angriest. She’d defended him, comforted him when Arthur was afraid of him and hurt his feelings, went head-to-head with a tree demon to protect him – and he’d never even bothered to tell her the truth? About anything?

He’d let everyone think Arthur’s fear of him was irrational, that Lewis’s disappearance was just a disappearance, watched Vivi struggle with her memory loss and said nothing? He stayed silent while Arthur tore himself apart searching for someone he knew was dead? He knew who Lewis was – and knew why he was chasing them – and said nothing! He still called himself their protector, even as he hid the truth from them!

And that wasn’t even counting that he knew full well why the tree monster was after him, and that he honestly should have expected this, and knew that she wasn’t evil she was just upset – and he still pulled Vivi out of the van and silently watched as the two of them fought each other, each not understanding what the other was thinking, and only stepped in when Vivi was about to die.

The only one who hadn’t agreed with the others, also the one who had the most right to be angry, was Arthur. Even with a shaking hand – that they’d all attributed to exhaustion and injury at the time – he’d reached between all the shouting and argued against them. Mystery was just doing what he thought was best, he said. He was trying to help everyone. He wasn’t omniscient or all-powerful and besides he was hurt, couldn’t they just leave this until he was healed?

Vivi fell silent at that – just as she had earlier, when Arthur was defending Lewis. She couldn’t find the words to keep arguing with him. The same exhaustion that was making her anger so hot made it impossible to debate rationally, so she’d given it up and warned Mystery to stay on the couch while everyone else went to bed.

And now Lewis knows that after defending him against his friends, Arthur went to bed and probably laid awake, tense and terrified, precisely because he’d let one of his biggest sources of trauma sleep right outside his room. Right after the events of last night, Mystery’s possession and sudden rampage, opened that trauma wide up. He tries and fails to imagine how he’d feel if Arthur had, of his own free will, instead of just pushing him off a cliff, taken a weapon and violently cut him apart. And then he watched him do something very similar the night before he returned to the group. The only emotion he can muster is a gut-wrenching fear.

He’s been silent for too long, and Arthur starts talking again, pressing his hand against his collar between his shoulder and neck. “I mean- I- I know it’s it- itr-r- ira- st-stupid, but I don’t- I can’t- get myself to, t-to believe it, and I’m tr-trying, I don’t- I d-don’t want him to-“

“Arthur,” he says sternly, and immediately regrets it when Arthur shrinks back, shoulders tensing. “It’s not irrational. It’s not stupid. No amount of good intentions erases the fact that he attacked you and seriously hurt you, and then-“ he takes a breath before he starts ranting. “And last night, he very nearly did the same thing again. You deserve to be afraid of him."

“But it- it d-doesn’t mean I get to ki- kick him out!”

“This is your house! And besides – I think all of us care more about you feeling safe than about Mystery’s feelings getting hurt.”

“I… but…”

“We’re all upset with him too, you know. And he’ll be fine if he leaves. It’s not like he has nowhere else to go.” He tilts his head slightly. “Be honest. Would you be more relaxed if he wasn’t here? Not just out in the parking lot – if he left.”

Arthur stares at the blankets for a long while, apparently thinking. He nods. “…yeah.”

“Good. Then he’s gone.” Lewis almost reaches out and takes his hand, but second-guesses himself at the last moment. He stands and walks to the door.

Vivi’s still in the living room, draped over the back of the couch and looking mostly asleep. He feels bad about disturbing her – but he knows she’ll agree that this is more important than a few minutes of sleep.

She picks her head up when he enters the room, anyway. “Mm- Lew… is. Did you… talk to him?”

“Yeah.” He walks a little closer, and she doesn’t stop him, just blinks the sleep from her eyes. “It’s… it’s Mystery.”

She huffs at that, sitting up a little more. “Of course it is!”

“What’s me?” The dog – not a dog – in question is awake now, stretching his paws out and yawning, unconcerned with the bandages still wrapped around his midsection.

“He’s really freaked out, huh?”

“Of course he is.”

“You know, I’ve been wanting to do this.” She rolls to her feet and puts her hands on her hips, glaring down. “Mystery! Out.”

He bristles. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me! Get out. You’re not welcome here. Find somewhere else to lick your wounds.” She points sharply at the door.

“You forget that Arthur argued against you when you tried this last night! I will not-“

“Oh, don’t you dare play that card, you know what he’s like and you know that’s a bullshit argument. Get out.”

“And what would you have me do? Go and leave you undefended? What if-“

Vivi’s fist slams down on the armrest. “No! Shut the fuck up! You don’t get to talk about protecting us. You have lost that fucking privilege! After everything you’ve done- or, excuse me, haven’t done? You are not our protector. You haven’t protected shit in years. That role is not yours to claim anymore.”

He falls silent, staring at her. She- doesn’t relax, but she stands a little taller, still glaring down at him.

“You can leave now, or I can go wake up Lance. Your choice.”

He folds his ears tightly back and picks himself up, careful not to pull at the bandages. “…Fine.”

She has to open the door for him. When he's gone and the door falls back into the frame, the little bell above it chiming, she sighs and leans against the wall, putting her face in her arm.

“I still can’t believe I tried to defend him. While he just watched.”

Lewis wants nothing more than to comfort her, to go and reassure her that it wasn’t her fault for believing him, for not realizing how much he’d lied about what he was – but he hesitates. It isn't his place. This is his fault too, for dragging Arthur into the truck and leaving her to fight the tree monster alone.

Eventually, he speaks up. “I… can go tell Arthur he’s gone.”

She nods. “Yeah, sure, okay. I’m gonna… go lie down again.”

He doesn’t have to go far, it turns out. Arthur’s hovering in the doorway between the hall and the living room, rubbing his shoulder and looking… significantly less panicked, but still worried and uncertain.

“You- you d-didn’t have to yell,” he says when he realizes they’re looking at him.

“Yeah, well, I wanted to. He earned that.”

He swallows hard, taking a step back.

“You wanna come sit down?” Vivi asks, pointing to the couch.

“Actually, I- uh- I’d rather go- lie down- in- in bed.” He hesitates for a moment, looking between the two of them, and then his gaze settles on Lewis as he asks, “do… you guys- can- uh- d’you wanna… come too?”

“Is that a genuine offer?” Vivi says, pausing in her slow descent onto the couch. “Because, yeah, I do.”

Any question as to whether the offer was genuine is answered when she says that and Arthur relaxes, shoulders slumping out of their tense posture. “‘course it- it was.”

Lewis follows them cautiously, still unsure if he’s really included. Halfway there, he can’t resist calling out, “Arthur?”

He turns around to look at him, tilting his head. He still looks exhausted and twitchy, but it’s miles better than he was doing a few minutes ago.

“I… be honest, please. I… I have plenty of other places to go, so… do you want me to leave, too?”

He’s about to continue, nerves making him ramble, but Arthur closes the distance between them and snags his sleeve cuff, meeting his eyes. “Look- Lew, I- I know- I probably s-s-seem… still, uh, ne-t- nervous, but- I’d be more freaked out if- if you… left.” His eyes are shiny, and his voice breaks on the final sentence, “I… I don’t want you to disappear again.”

Oh.

He can’t help but think, as Arthur leads him down the hall by the hand, that he doesn’t deserve this – not after Mystery was kicked out – but he does his best to convince his uncertain mind that there's still a huge difference between the two of them. And as Arthur had said last night – completely honest – Lewis had never managed to truly hurt him, and now he’d realized he didn’t even want to. He was… safe.

It didn’t feel right, but there was nothing to do but accept it.

[dustjacketmusings]

The Intervention Scene: Pretty Much A Rant

I've seen a lot of really great discourse in the fandom around whether the intervention was controlling/abusive or necessary tough love. The thing is... Nesta absolutely needed an intervention. And this was an intervention. Feyre said approximately the right things at approximately the right time with approximately the right amount of structure for this to be successful. My problem is all of the approximates. It's really not clear why there was an intervention in the first place, and all of the actions following it undercut the message, or literally any message.

I charted them all out because this mess is living rent free in my brain. So here are the possible reasons why there could have been an intervention, and why the intervention itself or following actions made it fall so very flat for me.

Nesta is depressed. This is absolutely true. We see from Nesta's perspective that she is slowly killing herself. But following conversations with other characters make it clear that how Nesta sees herself is not how Cassian and other others see her. Do Feyre and Cassian know that Nesta is depressed? I honestly have no idea. And if that's the reason why they intervened... why did it take until Chapter 12 for anyone to ask how she was doing? Like - putting a depressed person in bootcamp and then never asking them how they feel, while systematically shutting down any time they want to vent is the worst idea I've ever heard. Even if Cassian is excused (maybe he didn't get the memo), Feyre could have checked up on her more. I wouldn't send my very depressed sister away without status updates more frequently than Feyre does. She also, pointedly, does not take Cassian aside to remind him to treat her sister with kindness. This is not even to say that the bootcamp aspect of this is extreme. If she is just depressed, why does she need to train so vigorously that she needs a strict diet? Exercise first -> battle formations later. The weird focus on training still makes no sense to me. I understand expecting training to help, but Cassian really does shut down any time she tries to talk about her feelings.

Nesta is alcoholic. This is pretty realistic and the structure of the intervention mimics this cause the closest. This looks like the intervention from the family of an addict. The problem is... Nesta has no problems with alcohol. She's fine after two days, never has a relapse, and suffers no ill effects. If that's the case, was she in danger of being an alcoholic in the first place? There also isn't really a plan for when she gets out of here. Eventually she'll be able to climb the stairs and even though she has no money, an addict will go to desperate measures to get alcohol. It's never brought up or addressed. The training aspect of bootcamp seems extra extreme for this scenario because... why would she need to train at all? It's just detoxing, really.

Nesta is not eating enough and arguably has an eating disorder. This one infuriates me after the breakfast scene. I cannot come up with words to explain how absolutely stupid it is to take someone with a suspected eating disorder and then control what they eat, while ignoring their requests for different food. Additionally... TRAINING. Why would you physically exhaust someone who's not eating? They'll just train and not eat and then they're worse off. And also this would be way better if anyone ever referenced THAT SHE WAS EATING. "Cassian... make sure she eats something" would have made Feyre so much more sympathetic. Ugh its just the worst! Because they notice that she's lost weight (while still fitting in her leathers perfectly, because that's possible), and then totally ignore her positive attempts to eat food.

Nesta is a sex addict. This is also argueable true. But I'm again unclear how training and mandatory service are supposed to help a sex addict other than keeping them busy. And, of course, she has a ton of sex with Cassian all the time. So if this is the issue, its incredibly problematic and never solved. They just stuck her in bootcamp while also feeding her addiction. There is literally no reason for the controlling aspects.

Nesta is spending too much of Feyre's money. Yeah this is true. Sorry Nesta but its absolutely within Feyre's right to cut her off. That being said... bootcamp? "You spent too much of my money so I'm going to control almost every aspect of your day and kick you out of your apartment" ??? I don't think I need to say how extreme of a response this is. This motivation would work really well if she was just doing library services. "You spent too much money without contributing so now you have to contribute at this library. Since you can't winnow or fly and everyone else has actual jobs (it's my headcannon that they have actual jobs and can't just taxi service) you need to live there too. Cassian will also be there because he lives there and to make sure you comply." Feyre could just say she's going to pay back her debt so she has to work at the library for XX time. OR the libary now funds her allowance (but that gives her way too much freedom). But training? We'll revisit in a few months? Revisit what?

Nesta is embarrassing Feyre as High Lady. This one is tricky, because on the one hand, fuck Feyre for this comment. On the other hand, Feyre is now an important public official and her sister does reflect on her. (Do not get me started on how Feyre not being able to "control" her sister implies shes unfit to be High Lady. The fact that she used the word "control" implies that she's unfit to be High Lady, not Nesta's behavior. You don't control your subjects but - ugh, I got started) Lets assume for a second that this is valid. If Nesta is embarrassing Feyre in public wouldn't the rational response to have someone... tell her what is appropriate behavior in public? Say, someone very good with presenting a public face... like Mor??? Who also conveniently has a few days off from being a politician????? Bootcamp to become a strong warrior is... not relevant? Wtf? Have they never met a warrior who is totally compentent on the battlefield and an epic embarrassment otherwise (that sounds kind of like Cassian tbh...). There is an arguement to be made that Nesta already knows how to do this (she's actually decent at politics) so her embarrassing Feyre must be on purpose. It's still a gross oversight to say "You're behaving incorrectly but I'm not going to tell you what was incorrect, go fix it". UNLESS:

They want to control Nesta. This one makes an UNCOMFORTABLE amount of sense. They didn't tell her what to fix. She's just going off and "they'll revisit in a few months" to check on her progress. See how moldable she is maybe? Controlling every aspect of her life in a place she can't escape on her own? check. BUT because this book makes no sense, they manage to fuck this up too. Why did they train at Windhaven?? Look, I'm not saying that anyone should control someone's life until they break down and become a shell of their former self, but if someone were to do that, it's in private. Arguably, Windhaven, where there was civil unrest less than a year ago, is full of people who ABSOLUTELY need to believe that Nesta is under the control of the IC (or at least on the same side). So why would they take her there on the first day, when she is most full of defiance? (They're idiots, moving on) Cassian's comments about how Nesta was embarrassing him in front of other people were hilariously a joke because he put them in front of other people to begin with. (Even if they didn't want to control her, why windhaven? Like... oh look there's the High Lady's sister who is an absolute weakling and garbage at throwing a punch. This reflects so well on the inner circle. what????)

The problem is that SJM took all of these reasons and put them in a blender to give some frankenstein motivation. In the end there was too much going on so she achieved none of it. It feels almost like a successful intervention, until you look a little closer, and then everything falls apart.

[zhansww]

I’ve been wondering how exactly the misunderstanding of my last rambling post came to be and I think it’s cuz of one of two things; cuz I didn’t make it clear what I consider the word “queer” to mean or cuz I didn’t make it clear that the post itself was my own, subjective opinion. I’m not sure how consistent I’ve been with tagging it but I kinda differentiate between (what I think are) rational opinions I have vs emotional ones. The latter ones are obviously subjective and should not be taken as me, lecturing anyone or implying that everyone should feel the same. You either share the same sentiment or you don’t, there’s nothing wrong with it either way. And if my words in those posts seem hostile/condescending, it’s cuz I don’t feel the need to censor any of my subjective views/feelings. What I do think is important and what I try to pay attention to is not to let the negative emotions that certain things evoke in me control my actions. When I see something that I disapprove of in any way, I don’t hijack that post or report it. If my emotional reaction is particular strong, I’ll vent about it in my own post, not theirs. I considered this to be the decent thing to do but I’ve been told by at least one kind, respectful and open-minded person that I am actively making people’s lives worse with those posts, that my words are violent and that my behavior is that of an “unhinged monster” (the irony here is not lost on me). So I’ve been reflecting and I think the next time I feel a particular strong, negative emotion that makes me want to vent, I’ll put a disclaimer beforehand. And now, let me just actually clarify what my point was of that post. I believe that yz is real so I obviously do not assume they are straight. If they are indeed together, then they are queer - i.e. not straight - but that’s literally it. I have no theories or thoughts about what their specific orientation might be and I won’t ever speculate about that either. I wouldn’t mind knowing but unfortunately, they can’t be openly together right now but when they someday are, they’ll hopefully also feel safe and loved enough to share something like that with us. I know for a fact that figuring out your sexuality is a confusing and intimate process which is why I am opposed to speculating about it. I consider it to be too intrusive. But again; that is my subjective opinion based on my own experiences. I do not expect everyone to share this sentiment. One person said that I should expect such speculation and that might be true, maybe I should expect it but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Seeing certain bxg get mad at solos for assuming yz are straight but then turn around and assume they are [insert any specific sexuality except het] is hypocritical and disappointing in my opinion. I think it’s perfectly fine to have such emotional opinions as long as you don’t let those emotions cloud your judgement and lead to you, reacting in a way that is unreasonable and possibly harmful. I also think that everyone should be willing to have their rational opinions questioned but when it comes to an emotional opinion, it doesn’t have to make sense and it’s probably not gonna change either. To give another example; I hk disapprove of yz r/p/f. And that’s not me, saying it is inherently wrong and that no one should do it. In fact, you could try to make a case about how I should like it and approve of it but it wouldn’t make me change my mind precisely because this opinion is not based on logic but just on emotion. And again, as long my emotional reaction to something doesn’t lead to unreasonable actions, then the emotion itself is alright to have. And like I already said, I thought it was okay to vent those emotions in my safe space but apparently, it isn’t. No one should take those posts personally or like I’m talking to them or lecturing them. I thought that this was all obvious but since I got told otherwise, I will be more concise from now on.

You know, when someone starts a “discussion” by insulting you (implicitly or not), that’s usually a clear sign that they’re not even trying to understand you. I’ve seen at least one person reblog the reblogs and seemingly take some kind of vicious pleasure in seeing someone else sh-t on me. Something like that leads me to think that they already had a negative impression of me to begin with which is why their minds gladly misunderstood me and jumped to the worst possible conclusion. They also all seemed to either ignore my explanations or seemed intent on misunderstanding me, no matter what. To be clear, I don’t blame them entirely for it because I could have expressed my point better but for them to immediately think their misunderstanding is the right one - instead of asking me to explain myself perhaps - is also wrong. Mind you, I don’t expect those people to see or care about this post. The main reason I’m trying to clarify myself is for myself. I said I’ll try to be more concise in expressing my views (regardless of whether it’s a subjective one or not) from now on and I thought I should let this be the start of that. There was one reply in particular that ... affected me a lot harder than I thought anything could. I think it’s cuz my depression already makes me feel like I’m a waste of space 24/7. One thing I take comfort in, though, is the fact that, at the very least, the only one who’s hurting because of it is me, no one else. At least I don’t hurt others. But I got told otherwise. I got called an unhinged monster. The unhinged part is true but also being a monster... it made me feel like I’m less than a waste of space. Like, let’s say if normal people always feel like a 1, I always feel like a 0. Getting insulted like that made me feel like a -1. Instead of feeling like a read newspaper, that’s just waiting to get thrown in the trash, that insult made me feel like I’m the asbestos in the house, something that is actively harmful and you need to get rid of. Does that make sense? Anyway... I engaged in “discussions” despite my better judgement and now, I have to pay the price for it so I also decided that I won’t do that again. Hopefully, there won’t even be any more misunderstandings but if there are and someone hijacks my posts and insults and/or willfully misunderstands me, I will just block them. For my own sanity. And for the record, if there’s something in this or any of my subjective/emotional posts that can be misunderstood, that I didn’t make clear enough; please feel free to ask me about it. Please don’t immediately think the worst of me. And when it comes to my more objective/rational opinions, I am always open for discussions as long as we can remain respectful throughout.

I would also like to express my gratitude to anyone who reached out. I’m not sure if the damage can be undone to be honest (it doesn’t feel like it right now) but anyone who offered words of advice, understanding, support or kindness helped soften it. I cannot express how grateful and appreciative I am for it all, any replies or private messages. You helped make me feel less shitty and I thank you so so much. I’m definitely gonna save all the mental health advice cuz I really did not know how to deal with that overwhelming desire to... stop existing in that moment and I want to keep it in mind if (or when) I get affected this badly by something again. I intend to also reply to the messages privately ofc but for now, please accept all of my love and gratitude~

I’m gonna put the rest - which is more personal - under a cut and also tw cuz I’ll elaborate on my mental health/depression. This isn’t exactly something I want to share tbh but I think I shouldn’t shy away from it either. And I feel like I need to explain myself, just for anyone who cares to know.

—

If you compare life to walking on a path, then I at some point - I don’t even remember when - stopped walking and starting digging a hole for myself. It musta been years ago. Right now, that hole is so deep that I have no idea how to get out of it on my own, much less how to move forward. I think I always knew that there must be something wrong with me mentally. This isn’t something that is being talked about in my family, though, so I never extensively thought about it. Not until earlier this year, when my sister told me that she thinks I’m sick and I should see a therapist. My immediate reaction was to reject the idea but I really couldn’t do that for long. As of right now, I have been tentatively diagnosed (not sure if that’s what you call it in English) with depression but I haven’t actually found a permanent therapist and therefore also not started therapy yet. I have no idea what exactly is wrong with me and this not-knowing makes it somehow worse. I haven’t been properly functioning for the past two days - ever since I got called unhinged monster - cuz those words are burned into my brain by now and keep repeating themselves. It feels like my mind was given another weapon to slowly k-ll me with. It keeps reminding me that that’s what I am and then I start trembling and my breathing gets weird and it’s harder than usual for me to distract myself. And this is all so overwhelming for me, I have truly no idea how to deal with any of it. I don’t even know if I named it right, if it really is called a “depressive episode”. I’m hoping I’ll get to find out what exactly is wrong with me and how I can cope with it once I find a therapist. My lack of knowledge regarding what I myself am going through makes it all very confusing and difficult. Another reason why I kind of organized my thoughts and wrote them all down here is cuz I hope it will help me somehow, make my mind stop letting those really bad thoughts in. But in that moment when I felt especially f-cked up, any words of advice or kindness helped. I hope everyone who reached out knows that. Just... thank you. So damn much.

[silverbastardgoldenfool]

Realm of the Quarantine Reread End-of-Book Questionnaire: Assassin’s Quest

Any differences between your first/previous reading experience and this one?

Keep in mind I’m writing this months after finishing the book lol (it’s mental illness innit). I have LOTS of notes to go off but yeah, things aren’t as fresh in my mind overall. With that said the biggest difference I can think of between my first and second experience with AQ is my feelings towards Kettricken. I think the first time around reading you know that Fitz is an unreliable narrator but you are still limited by his viewpoint so you can get a bit trapped seeing things the way he does. For this reason, I think I pretty much just forgave Kettricken when he did on my first read, whereas on this read I was like……. Waiting for her to actually apologise and show some sympathy towards Fitz and it just…. Never happened.

Like, don’t get me wrong, I still love Kettricken as a character and I fully recognise that she has been traumatised. I don’t expect her to be nice or act rationally, and in the case of being willing to take Nettle for the crown… It’s cold but she’s doing what she feels she has to. My issue is - do what you have to, but don’t expect Fitz to understand or forgive you (same with Starling). But I think what bothered me the most was how Kettricken would constantly confide in Fitz and break down to him and he was always there to let her do so, yet she NEVER gives Fitz the chance to do the same. The one time he does “open up” in a sense is when she forces him to air out his traumas in front of everyone, and she didn’t show him any sympathy for what he’d been through then or later. She has been through hell, absolutely, but while her plight may not have been any better than Fitz’s it certainly wasn’t any worse. She pretty much had two modes in this book: completely cold or a crying wreck - but she was only ever crying for herself. She lets Fitz console her but she never consoles him. Again, this is a result of her own trauma and I don’t expect her to act any differently, but it just reaffirmed for me that while she and Fitz care for each other deeply it is not an equal relationship. Fitz feels an obligation to serve her and she - knowingly or not - takes advantage of that. Like, after realising that this is their dynamic it is so obvious that the same is true in Royal Assassin as well, and it will be interesting to see how it changes (or doesn’t) in Tawny Man as I don’t remember it well enough to say.

Must reiterate: Kettricken is still a great character and I still have a lot of respect for her, unfortunately she just falls into the overfull camp of people who love Fitz but have an unhealthy power dynamic with him.

The other big difference I noticed was that the Verity stuff just wasn’t as devastating this time. Not because it was any less sad but it just didn’t tear out my heart like it did the first time. That’s not a fault with the writing at all, I think it’s just the fact that, knowing what would happen to Verity and that we wouldn’t see the real Verity again, I kind of already let go of him at the end of Royal Assassin.

Something you can’t believe you forgot

I guess more of a misinterpretation/wishful thinking but like, realising that there is no passage explicitly stating that Fitz and the Fool were actually spooning in the mountains murdered me and spat on my corpse.

Oh also!!! Fitz yeeting himself out the window at Tradeford castle jskaskjf

Favourite character introduction moments/scenes

I love Kettle in general and the way we’re introduced to her as a cranky old lady sets her up perfectly

Favourite character arcs

Man they’re all so fucking sad lol but I guess the Fool? He goes from thinking Fitz is dead and his purpose failed to reuniting with Fitz, their relationship growing into something really real for the first time, and actually completing his mission - at least for now lol. This book is really the first time you get to see the Fool be properly vulnerable. Even when he was getting beaten up by Regal’s guards he always had his veneer of snark and superiority to hide behind - and I doubt when he went through his sicknesses at Buckkeep he would have revealed his weakness to anyone in order to be helped. But in the mountains he lets so much of that facade of the King’s Fool fall away - at least when it’s just him and Fitz. When he and Fitz meet again he lets Fitz see his grief and pain and hopelessness and joy as the Fool looks after Fitz, and then later when it’s the Fool who needs looking after he lets Fitz look after him. When was the last time the Fool had anyone really care for him like that, ya know? Had someone protect him purely out of love? Ouch dude!!!!

Also he gets to kiss Fitz at the end so good for him!!!!!!!!!! Be gay ride dragons!!

Favourite quote/s

“I would kill Regal. It only seemed fair. He had killed me first.”

“I had looked into the heart of my enemy. I still could not comprehend him.”

“The more I drank, the less tolerable my situation seemed. And the more intolerable I became to my friends.”

“I had never thought to be disdained by a tree.”

“The Fool, the Fool, only the Fool. I sought for him. I almost found him. Oh, he was passing strange, and surpassing strange. He darted and eluded me, like a bright gold carp in a weedy pool, like the motes that dance before one’s eyes after being dazzled by the sun. As well to clutch at the moon’s reflection in a still midnight pond as to seek a grip on that bright mind. I knew his beauty and his power in the briefest flashes of insight. In a moment I understood and marvelled at all that he was, and in the next I had forgotten that understanding.”

“When you can either laugh or cry, you might as well laugh.” - the Fool

Favourite relationships

Fitzandthefoolfitzandthefoolfitzandthefoolbahslbghabfhalgngjba 

Also fitz and nighteyes (speaking of which, Nighteyes’ arc in this book is also fascinating and surprisingly complex) and Fitz/Nighteyes/Fool mwah magnifico chef’s kiss

Favourite setting

Kelsingra baybeyyy. I remember the first time reading this having no fucking clue what was happening in that chapter but I guess it was the gay agenda all along

Favourite chapter

It’s gotta be the chapter where Fitz and the Fool reunite, right? Catch me just gradually losing my grip on reality with every lingering stare 

Most loved character

Foooooooooool

Most hated character

Ya know, for a minute I was actually wondering if I would like Starling this time round but yeah no lol. She was actually okay for a while but as soon as she sold Fitz/Nettle out she became The Worst, just as I remembered her. It’s not even because she betrays Fitz but because, like Kettricken, she expects Fitz to forgive her for it, to the point of running to tattle to the queen because Fitz isn’t giving her enough attention (I’m also not impressed with Kettricken for actually getting involved instead of just telling her to grow up). Not to mention her constantly misgendering/gendering (??) the Fool or just assuming the Fool’s gender and loudly fucking proclaiming it to everybody is just truly fucking disgusting. Like I cannot even explain how furious I was reading her incessantly using she/her pronouns for the Fool despite no confirmation that her theory is right or that the Fool is comfortable with this and despite EVERYONE ELSE using he/him pronouns. God I’m mad now lol. She just acts like a spoilt brat and it makes my blood boil. But that’s probably because I have known many people like this so… Good character writing lol congrats

Raise your hand if you’ve been personally victimised by Robin Hobb (most heartbreaking and/or visceral moments)

The whole first chapter/s are just so heavy and carry on that gut wrenching feeling from the end of Royal Assassin. Fitz just has no real desire to live and watching him systematically severing the last few ties he has to his human life is just so sad.

Even though I wasn’t as attached to Verity this time, his goodbye to Fitz still made me cry

As did Fitz giving Kettle her skill back

Verity using Fitz’s body to have sex with Kettricken really got to me this time, mostly because I either didn’t notice the first time or had forgotten just how much it affects Fitz. It’s no wonder he doesn’t want to acknowledge Dutiful as his son when the event that brought that fact into being was so fucked up and traumatic. It’s really upsetting.

Burrich saying he almost took Fitz to Chivalry and he should have never let the Farseers take Fitz just …… breaks my heart. Just seeing Burrich so raw like that in general is so unusual it really takes you aback.

Details, observations, spoilery notes made with the benefit of the full picture

Strap in lads this part is lonnnngggggggg

Is it bad to immediately want to cry just from seeing “Sandsedge” on the map and thinking of Sandsedge brandy

I never really thought about how poor Hap didn’t get the real Fitz all those years and how their relationship could have been if Fitz hadn’t been partially forged

Pls I have no idea why but to picture someone as emotionally repressed as Fitz actually sitting down and writing about his life makes me want to fucking cryyyyeeeee

Fitz in the prologue talks about needing a purpose as something to distract himself from sinking [into his chronic pain, mental illness and addiction] and boy howdy if that ain’t relatable. As someone with mental illness and chronic pain Fitz is just painfully relatable way too often.

“I have never forgiven myself the triumph I ceded him when I took poison and died.” Fitz :(((( my guy :((((((( forgive yourself for surviving however you could baby!!!!!

This book mentions Bingtown providing slaves to Chalced

It’s so funny to me when people expect Fitz to have social skills as if he didn’t literally live as a fucking wolf for weeks at a time. It’s a miracle he bloody speaks

The state Fitz is in at the beginning of this book was literally Burrich’s greatest fear for him, yet Burrich doesn’t just say I told you so and leave. He stays, is patient and even optimistic.

“He (Burrich) is not bigger than I.” Why does this feel so wrong lol??? I just can’t picture Fitz as bigger than Burrich

“When you were younger and not supposed to go into taverns without me…” So it’s fine if the child goes into taverns and gets drunk as long as you’re also there. Got it, Burrich.

Fitz calling Chade “the grey one” wow get rekd old man river

Seeing Chade and Burrich interact is so bizarre

Fitz is still having seizures at the beginning of this book! I had forgotten that

God okay so idk if I can articulate this point super well but the whole thing of Fitz going through this extensive abuse and then essentially becoming an animal feels like a metaphor for the way your brain’s “higher” needs and functions just shut off sometimes under certain levels of stress. Like in order to cope with the trauma you don’t think about concepts, or long-term goals, or other people. You just take care of your basic needs - food, sleep, shelter, water - long enough that you start to feel safe and secure again, at which point your brain can open up a bit more and allow you to really think again; to want again, to plan again etc. Like obviously literally becoming an animal is a heightened version of reality, but the functionality of it is the same; our wounds and our fear stop us from fully embodying ourselves.

Burrich be like, Fitz was getting way too dependent on drugs before all this so let’s steer clear of those. :) LET’S GET HIM ABSOLUTELY SHITFACED INSTEAD

I  love how Fitz has his own unique relationship with Lacey and she’s not just Patience’s servant in his mind

Fitz talking about how even his memories from before his time in the dungeons are soiled by his trauma :( baby boy

Dude it’s so rich Chade lecturing Fitz about not making a life for himself, having friends or just chilling out like???? WHO TRAINED HIM TO BE AN ASSASSIN CHADE?? Like I get your point but what the hell kind of life did you think he was gonna have? Who ever took the time to teach him the importance of making connections with people for their own sake, and when would he have ever had the time anyway? I think Chade himself doesn’t actually know what he expects from Fitz.

Fitz saying he’s bad at making decisions because he’s never actually been allowed to make any is literally a point I’ve made lol. This is what happens when you teach teenagers how to murder in lieu of any basic life skills.

Burrich + Chiv were luv at first sight. No I will not elaborate.

“We kept you a boy, looked after you too much.” Huh??????? Fitz was never fucking sheltered lol. He didn’t have autonomy. There’s a difference.

I’m so fucking glad Fitz hugged Burrich before he left and that they actually left off on okay-ish terms. I didn’t remember that and it vaguely dulls the blow of knowing we don’t see Burrich again til Fool’s Fate (and that he thinks Fitz is dead the entire time between now and then).

“If I shaved my hair back from my brow” bitch disgusting

“Honey was the older of the two women. Perhaps my age.” jskfjnajgbl my guy those aren’t women then those are children!!!!!! U freak

I was wondering for ages why Fitz doesn’t mention the Fool like literally at all bc that’s so unusual right? Even in Assassin’s Apprentice he thinks of him when he goes to Moonseye and just in general the Fool usually enters Fitz’s thoughts pretty frequently. So why now, when Fitz doesn’t even know if the Fool is okay, is he just not thinking about him? And then I realised that that is exactly why. Because the only two people from his old life he doesn’t think about are the two people whose fates he knows nothing of: Kettricken and the Fool. So he can let his mind wander to think what Patience and Lacey might be up to at Buckkeep, or who Molly is with or whatever, because he knows they are all safe. But in such a fragile state I don’t think he can bring himself to really wonder whether Kettricken and the Fool made it to their destination - he probably doesn’t really believe they could have, and that is far too painful a road to go down when you are trying not to think at all.

I know the first act of this book is slow and that bothers some people, but I think it is so necessary, not only for Fitz’s arc but also because it really demonstrates just how severe the situation has gotten with the red ships and forged ones AND it shows just how destructive a king Regal is. Without this perspective it would probably be much harder to buy that the extreme measures taken at the end of the book are really worth the sacrifice.

Fitz is Demisexual, Exhibit A: when Honey is coming onto him, all he can think about is Molly.

Fitz is so scared of the Forged ones :( his trauma affects everything. He has no faith in himself and less heart for the violence than ever.

Speaking of trauma metaphors: the way Fitz tends to drift off into the wit or Skill after a traumatic experience is… pretty much just dissociation but magique

I forgot that witted folk can apparently communicate with each other mentally, not just with animals

“Her head was the size of a bushel basket.” Ah, yes, a bushel basket, a thing whose size we are all intimately familiar with.

Fitz finally finds others like him and even then he is not fully accepted. Told he is doing the wit wrong. Othered by the Others. It’s the queer experience innit.

Also forgot that apparently the forged are attracted to the wit as well as the Skill?

“I wondered if I had as many wolf mannerisms as they had halk and bear.” Yeah no probably not you only bloody LIVED as a wolf, Fitz.

Okay I know it doesn’t need saying but Patience is just so fucking cool!!!!!

Jesus fucking christ, Fitz skilling out to Molly when he knows Will knows he’s alive and is looking for him is just… so dumb. So so dumb. I know he’s just fixating on her because he’s miserable and she’s like this unsullied thing he had before everything went wrong but holy moly is it frustrating 

Not to mention he doesn’t connect the dots between the fact that Burrich went to “help a friend” and every time he reaches out for Molly he sees Burrich sajkdbshkhja dude

Nighteyes leaving just goes to show that Fitz cannot rely solely on Nighteyes for companionship. No matter how innately the same they are they are equally as innately different. Fitz needs Nighteyes but he shouldn’t have JUST Nighteyes (which is why he, Nighteyes and the Fool are the holy trinity). When Nighteyes leaves, Fitz is in way too fragile a state to be left alone, but Nighteyes cannot think of the future or what might happen. All he knows is he’ll be back at some point and that’s all that matters.

“My anger fed my competence” whatever you need to tell yourself sweetie

I think I had blocked out the fact the Regal was keeping animals trapped in filthy cages so they could ravage people in the king’s circle uggggghhhhhhhhh I hate him

Fitz is down on himself saying that without Shrewd’s largesse, Chade’s information and Verity’s protection his idea of himself has been stripped away and that he’s not actually competent etc. but like. This is an extreme situation!! You’re literally alone in the wilderness with nothing and no one!! Who would thrive in this situation? And nobody gets by without help anyway! The people in our lives do define us to an extent. You don’t have to be able to stand 100% on your own at all times with zero resources to be considered capable. It’s human to depend on others. Yes I am chiding myself as much as Fitz here :))))

Burrich’s earring is the repressed gay earring. No I will not elaborate.

Fitz refusing to sell Burrich’s earring is frustrating yet something I would 100% do lol

Direct from my notes: Celery hiding out in caves?? Bad bitch

“I felt I was within the flames looking deeply into the Fool’s eyes” um okay gay

It’s actually surprising that Fitz admits he would not have gone after Molly even if he had known she was pregnant when she left. On one hand so self aware yet this doesn’t stop him from completely idealising their relationship.

And then you have Molly who says he was supposed to come after her “so she could forgive him”, that he was supposed to be the one to light the candles for her childbirth etc. The fact that she in any way thought he was mature enough to be a father just shows how little they really knew each other.

Burrich treating Molly like a horse while delivering Nettle is way funnier than it has a right to be jskakjasd makes me think of Dwight treating Phyllis’ back injury in The Office lol

The first thing Burrich notices about Nettle is that she has Chivalry’s brow are you fucking kidding me. Gay!

Fitz is Demisexual, Exhibit B: He had no interest in Tassin whatsoever until she literally started kissing him. At this point his body reacted, which is normal, but as soon as he got a second to actually think about it he stopped, because for him it would not be satisfying to sleep with someone he didn’t have feelings for.

“It seemed to take years for the dried beans and lentils to soften.” Okay mood

I love how Fitz just assumes Molly will take him back. “I have a woman and child awaiting me.” Says who bitch?

Small ferret? More like big legend

Ya know, we give Fitz so much shit but honestly with so much physical, mental and emotional stress on this journey how can we expect his mental faculties to be at 100%? I wouldn’t be making good decisions either, in fact I would be long dead.

Starling telling Nik that the earring once belonged to Chivalry is truly a smooth brain move

“Do not fear, little brother, I am here to take care of you again.” Words can’t explain how much I love Nighteyes and how often his dialogue makes me smile :’)

It’s so cute how Nighteyes is worried about Molly and Nettle until he knows that Burrich is taking care of them

It’s really interesting when Fitz claims “I’d rather be with Molly even if it meant rocking a crying baby in the middle of the night” because, well, he’s literally made other claims to the contrary, saying he wouldn’t have gone with her even if he’d known she was pregnant. Because at the end of the day as much as Fitz is compelled by others to do work for the greater good, I think deep down a lot of the time it is what he would do anyway. Like I really don’t think he could actually enjoy being with Molly knowing that the world is burning down around them. He would want to get out there and help somehow; not only to secure their own future but to reduce other people’s suffering as well. He’s an empathetic boy even though he’d like to be selfish.

Every time Fitz calls Molly his wife I lose ten years off my life

Again, I understand why he’s thinking like this, but Fitz’s ownership of Molly is just so uncomfortable. The fact that he can’t imagine her not having a place ready and waiting for him in her life when he returns just illustrates that she is not a fully realised person to him. She is just a comforting idea.

Oh yes, it was definitely Starling’s “pillowtalk” that got you captured and not the fact that you fit the exact description of the witted bastard right down to having Chivalry’s earring and a whole ass wolf

Somehow forgot that Jhaampe is basically a city of tents with only a few permanent buildings and people constantly coming and going

Fitz’s first words to the Fool are “I’ve come to you.” I’m gonna fucking die

Literally every single word from the moment Fitz realises it’s the Fool and starts describing him is a full body assault and personal attack I am seeking reparations

God the tenderness, the angst, the relief……… shall i pass away

“I doubted he was much taller, but his body was no longer a child’s.” My dude this is a gay awakening if I ever saw one

Fitz be like *spends 87 pages describing the Fool in painstaking detail* anyway I love being a heterosexual male

I’ve heard ppl cite Fitz’s descriptions of Kettricken as evidence of a crush (hard disagree) but literally nothingggggg even comes close to the way he describes the Fool. Not just this once but over and over again it’s insane.

“Talk fell off between us. The bottle of brandy was empty. We were reduced to silence, staring at one another drunkenly.” skjakfnajghajgnaLNGJ is it gay to silently gaze into thine homie’s eyes

The Fool protecting Fitz from everyone - especially Starling - in Jhaampe is often hilarious and always heartwarming

Realising Fitz was skinny enough for the Fool to lift on his own ahhh no wonder he said the famous “When I recall how beautiful you were” line, Fitz is a total wreck

I love that the Fool actually gives Chade shit for his plan to take Nettle. I love him.

“Too few folk cared for me. I could not hate a single one of them.” Oh, Fitz :(

I always wonder how the Fool really feels about Molly. Is he jealous? Does he compare himself to this woman Fitz idolises and he doesn’t know? Does he know that Fitz is barking up the wrong tree or is he stuck thinking Molly must really be Fitz’s soulmate since he won’t shut up about how much he loves her and can’t wait to get back to her? He just never really lets on how it makes him feel when Fitz has relationships with women. We know Fitz gets jealous of the Fool (for litch rally like no reason lol), so with the Fool being much more honest with himself/in general about his love for Fitz and having much more legitimate reason to be jealous, is he? Or is it just something he’s made his peace with, that these women give Fitz something that he cannot? Is he okay with that cos he has to be or does he have a different, less monogamous view of love and relationships (he does have three parents after all). I dunnoooo dude I just have so many questions. Like obviously - OBVIOUSLY - if Fitz and the Fool didn’t have romantic feelings for each other before, there is no doubting that romantic feelings appeared the moment Fitz appeared in the Fool’s hut. Fitz won’t admit that but mere chapters later the Fool is talking about how he loves Fitz in every way so like. He knows. So how does he feel when Fitz is calling out for Molly in his sleep, or openly speaking of seeking her out when all this is over, and lying to the Fool to protect Molly and his daughter. Really makes u think!!!!

Fitz reuniting with Sooty and going to see her every day in Jhaampe is so cuuuute and made me so happy. Sooty is a good girl :’)

Fitz be like *leans against the table where the Fool is carving and watches his fingers at work like a true repressed gay*

Verity is literally so strong???? He submerged himself in skill and was able to pull himself back from the stream can u imagine? Go off king!

Bro I literally can’t with the Fool mentioning Jofron so casually and Fitz immediately thinking wow oh my god they’re definitely fucking oh my god the Fool has a girlfriend - Fitz sweetie calm down

I love how Fitz and the Fool just naturally walk together :))) and Nighteyes babysitting Kettle is so cute

Molly never once says that she misses Fitz. She says she always expected him to do the right thing, to come after her and not leave her alone with a child. But she doesn’t look back on their time together fondly or have much positive to say about him as a person. And all that is fair, but it’s also just… Not really the behaviour of someone who’s been separated from their soulmate. It’s more just someone who’s been left in a shitty position by someone they cared about but hardly knew.

Fitz asking the Fool what is between him and Starling when they’re literally just being civil is sooooo fucking funny. Not everyone finds the Fool as irresistible as you do, Fitz.

The Fool just casually finding a pretext to call Fitz the light of his life

Fitz telling Kettricken firmly that he will not travel if the Fool is ill is one of the only times he ever puts his foot down with her GEE I WONDER WHY

I’ve said it before I’ll say it again…… there really do be something about the way Fitz can’t meet the Fool’s eyes………. It’s not like they’re weird and colourless anymore like they used to be!!!

The Fool already talking about Clerres in this book!

Fitz and the Fool and Nighteyes playing in the stream is too fucking pure omg, it’s what they deserve

And then Starling has to bloody ruin it bc she’s homophobique

But seriously, Fitz actually lets go for the first time in ages and has a nice evening only for Starling to go tattling to Kettricken, and Kettricken having the gall to confront Fitz about it. And then Fitz solves the problem by saying he doesn’t disdain her when like!! He has every right to!!!! She sold him out, sold his daughter out. She never even apologised but instead has just been totally petty and self-righteous and stirring up trouble amongst the group. She hasn’t earned or even asked for his forgiveness. So fitting that she’s the one constantly judging Fitz for his relationship with Lord Golden in Tawny Man lol, she just cannot let Fitz and the Fool be the queer icons they are!!!

Verrrrrrrrrrry interesting that Fitz only “suddenly missed the human warmth and comfort” of Starling taking his arm or sleeping against him literally IMMEDIATELY after the plumbing and love confrontation with the Fool. I mean he has been doing all of those things with the Fool (sleeping together, walking arm in arm etc.) so it’s not about human touch at all, it’s about convincing himself that a WOMAN’S touch is somehow inherently different.

He does the same thing with Starling as with Kettricken. She technically apologises but it’s not sincere and that’s not why he forgives her. Same as Kettricken, she tells her sob story and he can’t hold onto his anger. It makes sense, but it’s just very toxic. It would be nice if at least one person would really recognise how much they’ve hurt Fitz and really, genuinely want to atone for it, or apologise without expecting forgiveness. The onus should not be on Fitz to forgive Starling but on Starling to grow up and not need Fitz to like her in order to remain civil and do what they have to. Also “I do not find your wit bond offensive” has the same energy as someone telling you out of nowhere like “It’s fine that you’re gay :)” like wow thank u?? lol

Fitz is Demisexual, Exhibit C: “I wanted her with a desperation that had nothing to do with love, and even, I believe, little to do with lust.”

“By his love he is betrayed, and his love betrayed also.” So fate agrees with me, Fitz and the Fool are in love? :)

Anytime the potential that Fitz might have to choose between Molly and Nighteyes I lose brain cells. That’s ur brother Fitz!!! It’s not even a choice!! How dare u

It’s just sooooo intentionally laid out for us in this book that Fitz’s relationship with Molly really wasn’t good or healthy and that his fixation on it is misguided, and I think that’s why I struggled sooooo hard with the ending of Fool’s Fate, because it kind of implied the exact opposite. I’m hoping on this reread I will pick up on it being laid out as a result of Fitz getting his memories/teen feelings back rather than it just feeling like a lowkey retcon, but I guess we’ll see lol

“I felt I was a bit in love with him, you know. That sort of lift to the heart.” the confirmation that the Fool KNOWS HOW IT FEELS TO BE IN LOVE sends me deep into the swamps goodbyeeeeeeeeeeee

“The one who loves him best will betray him most foully.” So fate agrees, the Fool loves Fitz best :)

“You do love me! … Before, it was words. I always feared it was born out of pity.” Godddddd Foooooooooool!!!!!!!!!!! 

Everything about Fitz, the Fool and Nighteyes meeting in the skill for the first time is just truly perfect iconic unparalleled.

Fitz’s love for Verity hurts my heart so much. Just think of the relationship they could have had if they weren’t stupid royals.

Kettle’s whole speech about Fitz and Molly… Just yes to every word.

Look I’m just gonna say it… The way Burrich reacts to Molly’s advances … like I know it’s probably not intentional but it just reads as very much fitting in with my headcanon that he is gay. As soon as she makes it clear she wants to sleep with him he like leaps across the room lol. I do believe he cares for her and loves her in his way, but it does feel mostly like he’ll just do whatever he needs to to care for her and the baby.  Sowwy

I wonder why the Fool wasn’t as affected by his giving up of memories to Girl-on-a-Dragon?? Or was he, and he just gets them back before we see him again in Tawny Man?

“Take my hurt that I never knew my father, take my hours of staring up at his portrait when the great hall was empty and I could do so alone.” um this is so fucking sad

It was the Fool who sent Starling to find Fitz after Verity uses his body and again I have to ask, wtf is going on in your mind, Fool!

Fitz is Demisexual, Exhibit D: Even once he actually sleeps with Starling he has no enthusiasm about it, he just kind of goes along with it, likely to prove to himself that he has really let go of his past/Molly. 

I always wonder why the Fool leaves now. Is it because he thinks their work is done and doesn’t want to risk messing things up by hanging around his catalyst like at the end of Tawny Man? Does he intend to come back and find Fitz again but get sidetracked by a lead or a new dream? Like it’s just weird because at first he was like “Prophet and Catalyst stick together” and was gonna stay with Fitz - or was that just an excuse because he was obsessed with Girl-on-a-Dragon? Fool u spicy lil enigma

It’s blood and the wit that wakes the stone dragons so does that mean King Wisdom was witted? Or is that obvious lol

Fitz isn’t even bothered by the Fool’s kiss, just shocked. I am looking.

Patience shouting orders at Verity-as-Dragon is beautiful ksjjk

Of courrrrrssse Burrich names his first son Chivalry

In the epilogue, the Fool is the only one Fitz actually says he misses. Exquisite.

I know some people have an issue with Regal’s death but personally I find it delicious

Okay that’s all (I say as if this wasn’t 139841989 pages long). See y’all in 92 years when my sister finally starts reading Liveship!

[aperrywilliams]

I don’t know you anymore/Part II (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

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Summary: Reader has to do something before her relationship with Spencer get worse. Spencer has to rebuild his life without her. Could he do that?

Word Count: 3026.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences. Angst.

Warnings:  References to sex, murders, dead bodies, angry

A/N: This is Part II of “I don’t know you anymore” I published some days ago. I want to thank to the people who read this and who left comments and thoughts about it. Special mention to @dreatine​ @andiebeaword​ @aberrant-annie​ and @hollandinq​

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Because I don't know you anymore I don't recognize this place The picture frames have changed And so has your name We don't talk much anymore We keep running from the pain But what I wouldn't give to see your face again

I could not say exactly which was the reason I was more confused, if because (Y/N) was indeed gone or the explanations I didn’t expect to hear from her. Deep down inside of me I knew sooner or later this could happen, although there is always a secret hope it won’t. Now I had to place one more check on my list of "failures". It was fair? In this case I didn’t know. Was there some reason in (Y/N)'s words? Yes. At least in some of them.

Our estrangement began a few months before the departure of (Y/N). Not even with my genius skills could I tell exactly when it all started to fall apart. I guess at a point where my indifference, unintended by the way, and her patience reached a limit no one thought it could. Why did we let this gone so far? I don’t know. And it wasn’t always so. One of the things we both agreed when we started our relationship was we shouldn't shut things up, that we had to talk about our problems, we had to tell the other how we felt. And it had worked. We trusted each other. We talked all the time and about everything, even if I had to be away for work. We managed to call each other, send us messages. We never went to sleep without saying good night. Obviously it was better if we were in each other's arms, but it was never a problem if for some reason it wasn't possible.

But there was a point where we stopped talking. For tiredness sometimes, I guess. Because was easier to give a kiss, to say "I love you" and continue the routine. I don't know at what point "I love you" stopped meaning what it powerfully meant at first. It’s amazing how words wear out as much as people. I'm sure she felt that. And it hurts, because I still love her. The question is whether it’s true you can to love someone so much that you're willing to let her go for same reason. That power I didn’t think was possible. Maybe until now. And in that (Y/N) was right: this mutual pain was not fair to any of us. Something had to be done about it.

Just I can't understand why she thinks she wasn't enough for me. Did I really make her feel that? Did I make her feel like she was a worthless person to me?. That hurts me deeply, because I really don’t think in that way quite the opposite, it’s me who don’t deserve her. I don't deserve her love, her patience, her understanding. (Y/N) was at my side in one of the most difficult moments of my life: my stay in prison. She was the only one who never had any doubts about me. The one moved heaven and earth to help me, to be with me. And she was who received the worst pay from me. I hurt her and I’ll never forgive myself for that.

I wanted to repair the damage, only when I realized what I had done, it was too late. It took me one week and 8 hours to decide to go after her and to try to explain things and tell her she shouldn’t have doubts about my feelings for her. I wanted to tell her. I called her, I went to her sister's house, I went to her work. But (Y/N) had disappeared from earth. Without leaving any trace. She didn’t want to be found, at the least for me. So I had to swallow my own words and assume I had lost my chance, that I would have to put my life back together without her. Sometimes I was tempted to use my resources - Garcia - to be able to reach her, but I regretted of doing that thinking I’d be transgressing her own desires of distance herself from me. At least I thought I owed her that: if she didn't want me around, I would have to respect her wish.

It has been hard to restore my life after all. Especially knowing I could have avoided this. That I had the signs and I preferred to ignore them systematically.

Only after the third week of her departure I returned to work. Curiously, she had to leave for me to take a time off, so I could focus on me. That time could perfectly have been for both of us. Ironies of life and my sentimental incompetence. I sought advice in this regard, knowing my inner genius was not going to help me in this. J.J. was the first to know what had happened.

"Spence, are you sure a good conversation would be insufficient to try to fix things?"

"Only if I could get to her. And even if I could, I don't think she wants to hear me. I lost my opportunity J.J., I lost her”. I said with broken voice.

"But do you love her?... Have you ever wondered if you're really in love with her, enough to let her go?”. That was a valid question. I wasn't sure myself about that.

"I want her to be happy. And with me she was no longer happy. I don't deserve to keep her just because I don't feel like I can let her go”

"She told you the same thing, didn't she?" she answered back. Yes, she was right, (Y/N) surely thought the same.

"Yes, she did... she told me she did not feel capable of deserving me. What did I do to make her think that?”. Those words still echoed in my head.

“You left her out of your life, Spence. That was what she felt. And do you know why you did it?”. J.J. asked me, not in a reproachful tone, but really trying to understand if I was clear about what had really happened.

"I don't know... I... I just wanted to leave her out of this torment. You know being in jail brought out the worst in me. I didn't want her to see that... I wanted to take her away from all that...". That was what my head gave me in response. The most rational thing and what made the most sense to me was I had pushed her away trying to "protect" her from my new demons, doing the exact opposite of what we had originally agreed.

"Are you sure there isn't something else she could have been misinterpreted? Did you both ever talk about where you wanted to take your relationship?". That question left me wondering for a moment. Had we discussed it? Only thing I remembered was when I was released from prison I promised her I would make up for all the time we parted and continue our life together. I did it?. Wow, now I'm wondering and I don't know what to answer. I suppose not. I failed miserably at my own promises. And I was just realizing it.

After two months without (Y/N) there was not much more I could do, so I continued with my life in the way I was leading it to that minute. I immersed myself in work, even more than I already was. My efforts went out of their way to be the most helpful resident genius for the team. And if that meant traveling more than necessary, I was willing. What I least wanted was to be in my place, because being there alone, seeing my bed empty and living room in silence still produced me pain. Months passed and that pain was silently easing. Was I ready to go on? Maybe I should try.

One day arriving at the BAU, I met Luke in the elevator. Just as it was about to close the door, I saw a woman come running and I stopped the door so she could enter. She thanked me and saw Luke, who apparently did know her.

"Luke, how are you? I hadn't realized you were in the elevator" said the woman, interspersing looks between him and me.

"Hey, I'm good. How is Domestic Terrorism going?” he asked.

"Well, you know... there are weeks and weeks" she replied laughing. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" she said turning her gaze back to me. I got a little uncomfortable, but she didn't seem like an intimidating woman despite her obvious outgoing personality.

"Yeah, of course. Leanne, he is Dr. Spencer Reid, he works with me at BAU. Spencer, she is Leanne, we know each other from when I started working for the FBI, she is currently in…”

"Domestic Terrorism ..." I interrupted. I smiled at her in greeting. She smiled back.

Leanne is a nice woman. We started dating few weeks after the elevator incident. Luke was happy to have acted as an intermediary and always encouraged me to ask her out, that it would good to me, that she was a good woman, and very sexy too. That is true. That woman could make you gasp when she got too close to you. I also noticed something I found interesting: she had a job very similar to mine. She traveled as much as I did, so our schedules were very changeable and none of us cared about it. Thus began our relationship. And since there was no time to lose, since anyone could die the next day - in her own words - we skipped coffee and lunch dates, ending up in bed having sex as if the world was going to end. I'm not going to say I questioned myself a lot about it. It didn't seem like a bad deal to me.

Curiously, we always ended up in her apartment and not in mine. The times she asked me about it - not many - I couldn't give her a complete answer. But I knew it. My apartment was still my grief space. At least, where I could collect my thoughts alone without being disturbed. I was not ready to open that space to anyone else.

One afternoon during a break in work, I was making myself a coffee in the kitchen and Prentiss approached to the place with the same purpose. As I poured coffee into my mug, Emily started talking to me.

"Everything okay with Leanne?". Prentiss asked me.

"Yeah. We're fine, I guess”. I replied without giving much detail about our relationship. Relationship that after a while could not say if it was something so accurate to say about I have with Leanne.

"She seems an intelligent woman. She is also very pretty and it is clear she is on the same page as you…” Prentiss said as also now poured coffee into her mug. I froze when I heard Emily’s words.

"What did you say?... Sorry, I got distracted...". I said back trying to hide my stun.

"No, nothing... I just said that Leanne is an intelligent, beautiful woman and knows perfectly well what it’s to work in the FBI. Just that". Prentiss looked at me with concern and as if she were stepping on eggshells with her words. "Spencer, are you okay? Did I say something wrong?". I couldn't help it, I felt the (Y/N) words in my head over and over again. A little over a year had passed and it seemed as if I had heard them yesterday.

"No, nothing wrong. It's just that…”. I didn't manage to elaborate my answer before Garcia quickly approached us.

"Boss, I think we have an urgent case". She said to Emily, prompting both Prentiss and I to leave our conversation. We all lead our feet to the conference room. Prentiss after reviewing some files with Penelope, sat down at the table with us. Garcia began to speak.

“Francesca Garrett, 32 years old. Originally from New York . She was found dead in her Philadelphia apartment two days ago. Four hours ago today, Christine Adler, 34 years old, of Richmond, was also found dead at her home in Philadelphia. As you will see, multiple injuries and a sick cruelty…”. Garcia said without wanting to look at the photographs on the screen.

“I could say there is something clear about victimology, but we need more information about Christine. Garcia will collect data while we travel to Philadelphia. We’ll leave in 20 minutes". With that last words Emily ended the meeting and we went to collect our belongings for the trip.

The trip to Philadelphia was short, but enough for me to return to Emily's words again. Sure, it took to the genius Spencer Reid a year to figure out what his ex-girlfriend meant when she left. Well, what did that leave me with?. I don't know, I didn’t feel better after the realization.

Once installed at the Hawthorne Police Station we began to review victimology again. With the information Garcia provided, we could able to know some things connected the victims: women in their early 30’s, of average height, same color hair, same color eyes. Geographically originating from cities surrounding Philadelphia. Of diverse professions. What we couldn't find was the point where the two women connected: they didn't seem to know each other or crossed at any time in their lives. Until something appeared. Apparently all these women contacted a man to “run” from the cities where they previously lived and move to Philadelphia without raising any suspicions and without being linked to any illegal issue. It’s as if naturally the course of their lives had brought them to that place. Now we just had to find who wanted to harm these women we assumed should be on a list.

"I have the contact and I have his list!" Garcia said after a day and a half digging and lifting all the stones we could.

“Okay, Tara, Luke and Matt will contact the women on the list for questioning. J.J. and Spencer will continue to search the records of Christine and Francesca... ". Prentiss was interrupted by the local officer.

"We have another body... Coline Thompson" said the police officer.

“Damn it... Ok. Thanks officer. J.J. and Spencer you are going to the crime scene. With Dave we’ll see the new Coline data and if she is on the list” said Prentiss as we leave with J.J. to the new crime scene.

I have seen many crime scenes in the years I have been working with the FBI and many of them horrendous. This didn’t seem so much of that, but when I saw the girl’s dead body on the floor something triggered in me and I felt an uncontrollable urge to puke.

"Spence, are you okay?..." J.J. asked me.

"Yes. I don't know why this body produced me this reaction...”. She looked at me and looked at the body again.

"You haven’t felt well since we left the BAU...". She pointed out. Although I would have liked to tell J.J. about what was going through my head, it was not the time. We had work to do.

"I don’t know, just look at this poor women. Maybe they were running away for to have a better life and end like this. It's not fair". Seeing that body didn't stop me from thinking about (Y/N) and not just because I thought she would be having a better life now without me, but also because of the obvious physical similarities I could see with the victims. That made me feel more nauseous. I had to control myself again.

We concluded it was the same unsub: the same MO, the same way to dispose of the bodies. Coline was also on the infamous list as Prentiss later said. It was obvious.

Tara, Matt and Luke arrived the next day with almost all the women on the list interviewed. Some could not be contacted so an order to come to the police station for a debriefing was left for them. We were still investigating possible suspects who would connect with the case. We had doubts about a women trafficking cartel interested in the list, but it made no sense they would kill women they was seeking for other purposes. It was necessary to continue investigating.

During that afternoon, several of the women on the list the team was unable to interview at home arrived at the police station. The room we were in had the blinds open, so you could see the station entrance.

It was around 5:00 p.m. When one of them entered and approached to the main desk to ask a question to the officer on the reception. Feeling her voice I couldn't help but look at the main desk.

"Hi, my name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), I'm here to talk to Detective Gibson..." she said.

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped feet to the ground. J.J. was in the room with Tara and Luke and seeing my reaction and hearing the same thing as me, she took the list from the desk. I was getting up from my chair to go out and go to the main desk when J.J. takes my arm to stop me.

"Spencer, don’t. Don’t go there. (Y/N) is on the list. You can't talk to her yet, until we question her…” said J.J. trying to pause me.

"What? J.J. you can’t… if she is in the list I have to do something...” I said trying to release her grip. Tara didn’t know what was happening but she suspected it was serious, she got up and she closed the office door, lowering the blind that gave view to the main desk of the station. I didn't know what was most distressing at the moment, seeing (Y/N) again or knowing she was on a list of potential victims of murder. Exhaustion, fatigue from not having lunch, and nausea returned to me, causing me to collapse on the floor. I just black out.

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