#element; air. for sure <3

[happyheidi]

ig: rosbyamshaw

[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Behind Closed Doors

Your admiration of his vest leads you to an empty office with his face buried between your thighs—and an urgent Emily demanding your whereabouts.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) soft!dom spence (are we even surprised), fingering, oral sex (f), semi-public, slight overstimulation, and Emily kind of overhears because she calls Reader in the middle of the deed (oops). 5k words

A/n: I don’t have any excuse for this one, I just wanted to rewrite this scene of him because looking at it is not enough

You heard him before you saw him. It wasn't his voice per se, but the distinct sound of rapid shots cutting through the air. The noise seemed to intensify as you stepped into the control room, almost overbearing, but you'd long since grown used to its piercing sound.

"Is that Reid?" You asked, your polished boots echoing into the confined space. The officer monitoring him through the surveillance camera glanced over at you, and even though her expression didn't betray outright displeasure, you could hear a subtle edge in her voice.

"Agent Y/L/N," she greeted, her eyes darting between the rows of monitors, then to you, and finally settling on the clipboard in her hand. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Actually, I am. It’s Tuesday, my usual training day.”

"Not for another hour."

"I know," you countered, holding up your wrist to check your watch. "But I have some spare time, thought I’d come by early."

“I’m afraid it’s occupied right now. Agent Reid is still in the middle of his test."

This caught your attention. "What test?"

She glanced at you, her expression conflicted. "It's just a routine evaluation."

"He's currently not an active agent," you pointed out. It hadn’t been too long since his release from prison. It didn’t make any sense for him to go through an evaluation, not when he was behind bars for the past few weeks. Then recognition dawned on your face. "He's being evaluated to rejoin the team, isn't he?"

"I... I'm not at liberty to discuss that," she replied. Her gaze faltered momentarily before she nodded slowly, confirming your suspicions. "But yes, it's standard procedure for agents returning from extended leave."

"Oh wow—okay," you responded, absorbing the information. Your eyes flickered towards the monitor. "How's he doing?"

Her lips formed a thoughtful line before she answered, "Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp."

You let out a laugh, finding the comparison amusing. You'd known Spencer for what, three, four years? While he wasn't bad with firearms, comparing him to a historical figure like Wyatt Earp seemed a bit exaggerated. However, as you watched him through the monitors, despite your initial skepticism, you couldn't deny the truth in her words.

You had witnessed him handle a gun countless times, but always in situations where there was a real threat, where you both had to be on high alert. Yet as you observed him now from a different perspective, it was hard to tear your eyes away. It was as if he was in his element, and Spencer Reid in his element never looked so... attractive?

Now that wasn't an exaggeration. Although you had never admitted this to anyone—god forbid what your teammates would say—there was an undeniable charm to the confidence he exuded. While Spencer had always been attractive, there was something different about the way he handled the gun.

You were sure it had something to do with his time in prison. After all, who wouldn't be affected by such a daunting place, especially when you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place? Yet, surprisingly, Spencer seemed to be coping better than you expected. Despite the toll it must have taken on him, it was evident that his experiences had shaped him, perhaps more than he let on.

Although he was still the same sweet, adorable guy you considered one of your closest friends. But you weren't sure your current observation of him fitted the typical definition of friendship… because there was nothing remotely friendly about the thoughts running in your head right now.

Not only was it not friendly, but it wasn't exactly innocent. Because look at him. Look at the way he was gripping the gun, his arms defined beneath his rolled-up sleeves. Look at the way his protective glasses covered his face, the black-rimmed frames accentuating his handsome features. And even though you had seen him wear the uniform vest countless times, somehow it was undeniably distracting the way it hugged his chest. 

Yep—there was nothing remotely friendly about how you wanted to climb up the man.

A sudden buzz echoed in the room, snapping you to reality. You glanced up and noticed the officer you were talking to entering the monitor screen and it dawned on you that you had been so distracted by your thoughts that you hadn't realized she had left the control room.

"I'll send the results to the review board this evening," the officer's voice resonated from the screen.

"Did I do okay?" His voice came through.

"Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp," she replied, echoing her earlier assessment. Her gaze shifted to the printed cardboard image of a man, supposedly representing the Unsub, which was shredded right around the face. "Or... Al Capone, maybe."

You observed Spencer's slight nod as she turned and walked out of the screen. Quickly, you exited the control room and met her in the hallway.

"Agent Y/L/N," she called out as she spotted you. "You can have the room in five minutes—"

"I need to reschedule."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Reschedule?"

"Uh... yes, something urgent came up," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual.

She regarded you for a moment before nodding. "Alright, just let me know when you want to reschedule."

"I will, thank you," you said quickly. Sensing her lingering gaze, you added, "Oh, I'm just waiting for Reid. I need his help on... something."

A faint smile played on her lips, though she didn't press further. "Of course, I'll leave you to it then." 

With a nod, she turned and walked away just as the door at the end of the hallway opened, revealing Spencer emerging from the room. His eyes met yours in confusion, and you could sense his curiosity as he approached you.

"Hey," he greeted. "What are you doing here?"

You cocked your head to the side.

What were you doing here? 

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before offering a shrug. "Just passing by, I guess."

His brow furrowed slightly as if he sensed there was more to your answer than you were letting on. "Alright," he said, though his curiosity lingered in his gaze.

You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, suddenly feeling the need to change the subject. "So, how did the evaluation go?"

"So you've heard.”

"Yeah," you confirmed, starting to walk down the hallway as he stepped in pace beside you. "I can't wait for you to be back on the team. Officially, that is."

"If they let me back on the team."

"Of course they will," you reassured him, your hand finding its place on his shoulder, offering support. "You're more than qualified."

He sighed, and you tried not to notice the subtle movement of his vest across his chest, or how it shifted under your touch. "You think so?"

"I know so," you affirmed, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Trust me, they'll definitely bring you back."

He stopped his pace, and so did you, before his eyes flickered towards your hand on his shoulder. He must've sensed something different, considering you weren't exactly the type of person who liked physical contact. Neither of you were, actually. While Spencer was known for his aversion to germs, you simply preferred maintaining a certain level of personal space.

"Seriously," he wondered, his tone laced with curiosity. "What are you doing down here?"

You cleared your throat. "I told you, I was just passing by."

"Really? Is that why you're talking to me instead of going through your usual training?" he pressed on. "It's Tuesday. I'm well aware of your schedule."

Damn him and his eidetic memory. You shifted away from his gaze. "Can't a girl just choose to have a chat with a friend?"

"You chose me over your scheduled routine?” his lips curved into a subtle smile. “Am I that much of a distraction?”

Yes, that damn vest is distracting me.

"Distraction might be a bit strong,” you replied, the lie sounding feeble even to your own ears.

"So you’re admitting I’m slightly distracting?"

"I never said that.”

Spencer leaned in and you felt the heat of his proximity radiating from his body. "But you didn't deny it either.”

You felt a faint blush creep onto your cheeks as you realized the shift in his tone. Dare you say he was... flirting with you? Or was it just your imagination running wild? From the corner of your eye, you caught the subtle way he licked his lips, and without meaning to, your own gaze was drawn to the movement.

It was a habit of his, one you'd observed countless times before whether it was out of concentration or a mere reflex. But seeing it up close now, the way his tongue traced the curve of his bottom lip, was driving you insane.

You swallowed hard. This was not friendly behavior. A friend wouldn't be imagining what it would feel like to have his tongue on your lips instead.

"Y/N?"

Your face felt hot as you met his gaze. "I..."

Before you could respond, the sound of laughter and chatter from down the hallway reached your ears. You heard Penelope's unmistakable giggle with JJ's animated voice, and suddenly your instinct took over. Without a second thought, you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him into an empty office nearby. 

The door shut with a soft thud, and you frowned, suddenly feeling embarrassed. You didn't want to be caught in a state of flustered panic like some nervous school girl talking to her crush, but as Spencer stood behind you, you realized you were overreacting. The more you dwelled on it, the more absurd it seemed to hide away when there was no reason to.

With a sigh, you turned to face him. "Sorry about that, I didn't mean to..."

But as your gaze met him, your words faltered because he was standing closer than you expected. Close enough that the color of his eyes seemed to intensify under the soft light filtering through the window—a rich brown, like warm chocolate, with specks of gold that danced in the sunlight.

Your eyes involuntarily traced downwards, from the sharp lines of his nose to the curve of his lips, lingering on the stubble lining his jawline. Your mind wandered, and now you couldn't help but wonder how it would feel having it against your skin. Or how it would feel pressed against your thigh.

Your face grew hotter at the thought.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" he asked, taking a step forward. You squeaked in surprise, an actual high-pitched sound leaving your lips, as you felt the hard surface of his vest pressing against your chest.

"It's just..." You hesitated, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. "You're standing really close..."

He glanced down at you, his eyes resting on your lips. "Do you want me to move?"

"I... uh..."

His eyes flickered back up to meet yours. "I'll take that as a no."

Before you could process his words, his hand reached up, fingers gently gripping your waist. You felt a rush of heat spread through you at his touch, the sensation seeping through your shirt and you found yourself leaning into him, your breath catching in your throat as his face hovered closely above yours.

It was happening. Your heart pounded in your chest as his lips drew closer. You couldn’t believe it, he was going to kiss you—Spencer-fucking-Reid was going to kiss you.

But just as his lips hovered dangerously close against yours, he suddenly stopped.

"Just to make this clear," he began, running a thumb along your side. "I respect you, both as a friend and a colleague. I don't want to force you into anything you're not comfortable with, so if you think this is pushing any boundaries then—"

"Spencer," you cut in. "Just kiss me already."

With a hint of relief and a small smile playing on his lips, he finally closed the gap between you.

You never imagined his lips could be so soft. He had the softest lips that moved against your own with a hint of coffee and something undeniably sweet. Those soft, soft lips parted away from yours for a moment before he leaned back in, more desperate, more needy. And when he swiped your bottom lip with his tongue, seeking entrance, you couldn't help but welcome him with a soft moan of pleasure.

He devoured you then, his tongue pushing eagerly into your mouth, his lips enveloping you with a hunger that left you breathless as he pressed himself against you. Before you could fully grasp what was happening, you were walking backward until your back collided with the solid surface of the desk. 

With strength you didn’t know he possessed, he effortlessly lifted you and perched you on top of it, prompting a surprised squeal to escape your lips. He laughed in response but you were too caught up in the moment to worry about whether he found you amusing. 

Your hands eagerly roamed over his chest, fingers curling around the strap of his vest as you pulled him closer. He slipped between your parted legs with ease and when he pressed his evident bulge against your core, you both gasped in pleasure.

"We should... we should probably stop, right?" he murmured, his voice muffled against your lips. Despite his words, his actions betrayed his self-control as he began to roll his hips against you.

“We're at work, someone might—” He groaned. “Someone might… hear us..."

He was right, but you found yourself unable to care about anything else but the sensation of his hard cock pressing against your heat.

"We could stop, or..." you found yourself saying without thinking. Your hands moved with a mind of their own, finding their way between you as you started to unbutton your shirt, the fabric slipping away to reveal more of your skin. 

"Or..." He prompted, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip yet again, his breath coming out in shallow, ragged bursts.

"Or..." you repeated, pushing the front of your shirt open. "We could be quiet."

"We could be quiet," he agreed all too quickly. "We could definitely be quiet."

You let out an amused laugh. "We’re going to get in trouble if anyone finds us."

“Then you shouldn’t make a sound.”

“Me? What about—oh.”

His lips were already trailing down your body, leaving soft kisses as they lingered on your neck, across your collarbone, and then he moved lower, sucking lightly on the swell of your breasts. A whimper of his name escaped your lips, your fingers entwining in his hair.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes drinking at the sight of your breast pushed up against your bra, a glistening sheen of his saliva coating your skin.

“You are stunning,” he murmured, before leaning back in to place a tender kiss on the spot where your collarbone met your shoulder. “How far do you want to take this?”

You blinked, trying to ground yourself into the moment between the lust fogging your brain. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he muttered as he rutted his hips against yours, drawing a needy moan from you. “How far are you willing to go?”

“If you’re asking whether I want to have sex with you, the answer is a hundred percent yes.”

You could practically feel his smile on your skin as he buried himself in the crook of your neck.

“That’s good to know,” he whispered, causing you to arch your back as your chest pressed against the hard material of his vest. “But I don’t think we can do much considering we’re supposed to be working. Well, you at least.”

You grasped his shoulders, pushing him away to meet his gaze. “I thought we agreed to keep quiet.”

“We can keep quiet,” he assured you, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “But I can’t rush my time with you. Besides, you deserve a much better setting than an unoccupied office full of dust.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers trailing lightly along your jawline. “Maybe, but it’s more about time, really. I just want to take—” His lips brushed against your cheek. “My time—” A peck on your lips. “With you.”

You melted right there and then. You could’ve sworn you were nothing but a puddle mess. If he wasn’t holding you for support you were sure you could fall right back to the floor.

“Alright then,” you finally said, reaching for the buttons of your shirt with trembling hands only to be stopped as his fingers curled around your wrist.

“What are you doing?”

You shot him a puzzled look. “I thought you didn’t want to have sex right now.”

“I didn’t say anything about stopping,” he replied, releasing your hand before his palms slid up your thighs. “There are plenty of other things we can do.”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks. “Like what?”

“Well, I guess we'll just have to get creative.”

Your breath hitched when his fingers hovered over the button on your pants. You watched with a mix of excitement and disbelief as he started to undo them, your mind turning into a mushy mess. It was as if every neuron in your brain had decided to stop working.

“Lift your hips for me.”

You met his gaze, trying to summon up your composure but you couldn’t help the nervous twitch of your lips. He smiled at you.

“Come on, pretty girl, we don’t have all day.”

Not only were you melting, but you were practically liquid by now. Your body moved on its own accord—your hands gripping his shoulders as you lifted your hips, synchronizing perfectly with his gentle movements to slide the material over your hips and down your legs.

He placed your pants on the empty space beside you while his eyes never left your body. His gaze lingered on the rise and fall of your chest, and he leaned in, his fingers trailing over your skin before settling on the hem of your panties. His thumb slid to the front, brushing along the delicate material. Your hips bucked as he continued to run his thumb up and down as if he were trying to map out your slick folds over the fabric.

“Look at you dripping,” he mused, his eyes fixated on the way his thumb slid over to your clit. “Are you always this wet?”

Your cheeks heated at the question. He wasn’t even trying to make it come off as dirty talk; he asked it like a normal question, as if he were simply wondering about what you ate for breakfast. But the question alone had your face burning because you did not expect it to come from him.

“I… I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he asked, his tone amused. He hooked his fingers into the material of your panties before pushing it to the side.

“I-I don’t know.” You let out a breathless moan when his fingers grazed your slit. “Whenever I’m turned on, I don’t... I don’t exactly touch myself just to check how wet I am.”

Spencer chuckled softly, angling his hand between your thighs before gently pushing his middle finger into your entrance. You gasped at the sudden stretch, brows furrowing as he pressed further, and your hand instinctively gripped onto his arm.

“Do you often touch yourself?”

Your head fell back as he started to move.

“M-Maybe,” you managed to stutter out.

"What do you think of when you do?" he asked slowly, his own breath starting to grow shallow as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He observed the way your mouth fell open, your tongue slightly slipping out in the corner, and the way your eyes shut closed. He was fascinated by the effect he had on you, on how just a simple touch had you squirming.

“A… a lot of things,” you managed to reply.

“Have you ever thought of me?”

Whoa.

The question caught you off guard, and you blinked, momentarily stunned.

This was dangerous territory, but then again, nothing seemed quite as risky as being fingered by your coworker on a Tuesday afternoon. So what harm could it be if you admitted that yes, in fact, he had crossed your mind when you touched yourself wishing it was his fingers instead?

A lot of harm, actually. One, it seemed like an inappropriate confession given your friendship. Friends don't usually imagine each other in sexual scenarios. And two, you could die of embarrassment.

"No," you replied, hoping your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

He hummed skeptically. “I thought we were past the point of lying between profilers.” With a pause, he added another finger inside you, causing you to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan. “Is this how you imagined it in your fantasies?”

What was the point of lying now? You swallowed hard, trying to think of a witty response to distract from the intense pleasure coursing through your body.

“Uh… This is slightly better.”

“Slightly? I’m hurt.” He pressed his thumb onto your clit. “What else did you think of then?”

Your cheeks flushed even more. “You… well, um, you also used your tongue.”

The airy laugh he let out sent a shiver down your spine. “Really? And how did that fantasy play out?"

Your heart raced as you tried to find the right words. "Let's just say it involved a lot more tongue action and a lot less talking."

His smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against your ear. “Then let’s reenact it.” He gently pulled his fingers out of you. “Lay on your back.”

With a shaky breath, you complied, sprawling out on the desk, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through you. When he reached for the waistband of your panties, you couldn't help but crack a joke. "If I knew this was the direction this day was heading, I would've worn my fanciest underwear."

Spencer shook his head. “Trust me, you don't need fancy underwear to drive me crazy."

He then deftly removed your panties, his movements confident yet tender, like he was unwrapping a precious gift. When the fabric pooled at your ankle, he got down on his knees and parted your legs wider, positioning himself between them.

You watched, anticipation building, as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your inner thigh. Then, with a teasing glance, he pressed his lips to your skin, planting soft kisses along the trail of your inner thigh, inching closer to your core.

You shivered at the sensation and your heart raced with every kiss. His hands roamed over your thighs, tracing delicate patterns while his mouth brushed closer to where you craved him the most. You bit down your bottom lip, unable to contain the moan that escaped as his tongue flicked out, grazing your sensitive flesh.

This was definitely better than your fantasies, the ones you'd harbored in secret, too taboo to admit even to yourself. But here you were, living out those desires in the most deliciously real way possible.

You gasped as his tongue lavished your slit, tasting every inch, mixing your arousal that was beginning to drip from your core with his saliva. Your back arched off the desk, thighs trembling and when they threatened to close, he made sure two heavy palms kept them open long enough for his tongue to drag over your clit.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Somehow it felt like a dream, but everything was real. His face was right between your thighs; his mouth pressed against your cunt, his tongue lapping through your wet folds. And it wasn’t as simple as tasting you, he was eating you, devouring you, swallowing every drop of your arousal as if he couldn’t get enough of your taste.

You started to lose control of your mind, your body, your actions. Your hips bucked to meet his tongue, your jaw slackening as stifled moans spilled from your lips. And that was when you felt it—a faint vibration against your thigh. At first, you thought it was just the sensation of his touch, but then the loud, unmistakable loud ringtone of your phone shattered the moment.

"Shit!" You squealed, scrambling to grab your phone from your discarded pants. The last thing you needed was for someone to discover you in this compromising position.

"It's Emily—“ You pushed his head away, trying to hide your flushed face as he looked at you with surprise. His lips were glistened with your arousal and his hair seemed messier. God, he looked so pretty.

"Don't answer it."

"It might be important." With a pointed look, you silently urged him to keep quiet as you brought the phone to your ear with trembling fingers. “H-Hey... what's up?"

Emily's voice came through the line, slightly muffled by the sounds of commotion in the background. “Hey, I need you to review the report you submitted yesterday, you left a few details about the Unsub.”

Spencer's lips brushed against your inner thigh, sending a shiver down your spine, and you had to bite back a moan. You shot him a warning glare, mouthing ‘stop’ before turning your attention back to the call.

“Y/N? Are you listening?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “So… um, which report?”

"The case in Florida," your boss explained. "You mentioned that the Unsub was targeting women between the ages of 25 and 35…”

You were trying to listen, you really were, but it was hard when you felt his fingers ease into your cunt, your juices dripping out, coating his flesh as he curled them inside. You almost let out a whine as his thumb pressed to your clit, caressing in circular motions. 

“…he's also been stalking younger women."

Your eyes screwed shut as he sped up his pace. His touch was driving you crazy, and you could barely register the conversation over the sounds of your own arousal echoing in the room.

“Y/N.”

You snapped your eyes open, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you tried to concentrate on the call. "Uh, yeah, go on," you managed to stammer, hoping she didn't notice your wavering tone.

“Are you okay? You sound... off," Emily's voice cut through the haze of pleasure. You shot Spencer another pleading look, but he simply smiled at you with a hand still between your thighs and the other slipping underneath your bra.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, fighting against the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. "Uh, yeah, I… I-I’m doing my training.”

You mentally cursed yourself for the terrible excuse. Emily didn't seem entirely convinced. "Training?"

"Yeah, you know, the uh... firearm training? I-It’s Tuesday.”

There was a pause on the other end before she spoke again. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound like you're in pain."

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan as his fingers curled inside of you. "No, no, I'm fine. Just... a little out of breath from all the… shooting."

Spencer let out an incredulous scoff, and you shot him a pointed glare.

“Are you with someone?”

You hesitated, racking your brain for a believable excuse, but all you could muster was a feeble, "Uh, nope.”

There was a pause on the other end, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken as your body flushed with heat. Meanwhile, Spencer seemed intent on torturing you, never stopping his pace. If anything, it seemed like his movements were increasing. Just when you thought you couldn't feel more exposed, another scoff echoed through your ear, this time from Emily.

“Alright, where are you really?” she pressed, her tone indicating she wasn't buying your flimsy excuse.

“I told you I-I’m doing my training.”

She laughed. “Y/N, we profile people as a job. I can sense your lie even through the phone.”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. What was up with these profilers and their knack for sniffing out lies? You were one yourself, but apparently, you were no match for their scrutiny.

“I’m not—“ your words were cut short when he stood up, hovering above you. You looked up at him, smiling at you innocently as his fingers continued to curl deep inside you. You clutched his forearm with your free hand, attempting to steady yourself.

"I'm not lying," you managed to squeak out.

"Mhm," came Emily's voice from the other end. “Just come by my office and grab the report, okay?”

Your breath hitched as his fingertips delved deeper, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight of his hand moving between your legs, coated in your arousal with each thrust. You could feel your orgasm edging closer. Your hips moved in sync with his motions as the pressure built, the tension coiling tighter in your stomach and—

“Y/N!”

“Y-Yes, I’m… I’m coming.” Spencer's low chuckle filled your ears, and you realized what you'd unintentionally implied. Your eyes widened in embarrassment. “I mean, I-I’ll be there soon, okay, bye!”

You quickly slammed your phone down on the desk, ending the call with a thud. But before you could even take a breath, Spencer's fingers were back to their rapid pace, driving you to the edge of sanity. Your body staggered under his touch, your hips moving in sync with his relentless rhythm, the world outside the room fading away into a blur of pleasure.

"A-Ah—w-wait, fuck—"

You barely managed to utter a protest before his hand covered your mouth, muffling your cries of pleasure. Your back arched, your head thrown back as you tightened your grip on his wrist, your body writhing beneath him as your orgasm consumed you.

It lasted longer than you expected and Spencer seemed determined to push you over the edge as he shifted his attention from your cunt to your sensitive clit. His fingers withdrew momentarily, only to return with a renewed intensity, applying just the right amount of pressure.

Your senses were on overload as you moaned into his hand, the sound muffled but still audible. He worked you, over and over, and you didn't even know your body could take so much. Every stroke, every caress sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you, building up to an intensity that bordered on overwhelming.

Your legs shook uncontrollably as the sensations reached a fever pitch. It was all too much, too intense, and in a moment of desperation, you pushed his hand away. When the last tremors of your orgasm finally faded away, you collapsed back onto the desk, panting heavily, your limbs feeling like jelly. 

Spencer removed his hand from your mouth, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he watched you catch your breath. “Are you okay?" 

You nodded weakly. “Yeah, just… that was intense.”

“Good intense?”

“Really good intense,” you replied with a sheepish grin, which only made him smile. With shaky hands, you pushed yourself up from the desk, feeling a wave of satisfaction wash over you. As you began to dress yourself, you couldn't help but steal a glance at him—or rather, the evident bulge underneath his pants.

“That… that doesn’t look comfortable,” you remarked.

Spencer waved off your worry with a dismissive chuckle. “Don’t worry about me, I can take care of it myself.”

“Here? At work?” Your eyes widened at the implication. “I didn't know you had it in you.”

He cocked his head to the side. “That’s not what I meant. It’ll eventually go away if I ignore—stop staring at it,” he added with a laugh. “You’re not helping.”

Your gaze lingered a moment too long on his bulge. "I can think of another way to help.”

Spencer's breath caught in his throat, his imagination running wild with possibilities, but he quickly regained his composure. "Go," he said, gently nudging you towards the door once you were properly dressed. "Emily's waiting for you."

Your eyes swept over him and a wave of awkwardness suddenly washed over you. What was the protocol after experiencing the most intense orgasm of your life? Shake his hand? Give him a high-five? You couldn't help but stifle a nervous laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

After a brief moment of contemplation, you decided to trust your instincts. With a hint of hesitation, you stepped closer and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. He blinked in surprise, but before he could respond, you were already rushing to the door.

He couldn't help but smile as he watched you leave, a tingling sensation lingering on his cheek where your lips had briefly touched. But as he licked his lips absentmindedly, he couldn't shake the taste of your arousal that lingered there.

Groaning softly, he shifted uncomfortably as his mind filled with vivid images of you squirming under him; your mouth agape, eyes half-closed, your pretty legs spread apart. The memory of your moans echoed in his ears and his cock stirred in his pants. 

He sighed, realizing he was in for a long day if he didn't do something about it. With a slight grimace—and the embarrassment gnawing at him for what he was about to do—he let his feet carry him to the nearest bathroom.

[luveline]

Ok but can you imagine if bombshell!reader who is pregnant does fall down somewhere?? Everyone, Spencer very much so, freaks out and she tries to play it off cool even though she’s really sore. She and baby are ok but she and Spencer are definitely shaken up by this and he’s even more hover-y from this 😭🥲

ty for requesting <3 pregnant!reader falling and panicking lovely bf spencer, 1.3k

“We’re like, the dream team,” you say, sewing your arm through the crook of Spencer’s. He’s trying to zip up your jacket, which is difficult given the ever-growing curve of your stomach. With one arm, it’s hopeless. 

“We are,” he murmurs obligingly, thinking about how cold it is outside and how you’ve yet to give in to the ‘ugly-fest’ of maternity clothes at work. It’s a shame. You look adorable in them at home. “Maybe you should put on your hoodie.” 

“It’s fine, it’s like, three steps between the station and the hotel.” You smile at him. He loves your eyes, your lashes, and he forgets to be stern. 

“Let’s go, then.” He waves at Emily where she’s chatting with an officer. “You ready?” he asks. 

Penelope pops her head out of the office with her laptop bag tucked under her arm. “Let’s go home, my chickens.” 

You and Spencer devolve into one of your murmured conversations, giggling, pressed arm to arm as you and the team emerge from the warmth of the police station and into the cold winter air. It’s sub zero outside, Spencer’s sure, wanting to get you back out of the elements as quickly as possible. 

He takes the steps first and holds out his hand a few beneath. Emily laughs, says, “He’s so chivalrous,” to Penelope’s delight. 

“He’s always been our gentleman,” Penelope says. 

You look eager to agree. “He’s my prince,” you tease gently, taking his hand, leaning just a little too far forward. 

Your foot slips out from underneath you with a sound like a knife scraping the snow. You fall hard and fast, and the horror is that your one leg trips more than the other and you end up slamming flat on your side. 

Spencer has you up again before the slush can so much as wet your clothes, but it doesn’t matter. Your eyes go wider than he’s ever seen them and your lips struggle down into an immediate frown, a wobbly expression, alarm in your voice as you say, “Oh, woah.” 

“Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay?” Penelope asks, she and Spencer rushing down to the bottom of the steps to meet you. 

“Sit her down, Spencer,” Emily says quickly, not scornful or anything but her concern turning her tone hard. 

“It’s wet,” he says, as his head bubbles up with horrible statistics. 

“Spencer,” you say tightly, “I’m fine.” 

You don’t look fine. He yanks his suit jacket off and drops it to the floor, a write off, he and Penelope encouraging you to sit on the bottom step. Your eyes are filled with tears, he suspects from panic and pain at once, and he doesn’t really know what to do in this situation for a second, he has to think back. It’s hard to think and hold your hands at the same time. 

“It’s okay,” he says, enthusing his voice with false pep. 

“What should we do?” Penelope asks, quicker to panic than the rest of you. 

Spencer bends down in front of you. You’re the only person that matters in that moment. “What hurts?” he asks, hand hovering over your side. “Does anything hurt?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, before shaking your head, “What about–” You cut yourself off. “Yeah.” 

Spencer takes your wrist. “I’m gonna call Dr. Cordell right now. Okay? Just as a precaution. That’s what you’re supposed to do, okay?” 

“I think I hurt my hip,” you say smally. 

With some help from the girls, Spencer gets you back to the hotel. He calls your doctor, and they decide to get you an emergency check up with an antenatal doctor he knows while you’re still out of state. It feels less panicky and more dread while you wait, but the appointment goes well, and you’re given the all clear a few hours after your fall. 

You’re uncharacteristically quiet at the hotel. Spencer asks if you’re alright and you say, “Of course,” while he spends the rest of the evening watching you wince. 

It’s getting ready for bed where he finally gets you to crack for him. You’re not expecting to be sore, that much is clear, and you’re bashful asking for his help. “I can’t get my shirt over my head,” you say from the bathroom, with no need to shout. He can hear you from his not so casual seat at the foot of the bed. 

He lost his tie a few hours ago, and his suit jacket lays soggy in a plastic bag on top of his suitcase. He rolls his sleeves up as he eases into the small bathroom, eyes dropping to the naked bump of your stomach where your shirt is pooled. You have a yellowy bruise taking form on your hip. Another on your bump, like the lines of the stone steps. 

“Angel,” he murmurs, fingers glancing over the bruise gently. 

“Doesn’t hurt.” 

“You don’t have to lie.” 

You poke him. “Help me get changed, handsome.” You laugh at your demanding. “Please help me get changed.” 

“So rude,” he says. 

He grabs the ends of your shirt and pulls it up your back and over the back of your head so as to not agitate your cut up elbow again. You sigh as he pulls it clean, leaving you shirtless and gorgeous in the bathroom, despite all your worrying. He should tell you. He can’t not tell you, really. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, taking your shoulders into his hands. 

“Even with the baby weight?” you ask. 

He rubs your arm. “You’ve never been this beautiful.” 

“Oh, no, don’t say that.” You cover his arm with yours, hand over his, fingers intertwining loosely. 

“You’re always…” He leans down. He’d been about to stop himself, but he continues, lips just an inch from yours, the two of you eye to eye. “Beautiful. I’m sorry about today, it was my fault.” 

“It was my fault.” 

“I should’ve been more careful, I knew it was cold enough for frost.” 

“I should’ve been more careful,” you say, frowning at him indignantly, “I know how fragile I am right now and I’m not being careful enough.” 

“You slipped,” he argues. It could only be an accident.

“What if she felt it?” you whisper. 

Spencer was trying to assuage your fears and he’d been planning on a kiss, but a hug feels more important in that moment, a careful loop of his arms under yours. His few inches of height over you are especially helpful in steering clear of your stomach. “She didn’t feel it, Y/N, I promise. You took the fall for her, and the doctor said everything is just fine. She didn’t even know it was happening, I swear.” 

You let out a long, slow breath. You nod into his should after a few moments. “Okay. Thank you for picking me back up, Spence.” 

“That was impressive, right?” 

You poke him some more as you let the entirety of your weight slouch into his front. “You’re quite impressive, Reid. I felt the muscle.” You kiss his neck, voice dropping to a murmur, “I’m okay.” He hasn’t realised how badly he needed reassurance too. 

“I know.” 

“Sorry if I was dramatic,” you say. 

“Dramatic?” he laughs, thumb on your neck drawing shapes. “You tried to tell me you were fine. That’s the opposite of dramatic.” 

“…Maybe I should slow down some. Maybe. Take some days off.” 

Spencer kisses the top of your head. “That could be nice. You’ve been bouncing around for months. We could just spend a couple of days laying down, right? You can try out some of those maternity pyjamas you’re so reluctant to wear.” 

“Why’d you buy so many?” 

“I’m trying to take care of you. I thought I’d finally be allowed,” he says. 

Your voice turns to a whisper. “You always take care of me, Spence. You really do.” 

[bahablastplz]

Canvas: Hyunjin x Reader

Content: A late night with your boyfriend turns into something more as you both try something you had only talked about before; smut and fluff Warnings: p in v sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, heavy heavy praise WC: 2500 Happy birthday Hyunjin <3

Hyunjin was painting again. 

As you roll out of bed in the middle of the night, this fact is apparent. The smell of paint wafts from the living room where he has his work space set up. A large tarp on the floor, a small easel propped up and a lamp set to illuminate his latest work. Paints lay haphazardly around him, a blend of colors and shades of hues mushed across the palette. The rest of the room was dimly lit, moonlight shimmering through the curtains and shining on your boyfriend’s face. God, he was breathtaking. One paintbrush is in his mouth and the other in his hand, gliding across the canvas. The sight makes you let out a breathy laugh. 

“Love?” He looks up at you now, watching your frame as you admire him from the wall. The lamp light reflects onto his dark-framed glasses when his gaze meets yours, and you smile at how the yellow and orange lights glow across his features. He smiles back. It’s a small gesture, and even though you’ve seen him smile hundreds of times the gesture warms your heart. 

You cross the room in your nightgown, the cold breeze from the air-conditioning causing you to curl into yourself slightly. Hyunjin beckons to the spot on the floor beside him and you take it eagerly, body curling around him and head resting on his lap. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask him. He has the habit of sneaking away in the night, so as to not wake you, and painting until the sun starts to creep through the windows. It’s cathartic for him, a way for him to get away from his thoughts that trouble him in the night. In moments like this you love to watch him, how his brows furrow in concentration and his lips get caught between his teeth. Hyunjin was the most in his element when he had a canvas in front of him. 

“Mm,” he confirms. He checks his hand to make sure no paint dirties it before he rests it on your hip, drawing soothing circles on top of your nightgown. Your head nuzzles deeper into him and you breathe in his scent, letting out a content hum. 

“Did I wake you?” He asks a moment later. His hand moves effortlessly across canvas, dappling acrylic paint across a vision of flowers that was already the picture of perfection to you–but would probably take him at least a few more hours to complete. He was a perfectionist like that; he could point out every absence of color, needed highlight or small imperfection of his work that was near imperceivable to you. 

“No, the bed was just cold. I wanted to see where you were,” you hum against his skin. Your words were true, of course; because you get so hot when you sleep next to your boyfriend, the house usually stays a bit chillier but you notice his absence sometimes when he leaves the bed late at night. He now wears a dark colored hoodie that swallows his features, meant for his comfort when lounging around the house like this. His pants are also meant for lounging, the gray sweatpants soft but covered in remnants of previous art projects known lovingly as his ‘painting pants.’ 

“Do you want me to warm you up?” You nod and crawl into his lap, nuzzling your face right into the crook of his neck. He lets out a breathy laugh underneath you, arms wrapping around your frame to bring you closer as he continues to work. After a few minutes your boyfriend leans closer to the canvas, examining a piece of his work that must have not looked right to him. This action shifts your position, however, your core now pressed right against his clothed length. You tense against him and your breath hitches slightly, and you know that he’s caught on to your arousal. 

“How much longer?” You whine against him. He lets out a laugh and uses his free hand to stroke your back, long fingers moving languidly across your spine. The action is meant to soothe you but has the opposite effect, sending an electrical shock down your body and causing you to let out a small breath. 

“Why, love? Are you feeling needy for me?” You nod almost embarrassingly fast. While you love watching Hyunjin paint and could for hours, you can’t help the want that settles deep in your gut that begs for his touch, his attention, and his desire to be released toward you. 

“I was hoping to paint for a while more,” he confesses. You try not to let your disappointment show, but you let out a moan as the man’s hand finds your hips, pushing you harder against him. The friction that meets your core has you feeling more desperate and you buck into him and he’s smiling, and it infuriates you to know he’s intentionally trying to work you up. He has always loved seeing you pliant, needy and desperate for him, and you were unfortunately already in that state somehow. “Do you want to sit on my cock baby?” Your head reels back to look at him with wide eyes. “You can sit on my cock while I paint but you have to be good and promise not to move, okay?” 

You had talked with him about cock-warming before but it was never something you had actually done. Now, it must be just past 3 a.m., and you were finally turning the hypothetical into reality–it felt unreal. You let out an affirmative sound and nod your head, and he’s maneuvering your bodies to get you set up. He repositions you so that you’re on your knees above him, slightly towering over him where he sits on the floor. He’s lifting his hips up and pushing his pants down just past his thighs, releasing his cock and pumping it one, two times. He’s hard already, and you watch him in awe as he works to pleasure himself in front of you. It’s just for a second, but enough for him to have your breath come to a stop, which is exactly what he was waiting for. 

His hands find place on your waist. He’s hitching your nightgown up above your hips, leaving you bare for him. It’s no secret that sometimes you sleep without underwear on, but he smirks at you and stares in a way that leaves you feeling utterly exposed despite him having seen you like this hundreds of times. His fingers come up to your core, rubbing it and gathering your wetness to spread it around your folds. You let out a moan at the action, thankful for the contact before he’s dragging you down and placing his cock at your entrance. 

He leans back on his hands and looks up at you, waiting for you to do the rest. And so you do, piercing yourself onto him and sliding down his length, inch by inch. Hyunjin was well-endowed, so to speak, so it was never an easy fit to take him but it felt pleasurable nonetheless. Finally he is fully inside you, and your breathing and each moan is completely synced with one another. A hand comes up to bring a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and the movement is so domestic and loving that it makes your heart pang in your chest. 

“Beautiful,” is all he says. 

He brings your nightgown back down so that it covers you up, remembering your recent complaint about being cold. Your head finds its place back on his shoulder, in the crook of his neck like it’s your home. 

And, he continues painting. 

You’re not sure why you’re surprised–that’s exactly what he said he was going to do. Your boyfriend has a lot of self-control and restraint that you did not, and it was especially evident when you were intimate. While you often become wrecked from the start, he would let his pleasure build up and would reel from the delayed gratification of it all. 

Your knees find the ground and before you can help yourself, you put your weight on them. You’re propping yourself up, sliding up his length about halfway, before crashing back down. Your clit drags deliciously across his abdomen in the process, causing you to let out a heavy sigh of pleasure. You rock against him only one more time before strong hands find your shoulders, pushing you down hard. You try to bounce up again and find that you’re unable, his grip keeping you in place so firmly that you cannot budge despite your attempts. 

“Don’t,” he scolds. His words are sharp, not laced with venom but to remind you of his earlier demands. 

At this angle, his hands pushing you down causes his cock to be seated deeper inside you than before and you let out an embarrassing squeak. You feel so full, and you tell him so. 

He has an idea; he grabs you and leans forward, grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his torso. When he sits back down, you are now unable to give yourself the momentum needed to move your hips or rock against his length. You are fully seated on him and he is fully inside you, his arms wrapping around you and holding you flush against him as he continues his work. 

It’s silent, now, with the exception of your shallow and uneven breathing. You find yourself clenching against him over and over again, reeling in the sensation of him inside you. And it’s just that–you can really feel him like this, every ridge and vein, every pulse of him inside you, and it has you feeling lightheaded. 

“God, baby, you’re gushing around me,” he whispers into your hair. “Taking me so good.” His praise makes you smile and squeeze tighter around him and he groans. You feel smug to finally get him to lose his composure, but he starts spouting more praise that makes all thoughts vanish in an instant.

“So good for me, baby, you know that? Such a good pussy. You’re the love of my life, God, you were made just for me. You were made for me to love you, to hold you like this… So pretty for me. You’re all mine, meant to take my cock, yeah?” You whimper against him, the mixture of sweet nothings and sexual praise whispered to you making you feel dizzy. 

It’s several more minutes before you say something, finally coming to the conclusion that you would have to be the one to initiate it further, if he would even let you. 

“Please…” It’s all you can say at first. 

“What, love?” He teases. He knows exactly what you want. 

“Need you to move, please, Hyune… It’s too much. Need to cum,” You beg. You’re sure you sound pathetic but you can’t find it in you to care. If there’s anyone who’s not only willing but wanting to see you in your most pathetic and vulnerable states, it’s Hyunjin. 

“Poor thing, does it feel that good?” His voice asks with a small lilt in it. You’re sniffling now, embarrassed about the tears starting to spill down your cheeks but so overcome in pleasure and sensitivity; you can both feel it in the ways that you clench around him unabashedly. He brings his head back to see your face, to examine your tears. He’s seen you on the verge of tears a few times while having sex from being overwhelmed by pleasure, and though it always makes his heart tighten because he’s the one that’s doing that to you, he’s the one making you feel that good,  he knows it’s about time you’ve reached your limit. He wipes a stray tear away and you don’t even realize that he has dropped his paintbrush until he’s picking you up and bringing you over to the couch. 

He leans back, enraptured by you, and brings you in for a sweet but messy kiss. It’s open-mouthed and hot, and it feels like you’re breathing into him and filling up his lungs. Your tongues meet and you’re covered in spit, a mixture of yours and his, and suddenly his hands are on your hips and his feet are planted strongly on the ground. He doesn’t disconnect his mouth from yours as he thrusts up into you long and hard, but any coherence is long since gone and you’re not sure you’re even kissing back anymore, instead giving loud, high-pitched moans into his mouth. 

His hands move to the undersides of your thighs and he uses his strength to piston into you. In this way, you can only take what he gives but it’s more than enough, as he knows your body better than you do. 

“I’m close, love,” he confesses. He lets his head fall back onto the couch but his eyes never leave yours, drinking up your scrunched up face and open-mouthed pants. It’s no surprise that you’re both close to your arrival so soon, after sitting on him for so long your pleasure feels like it’s increased tenfold. 

“Me too,” you say, struggling to get the words out. You didn’t have to tell him, though. He could tell by the way you were starting to tighten around him. 

“Go ahead and touch your pretty clit for me, make yourself come.” You follow his command, hand snaking down to where your bodies meet. He was right, you were absolutely soaked, and you use this wetness to shakily circle around your clit. His thrusts get harder, deeper, the way they do right before he cums. Unsurprisingly, you beat him to it, clenching all over his length and throwing your head back as you release. 

He follows suit, thrusting into you a few more times before he finds his release, spilling deep inside of you. He holds you close, rutting into you now slowly and working you both through your intense orgasms. When he stills, you collapse into his arms and he holds you tight, embracing you and running a hand through your hair as he praises you. When he finally pulls you off of him you feel empty and this makes you whine. Hyunjin pulls up his sweatpants and carries you to your shared bathroom, placing you onto the sink as he runs the bath. It’s late, but you feel grimy and covered in sweat so the bath is more than welcomed. 

When you look into the mirror, you can’t help but laugh. Your nightgown is covered in paint at your hips and your waist. Though he had tried to be so careful, you suppose it was the risk that came with the reward. When Hyunjin sees the target of your laughter, he joins you and apologizes sheepishly, promising to buy you another. 

“It’s okay, this can just be my paint nightgown,” you joke. “I’ll wear it the next time we have sex while you’re painting.” He smiles at you affectionately, and when you finally get back to sleep it’s in his arms and your bed is warm again.

*** Masterlist Recs

[shoeistars]

— NO PHOTOS ! pt. 2

༺ feat. reo, barou, rin, sae, shidou

༺ outline. where the boys keep their slutty polas of you <3

༺ w. pro!players, 18+ content, minors dni, photos/polas, fem!reader, read at your own discretion as I don’t do individual tagging for element of surprise <3

༺ pt. 1 (isagi, bachira, chigiri, kunigami, nagi)

— REO ! car dash

When Reo got his hands on his first hypercar, his main priority was keeping the thing clean. No trash, no eating inside of the vehicle, you weren’t even allowed to do your makeup when you’re playing your role of passenger princess. He just wanted to keep the interior spotless, despite the fact that he could buy as many overpriced vehicles as he fucking desired

So, when you hopped into the car one day and noticed the pola of you that he had resting against the dash of his brand new Bugatti, you were stunned. He hadn’t even put a goddamn air freshener on the rearview yet

Whenever you got around to questioning him, all he did was shrug, a smug grin on his face as he drove you to your nail appointment. After all, he got bored when he was sitting in traffic. The picture of you, perched on his California king with the prettiest bra and panty set hugging your body juuust right was worth bending a few rules over

— BAROU ! wallet

The polaroid itself was your idea in the first place. He didn’t really understand what the hell the hype was about, but he’d bend over backwards to see that pretty smile you’d give him when you got your way. Whenever he saw the photo, however, his perspective was changed immediately

You’d been hiked up onto a bathroom sink, always getting way too horny for your own good at events where attendance mattered. He’d sneak you away when you’d start touching on him and whispering dirty shit in his ear, never able to say no to his queen

Thus the birth of the pola nestled in his wallet, right beside his bank card. The view of his thick dick stretching your tightness out was too good to pass up, milky ring of cream wrapped around his base and spilling out of your hole. He just had to have it with him at all times

— RIN ! under his pillow

Pushing the pussy whipped loser boy agenda for Rin because you’re most definitely his first love, the first girl he’s ever touched, fingered, fucked. Having popped his cherry, he can’t help but be completely enamored by you. The mere thought of you gets him hard and he hates that factor to his core

Which plays into why exactly he has a nasty polaroid of you tucked under his navy-clad pillow, right where he rests his head to sleep for the night. It’s safe there, it’s within easy reach for him to fuck his fist to when you’re too far away, which is too often for his own liking thanks to away games

The photo itself is his treasure, a simple one where you’re on your bruised knees, showing him what exactly a facial is. Although he loves you most barefaced, he can’t even lie and deny that your face dripping wet and sticky with his seed isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on

— SAE ! checkbook

Weird place, sure, but there is nothing normal about Sae as a whole. In his eyes, there are three prizes in the world: wins, money, and you. The polaroid fits perfectly right where he has it

There’s nothing more rewarding to him than whipping out his checkbook to buy something big, just to be greeted with your cunt on full display, the photo clipped front and center onto the leather book cover

It’s a real looker of a photo too, his thumb spreading your glossy folds to show off the stream of his cum dripping out of your hole, coating your asshole in thick nut. All he can ever think about is how you whimpered when he licked it up after snapping the shot

— SHIDOU ! pola wall

The consequences of dating a shameless, unhinged individual consists of your nudes being shown off any and every possible chance presented to him. He’s sick, sometimes unreasonable, but you’re too goddamn pretty for him to just hide away

Hence why he’s got a nice slab of white wall in his bedroom, fully dedicated to you. He calls it romantic, of course. All sorts of polas are taped up as decoration, different positions and scenarios

Maybe it’s awkward for guests that just so happen to step into his bedroom for whatever reason, but you like being shown off, don’t you? He figured a slut like you would wanna be put on display, considering you’re just like him

[frogchiro]

HII HII ur writing is perf 4 this idea but you don’t hav 2 do it !! i js thought of u <3 little red riding hood reader & big bad wolf (ko, ghost, price) any cod guy & i think it’s js soo cute !!!

[art by doujinpearl]

ARE YOU KIDDING ME THIS IS SO CUTE??? YOU NEVER MISS LOVE!!! And thank you it really means a lot to me that you like my silly writing <33

tw// horror elements and this has like one mention of a 'off-screen' death but no one major

I think I'm gonna go with König for this one?? Bc something about him just screams big bad wolf to me y'know? Also for the sake of this story, König is described like on the pics above, so his lower half is life a literal werewolf.

okay also i'm putting this under the cut because this somehow grew into a whole fic?? My dear @9irly9irl if you see this know that I love you and this was so. freaking. enjoyable to write??? I love this so much??? Also I'm sorry for the horror themes but I'm getting ready for October and the gloomy weather outside made me do this. I hope you still enjoy and PLEASE send me more for this au!!

Big bad wolf König who is on the prowl for some time now, he's on a hunt for you, the sweet girl who lives alone with her mother on the edge of the dark forest your good old momma always tells you to stay away from and for good reason. The townsfolk from the villages around whisper in fear and dread about a monster lurking in the woods, half man-half wolf with an insatiable taste for blood; they call the beast König, the undisputed King.

And honestly? König likes that rep. It means less annoying pests wandering around his territory safe for a groups of young guys from time to time who think they have the balls to try and 'kill the beast' but they are dealt with...pretty quickly.

But no, König has his glowing eyes set on something more...Exquisite. On something soft and pliable, sweet smelling and so so pretty. Namely on you. The werewolf guesses he has to be thanking his lucky starts or whatever bullshit that while sniffing around your cottage he overheard your mother talking about going out into the forest to bring her sickly mother, your grandma, a basket full of food and some other supplies and being the sweet little thing that you are, you of course cried and volunteered to go yourself, that your mother is already older and that you will make quick work of it.

König swears that day that his blood never rushed downward to his dick so fast. You, soft little you, all alone in his forest? His territory?? It's like you're begging to get taken and mated! The trek from your cottage to your grandma's home would take you about 2-3 days as she lives deep in the woods, the perfect timing for him to reveal himself and take you away for himself into his den in the darkest parts of the forest where you will have the perfect life with him! No more worrying about food or warmth during the cold, dreary winter months, he is more than a capable provider for his future mate, not to mention your future litter of happy yipping pups you will birth for him! It's a perfect plan!

And so he waits. And waits. And waits until the day you finally leave with your cute basket in tow and a tearful goodbye with your mommy dear that you will return as soon as possible. Yea, sure sweetheart.

I think he'd reveal himself by the time it's getting nighttime, when the sun sets, the air is getting cold and a ominous darkness sets over the forest where your trembling body sits in a makeshift nest made of a blanket and a thick animal pelt under a old, big tree. Everything seems so loud, the cries of nocturnal animals sound much more bleak and unnerving, not to mention the weird, chilling feeling of...something following you. Like there were a pair of eyes trained on you since a few weeks ago but you never mentioned this to your poor mother as you didn't want to worry her, but the feeling only amplified ever since you left your home and went on a trip to your grandmother.

You couldn't help the loud yelp you let out when suddenly a pair of glowing golden eyes appeared in the small clearing around the tree; a pair of glowing, unblinking orbs that seemed to be suspended in the air in the surrounding darkness, the weak fireplace you managed to make doing basically nothing to light up the area and your poor little heart started to beat like crazy when you noticed the eyes moving forward, closer and closer to you until the light finally caught what was moving towards you...or more like who.

It was an enormous man, easily over 7ft tall, his broad, bulky shoulders moving as he stood from the position he was in to his full height and those ominous glowing eyes still were unblinking as they stared at you like you were just some lamb and...you probably were.

The one thing that somehow stood out the most, even amidst literally everything else unnatural about this man, were a pair of ear on top of his head, which only now you noticed was covered in some sort of tattered old hood with holes for the eyes and ears, and a huge fluffy tail which was wagging faster anytime you seemed to look the man over, but what really brought it all together was his lower half...it-it was all fur. His legs were that of some bipedal wolf and in that moment a silent scream tried to make its way out of your throat; it was König, the brutal and unforgiving beast that resided in the surrounding forests, the one that people tell horror stories about around campfire and...he was here. He was here before you to tear you apart and leave nothing behind, not even bones.

Tears were streaming down your face, a look of utter defeat on it because after all, what more could you do? You can't possibly fight him, you can't outrun him, hiding is out of the picture too...You were ready to feel the unimaginable pain of those jaws locking themselves on your throat and draining you of your life but the you felt...warmth? A slick, warm feeling on your cheek and when you opened your eyes a bit you saw what it was. It was König, or more like his long tongue licking away at your cheek in an almost comforting matter, his wide unblinking eyes still trained on you though his pupils seemed to grow in size, now taking over most of the glowing yellow and when he deemed you to be clean of your tears, a large crooked nose with a scar running across it nudged into your cheek and took a deep sniff to get your scent. A stray thought ran through your mind when you took a closer look at his uncovered face and noticed another huge scar across his face and a few smaller ones, who or what in their right mind got close enough to inflict such wounds on someone like König?

When you stayed still and just stared at him wide eyed and out of breath König let out a deep growl like purr of content; he could hear your small aborted breaths still coming out quick and your heart fluttering in your chest like a small erratic bird but he could see that you were a tiny bit calmer now and not on the brink of hysterics like a few seconds before. He couldn't help but grin in delight, a nasty, wide thing that revealed rows of sharp teeth. He finally had you. He had you exactly where he wanted and now you were his. Well not completely yet, you two would need to mate first but still, everyone had to start somewhere right? For now he had you calmed down even for a bit, showed you that he wasn't a threat to you and wasn't going to hurt you. It was still only the night of the first day of your travels and he will offer to guide you, he couldn't possibly allow such a cute young lady to just wander around the deep dark forest all alone, right?

Of course he won't mention it that he will be herding you away from the path and instead guide you deeper and deeper into the heart of the woods where his den in. He won't mention it that he will be making very obvious and insistent advances at you, insisting on staying close at all times and wrapping his huge body around you at night for warmth, nosing and nudging at you to cover you in his scent and maybe make you a little bit hot under that deliciously low neckline of the dress that you're wearing, the cape in a lovely shade of red acting like a blanket to shield you away when König is nosing at your neck and bosom, greedy for all the tiny, shy, flustered noises you make, greedy for making you all hot and ready for him.

And of course he certainly won't mention to you about your poor old granny's corpse, rotting for weeks already in her old, decaying house where she died of some illness or old age. No, no, your new life is here, with him. Forever.

[bedoballoons]

Fontaine, Sumeru , Inazuma boys + Zhongli and Xiao with a GN! Darling that has Newts Briefcase from fantastic beasts

Your blog looks beautiful btw

Awwe thank you so much!! <3 I hope you enjoy!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃

{༻~Reader with a briefcase like Newts~༺}

CW: Fluffy and magical! (Pet names: Lyney: Mon amour)

(Includes: Lyney, Zhongli, Tighnari, Heizou, and Xiao!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

Lyney obviously didn't know every magic trick in Teyvat, that would be almost impossible, but he did know quite a few of them and he could usually figure out how others were done fairly quickly, but how your suitcase managed to hold a whole boar, crystalflies of every element, and tens more animals, some of which he'd never seen before, was beyond anything even he could imagine.

You'd left him speechless, mouth agape as he stared at you in awe, "Mon amour, how is this possible? How are you doing that?" You blushed slightly, seeing the way his eyes shun like that of child's when they see something magic for the first time, "I can't tell, it's a secret, but you're welcome to use it for one of your shows, just make sure to feed the scorpions, they get angry otherwise and they aren't very nice when they're angry."

𑁍༄Zhongli:

Zhongli stared at your happy face, your arms extended outwards, being used as a perch for at least 10 exotic birds...all of which had appeared from your suitcase. Originally he had assumed this was only possible because the work of an adepti, but upon closer inspection he saw no signs of adeptal power, infact it seemed completely foreign to him...which only made him more curious.

"You say it can hold as many animals as the forests of Liyue? That's certainly a incredible feat...may I asked how you've acquired such a unique and interesting treasure?" He smiled slightly at you, hoping you'd clear up the mysterious nature behind the briefcase, but you simply chuckled, "One day I'll tell you, but for now it would be far more fun to keep it a secret~"

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnari was sitting in front of your suitcase with his eyes glued to it like at any moment it could actually explode, not because it was somehow holding more animals than he even knew of, but from the sheer amount power such a item would have to have. In all of his days of studying at the akademiya and traveling to other lands in search of new plant varieties, he'd never seen anything like it. "Does it contains exotic plants as well? Do each of the animals have their own ecosystems? If you shut the suitcase for to long does the oxygen run out or does the suit case somehow supply oxygen? Have you ever tried to go in the suit case?"

Your eyes widened at his many questions, more and more spilling from his lips before he could stop himself...frazzling you slightly. You hadn't expected him to get so excited about it, but even with his never ending questions, it was absolutely adorable to see him this way. It was like he'd found a miracle and he wanted to learn everything about it with you.

𑁍༄Heizou:

Heizou stuck his head into your suitcase, trying to find clues as to how it worked, but the detective was more than just stumped, he was simply baffled as to how something like it could even exist. "You weren't joking when you said you wanted to show me something beyond my imagination. I've seen Onis with horns fight beetles and gods who can make the air actually buzz with emotion, but I don't think I've ever seen anything that has come close to the mystery behind this. Do you think you could live in it?"

"I suppose you could, but I'm not exactly sure. You could be the test subject if you'd like." You winked at him teasingly and he smiled up at you, almost like he was actually considering it for moment, "I think I prefer the scenery in the outside world, but we could always take a romantic vacation together inside the suitcase~" Your cheeks turned a scarlett red as he giggled at you quietly, if you teased him, it was only fair he teased back.

𑁍༄Xiao:

Xiao kneeled down, softly scratching the underside of a mora weasels chin, unbothered by the fact the animal had just run out of your suitcase along side a fairly massive boar. You actually seemed more surprised by his reaction than he did of your suitcase, "So what do you think hmm?"

"I think,...it reminds of the teapots us adepti sometimes use. They appear normal on the outside, but on the inside it's a island specifically designed with our comfort in mind, I've never seen a suitcase version before though.." His eyes met yours and your heart skipped a beat, you responded without even thinking and it flustered you to no end, "Do you have a teapot? May I see it if you do?"

"...I...don't have one, maybe, one day...we can make one together?"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

◥(•̀￦•́)◤☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 ☾𖤓~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

[kujiba]

¡MAY THE LAND CONCEAL YOU, DEAR GRACE!

୨୧ — ꒰ gn!reader | they/them prounouns | Sagau | cultish behavior

A/n: I made this while drunk /jk

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 5

Were you high? Possibly.

Did you feel like you were floating? 50/50

You stared directly at the glowing screen plastered infront of you, with your eyes full of focus.

CHOOSE YOUR ELEMENT: ELECTRO, HYDRO, PYRO, DENDRO, ANEMO, GEO, CRYO

'Ah.. This will be hard' You thought to yourself while nodding and looking away from it. Gazing your eyes back on the screen you either were highly delusional right now or...

You had been gifted the ultimate weapon! A system!

You're not a dumbass you've seen those novels, tv's, Mangas, animes, manwha, all that kind of stuff! So you had some bits and pieces on how to roll with this new kind of power.

Back to the main problem... Which element should you pick? Every element in the game is highly valuable and could be used with many different ways. The question is what would benefit you more in the situation you've been put upon.

Currently you had been locked in a cell by whoever knocked you unconscious, but your suspicion leaned more in the knights of favonius. You shaked your head telling yourself to deal with the problems one by one.

"Damn.. Which do I choose" You clenched your lips together tightly and scratched your chin with your own finger. Being indecisive and having a bit of a problem to choose from the choices given to you by the system.

You knew you had to pull your ultimate move.

"Innie, Minnie, Miny, moe..." You mumbled while your finger hopped it's way to each element on the screen "Catch a tiger by its toe if it hollows let it Go, Innie, Minnie Miny, moe." Your finger slowed down by the second and finally took a halt when the song ended.

You looked at the element carefully too see what the fate has given you!

"DENDRO"

YAHOO!!

Your excitement honestly didn't come from the element you choose but the thought you could have your own powers and vision!!

"Gimme DENDRO!" You declared to the system with a prideful voice, A systematic noise rang through your ears in a unpleasant way, soon after the noise came to a halt, a small glowing jeweled amulet began to descend from the air.

"Holy..!" You stared in awe as the jewel gently dropped to your hands. A familiar glowing green vision with it's outer areas decorated uniquely in a high quality silver material.

Quickly enough the system box appeared in front of you yet again.

"CONGRATULATIONS, LEVEL UP TO UNLOCK MORE SKILLS, POWER, AND ITEMS"

The system then showed a long box filled with words and numbers that you immediately understood from your long gaming experience.

[NAME]

Lvl 1 / 20

Max HP: 929

ATK: 34

DEF: 21

Elemental Mastery: 0

Max stamina: 240

Crit rate: 5%

Crit DMG: 50%

Energy Recharge: 300%

"..."

GODDAMN! Why was your energy Recharge so high?... Actually no- that isn't a bad thing, it'll be good for you to just keep spamming your burst till the enemy drops dead.

Your thoughts were interrupted when a pair of footsteps made their way too where you currently are, you quickly hid the vision behind your back, afraid they might try and take it from you if they ever found out about it.

A familiar blonde and brunette made their way in front of your cell, you gripped your vision tighter remembering clear as day what had happened, your suspicions not even faltering for a second.

"(Name)." Jean called out, she placed her hand on her chest while looking at you calmly. Amber was by her side looking at your every movement, Jean continued "Were not here to hurt you. It's the opposite really" Jean's eyes looked soft and humble...

But that doesn't excuse them for knocking you out so harshly.

You deathly wanted to talk back to her but kept your mouth shut, only biting your lip harder so that nothing would come out and spill something important.

"Please, don't be wary of us.. We're your friends" Okay now she was spouting bs. Sure you've met amber for ONLY a bit but Jean was still technically a stranger to you!

You sighed to yourself "How long are you going to keep me in here?" you asked with a tad bit of impatience, you leaned your head back on the solid wall while narrowing down your eyes at them.

Amber responded to your question "Its..it's for your own good (Name), please trust us. We're keeping you safe" Amber's tone was yet determined but also worried. Jean placed her hand on Amber's shoulder and nodded.

"We'll explain to you everything later" Jean was about to say something till you cut her off "Why not now?" You asked tilting your head to the side.

Jean looked at you then down at the ground "There.. Are still some important things we had to arrange. But even so don't try to escape, this is for your own good (Name)"

"Ha? What do you-- AND... they left" You grumbled seeing them leave you all alone in here again.

✿

"Hey system." You called out to it while playing around with your vision. The system appeared again by your side "What is it?"

A Google translator like voice came out of the box, you had this thought for a while now. "Will something happen to me when I escape this place?" You questioned it.

It took a while but the Ai voice returned "Judging from my information I have gathered. You are currently a 'GOD'."

Ha?

"What!? What do you mean, God!?" You exclaimed in a panicked voice. You? A God?

You were snapped out of your frenzy when you heared it's voice again "There is currently a popular and confirmed tale plus ballad that you are the creator of Teyvat. People began worshipping you after you had abruptly dissapered without any warning, so they prayed and worshipped, hoping to bring you back"

You were even more bewildered but also... Understanding? I guess? I mean you are the player who basically built everything in the game. But isn't also Cai Hauyo (Mihoyo) basically the creator of what had been created? You'll dive deeper into that later.

"So.. They're all after me now?" Your tone had a clear hint of worry. You didn't want to be on the run and just wanted a normal life! The system replied saying "Not quite yet. I belive only the knights of favonius must've known. But Im sure it won't be long till the whole mondstadt or even Teyvat will find out about your presence"

You grimaced at the thought of being hunted down by multiple people, especially if those beloved people that you used to grind hours on end for!

You shaked your head in disapproval "Yet I can't really stay here either can I, it seriously sucks" you stretched your legs out on the cold cement flooring, the exterior of the room you had been trapped in was definitely not suited to live in.

"Why are you eager to escape?" The system sought to find the answer, you gave it a long frown "First of all, I am not going to be trapped here for the rest of my life! I'll die of boredom before anybody could even reach me" The system responded with only small glitching noises, it seemed like it was trying to process the outcome of your actions.

You took that as a cue to continue your rant "Secondly, I'm not really trusting the Knight's of Favonius yet nor anybody in general here. When you said I'm a supposed 'God' that's already trouble going to bite me in the ass" You breathed heavily to catch your breath, letting that all out of your chest felt pretty good to be honest.

"I know they're up to something"

!?!?

Jean stared down at the stack of papers and files scattered around her desk. She took a deep breath and began to tidy things up around the office, a vivid memory flashed through her mind, a memory that wasn't that long ago.

Amber had gone out to continue her Outrider duties leaving Jean to take care of their business for the time being. Her lips trembled ever so slightly like a leaf being blown by the wind, so she quickly bit her lip with her eyes full of worry and dread.

A god was in a cell. A cell she placed them in. Or.. So she was assuming

Back then, Barbatos and the creator had a small fondness of each other. Tales and Ballads would often say they were friends, even with the gap between their ranks and powers, the creator treated everyone fairly no matter what rank. They adored their creations and thus, the creations adored them back.

If only they hadn't left so soon that Teyvat began to slowly crumble, leaving a nation to fall down, a nation to lock itself away from the rest of the world, a nation having their own Archon sacrifice themselves for their people.

If only...

Jean had her doubts. It wasn't the first time that a supposed 'Creator' stepped up only for them to experience demise and pain for their foolish actions.

The creator didn't have a confirmed face or appearance since they often changed what they look like, the creator did had 'Aura'.. That was only visible to vision holders. But of course, the humankind has evolved and people began to come up with a 'Fake Aura' that was the exact replica of the creator's.

Her feet paced back and forth through the room, deciding on what to do with the supposed 'God' that was locked away in a cell.... Should she eliminate them now? False identity was a crime. And when it comes to the creator, no one is spared nor given mercy.

"...Their too suspicious, Why only now did they appear? They must've been like the others." She whispered to herself, her thoughts running wild about them.

A 50/50.

They were either the actual creator

Or they are a fake.

And Jean's choice began to tilt towards the one most logical.

"Tomorrow. We will arrange a public execution"

!!!

"GAHHH!! AGHHH" You desperately tried to concentrate on your mind to activate your vision powers "What the heck how does this work!?" You gripped the amulet tighter with your left eye twitching violently. Your annoyance only filled more as the messages of the system flooded in your face.

"Try concentrating more calmly. What are you doing? Taking a shit?" The system taunted you while also sending some emojis.

"I'm trying okay!? How do you..." You trailed your words off, having a random flashback of when you still were at earth for some reason.

"Hey how are you always so calm?" You asked your friend filled with curiosity, they looked up at your eyes. Seeing your curiosity they hummed "Well I mostly think about my happy memories and things that I like. It's like day dreaming you know?" They answered your thoughts calmly.

"What?? You sound like one of those cliché characters in shows lol."

You blankly stared at the wall after the flashback had ended. Your head turned to the system "That was your doing ain't it?" You deadpanned seeing that the system had completely ignored you and instead sent whistling emojis.

You groaned finally giving in since you had no other ideas anyway. "Agh... Fine, worth a shot" You grumbled giving in to the cliché idea.

You relaxed down your body as your shoulders began to lower along with your guard, you cleared your head, thinking nothing but a blank space for some moments. When you felt ready you had began to imagine all the joyful things that you deeply favored for the past years. All of that gathered into one moment inside your brain.

The vision glowed brightly in your hands, it's viridescent color taking up the whole dimly lit room, even the system kept quiet with the messages so that you could concentrate better on finally unlocking some skills.

And just that, in a short while the vision began to lose its light.

Fluttering your eyes open you took a look around your body to see any changes, to your dissapointment there wasn't any difference. "Did it work?" You wanted to know if you were finally able to throw plants or something.

Suddenly, you slightly jumped seeing confetti pop out of nowhere. The systems screen had massive words placed for you to see.

"CONGRATULATIONS ON UNLOCKING YOUR VISION !!

Reward:

+50,000 Mora

+Cake For The Player

+Personal Companion"

'Personal Companion?'

You were curious to see what it was but for now, you had to focus on breaking out of this hell hole. "System! So like uh, what can I do for now?" You rubbed the back of your head still pretty much a newbie to all this powers stuff.

"Throw out your companion. Call out it's name, 'Taube' and break the damn wall to escape"

"Taube?..." You mumbled it's name unsure at first but your doubts had quickly vanished as your eyes landed on a... Dove?

The Dove (Taube) was pure as a snow, it's wings flapping in the air gently with the inner layer of its feathers being a stunning (Color). Other than that, it looked like a pretty beautiful dove soaring in the sky.

"Wait so, what can it do?" You tilted your head at it questionably. "Make Taube attack the wall so you can see" The system answered your calling, you silently nodded your head at the systems words.

If the Dove was basically part of your power, then it could basically read through your mind! then.... 'Taube, I choose you!!'

Like a smooth cut of a knife, Taube had sliced through the wall with their wing, leading to the fresh and flourishing outside.

You were lying if you didn't say you were impressed and amazed by how easily Taube destroyed the wall. A wide smile appeared on your face as you didn't waste a single moment and ran out to the outside and away from that wretched room.

The air was clean and felt good as you inhaled as much as you can, the sweet scent of dandelions being all over the land was just a touch of freedom. The wind blew over your clothes and hair, wrinkling and messing it all up slightly.

"Man..." You muttered while straightening and fixing yourself up to look a slight bit more presentable. You looked around seeing Taube flying over to your vision, confusion hitted you but shock struck you harder for some quick seconds.

Your eyes widened, watching how Taubes body began to get absorbed by the vision, you panicked alot thinking your powerful animal companion is going to dissperse and never appear again but you quickly remembered that Taube is originally made from your vision anyway.

So you could summon them anytime! :D

A sigh of relief escaped through your lips, your eyes lingered on the body of Taube one last time, in impulse you softly stroked it's head before it faded away from your line of view.

Brushing those thoughts aside, you took a look around the vast land of Mondstadt. You weren't used to seeing how clean and green it was compared to earth where everything is in the brink of collapsing.

BUT! that wasnt your problem right now.

You didn't think twice to bolt your ass out of there and find a new hiding place, A cave? A abandoned house? Anything is fine! cause your gut kept telling you something bad will happen if you stay too long in there!

Wow. Who knew that you would be escaping from there when just a few chapters ago you were fangirling about living in mondstat?

Anyways...

'FREEDOM!!'

A/n: Short but active hehe

This is what the Dove kinda looks like btw, you could leave it to your imagination v

[circeyoru]

Collection of Overlords _ Part 7 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 (here)

Song Used: "They're Only Human" ; in Death Note: The Musical (I've attached a link here, but there's also a video format later on when that part comes)

You hummed a tune while reading through a book and laying on your black cloud platform like a beach chair. Your little moment only cut short when your book was suddenly snatched away. You tilted your head up and saw a pair of silver wings with golden highlights before you saw your book burst into flames in the robber’s hand

“You sure took your time.” You teased as you got up from your comfortable position, opting to sit on your platform. “Trick.”

“Come on! Like you don’t know why!” The being exclaimed enraged with their wings getting puffed up, they took a deep breath and sighed deeply. “Your little Hell made too much of a commotion, Sil. And I told you to call me Noir!”

You shrugged, “That’s not fitting for a character such as yourself, Trick sounds better anyways.”

Trick was similar to you. Actually, he was your opposite. You being the true ruler of Hell makes them the true ruler of Heaven. Of course, unlike how you keep your identity in the shadows, theirs was more well known. Trick was the God that everyone made a big deal around

If one were to see you two together, they’s say the two of you were night and day, good and evil, yin and yang. Not in terms of element, but in appearance as well

While Trick has a pair of lovely giant wings, you had none and would use a black cloud platform to ‘fly’ in some sense. While Trick has hair above the shoulder, you had hair below it. Trick’s eyes remain opened while yours are closed. Trick dons a causal and chill look while you had a more formal and elegant look

Still, whatever you two may appear, those weren’t important as the personalities you two had. If Trick’s name wasn’t an obvious indicator, they are not the holy entity the humans and angels painted them to be

Like you, Trick is absent from a direct presence in your respective realms. However, they love playing around with ‘divine interventions’ or ‘sacred messages’ from the God of this world. Truly, no one was aware of a balance. Even there’s Heaven and Hell, and God is in Heaven overseeing ‘his children’, what of hell?

Yes. You are the ‘God’ of Hell. Though either of you like that title. Since Trick was the one more in the open, you love teasing them about it every time you meet. To you, it’s truly entertaining to see them groan and whine over it

“So~ How was the sleep? Good?” Trick leaned over as their wings flapped from time to time to keep them hovering in the air. 

“Like Hell it was, you put me out of commission for no reason and with no warning! I have souls to watch over unlike your lazy holiness.” You snapped with your eyebrows furrowed.

Trick raised his hands in ressurender, “Hey, I was out of commission as well! It’s not a one-side thing.”

Your eyes squeezed even tighter as if you’re glaring at the jerk of a partner. “You started it!”

The two of you were Supreme Beings of your realm and entities as holy and cursed element. You can’t have one without the other. While it’s true that you were weak to holy powers, Trick was weak to cursed powers. You two were each other’s weakness no matter the situation

And the two of you aren’t as immortal as people would think. The two of you can be killed and healed by each other. Killing involves falling into a deep sleep when one side dies and healing involves transfering the other’s wounds onto themselves to heal more naturally as wounds can only be done by the opposite element

If one asks how to describe the two of you. You both were inseparable, can’t have one without the other. The concept of yin and yang comes to play

You are yin, in darkness there’s kindness. You are the unknown, you are negativity, you are darkness. You collect and control the souls marked for Hell without letting them go so long as they worth something to you. Even when you do it wasn’t for mercy and you’ll cage them into a torture unlike any other

Though, you were kind. You offer advice to those that deserve it and give opportunities for people to change. Why else would you let a soul be redeemed and let it leave Hell to go to Heaven? Why else would you allow Alastor to remind at the hotel even after your presence is back? Why else would you give Husk that little hope at a better future?

Trick was yang, in light there’s evil. They are the known, they are positivity, they are light. Trick judges and provides the souls marked for Heaven without letting them feel any negativity and only joy and happiness. Giving those worthy souls that lived life accordingly to enter a paradise fitting of Winners

Though, they were wicked and twisted. They enjoy a good trickery here and there, opting to let their high ranking angels deal with everything rather than rule as the ‘God’ they were named. They cared for none but their own interest and entertainment. If anything, Trick doesn’t see souls to be worth anything. To them, souls were nothing but actors on a stage to perform a good show for beings that was you and them to enjoy watching

“Fine, fine. I won’t do that again, unless you want a little rest.” Trick smirked as he looked your way. “So how’s your collection?”

“Hm… There will be some changes with what I have now. It’s a work in progress.” You told as you thought it over, “How’s your Emily?”

Trick’s smile widened, “Oh, miserable. But admirable. The sweet thing. She found out about the exterminations and sided with that Hell Princess during court! I told you she’s worth paying attention to.”

You hummed, “That’s what you said about Lucifer and he ended up falling to Hell. I wonder if Emily will be casted out as well.” You sensed the dark aura around your dear long-time friend spike and you turned your head over, “Don’t worry, I know not to accept her into Hell. She’s your prized one. Even if she’s casted out, I’ll push her back into Heaven.”

Trick huffed, clenching and unclenching his fists, “Good. Cause I will so remove those stupid higher angels if they did that to the only worthy angel in Heaven.” He looked over to you as well, “Don’t worry, it’s the same for your collections, I won’t let them into Heaven unless you want them do.”

Your smile widened, “Oh, I’ll never let them go~ But thanks for that safety net.”

You both picked your focus. While yours was on a hand-picked group, Trick focused on that one. Your little soul owning had one amazing benefit that none knew. It was the protection against angelic weapons

Back then when Alastor was hit by Adam’s attack in the chest, the slash should have eaten away at his body and soul. The angelic weapons or steel was created to aim directly at the soul of a being, that’s why it could kill both demons and angels. There was nothing angelic to it, merely a combine of yours and Trick’s power to create something that kills the soul

Now, your protection that to limit the effect of the wound till they can reach you for healing. But the best part was that your Overlords have no soul within their bodies so they wouldn’t be killed! Even if their head was chopped off by an angelic spear, it will just take time to grow back

You’ll never tell them that benefit nor do you plan to let them know about it. That’s why you made your appearance at the hotel. It was the sole reason of healing Alastor on your own terms. You thought of leaving soon later but you just couldn’t leave the poor deer when he was that desperate for your presence

The thing you can’t understand was why Trick only picks the one being to care for. Emily was what their supposed to be honestly. If someone met Trick and it was revealed that they were the God, no one would believe it. There was so much chaos and twisted nature in them that it was impossible that they were God

Yet you as the one by their time since the beginning of time knew the change was because of time. Time changed their view on the world and humans. So many time, they were disappointed that they just gave up and decided to laugh at all the misery. Maybe, you and Trick could switch places

But Trick will never agree because they never liked what you have set up in Hell already, plus there wouldn’t be an ‘Emily’ there. It was proposed once, and Trick shot it down without a thought. So to cure their boredom, there are meet-ups like this

Of course, the two of you end up going to Earth to see what the humans were up to while marking souls on whether they go to Heaven or Hell when they die

Trick smirked and flapped his wings to fly over, and gestures to the humans minding their own business in the city, ♫ Look at how they crawl around, upon the ground, like little ants ♫

♫ Yes, but how they fascinate, ♫ You floated over with your smokey platform, slapping away his hand to touch a mortal, ♫ Confusing fate, With what is merely chance ♫

♫ Isn’t it a laugh? ♫ Trick nudged you.

You pushed him away, ♫ Isn’t it a shame? ♫

♫ Thinking there is someone in Heaven to blame ♫ Trick pointed at themselves. 

You rolled your eyes, ♫ Yes, but even while blaming fate for the lives that they lead. They hope for the lives that they need ♫

Trick snapped their fingers, both of them appearing in a cemetery with a heavy mood in the air. They carried a white umbrella while you carried a black one, staying at the back of the group that was grieving while a coffin was lowered, ♫ Living every day ‘til the day they die. Never getting answers ♫

♫ Yet still asking why ♫ You snapped your fingers and appeared on the roof of a building that oversaw a group of religious individuals praying, ♫ Going through the motions as if there will be a reward ♫

♫ While we stay, ♫ Trick made a bored and disgusted face at the scene, grabbing your hand so the two of you fall, ♫ Eternally bored! ♫

♫ They’re only human. They don’t see ♫ The two of you sang, Trick with their signature smirk and you with a bored look. ♫ Who they are is who they’ll always be. Only human, after all ♫

Trick brought you to a scene in front of a murder scene, ♫ So they push and they shove ♫

You showed Trick a scene with a romantic couple on a date, ♫ With this thing they call love ♫

♫ ‘Til they fall! ♫ You both watched as soldiers fall and their souls going to where they were picked to.

♫ Isn’t it a farce? ♫ Trick shrugged while the scene changed to that of a hospital room with a weak man on the bed.

♫ Isn’t it a waste? ♫ You eyed the crying humans around the man, listening as the monitor beep softer and longer with each pause. 

♫ Struggling to Face what can never be faced ♫ Trick leaned against the wall with crossed arms. 

♫ Yes, but maybe Death can release something more than we share ♫ You blinked at the man as he tried his best to hold the closest family member of his.

♫ I really don’t know ♫ Trick came over, their wing slapped at the man over the face and the lifeline fell flat, ♫ and don’t care ♫

You shook your head while the room bursted in tears and doctors and nurses rushed in, Trick was as indifferent as already with his grin on his face, ♫ They’re only Human. Standing still. Doomed to live pushing boulders uphill. Only Human, after all ♫

With a snap of Trick’s finger, the two of you arrived at a temple with a number of offerings, Trick picked up one and threw it to you then took one for themselves, ♫ So they give and we take ♫

You caught it with one hand and eyed it, then to the elderly women that was bowing to statue, ♫ Hoping someone will help break their fall ♫

Trick brought you to a gang meeting of sorts, the topic seemingly deciding on someone’s death, ♫ They will pray, curse, live, die. Never knowing their Truth is another Man’s Lie ♫

♫ Eat, sleep, love, hate ♫ You changed the scene to one where a group of friends were enjoying themselves in a forest, ♫ Like a Leaf blowing in the Wind ♫

Trick switched to a scene where students are forced to pick a career for the future, gesturing to all the troubled humans for you. ♫ Watch them all vacillate! ♫ 

The both of you sang, ♫ They’re only human. They can’t see ♫

♫ All the fun they could give you and me ♫ Trick laughed darkly while you smiled at his amusement.

♫ Only human, after all ♫ You both continued as you two picked out a wave of souls destined for Hell without another thought while Trick only picked a small group of them.

♫ So they give and we take ♫ You had your palms opened at the vast souls that would be doomed for Hell under your thoughtless choosing.

Trick nodded approvingly over your future collection, a twisted smile forming, ♫ ‘Til their silly hearts break ♫ 

♫ Looking down from above. I’m intrigued by their love ♫ An equally dark smile appeared on your face as you took Trick’s offered hand for a short sway. 

Trick suggested while taking you into their arms. ♫ So let’s play! ♫

You nodded along, ♫ Let’s play! ♫

Trick chuckled while dipping you down, “Hmm, let’s enjoy ourselves with these foolish souls.”

Since the beginning of time, there were two beings. A being that symbolizes light and a being that symbolizes dark. They were two sides of the same coin and co-exist together contary to what humans would theorize or write in their little works of art

“So I’ll assume you want me to put Heaven’s little business on hold? Not that they can do much with a redeemed soul in their ranks.” Trick smirked at you, their wings flapping at their little jab at their realm’s higher ranked angels. “So Hell gets some peace for the moment.”

Your smiled back, eyes peeking open to that revealed a cosmos from within, “Yes, that is much appreciated. There’s gonna be some interesting change in my collection.”

“Love it when your eyes does that.” Trick’s wings opened up to show the view of a night sky.

“Yours is not too bad. Quite the sight.”

“Only a sight for the two of us though. None is more worthy of it.”

“I’ll agree.”

Everything happening on these two beings’ whims and wants, nothing’s done with clear purpose, and anything’s fair game. As divine and just as the humans painted them to be, they are nothing like the holy one that cares for all’s interest from above. As cruel and evil as the humans painted you to be, you are anything but the cold and heartless tormentor of prisoners of Hell

Note: New character!! I'll get to the request that were about this concept in a bit. First! The character design for Trick and you will be out in a moment~

Now then~ You guys feeling op yet?

Oh yeah!! I'm more interested with the song format too!! First time trying this, what you guys think???

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @plutobots @ray-rook @thealienartist @serenity-songbird @galaxydreamer468 @raynerrold @wen01203@hikari-michiko @colecreo @myromanempiree @xsamkuro @yourdoorisunlocked @clavelina @jono723 @cursedcattalastor @an-idyllic-novelist @flamiohotman2024 @rea-grace @myromanempiree @veroneverleft @lousypotatoes @crazysuityouth @jellyedkazoo @wat4r @kiraisastay @thealienartist @chefysawesomeideas @wtvbabes @patronizingbitch @koshi-kazu @craftyperfectiontragedy @scr4luv @chrollobb @mysterypotatoink @callmefe

[itneverendshere]

I love bartender!reader!!!!!! She seems so sweet and collected...but I was wondering if she's got a little fire in her? Maybe they're at a party together and she gets jealous......which is new because she's usually the calm one out of her and rafe. Hope you're doing great <3

loved writing this bc you're so right!!! it's just so not like her to lose her temper over trivial things but oh🫣 hope you're doing just a great as well💖

i'm usually so unproblematic - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: allusions to smut but no actual smut.

You’re sitting in Rafe’s truck, staring out at the huge house in front of you, stomach in knots. It’s a mansion, more like.

Kook house. Kook party. Rich people everywhere. You can already hear the distant thrum of music, even from inside the car, bass-heavy, vibrating through the seats.

You chew your bottom lip and glance over at Rafe. He’s calm, casually messing with the radio, probably about to put on those trashy songs he loves that you absolutely hate but pretend to like because you love him.

It's insane how easy it is for him to just... be cool about this. But you?

You’re not so sure.

"This was a bad idea," you mumble, half-joking but also half-serious.

Rafe turns to you, one eyebrow raised, lips pulling into a crooked smile. “Nervous?”

You give him a look. “Obviously. I’m not...I don’t do these things. I don’t know these people.”

You’ve been with Rafe for almost a year now, give or take. Said your I love yous, met each other’s families. Hell, you’ve spent more time at Tannyhill than at your own place lately, and you’ve grown used to Rafe’s kook side. His friends, though? These parties? A whole other beast.

“I already met Topper. Isn’t that enough?”

He laughs under his breath, reaching over to take your hand. “You’ll be fine. It’s Kelce, and a few other people. No big deal.”

No big deal, you think. Easy for him to say when he’s been around these people his whole life. For you, being a pogue, working extra shifts at the country club just to pay rent… yeah, this is a little different.

“I know, I know. I’ll be fine. It’s just— I’m out of my element.”

He squeezes your hand. “Hey. You’re with me. That’s all that matters.” 

You’re with Rafe. The Rafe who loves you, who can’t keep his hands off you even when you’re just watching movies. The Rafe who gets jealous over dumb things, like if you laugh too hard at one of JJ’s jokes, even though he’s just your seventeen-year-old neighbor. The Rafe who texts you goodnight, even when you’re in the same room, because he’s a sap and you secretly love it.

“Alright, let’s go,” you agree, trying to hype yourself up.

Rafe smiles, and then he’s out of the truck, jogging over to your side to open the door for you, like a perfect gentleman. You roll your eyes but step out, the night air brushing your bare shoulders. You weren’t sure how to dress for this party, so you chose to wear something…safe. A pretty red top you only used on special occasions and your best demim skirt. It wasn’t exactly kook material but at least you weren’t in your worn-out shorts and usual crop top or in your work uniform.

The moment you walk inside, though, it’s like stepping into a different world. The house is packed. People everywhere, laughing, drinking, hanging by the pool. Everything’s pristine and polished, and you feel their eyes on you the second you walk in.

Rafe wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Want a drink?” he asks, leaning down so you can hear him over the music.

You nod, trying not to let the fact that people are definitely staring at you freak you out. You’re not a Kook. You’re his girl, though, and you know how much that pisses some of them off.

A few minutes later, you’ve got a drink in hand, and Kelce’s talking your ear off about something you don’t really understand. Golf. You smile and nod along, doing your best to keep up, but the truth is, you’re not listening. You’re too busy watching the crowd, still feeling like you don’t fit in. Like you never really will.

That’s when you notice her. Tall. Pretty, in that rich, polished way that’s almost too perfect. And she’s glaring. Right. At. You.

Your stomach drops, and you tear your eyes away, sipping your drink to cover the dread that suddenly hits you. You don’t know who she is, but she’s been staring at you since you walked in, and it’s starting to mess with your head. Was there something on your face? Had you met before at the club? Maybe she didn't like your drinks.

“Baby, you okay?” Rafe’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“Yeah, fine,” you lie, forcing a smile. He frowns slightly but doesn’t push it. Kelce’s still talking, oblivious.

You try to ignore it, but as the night goes on, she keeps popping up. Always staring. Always with that look crazied in her eyes. Like she could kill you. You’ve had a couple drinks by now, and your nerves are turning into a kind of irritation.

Finally, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, needing a break from the overwhelming feeling of being watched. You lock the door behind you, exhaling slowly as you stare at your reflection. Were you seeing things? Overreacting? Surely, Rafe or Kelce would’ve noticed as well, right? Or maybe they were used to this. 

I’m just overthinking it, you tell yourself. I’m fine. She’s just..

But when you open the door to leave, she’s there. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, staring at you with that same stupid look, like you personally offended her by daring to exist. 

“Can I help you?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t even flinch. Just tilts her head, giving you the most disgusted once-over you’ve ever seen in your life. “You’re Rafe’s new thing, huh?”

What? You’ve had just enough to drink that your filter is basically nonexistent now. You blink, confusion killing the buzz in your head. “Sorry, do I know you?”

“No,” she says, her voice dripping with disdain. “But I know you.”

You laugh awkwardly, nothing about this is funny. “Okay? So what’s your problem?”

Her eyes narrow, lips tinted pink curling. Oh, she’s mad now. She steps up closer to you, practically chest-to-chest. “My problem is that I don’t get why someone like you is with Rafe. He used to have a certain standard.”

Oh.

You almost laugh again because...wow. Really? That’s what this is about? “Okay, Regina George,” you mutter under your breath. You’re not in the mood for this. You tilt your head, giving her your best innocent smile.  “And who are you?”

“Sophie. I dated Rafe for two years, before you, obviously,” she says, like that’s supposed to mean something. You didn’t know him back then, you hadn’t even spoken a word to him. "Guess he didn’t mention me."

His ex. Of course. Of course she’s his ex. 

You snort before you can stop yourself. "Nope, pretty sure he forgot to bring you up.”

You feel a little sting of jealousy in your chest, but you try to swallow it down. You’re not about to let this girl get under your skin. You’re better than that. You didn’t know him, it’s fine.

 “I’m not really interested in whatever this is.” You move to step around her, but she blocks your path.

“Just a word of advice,” she grits out, like you’ve personally offended her, “He’s not the kind of guy who sticks around for long. Especially not with girls like you.”

That does it. The alcohol, the nerves, the whole night—you’re seconds away from losing it. “What the hell is your problem?” you snap, your hands curling into fists at your sides.

“Dirty pogues who think—”

"Okay. I’m not gonna play whatever this is with you," you interrupt her, gesturing between the two of you, stepping forward so you’re toe-to-toe with her now. "If he wanted to be with a walking Vineyard Vines ad, he would be. But he’s not. He’s with me."

“You really think you’re different?” she spits, voice laced with venom. "Like you're special?"

Your laugh comes out sharp, more of a bark. “If you were so special, you wouldn’t be here, playing guard dog outside the bathroom. Move."

“Or what?” she challenges, her lips curling in that same superior smirk that makes your blood boil. “What are you gonna do, pogue?”

That’s it. You feel the fire flare up in your chest. Screw this girl. Your hands ball into fists, and you’re half a second from knocking that smug look right off her face when Topper steps in.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s not turn this into Jerry Springer, alright?" He holds up his hands like he’s breaking up a fight at a middle school dance. You’re staring daggers at Sophie, and she’s glaring right back, but his hands are still up, a peacekeeper grin plastered across his face as he looks between the two of you. “Let’s not do this,” his eyes landing on Sophie. “C’mon, Soph, no need for the drama, yeah?”

She scoffs, crossing her arms and stepping back with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Whatever, Topper.

He watches her go before turning back to you, eyebrows raised. “You good?”

You nod, still fuming, but grateful he stepped in when he did. "Yeah. Thanks."

You let him take you away because if he doesn’t, you're going to follow her and throw a drink in her face or do something worse. You feel like you could punch her right in her perfect, stuck-up face. 

He leads you back to where Rafe is, and you’re too upset to even look at him. His hands are on you the second you’re close, pulling you to him like he can tell something’s off. "Baby," his lips brush against your temple. "What’s wrong? You look like you’re ready to kill someone."

You don’t answer. You can’t. Not without completely blowing up.

Rafe’s brow furrows, his eyes darting between you and Topper. “What the hell happened?” he asks again, more forceful this time.

Topper gives him a look but doesn’t say anything, just shrugs. “Nothing, man. Just some girl drama. Don’t worry about it.”

Girl drama your ass.

He turns to you, and suddenly, he’s all over you, his hands on your waist, the other settling on the back of your head, “Baby, talk to me. What’s going on?”

You pull away, shaking your head, still too mad to speak.

He follows, his hands reaching for yours. “Hey, c’mon.”

Finally, you look at him. Really look at him. And the second you see his face, that stupid, worried puppy-dog expression, the anger starts to melt away.

“I’m mad,” you admit, “I got jealous. Your ex’s a bitch.”

Rafe blinks, and then, to your surprise, he laughs. A real, genuine laugh. You glare at him. “It’s not funny!”

“No, no, it’s not,” he says, quickly sobering, though there’s still a stupid smirk at his lips. “I just, I’ve never seen you jealous before.”

You cross your arms, still pouting. “I’m serious, Rafe. She was awful.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. “I don’t care about her. At all. I care about you.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is softening. “She said you wouldn’t stick around.”

Rafe’s smile fades, and he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. “That’s bullshit. You know that, right?”

"She’s a psycho.”

Rafe’s expression changes, his frown deepening. "Sophie?"

"Yeah," you snap, because you hate the sound of her name coming out of his lips, "Sophie. Called me a dirty pogue, which—real original.”

“She what?” Rafe’s jaw tightens, and for a second, you see a flash of that old Rafe—the one who’d get into fights at the drop of a hat. "I’ll handle it.”

You’ve seen it before—his protective streak, the one that could turn dangerous if he wasn’t careful. Part of you loves it, the way he’d go to war for you without even blinking. But another part of you hates that you have so much power over him.

But right now, you’re still too mad to care about him handling anything. You push past him, heading for the exit, needing air, needing space. Everything inside you is on fire, and all you can think is that you need to get out. Anything but this house full of people who make you feel like you’re just dirt. People like her. You can’t stop hearing her nasal voice in your head, those snide comments digging into you like little needles, bringing up that same old insecurity.

“Baby, hold on,” His voice is behind you, and his hand is instantly catching yours, tugging you back before you can make it to the door.

You spin around, already ready to snap, but then you see his face—eyes wide, brow furrowed like he’s genuinely freaked out that you’re upset. “Don’t listen to her, she’s full of shit.”

You stare at him, your chest tight and aching, because yeah, you know she’s full of it, but it still got to you. It still hurt. “It just…” You swallow hard, trying to find the right words, even though everything feels like a mess. “It got in my head, Rafe. Like, I hate that she said that. I’m so sick of people looking at me like I don’t belong just because I’m not—”

He cuts you off, stepping closer, and before you can even finish the thought, he's dragging you into him. “You belong with me. That’s all that matters.”

You let out a breath, but you’re still worked up, “But it’s like—I don’t need some stuck-up kook girl who thinks she’s better than me telling me I don’t fit in. I know I’m not like them, but she said it like I wasn’t good enough for you. Like I’m just some—”

Rafe’s lips are on yours before you can finish. He only pecks you, but it’s enough to shut you up, to make your brain go silent for a second. “Stop,” his voice is almost pleading. “Stop thinking like that. I love you, okay? I don’t care what anyone else says.”

You blink up at him, you want to stay mad, but also want to let it go because he’s right here, so close, and he’s got that look on his face that makes your heart flip. “You don’t get it.”

He pulls you closer, hands gripping your hips like he can’t stand to have any space between you. “Then tell me,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Tell me why you’re letting her get in your head.”

You huff, but the fight in you is starting to die out. “Because she made me feel like I’m less.”

He tilts your head back just enough to look at you, “That’s bullshit,” his fingers are gentle as they trail up your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You feel a little stupid for letting that girl get to you in the first place. But damn it, you’ve heard it before—from other people, from yourself—that nagging voice that says you’re not enough.

“I know.” you mumble though you’re still a little embarrassed.

Rafe smiles then, that sweet smile he only ever gives you, and he presses his lips to your forehead. “Good,” he says, tugging you even closer, like he’s trying to wrap himself around you. “Because I’m obsessed with you, and I don’t care what her or anyone else says.”

You let out a shaky laugh, finally letting yourself relax in his arms. “You’re obsessed with me?” you tease, tilting your head to meet his eyes.

“Hell yeah,” he grins, his hands sliding up your back, one hand slipping down to squeeze your ass, his thumb sliding just under the hem of your skirt. “I can’t keep my hands off you. You know that. It’s becoming a real problem.”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool, but you don’t stop the giggle from bubbling out. The way he’s looking at you right now, like he can’t even think straight because you’re standing in front of him—it drives you up the walls. Then he leans down and kisses you again, and this time it’s not...casual. His lips move against yours like he’s trying to take every thought in your head, and it’s working. Your hands slide up, wrapping around his neck as his tongue brushes against yours. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this. 

He grips you harder, lips moving to brush against your ear, “You’re mine, baby and I’m not fucking going anywhere.”

That hits you, hard, like a truth he always reassures you off but still feels brand new when he does say it. Everything that pissed you off, all the crap Sophie said, it doesn’t matter anymore. 

“Stop making me horny,” You whine out, tugging at his shirt and pulling him closer. You can feel his grin against your skin as he leans in, biting your lip playfully before kissing you again, you know he’s enjoying teasing you. His hand slides down to grab a handful of your ass again, making you gasp against his mouth, and you feel him smirk.

“I like you horny.”

You’re in the middle of this stupid party, surrounded by people who probably hate you for breathing, but all you can think about is how much you want him right now. His lips move over yours like he’s trying to claim you, and you’re more than happy to let him. It’s messy, all tongues and spit, but you don’t care. You love how rough and needy he is, how he groans into your mouth like he’s been dying to kiss you all night. It’s the kind of kiss that leaves you dizzy, the room spinning, and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or him—or both.

You tug at his shirt, frustrated with how much fabric is in the way, and he chuckles against your mouth, biting down on your bottom lip just hard enough to make you gasp. His hands slide down up to your neck, tightening just enough around your throat, and you let out a soft whimper into his mouth, making him grin.

“You're just so—” his lips brush over your cheek, then down to your bottom lip, kissing and biting just hard enough to make you squirm, "Beautiful, aren't you?"

You’re normally not one for pda, not at all. The idea of people watching, of eyes on you while you're with someone, always made your skin crawl. But when Rafe kisses you like this? When he’s got his hands on you? God, your brain just goes dumb, and every ounce of self-consciousness fizzes out. It's embarrassing, almost. All you can think about is the way he’s making you feel, the way he’s holding you against him, leaving you breathless and wanting more. You’re so not this person, not the girl who makes out with her boyfriend in the middle of a crowded room.

But with Rafe? You can’t even think straight. 

His hands slide under your skirt for the millionth time, blunt fingernails gripping your plushy thighs, and you nearly whine, “Rafe,” you breathe, trying to pull away long enough to think properly, but he just kisses you harder, more insistent. “Baby, stop,” you manage to whisper, though you don’t mean it at all.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes all dark, his breath hot against your lips. “You want me to stop?” he teases, his hands still tight on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin in a way that makes your knees go weak.

You shake your head, biting your lip, and his grin widens. “Didn’t think so,” he murmurs before leaning in to kiss you again, like he can’t help himself, and honestly? Neither can you. You’re so turned on, it’s ridiculous. 

“I—fuck,” you pant, trying to get the words out between kisses, but he’s relentless, pressing you back against a wall, his lips latching on to your neck, sucking a bruise into your skin “Baby, please—”

He groans against your neck, one hand sliding up under your top, fingers brushing the bare skin of your waist, and you swear you’re about to lose it. “Please what, hmm?”

You bite your lip, trying to stay composed, but you’re way past that now. All you can think about is how much you need him. Right now. Anywhere but here.

“Take me to the truck,” you nearly beg him, just loud enough for him to hear, but you know he catches it because he pulls back just enough to look at you, pupils blown wide.

He smirks, running his thumb over your bottom lip, teasing. “Yeah? You need me that bad?”

You nod, not even caring how desperate you sound. “Please.” Your voice cracks a little on the last word, but you don’t care anymore.

You need him, and you need him now.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀

Forty minute later, the air inside the truck reeks of sex.

You’re breathless, flushed all over, and your legs feel like jelly. Rafe’s next to you, grinning like an idiot already fixing his jeans like he’s not still catching his breath. It’s written all over you—the tousled hair, the smudged lipstick, the way your top is barely hanging on properly as you try to straighten it out, the stickiness you can still feel between your legs, on your panties.

You feel filthy.

You bite back a smile as you adjust your skirt, your body still recovering from the way he had your face pressed against the seat.  

“Shit,” you breathe out, trying to get it together, your fingers fumbling to fix your bra strap, “I feel like my makeup’s a mess.”

He just chuckles, leaning back in his seat with that cocky look that made you want to jump him in the first place, “You look perfect,” he says, eyeing you up and down like he’s ready to go another round.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks. “Yeah, well, you look like you just ran a marathon.”

He laughs, reaching over to pull you close, his lips pecking your hair, “Worth it.”

You’re just about to leave the truck when the door opens, and as you both step out, you catch sight of Sophie and her friends walking past. Perfect timing. Of course.

She’s glaring—hard—and her friends are snickering, whispering to each other like they’ve just seen something they shouldn't. Sophie’s nose wrinkles as her gaze flicks between you and Rafe, her expression twisting into disgust like you’re both some kind of wild animals who just rolled around in the mud.

But you? You feel smug.

You meet her stare for a second too long, the corner of your mouth lifting in the tiniest, most satisfied smirk. You know she knows exactly what just happened in that truck, and it’s killing her. She’s practically seething, her friends muttering furiously under their breath as they walk by, noses in the air.

Rafe doesn’t even glances their way—his fingers hook into one of the belt loops of your skirt, tugging you back to him with just enough force to make you stumble slightly into his built chest, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And it is.

“Thirty more minutes,” he murmurs against your cheek, planting a kiss there, casual but so possessive, his lips lingering just long enough to make your stomach shake with butterflies again, "And I'm taking you home."

And that’s what makes it even sweeter.

[rcksmith]

Untouchable - Five Hargreeves

You can find the 2 request here: anonymous 1, anonymous 2.

Resume: The villain falls in love with the girl.

Trope: “ Who did this to you?” “Touch her and you are dead.” “i´ll find you in every lifetime”

Couple: Five Hargreeves /Fem!Reader.

Warnings:  A LOT OF ANGST, swearing,  mention of death, blood,  fight between the Hargreeves and the Sparrows,a little enemies to lovers in the end,  fluff, SMUT, degrading talk.

Word count: 15k.

A/N: Spoiler from season 3.

OMG THIS IS HUGE JAHHSHDAHSDJAHDHND it turned out bigger than i expected. 

Because I have a lot of requests in my box, I compile orders that are similar and put together, but I took care to added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down.

We not tolerate any pedophilia here!! I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter, MHA and others fandoms.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are OPEN. Love you ❤️

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Honor comes from the Latin honoris. Indicating a person who lives with honesty and probity, basing their way of life on the dictates of morality. A principle that leads someone to have a righteous, virtuous conduct, which allows to enjoy a good reputation in society.

Five Hargreeves thought of himself as a callous man with no honor and, somehow, able to drown out the voice of morality in his head. He was very knowledgeable about literature and history, and his physics and math skills could surpass Tesla's, but philosophy for him was a bunch of weak principles and dictated by people who didn't really know the world, who didn't pass 1% of what he passed by, who did not see what he saw. Not even Socrates, Plato or Machiavelli had known the worst of humanity like him, the truth about realities.   A big part of his existence came down to surviving, fighting, winning, crushing everything that threatened his life.

His cynical outlook on life led him to pragmatism, and he knows that if he wants something done, he will have to do it himself.

His actions were more about getting things done than about displaying a display of rebellion or power. However,  Five was not afraid of pain or even killing. He didn't mind being the author of the worst massacres if it meant going back to his family.

Five Hargreeves don't give a damn about being the villain of the story. He did what had to be done.

It was why, when The Handle ordered him to carry out the death sentence of a Duke and Duchess in 1730, Five did not question or hesitate.

Even though in the back of his mind, in a very small part of his brain, the question arose as to why people from such an old and outdated date, he did nothing about it,  much less pulled the thread from the ball of yarn that would trigger a series of questions in a row. His job was not to ask why, to investigate step by step, to go through file by file. Five wasn't on The Commission to know the reason for each death, he was on the execution.

So he went, letting the suitcase unfold before his eyes an ancient era, from a faraway time, introducing him to carriages, flowing dresses, gigantic balls. And, as much as some people considered that era poetic, Five never liked lack of practicality.

So he killed the couple as quickly as possible, determined to escape from the need to spend more hours in that old-fashioned place.

It was like any other murder he had committed over the years on The Commission; he came, killed, and left. No looking back, no questions, no hesitation. Drowning in the deepest wave any second feelings that might have submerged, ensuring his emotions were chained very well at the bottom of the ocean.

It was easy, normal, routine. He was once again the villain, and could sleep very well the night with that.

But something began to change gradually in the atmosphere, in the air.

On some mornings, it was as if Five's hands were tingling for no apparent reason, eager to catch up something he had no idea what it was. On some afternoons, his heart vibrated in his chest, like a ground being punished by an earthquake, shaking his balanced state of mind. And, on some dawns, Five's mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert, thirsty for something that not even the coldest water could appease.

Wherever he was the air stayed suddenly thin, stuffy. And sometimes, in the middle of a mission, the wind seemed to blow in only one direction, hitting Hargreeves' back as if pushing him to go in a path. At those moments, his heart returned fluttered in his chest, as if he knew that one north was calling him and was that where he needed to go.

Everything inside Hargreeves began to be affected by strange reactions, spurred by banal, mundane events.

An in a few seconds, if Five stood completely still, silencing his thoughts and hollowing out any inner voices, he could hear something in the wind calling for him. Small seconds that swept away any balance that one day he ever had.

Five Hargreeves was going through a peripeteia, and he had no idea what was causing it.

What hell is going on?

It was wen, on an afternoon where the sun hid with shame among the dark gray clouds, The Handler gave him another murder.

In 1750.

His soul shuddered inside him in that second, echoing through his bones, keeping Five's egyptian green eyes fixed on the paper in his hands, unable to look away from the bold numbers that indicated the date of his next mission.

The icy breeze ruffled his dark hair, but he didn't move. There seemed to be something important and unspoken in the air, and this time, the voice calling his name on the wind grew softly louder. Now, it didn't seem to come from the back of his mind anymore, but from a place far away.

Five looked around, in an instinctive movement in the pathetic and vain attempt to find the source of that voice.

Nothing. As always.

“Five.” The Handler snapped her fingers in front of his face “May I have your precious attention?" The irony didn't go unnoticed, but his eyes flickered to hers. “As I was saying, the time and place of this mission is strictly important. Viscount Sebastian needs to be killed in his office at midnight, in the middle of his daughter's debut ball, not a minute less and nowhere else.”

Hargreeves gave a nod. Not because he had devoted all of his attention to her, just because he wanted her to stop talking. Much of his concentration was still on the way his body and the hemisphere around him behaved. Mission times and places were standard, no need to focus on this nonsense and listen to someone reiterate the rules as if Five were a child. He was 26 years old, a child was the last thing he was.

Something seemed to be happening, occult like a current that rattles under the sea. And the knowledge that he couldn't see the bottom of the ocean unnerved every cell in his body. Hargreeves couldn't stand things he couldn't perceive, understand how it works, take it apart and put it back together again.

This time, when Five returned to the eighteenth century, with 20 years having passed in that time after his visit and only 2 weeks for him, what hit him first was not the impracticality, the carriages, the big dresses. But the wind. Strong, cold, bringing with it the voice who called his name for weeks, now loud and clear.

The dark strands of his body prickled, and he could feel his heartbeat in his throat. Suddenly, anxiety snaked through his body like venom, stirring every fiber in his body, pumping something into his veins that made his blood heat like lava. An emotion he couldn't name what it was.

In the last mission, Five had a string of complaints about the  way the black waistcoat squeezed the white linen shirt over his abdomen, and how heavy the straight-cut coat felt heavy under his shoulders. But in this time, he wasn't bothered with the clothes he had to wear so as not to attract attention and go unnoticed. Now, with his heart pounding in his chest, his throat dry and the constant feeling that he had to be somewhere urgently, his clothes were the last things on his mind.

It was an emotion that squeezed the pit of his stomach, made his hands itch and his body shot with an adrenaline that screamed that he needed to move. That he had a more important place to be. All the sensations he'd felt leisurely over the weeks now came back with absurd force, as if he were getting close to the source of it all.

What was happening?

The moon in that far away era shone sovereignly in the sky, blessing the houses, carriages and large mansions with cascades of distilled light in the purest color of silver.

Las time, the feeling that came over Five was to get out of there as quickly as possible. But now, looking around in search of the source of the voice calling him in the wind, the last thing on his mind was leaving.

His watch still read eight o'clock, but the sensation  was like he was already late.

The most practical plan was to stay hidden somewhere near the mansion where the ball was being held. Avoiding crowds, witnesses, minimizing risk and being a shadow. As always did. The most rational thing to do was to stay away from that place at all costs, until the inevitable arrived and he was forced to enter through one of the windows.

He should have done it. But he didn't.

Just as a sailor follows a siren's song on the high seas, Five followed that voice on the wind. His brain screamed for him to seek a hiding place, but his soul rebelled with an absurd ferocity, ricocheting tremors through all his bones and ordering his legs to follow a path his conscious did not know. His whole mind was confused, but his soul carried a certainty that no other living being had ever had in they life.

With no other option, stunned by the sensations in his own body, he found himself walking towards the front door of the only place he was supposed to avoid until midnight.

If Five Hargreeves had to describe what was happening to his five senses, he would say that his vision was mildly blurred, as if were searching for focus. The smell was of climax and the ambient sounds were drowned out by his own heartbeat. It was like being there in flesh and blood, but not in soul.

He didn't focus on the details of the world around him, but he knew when he finished climbing the front steps. He couldn't focus on the conversation around him, but he knew that a few people were walking beside him.

His mind saw everything, but processed nothing.

It was a mistake not to be 100% aware of the environment, not to study each individual's body language, not to constantly calculate the odds of a move going wrong. But... it was as if something prevented him from emerging to the surface.

Five didn't respond when the butler greeted him at the entrance to the great hall, but looked around as the wind from outside hit his back and his name rang in his ears once more.

It was a female voice. Now he could tell.

Going deeper into the hall, the melody of the orchestra invaded his ears while thousands of people, talking, dancing and drinking, took his view. Everything resembled a blur on a painting, the sounds were still muffled as if Five were at the bottom of the sea, and the smell transitioned between flowers, feminine perfume and poetry.

Five Hargreeves was a pragmatic, cynical and austere man. Everything that made up his being was based on rationality, laws of physics and mathematical concepts,  he wasn't oscillated  by tender things and he certainly wasn't carried away by things of the heart or soul. He always followed what rationality dictated. Until now.

Until now.

Like a violin string that ruptured, Hargreeves was gripped by the feeling that something very important was about to happen. Something that would not only change his existence forever, but change him for eternity. This fact stared him at back, bold, warm and as inevitable as the setting sun. And very hair on his body stood on end at once while everything inside him pulsed with a brutality that could shake his bones.

Now, the sound of the orchestra was drowned out by the soundtrack of his life, which was coming closer to apex by the second. It was like being submerged in a slow-motion, in a moment that preceded an momentous event.

As magnets are pulled one by the other in an impassable way, his eyes, as if they already knew where to look, were drawn to a figure among the others who danced in the middle of the hall.

You.

Was like an explosion. Loud and brutal. He suddenly submerged from the bottom of the sea, bewildered, desperate, out of breath. The stupor released itself all at once, bringing his mind back to the reality. Instantaneously, nothing was blurred anymore, sounds weren't muffled, and he abruptly returned to his conscious state. But his soul was not so lucky. Like being whipped by live eels, his heart pounded in his chest with such fury that he leaned over forward millimeters, his throat was drier than the Egyptian desert and now his hands itched in a hellish, bestial, uncontrollable way.

Five Hargreeves has released himself from a wave of numbness only to be hit by a tsunami of sensation.

His eyes were seeing everything clearly now, but he couldn't take his attention away from the female figure dancing in the middle of the room, her bouffant gown swirling gracefully across the floor as if deities were blowing the fabrics.

There were a lot of people around him, in front of him, behind him, but Five Hargreeves only had eyes for you.

In an insane, magical and inexplicable logic, Five had the purest certainty that it was your voice that called him in the wind, that was by the desire to touch your skin that his hands itched. Five would never be able to explain it to other people, but at that moment, there was nothing more concrete on Earth, in physics and science, than the certainty that was because of you that his soul felt, so many times, that he should be somewhere else.

Like the indubitability that you need oxygen to breathe, touching your skin has become just as indispensable. It was a matter of needing, something that now not only itched his hands, but corroded the bones in his fingers.

There was no reason for all those absurd feelings, Five had never even seen you before. But rationality had no space in that moment.

There, in that rift between the past, future and parallel realities, there was no discernment, lucidity, judgment. It was a hideaway free of any cohesiveness, with the smell of romance, an atmosphere full of emotion, passion and poetry. A distant era that allowed, for the first time in many years, that the soul of Five Hargreeves to take control of his body.

He moved, one step after another, his focus petrified on you. With each centimeter closer to your body, the more he felt able to breathe again, relieving the brutal anxiety that had been beating him for weeks, giving a truce to the martyrdom that  lacerate him day after day without even him even knowing why.

You had finished your dance, clapping along with the other guests for the orchestra that started the new melody, this time more lyrical.

Your hair, the tone of which seemed to be the personification of poetry, of art, was tied in a bun that allowed a few strands to fall under your neck, the skin of your bust was speckled with a few little droplets of sweat, the perfect amount to glisten under the yellowish light of the candles in the chandelier, making a divine, almost celestial aurora radiate from you. The dark blue gown referred back to the night sky in its greatest splendor, highlight your full breasts at the straight neckline and opening at the hips in a skirt that preached the illusion of you being floating across the hall. Your lips were a red that Five had never seen in his life. A red that seemed to exist only to serve you, enhancing the color of your eyes.

You were like a mirage. An oasis in the farthest desert. One of those paintings that people come from all over the world to see in person, capable of sweeping, taking they breath away, making they cry for having to live with the burden of never having the possibility of knowing you in life.

The romantic period was going on in that century, society was tired of trends in intellectual thinking, rationalization, industrialization and the veneration of science. People longed for an escape into emotionally charged images and fantastical fiction in the visual arts and literature. And Five Hargreeves was certain that you were one of the greatest inspirations of this movement. It was so clear that you were the influence of John Waterhouse's paintings, sweeping the hearts of artists and illuminating poets. Lord Byron was thinking of you when he created the short lyric poem “She Walks in Beauty”, completely fascinated by you.

That thought shuddered Five's soul even more. And an acidic emotion rose in his throat and burned his eyes. In his chest was injected the feeling that he was facing one of the greatest beauties in history, the person the poems and paintings were based on, the inspiration for so many names of literature and art that would become renowned.

There, in front of him, was more than a person. It was a piece of history, art, literature, a beauty that was immortalized and that would be admired even after centuries. Five had already gone to different times in the past, but nothing touched his soul as much as now. As much as you.

Five Hargreeves went in your direction like a sailor following a siren's song across the seven seas.

You were relatively distracted when he got to you. Lungs catching breath from the last dance, body preparing for the next, your mind was on that ballroom but your heart was far away. It was universally true that girls your age should revel in balls like this one. Full of potential husbands, dancing and music, governed by a perfect night for falling in love. You came to like it in the past, but now, after so many similar events, everything didn't have the same magic anymore. 

You've heard enough stories - filled with adrenaline, pirate ships and dangerous waters - to crave adventure in your life. It was also noticed that you spent too much time with your books, and that the consequence of spending so many hours in the fictional world brought you very high standards for men and love. The whispers through the darkened streets were that you would end up a spinster. Since you took no interest in any gentleman who courted your hand.

In your defense, it wasn't your fault. The men in your reality were terribly...tasteless.

That was until he showed up.

You don't know where he emerged, or what lineage he was from, much less his name. But he came towards you like that was more important than breathing. In a virile, perfect posture. As if he knew all the secrets of the world and was able to show you them.

One of the first things you noticed were the eyes. The room was partially dark, lit only by the flickering candles in the candelabra, but the darkness only made his eyes clearer. Intense greens. Of such a pure emerald tone that it shone like a mystical cat, calling you to sink in his greenish sea. The stranger had hair as black as midnight, which fell softly and romantically over a face with firm features; jaw as sharp as a razor and a nose full of masculine personality. Although was well dressed, all his clothes, with the exception of the white linen shirt, were as dark as the strands of his hair, something unusual among the sophisticated gentlemen who were invited.

Looking at that gorgeous face, you were left speechless. The deities had been generous to this man, gifting him with bold, aristocratic features and iris as green as Egypt's most precious jewels. The mystery and secrets contained within in those eyes were a fascinating contrast.

“Can I have this dance?” Just a sentence.

He didn't introduce himself, he didn't say who he was. He just dropped that sentence as if it was the only thing he really cared to say.

The gravity of his words made your heart flutter. What a beautiful voice that man had. With a provocative huskiness, a touch of superb, as if he were an oracle at his peak in ancient Greece. The sound seemed to seep into your body and run through you like warm honey.

The truth was, you had reserved the dance for another gentleman, but in that second, you couldn't care less.

“Of course, milord.” That's what you said, accepting the hand he extended to you.

Never taking his eyes off yours, an unfamiliar sensation washed over your mortal body and engulfed everyone around you. You wondered if it was just the stuff of your imagination or if he too felt the electricity whip through his body as he positioned you closer to dance.

Single women weren't allowed to touch men's hands if you weren't wearing gloves, and that rule had never bothered you. Until now.

Until be affected by an insane, visceral desire to feel that man's skin. Of experiencing the heat radiating from his hand against yours, of feeling those white fingers, slender and pale, holding your denude skin. You've never been touched by a man without a layer of clothing intervening. No brushing of elbows, no bumped of fingers, no errant caresses. And you wondered what it was about that man that made you aware of this deprivation. That stranger radiated secrets in an inexplicable but extremely palpable way in the air and you wanted to feel the touch of mystery on your skin more than you wanted to breathe. A will as strong as fear, as intense as hunger.

Your soul screamed in frustration because of the dress when his hand cupped your cover waist. In a touch so firm it only existed in the romance novels you read. Your heart raced, your breath disappeared, and you didn't notice when you rested your hand on his shoulder and your feet began to follow the rhythm of the waltz.

It was pathetic the intensity of your emotions for a man you had just met and didn't even know his name. But, it was like you'd found something didn't even know you'd lost.

Well… if it was the lack of knowledge of his name that was making things a little difficult…

“Aren't you going to tell me your name? Mine is Y/n”

Your voice, sweet as molasses, velvety as suede, made the hairs on the back of Five's neck stand on end. He recognized the timbre now, he had already heard you calling for him in the wind, but nothing surpassed hearing you from inches away.

This was one of those moments where, if you asked Five why he was doing this, he couldn't answer. He couldn't find any logical answers to his actions, reactions, thoughts. But, once again, this rift in space and time was an environment free of rationality. He didn't need this here. He felt he didn't need to. Not when had you in his arms.

A name…

Five Hargreeves was the name of a villain. Someone who would carry on his shoulders to the grave the weight of the thousands of souls he killed. Someone whose hands were marked, eternally, with thick, hot blood. A proof that his destiny was traced directly to hell. His name was the personification of a freak created to be a hero, an orphan in the apocalypse, a man who belonged nowhere in the timeline, someone without family for many decades.

He looked at the hands that held you. The hands of a serial killer. And then he looked at you, full of beauty, life, happiness and innocence. It was like committing a crime against nature to hold something so pure in such infamous, disgraced, death-scarred hands. And something inside he twisted with something like pain…disgust, for the fist time.

His soul didn't want to hold you in the hands of Five Hargreeves.

Five Hargreeves was the villain. And he didn't want to be that man right there.

His mouth, which looked so beautiful yet so dangerous, softly approached the foot of your ear, while the body of you two continued to follow the steps of the waltz. "We don't need names here."

A current of electricity slammed into your body like a whiplash from a live eel, raising goose bumps on parts of your skin you didn't even know you had. My goodness, it was a sin for a single man to have that much charm.

Sensible young women would have turned away at once. Practical girls who appreciated rationality, sincerity and transparency, who had no estimate for games, mystery and sensuality, would have rolled their eyes. But you were not sensible, practical or appreciative of the good customs of the epoch.

You were romantic, hungry for a good charade, adventure. And that man seemed to be built by those two things.

The world was just a shapeless blur, other people were no more than wandering silhouettes, and the atmosphere was enraptured by the flickering orange light of the candles in the candelabra. The smell was of poetry, romance and freedom, which intoxicated the brain and alcoholize any common sense. Was like a magical place in the middle of space and time, a rift that allowed just being. Time passed slowly, as if dancing together with you two.

 ‘One second can change many things...’

Just as Five could hear his father's voice saying 'I told you so' during his years in the apocalypse, he could hear his words now.

‘you can crumble empires, win battles...’

Five swirled you around before pulling you into his arms once more, his heart pounding with each passing moment. Neither of you realized it, but every second you spent together, every step, more messed up the timeline.

You smiled full of romance and magic as he leaned you back, his hand firm on your spine, bringing you to the surface and returning to dance around the hall with the waltz that dandle yours bodies.

‘you can fall in love.’

With every strong step the two of you took on the floor, in an apocalypse dance, realities were immediately misaligned. With each spin, lines of events were exploded into other universes. With each look shared, with each smile, with each heartbeat full of romance, people were erased, born, disappeared.

An apocalypse was brewing somewhere because of his hands on your body. A mystical waltz that brought the ascension of chaos in other timelines.

Neither of you two knew about it. But if Five knew, he wouldn't keep his hands off you anyway. Five Hargreeves was the villain in many realities. And he would accept the burden of being in a few more if it meant having you in his arms.

In an inexplicable and irrational way, what was happening now had more importance than everything he had ever lived and would live through in his entire life.

"You dance very well." You praised him, and his hands on you tighten a little more.

"No more than you". Then he gave that smile.

The half smile that lifted only one corner of his mouth. Malicious, sagacious, sphinx. Who promised to know all the mysteries of the world and show you all the sins of life. What man was that? So full of charm, sensuality, beauty. He seemed out of this world and you found yourself wishing that time would freeze in that moment, that you could hold onto your chest and live in that dance for the rest of your life.

There was something different in the air. A soul-deep feeling that whispered that your life would never be the same again.

Not after this man.

“It is not difficult to find women who dance.” You joked. "You've certainly danced with others to know."

Yes, with his mother and Allison.

But even if he had been dancing with all the women in the world, they would have disappeared in that moment. No memories memory experiences with other women could stand out at that moment.

"If I danced, they all disappeared the moment I waltzed with you." He realized he might have said the right thing, because he could see the breath go out of your lungs and cheekbones flush deliciously.

God in heaven… this girl was breathtakingly beautiful.

Five led you around the hall masterfully, committing your features to his mind like the tattoo on his wrist. Permanently, eternally. Suddenly, he was struck down by the insane desire to know more about you. To hear more of your voice, to taste the way the words flowed from your lips like the purest honey.

You were like a drug, an obsession. An addiction that had stuck with him since the first time he came into that century, since he breathed the same air as you, since he coexisted under the same night sky as you. There was insane logic in the fact that his soul felt your presence without even seeing you on that first mission. He would never be able to explain it, but somehow it made sense inside in him.

Five Hargreeves didn't think about what would happen when he had to leave. He didn't think about the withdrawal his body would suffer when he was away from you. Much less noticed the way there seemed to be something important in the air. If he had been in full intellectual faculties and grounded in rationality, he would have managed to understand that that something was the temporal lines collapsing, an apocalypse forming elsewhere, pure and perfect chaos destroying parallel realities.

But he was not being led by rationality. And even if he was, he wouldn't have minded a few worlds burning if it meant having you next to his body. He didn't care. But The Commission was a different case.

But Five Hargreeves wasn't thinking about any of that.

He conducted a conversation with you the way he conducted that waltz. He discovered that you liked the high seas even though you were never allowed to be on a ship. You loved nature and enjoyed good books. He heard your eagerness to know the world and learn about different cultures, that you wanted to unravel the mysteries of Egypt, see the architecture of Greece, visit Spain and wanted to go swim in the beaches of Brazil. You were an adventurer, and Five's heart skipped a beat for it.

But in a corner of his soul, deep down, he felt an ache reverberate through his bones. The urge to tell you about the world came with overwhelming force, and something inside him died when he realized he could never tell you the truth about the subjects you cared about.

He could never tell all that the world already knew about Egypt, about its tombs and its pharaohs. He could never be able to show the beauty of Brazil's beaches that become famous tourist spots, and he reserved a note in his brain that you would have loved to visit Genipabu in Brazil, a beach with huge sand dunes that seemed to be the junction of a huge desert whit a beach.  He could not tell you what science, oceanography and marine biologists already knew about the oceans. He could never say about the cruises that roamed the seas in all the luxury and comfort, much less about the planes.

Five Hargreeves would never be able to show you the world. And his soul decided to torture itself even more thinking about what it would be like if you were from his time. The things you would do, the freedom you could enjoy.

He could show you anything you wanted, tell you the secrets of the universe…His secrets.

When the waltz was over, on a note as dramatic as the situation, you couldn't say goodbye to him. Your soul, enchanted and completely enraptured by the man in front of you, vehemently refused to remove your hand over his. It seemed that every molecule in your body, every corner of your spirit, every fiber of your being, had defined that it was with that man that they wanted to stay. Forever.

What was foolish.

The truth was that the sensation of poetry, romance and magic that surrounded you two throughout the dance, had evaporated from the air like mist in the sun. Now the sure that you two weren't meant to be together hung in the air like a black cloud, thundering and flashing. This feeling oppressed you with an overwhelming force, so tangible it was possible to cut it with a razor.

No words needed to be said, but it was stamped into the environment, filling every millimeter and gap, putting that magical dance into a category that would never go beyond that: a dance.

A feeling of melancholy jabbed your throat like a scorpion's sting, injecting an emotion of sadness and helplessness into your blood like distilled poison. You didn't want that to be the end. You didn't want to say goodbye. Even with everything in the air indicating that whatever existed between the two of you, ended here, now.

Five's eyes seemed to exude the same as you. Feeling the end heavy and resounding in the air, reverberating like thunder, as every corner of his soul roared the opposite. The green sea of his irises looked like it was in the middle of a storm. Full of pain, anger. With colossal waves and revolts, which promised to destroy everything they saw ahead. Just like the oceans did in the apocalyptic events in the era of Younger Dryas.

Somehow, without having to utter a single sentence, you both knew you were feeling the same thing. Wishing, with all their might, that this wasn't the end, that they were able to hold time against their chest in a tight, desperate embrace, an attempt to freeze the pointers.

At that moment, Five clamored, to any god who would listen, that you not be taken from his arms.

However, like the evil joke that was his life, his thoughts were cut short by the chiming of the clock. 11 chimes. That echoed in his soul like the trumpets of hell, laughing at him, mocking him, making fun of a murderer thinking he would be graced with something like you.

Five Hargreeves was a villain. And he was destined to have the things villains deserve. And none of this things included someone like you.

In that sadistic moment, Five finally understood a sentence from one of the books Grace read to them at night; ‘If I were to kiss you then go to hell, I would. So then I can brag with the devils I saw heaven without ever entering it.’

Yes. Now he understood. Five Hargreeves leaned in, bringing the back of your hand to his lips, laying a kiss that, however much it was impeded by the muslin layer of your glove, he prayed that this kiss could transmit all the feelings he could never say. This are the only kiss he could give you. That sentence echoed in his head like a fact, as sure as the sky is blue, as true as the salt in the oceans.

And when he went to the core of hell, paying for all his sins, he would brag to the other demons that he had been to heaven without ever having entered it.

You wish you'd said something, asked where he was from, stopped him from going. But none of that happened. This was one of those moments that we regret forever, that are branded in a red-hot iron in the soul, in the mind, in the body. Everything inside you was screaming to go after him when Five turned arund and walked into the sea of guests. But he disappeared in the waves before you could even move your feet.

No one had to tell you, but you knew you'd never see him again. And your heart would never beat for another.

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Five Hargreeves has had to do a lot of horrible things over the years. Actions he wasn't proud of but he knew needed to be done, nights awash in blood and the smell of death.

But nothing has wobble him as much as you have.

His soul, body and mind, trained since he was a child not to develop any weakness that would prevent him from being a perfect hero, then perfected and aggravated by the Commission to be the unbeatable assassin, were rarely stirred by feelings.

He was cynical, hard-nosed, crotchety and arrogant. He never got carried away by emotions and, as much as his desire to save his family is pure, he will cross any ethical lines for the greater good. And all of that made him the Commission's best weapon.

Until now.

Until his emotions messed up not just one, but thousands of timelines. Created catastrophes, formed apocalypses, killed people. Hargreeves meeting you was something that could never have happened. Repudiated not just by nature but by the gods. Having you in his arms was like a crime against the timeline, against the balance of the world.

And heavens and hells would make him pay. With work, blood, or his heart. Promising to take not only the soul, but any hope of laying eyes on you once again. As Icarus had his downfall for the sun, so Hargreeves had for you. In a triumphal ruin.

“Do you have any idea what you caused ?!” It was the first thing The Handler said as soon as Five returned from his mission, seconds after he had killed his target.

Her voice was loud, suffused with anger and rage and… despair. Five frowned, soul still aching from having to leave you, your warmth still in his arms. He didn't have the head to deal with her right now. Not when he had so much to process.

“A death.”

“Don't play smart on me!” Her roar was loud enough for Hargreeves to realize that something really serious was going on. The Handler was many things, but she never got worked up without good reason.

The clatter of her heels echoed through the room as she walked towards him, her eyes full of fierce emotion.

“You had only one job to do! One! Kill the man and get out of there. Like always!" Her voice was as rough as desert sand. “But not only did you mess up entire timelines,  but created apocalypses on thousands of worlds that were to happen only thousands of years later!"

Five's mind was racing like a Catarina wheel, spinning at full throttle as it tried to put the pieces together. He blinked once, twice, his heart starting to race with the feeling that something devastating was about to be revealed.

He looked at The Handler, who understood his look. "That's right! Your little feat of dancing with that girl shattered thousands of timelines! People were killed, disappeared, events took a completely different course because of your little impertinence!"

She pulled his arm towards the thousands of screens that monitored infinite realities. And what he saw was chaos. Pure and perfect. Some worlds succumbed to fire, others to water, others to war. But they had devastation as a resemblance.

Five can hear the voices of other Commission workers in the background, in another corridor, other rooms. Some sounded desperate, others irritated, and others helpless, but all seemed concerned. He couldn't even say that he didn't know that little things had chain reactions. Because he knew. There was nothing to justify his actions, for he didn't even have a good reason for himself.

But the truth was, even staring the apocalypse in the face across nine different monitors, he felt no…remorse. There wasn't a part of him that would have done differently, that wouldn't have touched you, that wouldn't have known you. Deep in his soul Hargreeves knew he didn't care how many worlds he had destroyed just by touching you. He was going to hell anyway, it was better to have a memory of you to remember for eternity.

"...we'll have to kill her." It was just that sentence that Five's messed up mind paid attention to.

Then everything stopped.

The weather, the conversations. The world seemed to have held their breath, suspended, staring at Five. Everything inside him fell silent into scary silence, and he turned slowly toward The Handler, all his senses heightened, heart still, mind clear.

She seemed to notice his state. "What did you expect?! You know how things work. Causers of apocalypse get killed, that's our job! And because of that dance of yours, this girl has caused nine different apocalypses.”

There was a kind of insane, evil logic to the situation. The last riddle of gods and life to see Five Hargreeves on his knees. Broken, empty. To punish his sins, taking from him what he took from so many people. They engineered his downfall perfectly, writing with a red-hot iron on his soul the sentence that he could never be happy. His curse, the price to pay. Cosmic fit.

What the fucking hell.

“I'll send some agent to kill her immediately and...”

But Five Hargreeves has never been one to accept sentences imposed on him with his head down. Limitations, rules. He made his own destiny, no matter what he told him, and lived with the consequences. No god, destiny or universe dictated his life.

Everything inside him roared like a beast. Exploding, bursting, sending any control flying away. In an action without any hesitation, delicacy or ambiguities, his hand closed on The Handler's arm. In a firm, strong, tense grip that started hurt her very soon.

She looked at him in a mixture of shock and annoyance. There were very few people in the world willing to face a woman on her level, some too fearful, others who value life too much. But Five Hargreeves was none of those things. He'd never known any predator he should fear, everyone knew he was capable of anything and everything. Maybe there was no line he was able from crossing, or plan he wasn't capable of executing.

Five Hargreeves was the predator she should fear.

And The Handler realized that. For in that pair of eyes she saw danger, rage, pure and perfect hate. His sea of green gave way to red, glittering waves, shining with all the blood he had already spilled. And with a warning that he wouldn't mind spilling more.

“Stay. away. from. her. ” he guided each word with a tighter grip on her delicate arm, sure to leave marks that won't go away anytime soon.

Bewildered, she looked at him like a man possessed, filled with a rage that could fuel hell all by itself. The Handler had never seen him in that state, he was always angry, annoyed, acidic, but that… that was hatred, a bloodthirsty hate.

Five Hargreeves promised to go to hell and drag anyone with him without saying a word. 

For the first time in her life, The Handler was afraid.

“Five...you know her need to die...”

"Listen to me" He vociferate, shaking her by the arm. “I don't give a fuck what you have to say. I swear, for all that exists in this world, that if you lay one finger on her, there will be nowhere on earth you can fuck hide from me.”

Five Hargreeves was a tall, masculine man, wrapped in a macabre and sinister aura when he wanted to. He pulled The Handler closer, his face filled with colossal rage being etched like a tattoo into her soul.

“I don't give a fuck about how many worlds are ending, I don't give a fuck if fucking people are dying!  You won't touch her until the day I'm dead!  And you can bet that, even seven feet under the ground, I'll find a way to take you with me to hell if you do fucking something to her."

You were untouchable.

All of his work on The Commission was about killing a number of people to save even more. But he would never, ever, sacrifice you for the greater good. Not even if it meant millions of dead people. 

It didn't matter as long as you weren't one of the dead. 

Without waiting for further discussion, he led The Handler towards the exit door, leading her out of the room and locking the door when he returned. Five wasn't stupid or naive to think that she would follow his orders. The handler might be afraid of him, but she knew how to get what she wanted, no matter how long it took. And now that he'd bruised her ego, Five knew she'd make it her primary mission to kill you.

Something he would never let happen.

If someone asked where so much anger, so much sense of protection came from, Five Hargreeves couldn't say. Because he didn't even know. In the same way that he still didn't understand everything that had happened, everything that he had been feeling, he still hadn't reasoned where such primitive, territorialist impulses came from. He had no idea where it all came from, but he was sure he could never let anything bad happen to you.

In a twisted and somewhat obscure way, you had gained a villain as a protector. A fallen angel who didn't promise to do good to people, but only to you. Who swore allegiance not to humanity, but solemnly, exclusively, to you.

It was a sensation that filled his entire body like boiling lava. And Five put his hand in the fire for the certainty that he would never be able to get rid of his feelings for you again.

His soul said that, as long as he was alive, he would be yours.

Making his mind work faster than it ever had before, Five Hargreeves concluded that every record of you had to go. There could no longer be documents proving that you were part of humanity. That once you had a name, a house, a reality. Five would have to erase you from any and all records. Forever. The only way to keep you out of the hands of the people who had access to every form of terrestrial existence, was to erase you from the world. Only then, hidden from the Commission, could you live happily. Fully.

But throwing all your documents away was signing the sentence that he was took the risk of never getting to see you again. Without them, finding someone was nearly impossible, much less accessing their reality. Five could start a calculation to find you one day, but that could take years, ages, and even if he memorized your documents number by number, did the calculations and managed to get to you without any side effects, The Commission could follow him and find you. 

And finding a civilian's documents was much easier than finding a special agent like him and throwing them away too.

Once again, his life was a cruel joke of the gods, which served as entertainment for any higher power. Five strongly believed that, if there was anything above or below him, they designed his life for they own amusement.

Five Hargreeves spent hours in the file room, locked in that cubicle, not letting anyone in, not getting out. Once he disappeared with your documents, he would be declared a traitor and deserter, where his punishment would not only be more years of work, but death.

The world was spinning. Head ached. A sound gnawed at his mind, a scratch without melody, like a rustle of paper. Someone had taken a scream, a memory and a fear, crumpled it into a jagged ball, and used it to stuff  Five's skull. He need to think of a plan that covered all the rough edges, but his eyes were bombarded with futures he didn't want to think about. Every time he blinked he felt the tragedy lurking in a dark and dismal corner, ready to catch him in their sharp mouths and take him somewhere he feared to go.

A place where the worst had happened to you.

Suddenly, the world was filled with secrets, fears and terror. Just as his soul took control of him in that night, it was the same in this moment. Five Hargreeves wasn't someone to get carried away by anything, but the feeling that something very bad was about to happen to you haunted him to the bone. That would be the perfect ending to his sinful life story; having the one person who touched his feelings so powerfully killed in the same way he killed so many other people.

Life was taking its toll on all the things he had done. For a second, he was afraid of that reckoning. Because the worst is not the bullet hitting yourself, but someone you like.

The feeling outside of being torn apart. All the patches and pieces of what it was to be Five Hargreeves - which he had been painstakingly piecing together throughout his life - were coming loose again, all at once. The clock was ticking, the hours were ticking, and he knew that just as he was coming up with a plan, so was The Handler.

It was a macabre race against time, in which if he lost, he had the feeling he would never fully recover. Not without a part of his soul dying along with you.

When he found your documents, the photo they had of you was a portrait made in that last century, a small painting of your face, eternalizing your smile. Suddenly, the memory of how you'd smiled at him like that gripped him like a demon. And when the memories of you intensified, they brought no comfort, just only fear and dread. Five Hargreeves could not live with himself if those memories were tainted by the knowledge that he was the cause of his tragedy. He would never be able to remember those tender moments again if memories of you were vandalized by images of how you were killed.

It was too late to remedy the consequences of what he had unleashed. The macabre possibilities of what The Handler could do to you were there, tattooed on his brain, as if they would snap open and bolt to reality at any moment. So, as panic rose, Five Hargreeves' mind slammed shut like a heavy book. He wouldn't let any of that happen. Never.

After scheming and checking all the plans in his mind, Five decided that he had already orchestrated the almost perfect scheme. He would destroy all of your documents and, when he had done that, he could no longer remain on the Commission. Thus, he would steal the mission from one of the agents about killing John F. Kennedy, the time that most closely matched his calculations to return to the family in 2019. Then Five Hargreeves would evade The Commission and deal with them without being an employee anymore. And even if they went after him, they would never find you.

Not even Five.

And so it was done.

-----------

Five Hargreeves went through the reunion with his family, faced the commission agents coming after him to kill him, dealt with The Handler and put up with his siblings drama.

In a matter of weeks, he had already gotten himself into so much trouble and confusion that sometimes he didn't even have time to breathe. Processing events and digesting them had become a luxury he no longer had, and saving the world from one apocalypse and falling into another had seemed to become a family pastime.

But there were nights. Cold, when the moon reached its apex in the sky and the rain poured down on the ground, when he was finally able to be alone and clear his mind. In those rare moments, the only thing on his mind was you.

Always you.

His point of peace, his refuge from his constant stress and pressure was in the images of you. In the way your body fit perfectly in his hands, in the way your gaze, enchanted and completely shining, did not leave his. Five Hargreeves felt that, like him at that moment, there was no other place you would rather be.

Twenty years could go by, but he would still feel what it was like to have your warmth in his arms, in the smell that your perfume exhaled and in the way the candles in the candelabra glowed on your skin. You were like a goddess, dancing at that ball as if the world would never be graced with such beauty again.

When Five Hargreeves closed his eyes, he could see you perfectly. Swirling around as if the ground were your clouds and everyone there were mere mortals, watching what the angels in heaven looked like.

It was like a dark paradise. He managed to slake some of that suffocating tightness in his chest whenever he returned to those memories, but it resulted in more flagellations in his poor, tortured soul. The notion that he would never have anything but memories, dreams, and mowed wishes, would skin him alive until his last days. Five would forever be haunted by the notion that, even when he died, you wouldn't be waiting on the other side.

You would be in heaven. And he belonged in hell.

But, it was worth it.

All the pain, all the desperation his soul struggled with, all the shortness of breath that coiled in his lungs, all the feeling of being stabbed with a dagger knowing his would never lay hands on you again, it was all worth it when he reviewed your face in his memories.

Five Hargreeves didn't clamored for relief from his pain, balm for the cuts deep in his soul, a minute's mercy. No, he accepted all of his fate with his head held high. He clamored for you to be okay. Safe, happy. Free from any worries or tribulations. He wished you had forgotten about him, erased that night from your blood, because it would be impossible to live if he knew you were suffering just like him.

Five Hargreeves had never given you a single kiss, tucked your hair in his fingers and tasted your tongue, but he didn't need it. His soul didn't need that to fall madly in love with you.

Yes, pure and perfect passion. It was the only logical explanation for how he felt about you.

Even though he never tasted your skin in his mouth, or touched you without the interference of a piece of clothing, Five Hargreeves was in love with you.

And it would be for the rest of his life.

-----------

All the Hargreeves siblings thought all was well when the Commission was defeated and they got a briefcase to take them back at home. The nightmare of the second apocalypse had already passed and now the feeling that invaded their bodies was one of relief. For a second, Klaus thought that everything would now be back on track; with the family together, stronger ties and improved relationships.

Everyone thought so, actually.

The shimmering blue flash engulfed all the brothers, passing through the barriers of space and time, leaving the Hargreeves in the mansion where they grew up and spent most of their lives. Everyone looked happy, relaxed. And Five also shared the same relief.

Until that fateful moment.

Until a draft of wind enter through the window behind him and hitting his back, bringing a feeling that immediately made every hair on his body stand on end. In a matter of seconds, all sense of relief, calm, and peace were shattered, exploding one by one with the same aggressiveness of a nuclear bomb. The world seemed to stumble and stoped, the colors of the hemisphere fluidized into a vintage orange, flickering, almost as if the lighting came from candles.

As much as his siblings were laughing and making noises, everything for Five was quiet, in a tacit silence. The sound of cars on the streets did not exist anymore, the conversations disappeared, and, little by little, the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat. Increasing in tempo gradually, like a soundtrack.

Then, in the apex of silence, when Five could already hear the blood rushing through his veins, he listened.

Five.

Your voice in the wind, almost like a whisper. Calling for him. Just like you did a long time ago.

His soul gave a scream that shook him to the very bones, and he didn't notice when his eyes widened and his breath hitched. Suddenly, his whole body came back to life, being pulled sharply from the bottom of the ocean, submerging, desperately, breathless, astonished. Abruptly, the heat returned to his hands, to his cheeks, to his heart. Five could feel warmth coursing through his body as if they had rekindled the flame of his soul.

Was like resurrect.

He looked back in one jerk, spinning in place, heart pounding in his ribcage, his frantic, frantic eyes darting around every corner.

Nothing.

“Hey, are you okay?” Klaus looked back, focusing on his brother, but Five didn't respond.

He walked past Klaus as if he couldn't hear him, his eyes and hands trembling visibly, his step tight. Five chased the wind current as if he were chased his life, oblivious to anything or anyone.

His siblings, finding the situation strange, followed him without hesitation, accompanying the owner with green eyes entering more in the house. They had no idea what to expect, or what to think, but they stopped behind Five as he froze in the middle of the living room, eyes petrified, wide, fixed on a very specific spot at the top of the stairs.

But nobody noticed what he saw.

While all the Hargreeves were taken aback by Reginald's appearance in the outer corner of the room, stunned and petrified, growing more and more stunned as their father went on to explain the situation, Five couldn't take his eyes off the top of the stairs. Nothing in the world would have made him look elsewhere.

You.

You.

Fucking hell...you.

There, standing next to people he didn't care to find out who they were, looking down, observing at the people who had just entered.

Suddenly, everything inside him was whipped by currents of electricity, as if he'd been struck by lightning. An argument seemed to be brewing in the background, but Five Hargreeves didn't fucking care. May the world explode, may everything end up in dust, fire or water. He didn't want to know.

You were there. With the sunlight coming through the large windows behind your back, and illuminating your silhouette as if you were a deity, a goddess, a muse. You shone. Like the gates of heaven. At that moment, the soul of Five Hargreeves fell to his knees in front of you. For you.

An extremely strong emotion invaded him without asking permission, destroying everything he once was. Five felt like crying.

As a war in the background unfolded, the people who were beside you started to descend the stairs one by one. But he couldn't take his eyes off you.

“Five. Five.” Luther seemed to call out to him in the background, but he didn't care.

You walked down the steps the same way you glided through that ballroom, as if the floor were your clouds. Yours robes were uniform this time, but Five was pretty sure that behind that high collar, your skin harbored a birthmark on your collarbone. Your hair was down, but he knew how you looked with your strands tied up.

With each step you took, more his pulse quickened. It was like a dream, a mirage, his oasis in the scorching desert. At some point in the battle against the Commission he had died, and that was his dream.

However, Luther's hand gripped his arm, forcing his green eyes to meet his brother's.

“Dude, what's wrong with you? Didn't you hear dad saying that we're in another reality?”

“I am not your father.” Reginald countered. “Not in this reality.”

Five frowned, rationality slowly returning to his body, his brain taking over once more. A parallel reality. That explained a lot. A reality where…you existed.

Holy shit.

Someone said the Hargreeves had better go, and Five would have laughed out loud if he hadn't submerged in thoughts. If they really was in a parallel reality, that meant you didn't remember him. You didn't even know him. The version who have danced with him was still in another century, in a timeline far, far away.

But…Five looked up. You radiated the same beauty of the romantic period as before, your skin still looked feather soft, your lips still where able to take away his complete self-control, your eyes still have… the same glow that he remembered so many times during so many nights.

You didn't know him, but that didn't matter. Because Five knew you.

He suffered the worst of martyrdoms all this time, and now that he'd finally, finally found you once more, he wasn't going to leave. Even if it meant having to make you fall in love with him all over again. In fact, Five Hargreeves would dedicate his entire lives to making you fall in love with him all over again in every reality there is. He would have as many times as necessary a first dance with you.

He didn't realize it, but his lips lifted in a smile. In a snap of fingers, everything reached a apex, higher than the buildings, higher even to the clouds. All the problems evaporated like mist in the sun, and being in a parallel reality, with a father that wasn't his, in a house that wasn't the one he grew up in, seemed to be extremely insignificant.

For the first time in a long time, Five Hargreeves was happy. And nothing would change that.

That's when, amidst all the arguing the Hargreeves and Sparrows were having around, your eyes met his. And for him it was like coming home after an excruciating winter.

You cocked your head slightly to the side, intrigued by the way that man was looking at you so…surrendered. You understood the gravity of the situation, of those strangers breaking into your home and trying to claim everything as theirs. You were also irritated just like your siblings.

But... when you looked at that man… with eyes so green and hair so dark, something inside you caught your breath. A shiver went up your spine. And maybe you were crazy, but you can swear that felt your soul heave a sigh of…relief. A strange, emotional feeling reverberated through your spirit as if…somehow you'd just found what you've spent so long waiting to met again.

It don’t make sense.

As the confrontation unfolded between the two families, you couldn't help but notice that, minute by minute, you found yourself wanting to look at this man more. As if it were never going to be enough, as if the second you turned your head, you were overcome with an insane urge to see more. You should be focused on trying to get those strangers out of your house, not admiring one of them.

But Five realized that. A spark inside him vibrated with hope, and he delighted in being able to relive the feeling of what it was like to be looked at by you again.

But before he or you could even do anything, the physical feud between the two families broke out with astonishing speed, spreading like the plague. Diego, as usual, was the first to go into battle, followed by Luther and Allison.

See, you didn't consider yourself a confrontational person. Your peculiarity was to manipulate the natural elements and, although that made you one of the strongest figures among your siblings, you had a more adventurous spirit than a fighter. There was no such homeric thirst in your blood to be the best, the strongest, the most brutal. Ben said that was the most unattractive thing about you, but Sloane saw this feature with good eyes. Like you, she wasn't much inclined to brutality.

The fight drove you and Five away from each other, separated by rooms, siblings and war. You saw your family appeal to brute aggression very quickly, while, if you're honest, you didn't want to hurt anyone. Is trut that you were irritated by the way they claimed your house as theirs, but you didn't think they were bad people.

Or all this bland resolutions were for the fact that you didn't want to hurt him. Because, in some way you couldn't explain, you knew he wouldn't hurt you.

But that's when Alphonso yelled at you from upstairs. “Y/N! Do fucking something too!”

Everyone was scattered around the house, but you still remained downstairs, in the living room, arranging a way to help without being very aggressive like your siblings were being. You had no intention of killing or seriously injuring them, but you also weren't willing to put up with the scolding your brothers would give you if you continued to be omitte.

So, when one of the strangers came running to get away from something, the tail of his dark overcoat dancing in the air and his black hat toppling along the path, your reaction was to do the one thing that couldn't seem to do any real damage. In a wave of the hand, the windows were shattered by large, sprawling tree roots, that came out of the garden earth like thick snakes and entered the house in a steady stream.

The man gave a high-pitched scream, but his feet were already entwined by the roots and he was knocked to the ground. The roots, which spilled earth over the floor and exhaled a forest smell, wrapped themselves around the man's body up to his chest, with the only purpose of immobilizing him.

You weren't putting force or brutality, and you were sure the roots were just putting considerable pressure on, like a bandage around an injured arm. But the man didn't seem to notice this, because he kept screaming.

The fear should still be clouding his senses, and you revealed the situation. For it wasn't often that someone was wrapped around by giant roots that moved of their own accord. In your place, you would have reacted that way too.

“Hey, hey” you tried to get closer “It's ok, they won't hurt you and…”

But your speech was interrupted by shrill hum, which cut through the air with force and passed like a bullet in front of your face, shaking a few locks of your hair. The speed were frightening, and for a second your heart stopped in your chest. The fright made you take two steps back immediately, but in a matter of seconds any feeling was replaced by a very strong burning in your left cheek. In the same second, a hot liquid began to ooze from your injured skin like water in a current, spreading pain wherever went.

Two seconds that were able to put you face to face with death. Because that attack was not joking.

The bearded man ran to help the one who was lying on the ground, forcing his freedom between the roots that were now weak due to your distraction.

Unlike you, Diego didn't care about the things he had to do to save his family. He was willing to injure, inflict permanent damage, even killing if that was the only way out. He would have a guilty conscience later, but in the heat of the moment, he wouldn't hesitate. Diego did this to the Commission agents hours ago, and he would do this to you if he had to. As sure as the sky was blue, the Sparrows were the enemy. And he was the hero. Thats it. Two polar opposites, destined to face each other into the death.

And that was why he didn't hesitate to attack when he saw Klaus lying on the floor, screaming as if he were being killed. After getting a small taste of the kind of things your powers were capable of doing, it was pretty clear that you were one of the first ones that needed to go down. So Diego didn't hesitate either when he pulled Klaus off the ground, and wielded yet another dagger. Aiming not to hurt, but to kill.

But love could drive even the smartest minds crazy.

Because when the dagger was thrown in the air, a blue flash invaded the scene and a male body enveloped yours, pushing both of you aside in a rough, protective, intense gesture.

Five Hargreeves was on the stair railing, fighting Jayme, when Klaus's screams grab his attention. He didn't have much time to process what he was seeing, but the moment one of Diego's daggers slashed across your cheek, the primal, visceral instinct he'd felt so long ago, with The Handler on  The Commission, roared through him like an angry beast. So when another dagger was wielded and thrown into the air, he didn't think twice, didn't hesitate, didn't blink.

Dropping everything behind, Five Hargreeves dove into the blue flash, having you as the only focus in mind.

As soon as the crash of his body with yours caused you both to leave the deadly path, the arms, masculine and wide, wrapped around your back as if he were holding the only anchorage on the high seas in the middle of a storm. His heart was pounding in his chest, and as much that adrenaline, primal instinct and rage were bubbling through his body, he still managed to feel his soul sighing in deep relief when felt your warmth again in his arms.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?"

Diego's angry roar seemed to shake the walls, but didn't stop the obstinate, angry look that swallowed Five's expression.

“Diego…” his voice didn't match the situation the Hargreeves found themselves in. His tone was serious, steady, so calm it was terrifying, like the warning of darkness to the light. “Stay away from her.”

His brother's confused and perplexed look couldn't have been more accentuated. And even Klaus, known for being the least serious about situations, looked completely astonished. Five Hargreeves didn't held you like he was preventing a murder. No. He held you like Cerberus should have held the only person he was ever loyal to.

"You are fucking crazy?!" Diego gestured with his hands “Let go the enemy now!”

The Hargreeves have been through a lot, seen a lot. Many of them being absurd, beyond any rationality or law of physics, moments in which they had to deal with situations that were not possible to be of this world. But nothing, and no one, could have prepared Diego and Klaus for what they heard from Five;

"Never."

The moment was dispersed when Viktor appeared in the room, shaking, hurt, out of his mind. His head fell back in a single gesture, his arms opened up and the fists closed, as white lights began to shoot out from within his eyes and chest.

Five Hargreeves knew what that meant.

He didn't think twice before running to the side,  hiding you behind the bar counter and lowering you two bodies to the floor. His body in front of yours, blocking access to the roughest impact in you.

You two had three seconds, three seconds to look into each other's eyes before the flash explodes. And in that three seconds, the only thing that passed in the soul of both of you was the feeling of finally being where should be.

-----------

"They're stupid villains who think they're smart!" Ben was furious in the kitchen, pacing back and forth.

The last few days had passed like this. With Ben angry about the invasion, Ben angry about the fight, Ben angry about Marcus disappearing, Ben angry about... well... he was always angry.

Of all your siblings, he had the worst temper. Fei and Christopher were practically his dogs, going along with all of Ben's stupid plans just because... you really didn't know why they followed him so fervently, but had a theory that it was because they both thought they would have more power when Ben's plans came to fruition.

A hierarchical system that filled the family with toxicity.

On the other hand, there were Jayme and Alphonso. You never really understood the two, but you described them as bullies. A duo who liked the power they had and how they managed to exert it over people.

The only one you could relate to more deeply was Sloane.

"It would have been better if Y/n had made an attack." Alphonso brought your name up in conversation, his gaze full of rancor.

"Fuck off, asshole" It was the only thing you deigned to say, because you didn't have the patience to deal with his comments at the time.

The truth is, since the invasion, you couldn't get him out of your mind.

It was like a drug, an addiction, that had seeped into your blood from the first time you laid eyes on him. There was something there, something you could never explain. He should be the enemy. Your enemy. But…

The way he saved you from the knives, the way his arms wrapped around you. Almost like he already knows how to hold you. How to protect you.

Your heart couldn't slow down whenever your thoughts returned to that man. From the memory of him placing his body in front of you, standing at the forefront of the explosion.

He saved you. Everytime. And there was something that told you he would save you every chance he got.

The truth was…you wanted to see him. Know his name. Talk with him. There was no longer a fiber of your being that saw the situation as your siblingsdid, your body was facing the complete opposite north.

You wanted to touch him, not fight with him.

When time passed, and Luther showed up at the mansion as someone who was kidnapped, you, again, did not see the situation as a beneficial opportunity for your family. But for you.

Suddenly, your entire soul was gripped by a completely unsettling anxiety that made your hands itch, stomach churn, and your legs unable to stay still. Then you were swept by a feeling of deep sadness, as if you'd already experienced what it was like to spend your whole life wanting to see that man and never getting.

There was no more logic, rationality or coherence to what you were feeling, but finding him was as indispensable as breathing.

That's why you volunteered - more like an imposition - that you would be the one to escort Luther home the moment Ben said he could leave.

“It was kind of you to accompany me” The blond man smiled at you, as the two of you walked through the night streets.

"It was nothing." You tried to sound casual, but with every step toward your destination, the more your hands itched, the more your heart was racing, and in a moment, you found yourself picking up the pace to get there faster.

“I have to confess that you were a topic of discussion between my brothers.” Luther laughed, his odd way of bringing up the subject and not mincing words.

But that got your attention. "What do you mean?"

“A-ahem…well…from what I understand, Diego wanted to kill you, but Five stopped him and…”

Five…Five

His name was Five.

Something inside you stirred. An unfamiliar emotion, but one that made a smile rise to yourcheeks.

“Five” you tried to say aloud, and his name just… felt right on your lips.

You went the rest of the way not being able to pay attention to a single syllable Luther was saying. You don't wanted to be rude, but you just… couldn't stop thinking about Five.

“How long before we get there?” you cut off something Luther was saying about Sloane, and the blond eyebrows drawing together in strangeness.

“Actually” he looked at the big hotel in front of him “We already arrived and…”

But you couldn't stop yourself. All of your muscles felt like they had undergone countless electrical discharges, your heart was faster than any living soul has ever been, and your blood was rushing through  your veins like marathon runners. You increased your pace considerably, quickly climbing the steps and opening the doors of that building as if you had just walked through the gates of paradise.

You needed to see him.

Luther came up behind you, giving you a suspicious look and walking towards a bar, where the outlines of several people were talking.

-----------

"I returned." Luther's voice brought Five out of his thoughts, and a part of her brain tried to remember the time his brother had left.

And he didn't find any answers.

To his defence, Five's mind had been elsewhere these days. Moments when he rewound in his mind once, twice, three times. Not even the impending new apocalypse knocking on the door seemed to have any effect on Five. To be honest, he… saw no point in trying to save the world this time. Meeting you once was a miracle, but meeting you again, in an entirely different reality and without The Commission making things difficult, seemed like too much of a luxury for him to ignore.

The truth was that in the first attempt to escape the apocalypse he ended up sending the family to different times, with intervals of years between each one. And, deep down, he didn't know if he could handle trying to take you with him to another reality and end up losing you too.

Five had been through this once before. He knew pain too well not to be willing to risk it.

“What is the enemy doing here?!"

Diego's voice snapped Five out of his thoughts, and an electric current shot through his head and reverberated down to his toes. Immediately, without any hesitation, his eyes flew away, finding not just Luther - whit several bags in hand - but you beside him.

You.

Something inside him ignited, his heart raced and, for a moment, the whole world around him fell away.

But just for a moment, because Diego was already getting up from his seat.

“Hey. Hey!” Five teleported away, once again placing the body in front of you . “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“What would anyone do to the enemy! What are you doing? Defending a stranger again?!"

“She is not a stranger, Diego. Now be quiet in your place before I have to do it for you.”

"She is not?" Klaus and Viktor said in unison

"I'm not?" Your voice, the only one that mattered to him, came from behind his back, quieter than the others but loud enough for him to hear.

Five turned towards you, turning his back on his siblings. Unlike how he looked at Diego, his eyes held all the softness and attention in the world when they met yours. A small smile appeared at the corner of his left mouth, a secret smile, hidden from the world but revealed only to you.

"It's a long story," he admitted, having no idea how to start. How to tell something that even to him don't make sense.

“I came to see you.” you rewarded his honesty with another truth, a gleam crossing his eyes like shooting stars. “I have time to listen.”

A smile blossomed on his lips, and Five was overcome by the purest feeling of happiness. Without saying anything, or giving anyone satisfaction, his hand laced into yours, and he disappeared with you in the blue flash.

-----------

Any sensible, practical, centered woman, would have laughed at what Five had just told you. Anyone who didn't get carried away by matters of the heart and didn't believe that two people, when destined to be together, are helped even by the wind, would have turned around and walked away.

But you weren't a sensible woman, nor practical, much less centered. Your being was composed of romance, adventure and magic. You fervently believed in destiny, soulmates and that some loves are capable of overcoming the barrier of space and time.

What's more, if all that wasn't enough, you also felt, from your soul to your bones, sensations that couldn't be explained. Feelings he was also saying he felt too. You believed in him. And that fact came as soft as the droplets of dew, as the brightness of the moon.

After his account came to end, with him letting himself be vulnerable in telling all the thoughts that ever crossed his mind about you, the urge to say just one thing screamed your blood rumbling. “You’re no the villain in my story” your words hung in the air.

“I am,” Five's voice brimmed with a liquid honesty that was able to chill your bones, but nothing in his words hinted at remorse for the things he'd already done. “But i'll be the villain for you. Not to you. I'll let worlds burn again if it means keeping you alive. In a problematic way, that I'll never be able to explain, I don't feel guilty about doing something if it means your safety.”

Five Hargreeves expected many things. Many different reactions. Many words of contradiction. But never what happened next.

Your mouth, without any hesitation, joined his in a kiss that was capable of making his world explode. His body was ignited by a fire that swallowed even his soul, washing away all his sins and giving a demon a taste of heaven.

So what was it like to kiss a goddess? An angel, a muse.

If before, without even touching your skin without the interference of clothing, Five would have happily accepted going to hell, now, with your hot mouth melting into his like warm honey, he would accept the torture of eternal fire with a smile on his face.

And when the small kiss intensified into something much bigger, his hands, warm and masculine, wrapped possessively around your waist. There was no going back. There was no turning back. Five would keep you for himself in the same selfishness that a villain steals a princess. And there was no hero in the world capable of pulling you away of his clutches.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” He found the last bit of strength to let you know when your hands untied his tie “I could really hurt you.”

But all good intentions evaporated when your eyes, eager and full of desire, blinked at him. There was an addictive sweetness in that look. The way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the way your eyes held tinges of delicious submission but hid an incendiary fire behind them.

Fucking damn. He wanted you so badly.

"I don't care." Your breathless whisper invaded the room. But he didn't know if you understood the seriousness of the situation.

“Y/n.” his hands cupped your face. “I spent a lot of time contenting just for the way you looked at me. Spending sleepless nights reliving what it was like to feel the contour of your waist in my hand.” His voice was serious, deep, rough like sand scraping against stone. “Do you have any idea of the things I'm going to do to you now that I can finally, finally, have you?” his pitch lowered a few notes, like a predator talking to its prey.

You didn't know it, but only imagination made yours thighs tighten.

“I can destroy you.” his lips went to the foot of your ear, down to the curve of your neck, inhaling  your scent and tasting you. “I can leave your body purple, your breasts bitten, your hips marked by the aggressiveness of mine whenever I enter on you.”

A moan escaped your mouth, fingers tightening on his arms, head lolling to the side.

Oh lord, please he do that.

Five's hands went up to your shoulders, in a touch that became more and more possessive, gluttonous, as if he wanted to swallow you.

“I can spend hours fucking you.” his fingers lowered the straps of your dress, letting the fabric fall unceremoniously to the floor. Five pulled his face away enough to be able to look at your body fully, and a husky growl followed right away. “I can kill you.”

Here, in that moment, Five Hargreeves was giving you one last chance to give up, to make him tame the villain he was and who would destroy you for any other man.

If you slept with Five Hargreeves, you would never stop being his.

"Do it." but you didn't have an ounce of self-preservation in the inner body "please."

You didn't have to beg twice. His hands pulled your legs up, making you place your feet on his hips and hug him with your legs. Your back hit the closed bedroom door as Hargreeves' mouth claimed all it could of his. Twisting your tongue around his, biting and sucking on your bottom lip, he was beginning to mark you as his in a single kiss.

“You have no idea how much I want you.” his confession was more of a hoarse groan, hands fumbling with his belt and lowering the waistband of his pants.

Under other circumstances, he would have sucked you until drive you unconscious, pushing your walls with his fingers until you begged for his cock. But he didn't have the presence of mind to do that now. Not now. Not today. He warned of the consequences of wanting to continue at that moment. But you wanted, you begged, and now he was no longer afraid of being able to fuck you with all the vehemence he needed.

Your moans invaded the room very quickly, your waist, even if limited by the door, moved in his groin, exorcising any common sense and control that Five once had.

He pushed your panties to the side impolitely and entered you in one single, glorious, primal thrust. His cock slid in with extreme ease, being completely soaked by the way your pussy was so slick.

“Oh fucking hell” his growl sent even more waves of pleasure to your uterus, and you pressed your mouth to his neck to keep from screaming.

That's when he withdrew and pushed himself into you. Strong, brute. Hitting until found the bottom of the well. His thrusts began relentlessly, thrusting in and out of you aggressively, possessively, almost animalistic. Five's hands were all over yourbody, fingerprinting every bit of your flesh. The nails digging into your waist when you contracted and squeezed him within your plush walls.

“Fuck. fuck.” his groans mingled with the attrition of the bodies of you two against the door, which sent loud, telltale noises throughout the  hotel.

But you would rather die than stop.

His cock suddenly hit a place that made your moans come out too loud. Tears began to pool in the corner of your eyes, and your toes curled.

“Oh do you feel this, baby?” Five teased you, digging himself as deep as possible anatomically and rubbing the tip of his cock there, eliciting sly, desperate cries from you  "That's your cervix."

Then he went back to fucking you aggressively, this time pulling his chest away from you and digging his hands hard into the flesh of your hips, pulling you towards him at a intensity that could only be described as animalistic.

This was better than anything he had ever tasted in his life. Better than any sin. Better than any whiskey.

His cock desecrated your pussy like it was the only thing that mattered in the world, pulling thick liquids out of you that enveloped him in pasty white rings. Five Hargreeves would ensure that whenever you thought of any man, your mind was invaded by the way he fucked you.

"I will… I will…" your tearful voice blended with the noise of the door slamming and your bodies bumping into each other.

“Thats right, baby” his mouth covered your “cum for me. cum so I can fill that gluttonous pussy with my cum.”

If the way he thrust in and out of you wasn't enough to make you come, his lines had done the job. You came in a glorious explosion of stars, colors and sensations. Your body contracted with absurd force and relaxed like the best of massages. Your arms went limp around his neck, and you could feel his cock tremble and the hot, thick liquid fill your entire pussy.

The noise of the door stopped, his moans calmed down and now the only thing that could be heard was the heavy breathing in the air.

You thought it was over, until Five climbs a hand to your neck and lets out  a broken growl "'You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat, baby."

His cock moved inside you, moving in and out smoothly, pushing his cum even deeper inside you. Make sure you gobble it all up.

“Did you think we were done, princess?” he chuckled evilly, his lips moving closer until they were inches from yours. "I'm just getting started. I'm going to show you how much I've wanted you this whole fucking time.”

[tuliptic]

Let Me Describe Your Aura

Hello, I'm back again. I have this in my drafts for a very, very long time (since last year), and I have finally completed it. This was meant to be a short reading for Instagram, but well, it ended up longer than what I expected. Tho I posted it there, you can still read it here. Honestly speaking, this reading ended up quite different from what I've expected and I don't really know what I was hoping to get from this. Maybe colours? And vibes? No idea. But still, I hope you all enjoy the reading.

As usual, close your eyes, breathe in and out, make sure your mind and heart is calm. Then, open your eyes to see which pile talks to you the most/draws you in the most. Once you’ve found your pile, scroll down to the respective parts to see what are the messages for you.

Pile 1    -     Pile 2

Pile 3    -     Pile 4

Disclaimer: This is solely for my entertainment purposes. Take only whatever that you feel like it. If it doesn’t resonate, it’s okay to just drop it. That aside, I do not consent to my work or here to be used by third parties on this platform or other websites.

Decks used: Luna Cat Tarot Deck  (Major Arcana), Linestrider Tarot Deck, Starcodes Astro Oracle Deck.

Pile 1:

For some reason, it gives me a very Uranus vibe? It’s like you’re a person who’s constantly on board with change as you constantly get involved in almost everything possible. You also give me the feeling that you’re… Not satisfied. You are not satisfied with a lot of things, especially with finances. Imagine the hierarchy of needs. Every time you fulfill one of them, you constantly seek to fulfill the other level.  You’re constantly pushing yourself to achieve better and achieve more, but with this, you’re unable to have some form of balance and may have some conflicts with people you work with. I wouldn’t really say it’s insecurity, but there’s some form of fear and being “not enough” for others that I’m seeing here. Perhaps you come from a big family, and you feel that you have the responsibility to feed everyone and to answer to their needs as well as wants.  There’s an inner child in you that is trying to nurture yourself despite all the rush that you’re putting yourself through, sending you messages so that you can take a break from time to time. You not only receive messages, but you also send them out as well. Some (or perhaps, most) of you may like writing memos or notes for your loved ones.

Tl;dr: Instead of saying aura, I would say that there’s this air of uncertainty that you bring with you. You wouldn’t be called a wildcard, because there’s still some elements of earth in you, aka a sense of stability. But still, many may wonder how to approach you without feeling threatened, I guess. For some of you, you may also have an air of authority, or maybe an RBF, hence the fear towards you too.

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Pile 2:

For some reason, the first thing I’m picking up here is that you like to present yourself as mysterious? However, there is some secrecy involved here that I’m seeing, and you may be good at redirecting conversations or attention to other people. Butterfly effect as well? It’s like you’re fluttering away and not caring about what you’ve done or what are the actions they’ll take.  You have swords and court cards here, and I’m feeling that you’re that person, providing mental insight and stimulation to people around you. Just that there may be some concerns with how you present yourself, how you word yourself, and how people can be easily offended by you. Honestly, I’d say that they’re more offended to you as a person instead of your words or what you do. It’s like… They’re threatened by your presence. Pile 1 makes people feel threatened by their nature, but for you, people are threatened by what you’re capable of bringing - an unwanted change. It’s like seeing you will remind them of what they’re lacking and how much comfort they’ll need to give up, and hence, you may feel like an outcast most of the time, feeling that you do not belong to anywhere.  Still, I’d say, people who are close to you, especially your friends will find comfort in you. You’re a good listener and will be able to provide valuable insights. They’ll be glad that you’re on their team with whatever project you’re working on. If you’re ever interested in working on a collab, do it. You’re meant for it. 

Tl;dr: For you, your aura would be swords-ish, sharp but clear. You know how a sharp and strong sword can be used as a mirror? Yeah that. That’s you, reflecting the fear of others. It’s difficult, but with time, I believe you’ll be able to work along with it.

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Pile 3:

Hmmmm. Harmonious, I’d say. That’s the first word I’m picking up. I kinda have an image of an orange cat sleeping in the sun, probably the warmth, coziness and fuzzy feeling that it gives. You may have heard your friends or people around you describing you as a fun or sunny person, or that you’re like the sun, bringing warmth to people around you. You may also have a lot of passion projects and most of them are incomplete as of current, the same goes with how your life is right now too. Remember to continue whatever efforts you’re putting in. The rewards will come at unexpected times. Another thing I’m picking up is that you like to go along with the flow. Good things happen? Great! Not so nice things happening? Aww sheesh better luck next time. Kinda feeling. Or perhaps, this is what you portray yourself as. I’m getting a weight on my chest eventho there are happy cards. Probably it’s because you put up that mask so that people around you won’t see the pain you’re in.  Vulnerability sounds like a theme that you’ll need to explore, understand, and wield. It sounds difficult and probably painful, but it is needed for you to be able to understand the various facets of life. You’re very perceptive, or perhaps, you have a gift in it. But then, to be able to utilize that skill of yours, you’ll need to expand your knowledge base, experience the various emotions, look into all the tiny things that life has for you. 

Tl;dr: Some may say that you’re a person of culture but you know you’re far from that. Still, people generally like you with how amiable you are, and how you put an effort to make people around you comfortable. However, people will not cross you because you have respect for yourself too. There may be some similarities to Pile 1 with the earthy energy here, so you may check out Pile 1 if you’re drawn to it as well, especially if you have Saturn energy.

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Pile 4: 

A Chinese idiom came to my mind when I see this pile: 与世无争. It means there’s no quarrel or argument with the society, but it generally means a way of avoiding conflict in a passive way. As though you want nothing to do with the current world. Not sure if it’s correct to say that you’re disappointed with the society but there’s some apathy in here, not having much hope with the people you’ve seen. With this, you may have decided to keep yourself closed from the people around you. Not to use strong words, but you may detest the world and build a utopia in your head, imagining a world that is ideal to you and the rules you live with. Majority of the cards here are in reverse, which explains the dejection and dissatisfaction I’m feeling here. I am having problems in describing this pile and it’s making me scratch on my keyboard because of how I’m unable to phrase words. Still, despite all of that, you’re a very capable individual, especially with the King and Queens in your reading. You may have more feminine energy or may present yourself in a more feminine way than others, tho there’s a chance of you rejecting it. People may come to you for help and advice not only because they trust you, but also your words are able to assure them that things will be alright. You have quite a lot of resources on your hands, may it be finances/monetary resources, knowledge, or even network/connections, and you use them according to your needs and values. There may be some… Unconventional skills that you have. I’m not sure what they are, but it’s up to you to figure out how you want to put them to good use.

Tl;dr: This pile is the most difficult pile for me to write as the energy is all around the place yet focused at the same time. It’s very conflicting and confusing, which may be the aura that you exude. There is no clear definition of good or bad in this reading, but more of what you want yourself to be and how you’re going to work on it. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your apartment is dark. You usually leave a light on but today, everything is off. That’s an understatement.  

You lock the door then check twice before you get your shoes off to make sure you really did. You put your knapsack on the stool next to the mat. The air stirs coolly and you shiver as you unzip your jacket and face the apartment. 

The entryway light leaks into the front room and limns over the side of the couch. You wade through the dark and flick on the lamp. Another ripple of wind flows around you. You leave your jacket on, half undone and cross the room as you stare. 

The window is broken. You stop and look down at the shards of glass across the floor. You glance back up at the frame, only a few pieces left in it. You don’t know if it makes you feel better that there’s no way that man would fit through there. Not really, that only means it could have been someone else. 

You take out your phone and dial out to your landlord. As you wait for the line to pick up, you turn on every light in your tiny apartment. You check the single closet and the shower stall and anywhere someone might hide. At least you’re all alone. 

Shit, you’re all alone. 

You cross an arm over your chest as the voicemail greeting rolls over and beeps. 

“Hey, Colin, yeah it’s apartment 1C. The window’s broken. Got home from work and... guess I’ll cover it up for tonight. Please call me back in the morning.” You hang up. What else can you do? 

You stare at the window. You don’t have anything really to cover it with. You keep your phone close and search for anything. The cardboard won’t keep anyone out but once sealed with a garbage bag it will at least block the wind.  

You finish taping up the edges and sigh. You sweep up the stray glass and toss it in a spare box. 

You’re shaking again. It’s too much of a coincidence. You know deep down that it can’t be. Yet, what good does that do you? If it’s not just a string of bad luck, then that means he knows where you live. 

You leave the lamp beside the couch on and turn off the rest of the lights. You hang your jacket then undress in the bedroom. You put on a striped sleep shirt and grab your pillow and blanket. You cast some mindless reality show to the television to fill the silence. 

You go to the bathroom to wash your face and go through your basic nighttime routine. You pause to look at your scalp in the mirror. You use a hand mirror to see it better. Ouch. You’re not too sure if you can do anything but hope that it grows back. 

You retreat to the couch and hunker down. The light will keep you safe. You hope. 

You can’t close your eyes. Your heart won’t stop thumping. You fidget and wriggle around on the couch. Your lashes droop and you feel yourself drifting.  

You give a start and sit up with a gasp as a loud bang cuts through your exhaustion. You grasp at your chest as you look around. Your television is on the floor, screen down, and a gust puffs through the open window. 

You look over at the cardboard and plastic as it hangs from the tap, shorn through. You shudder and hug the blanket around you as you stand. Shit. Was he in here? How... the window is too small-- 

You turn slowly and face the door. You locked it. You know you did. You double, triple-checked. You flip on the entryway light as you near the door. It’s not closed all the way. The door sits against but not in the frame. The latch is turned back and the chain is snapped. 

You push it shut and twist the latch. You stifle a sob and make yourself look through the peephole. It’s black. Something’s blocking it from the other side. 

You recoil and race into the kitchen. You grab the broom from where you left it leaning against the counter and go to the window. You aim the handle out the window and try to see out into the dark. 

“Go away!” You scream into the void. “Leave me alone!” 

Your voice echoes and evaporates into the city. You gulp and stare out. Waiting. Nothing. 

What do you do?  

It’s futile but your tape the window up again. With the cardboard torn through, it hardly makes a difference but you try. You think of calling the police. Maybe you should but the officer’s nonchalance deters you from the trouble. 

You lift your TV. It’s cracked. Broken. Half of it is black and the other half is a spectrum of colours. You put it back on the stand and unplug it. 

You pull the blanket tighter as you start another investigation around the apartment. The bathroom is untouched; the shower empty. The bedroom looks much the same but as you turn to the door, you notice the open drawer. 

You shut it without looking inside. You don’t want to think about that. You doubt he was looking for socks... 

Back in the living room, you sit on the couch, folding yourself up in the corner. You cling to your phone and hug your knees. You rest your chin on top and stare at the wall. Waiting. Dreading.  

He’s not going to stop. He’s toying with you. It’s clear that he could just walk right in and do what he wants. And when he decides to do just that, you’re not sure you’ll be able to do anything. 

[goddessofvalyria]

SUPERMODEL | Modern!Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: Aemond Targaryen is a famous supermodel. However, he treats his assistant so badly that they reach a breaking point. She leaves him and he, for the first time realize how much he needs her. Not only in works but in his life too.

TW: 18+, MINORS DNI, She/Her pronouns, kissing, sexual themes, oral (f receiving), fingering, SMUT, sex, squirting, age gap (Aemond is in his early 30s and she is in her early 20s). This is a modern Aemond in modern AU, he doesn’t have his disability (his eye).

English is not my first language, be kind and enjoy the fic <3

This is my Masterlist

Words: 5800

Aemond Targaryen strides through the glass doors of the high-rise studio, exuding confidence. His tall frame is perfectly complemented by the tailored designer suit hugging his form, his silver-blonde hair slicked back impeccably. His assistant, a young woman trails behind him, her eyes downcast and her steps hurried to keep up. She clutches a clipboard close to her chest, filled with Aemond's schedule for the day.

"Assistant!" Aemond barks, not bothering to look back at her. "Have you confirmed the Vogue shoot for next Tuesday?"

"Yes, Mr.Targaryen" she replies quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"And what about the interview with Vanity Fair?" he demands, his tone sharp and impatient.

"It's been moved to Thursday afternoon, as per your request" she answers, her gaze fixed on the ground.

Aemond clicks his tongue in annoyance. "I hate Thursdays" he mutters, more to himself than to her. He finally glances back at her, his expression one of disdain. "Why do you always sound so meek? Speak up! Or do you think my time isn’t valuable enough for you to bother?"

Her assistant swallows hard but doesn't respond to the insult. She knows better than to defend herself. Her job is to keep his life running smoothly, not to make waves. She simply nods, making a note on her clipboard.

They arrive at the studio, and the room buzzes with activity. Photographers, makeup artists, and stylists swarm around, all eager to cater to Aemond's whims. He thrives in this environment, basking in the attention, his arrogance palpable.

"Do they have my preferred brand of water here?" Aemond asks loudly, looking around with an air of superiority.

She nods quickly. "Yes, I made sure to have it stocked" she replies, already anticipating his needs.

Aemond scoffs. "You better. Last time, I had to suffer with that cheap swill they dared to offer me." He rolls his eyes dramatically before striding over to the makeup chair.

She moves to stand in the corner, her presence almost ghostly. She knows her place—always in the background, always silent. The makeup artist begins to work on Aemond, who lounges back, closing his eyes.

"You know, assistant" Aemond says suddenly, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "You could learn a thing or two from these people. They know how to do their jobs properly. Maybe then, you wouldn’t be such a disappointment."

Her cheeks burn with humiliation, but she nods again, keeping her expression neutral. She can’t afford to lose this job, not now, not ever. She watches as Aemond is transformed, his features highlighted and contoured to perfection, ready for the camera. The photographer signals that they're ready, and Aemond stands, adjusting his suit jacket.

"Stay out of the way" he hisses to her as he walks past, not even sparing her a glance.

She steps back, blending into the shadows, her eyes following his every move. She can see the allure he has, the way he commands the room, but she also sees the cruelty that lurks just beneath the surface.

The photoshoot begins, and Aemond is in his element. He poses effortlessly, each click of the camera capturing his sharp features and confident stance. The photographer shouts directions, and Aemond complies with a fluid grace, his every movement calculated and precise.

During a brief break, Aemond saunters over to her assistant, a smug smile playing on his lips. "I hope you're taking notes" he says mockingly. "This is how a real professional operates. Not that you'd know anything about that."

Her fingers tighten around the clipboard, but she nods once more. "Of course, Mr.Targaryen" she replies softly.

The day drags on with more of the same—Aemond’s arrogance, his cutting remarks, his constant demands. She endures it all in silence, her face a mask of calm. She organizes his meals, prepared by his personal chef, making sure they’re exactly to his liking. She liaises with journalists, manages his social media, arranges his travel—all while bearing the brunt of his contempt.

Finally, the photoshoot wraps up, and Aemond is ushered to a private room for an exclusive interview. She follows closely behind, ensuring everything is in order. As they enter the room, Aemond turns to her, his expression icy.

"Make sure you don’t embarrass me during this interview" he snaps. "I don’t need you messing things up like you always do."

She nods, standing just outside the frame of the camera, ready to jump in should anything be needed. She watches as Aemond slips effortlessly into his charming persona for the interviewer, his smile charismatic and his voice smooth.

The next day she stands outside Aemond Targaryen's lavish penthouse, the morning sun barely peeking over the horizon. She checks her phone, her breath visible in the cool air. He should have been up an hour ago. She takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell, waiting for a response. Silence. She presses it again, more insistently this time. Finally, she hears the faint sound of footsteps approaching.

The door swings open to reveal Aemond, shirtless, his hair disheveled and eyes heavy with sleep. He looks at her with an annoyed expression, clearly displeased to see her so early. "What the hell are you doing here so early?" he grumbles.

"You're late" she says firmly, not backing down from his glare. "You were supposed to be at the Versace photoshoot an hour ago." She pushes past him, entering the penthouse. The place is a mess, bottles from last night’s party littering the floor.

Aemond runs a hand through his hair, looking irritated. "I wasn’t aware you became my alarm clock" he snaps, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

She ignores the remark and heads straight to his bedroom. As she pushes open the door, she spots a young woman in his bed, her red hair sprawled across the pillow. Her full lips press into a thin line. Another one of his conquests, no doubt. Probably someone he met at that Vogue party last night.

"Get up!" she says sharply, her patience wearing thin. "You’re late, and I’m not covering for you again. If you don’t move, someone else will take your place." Her voice is louder now, more insistent.

Aemond smirks, clearly amused by her boldness. "Relax. I’m Aemond Targaryen. No one is taking my place," he replies arrogantly, but he gets out of bed anyway, stretching as he does.

"Where’s the chef?" he asks, referring to his private chef, as he pulls on a pair of pants. She sighs, already anticipating his reaction. "Andre has the day off" she replies. "I’ll make you breakfast."

Aemond rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue, too tired to put up much of a fight. "Fine. Just hurry up," he mutters.

She heads to the kitchen, quickly whipping up a simple breakfast— toasted bread with Nutella and coffee. She works with practiced efficiency, her movements quick and precise. As she cooks, the girl in his bed stirs awake, realizing where she is. The young woman gets dressed quietly and slips out of the bedroom, clearly embarrassed. She avoids Elara’s gaze as she leaves the apartment.

Aemond strolls into the kitchen, yawning. "Again?" he complains, though he sits down at the counter and starts eating. "Couldn’t you have managed something more… sophisticated?"

She clenches her jaw but doesn’t respond to the jab. She’s used to his criticism by now. "You need to eat fast and I'm not your chef" she says instead, her tone neutral. "You’re already running late."

He finishes his breakfast leisurely, seeming to take pleasure in making her wait. Finally, he grabs his jacket, and they head out. By the time they arrive at the studio, Aemond is over an hour late. The crew is waiting, the tension palpable. The Versace representative looks irritated but relieved when he finally arrives.

Despite being late, Aemond still manages to charm his way through the photoshoot. His arrogance seems to evaporate in front of the camera, replaced by that effortless confidence that has made him a star. The photographers and stylists gush over him, forgiving his tardiness in exchange for his flawless performance.

As the shoot wraps up, she stands off to the side, making notes for the next appointment. She glances up and notices a young man, tall with curly black hair and green eyes standing near her, looking nervous. He introduces himself, and her face lights up. She laughs, a rare, genuine sound, and nods as he talks. It's clear they’re making plans—he’s asking her on a date, and for the first time in a long time, she looks truly happy.

Aemond catches sight of the exchange, his expression darkening. As they leave the studio, he confronts her in the car. "What the hell was that?" he demands, his tone harsh.

She blinks, taken aback. "What do you mean, Mr.Targaryen?"

"That pathetic guy" Aemond snaps. "You were all smiles and giggles. You do realize you're supposed to be working, not flirting with some random kid."

Her face hardens. "His name is Kai."

Aemond scoffs. "Don’t make me laugh. You don’t have friends. You have a job. My job."

They arrive back at his apartment, and Aemond storms inside, clearly in a foul mood. She follows, her patience finally wearing thin. "You know" she says, her voice trembling with anger. "Just because you have everything handed to you doesn’t mean you can treat everyone around you like garbage."

Aemond turns on her, his face twisted with rage. "You’re just a fucking virgin, unsatisfied with your fucking life!" he yells, his words cutting deep.

She flinches as if slapped. Her eyes flash with hurt and anger. "At least I have a life, Aemond. All you have is this—your fame, your arrogance. But none of it makes you happy, does it?"

Aemond’s face contorts with fury, and in a blind moment of rage, he raises his hand and slaps her hard across the face. The sound echoes through the apartment, and his hand flies to her cheek, her eyes wide with shock.

Silence hangs heavy in the air. Aemond’s chest heaves, his breath ragged, as if realizing what he’s done. She, however, doesn't wait for an apology. She takes a deep breath, her decision clear in her mind. She walks over to her bag, pulls out a folder, and slams it down on the kitchen island.

"What’s this?" Aemond asks, his voice uncertain now.

"My resignation" she says quietly, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes. "I’m done, Aemond. I’m fucking done with you."

She turns on her heel and walks out of the apartment, leaving Aemond standing there, stunned and alone. The door slams shut behind her, the finality of the sound echoing in the empty room. For the first time, Aemond is left alone with the weight of his actions, the silence of the apartment deafening in her absence.

Aemond Targaryen has had a miserable week without her. His new assistant, a well-meaning but utterly incompetent woman named Lisa, tries her best, but she’s no her. She fumbles over simple tasks, double-books his appointments, and worst of all, she can't anticipate his needs like her always did. Aemond finds himself snapping at her constantly, frustration boiling over.

“Lisa, for the last time” he growls on the fourth day, “I said black coffee with no sugar, not some fancy vanilla latte nonsense. Can’t you get anything right?”

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Targaryen” Lisa stammers, her face flushed with embarrassment. “I’ll get it fixed right away.”

Aemond waves her off, already regretting his outburst. But the truth is, he's angry because he misses jer. He misses how she could keep everything in order, how she never made mistakes, how she seemed to know what he needed before he even did. He hates to admit it, but he misses her presence—the silent, steady strength she always carried.

By the end of the week, his patience is worn thin. Exhausted and frustrated, he decides to drown his stress in a drink. He heads to a dimly lit bar, tucked away in one of the city’s quieter neighborhoods. As he steps inside, the familiar hum of low conversation and clinking glasses greets him. He heads to the bar and orders a whiskey, neat.

As he sips his drink, he spots a familiar face across the room. His breath catches in his throat when he sees her, sitting at a small table with that boy named Kai. The sight of her laughing, her face lit up in a way he rarely saw when she was with him, sends a surge of jealousy through his veins. Kai leans in closer, saying something that makes her laugh again, her hand brushing against his. Aemond’s grip tightens around his glass. She is wearing a silver slip dress, loose hair and seems to be... happy.

Without thinking, he gets up and makes his way over to their table. She looks up, her smile fading the moment she sees him. “Aemond” she says, her tone flat. “What are you doing here?”

“Just out for a drink,” Aemond replies smoothly, his eyes flicking to Kai. “Didn’t expect to see you here, though.”

Kai shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Uh, maybe I should—”

“No” she interrupts, her gaze never leaving Aemond. “You don’t have to leave, Kai.”

But Kai is already standing, sensing the tension in the air. “It’s fine” he says awkwardly. “I’ll call you later.” He shoots Aemond a wary glance before quickly leaving the bar.

She watches him go, her face hardening as she turns back to Aemond. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she demands, her voice low but seething with anger. “You can’t stand to see me happy, can you?”

Aemond smirks, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I was just saying hello” he says innocently. “No need to get so worked up.”

She stands abruptly, grabbing her coat. “I’m leaving” she snaps. “And for the last time, I’m not working for you anymore. Find someone else to boss around.”

Aemond follows her out of the bar, his expression darkening. “Wait!” he calls after her. “You still need to pick up your last paycheck.”

“Make me a wire transfer” she retorts over her shoulder, not bothering to stop. “I don’t want to see you again.”

But Aemond isn’t willing to let her go just yet. He watches her storm off down the street, her pace quick and determined. He knows she lives somewhere near the Flea Bottom district, a rougher part of town on the outskirts. Without thinking, he jumps into his car and starts following her, keeping a careful distance as she navigates through the winding, narrow streets.

She finally reaches her building, a run-down apartment complex with flickering lights and peeling paint. Aemond pulls up and gets out of the car, his heart pounding. He watches her disappear inside, and for a moment, he considers leaving. But something pushes him forward, an inexplicable need to see her, to talk to her.

He takes a deep breath and presses the buzzer for her apartment. It takes a few moments, but eventually, the door buzzes open. He heads up the creaky stairs to her floor, where she’s waiting, her arms crossed and her expression furious.

“What do you want, Aemond?” she snaps. “Say whatever you need to say and then get the hell out. I have work tomorrow.”

He steps inside, the space small and cluttered but cozy, filled with personal touches—a stark contrast to his own sterile, minimalist apartment. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, his eyes searching hers. “I—” he starts, but the words catch in his throat. He doesn’t know what he wants to say.

“You’ve said enough already” she cuts him off. “You’ve insulted me, belittled me, hit me—what more could you possibly have to say?”

“I’m sorry” he blurts out, the words surprising even himself. “I’m sorry for everything.”

She narrows her eyes, crossing her arms tighter. “Is that it? You think an apology makes up for how you’ve treated me?”

Aemond takes a step closer, his voice softening. “I miss you. I miss the way you always managed everything, the way you put work before anything else—before your own life. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I can’t stand seeing you with… with someone else.”

She laughs bitterly. “Of course, it’s about you, isn’t it? You don’t care about me—you just don’t want anyone else to have me. You’re jealous, Aemond. That’s all this is.”

“Maybe I am” he admits, his eyes intense. “Maybe I can’t stand the thought of you with him because I—”

“Because what?” she challenges, her voice rising. “Because you think you own me? You don’t, Aemond. I’m not your possession.”

“Because I care about you!” he shouts, his frustration boiling over. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you, even when you’re not around. Because I—”

Before he can finish, he closes the distance between them, his hands gripping her arms. He kisses her roughly, desperately, his lips crashing against hers with a force that steals her breath away. For a moment, she resists, her hands pushing against his chest, but then something breaks inside her, and she gives in.

The kiss is fiery, filled with all the pent-up emotions between them—anger, frustration, longing. Aemond pulls her closer, his hands moving to her back, and her fingers curl into his hair, pulling him even deeper into the kiss.

When they finally break apart, both of them are breathing heavily, their foreheads pressed together. Her eyes are filled with confusion and anger, but also something else—a flicker of desire, of something she’s been trying to deny for too long.

“Get out” she whispers, her voice trembling.

Aemond’s grip on her tightens. “No, I—”

“Get out!” she yells, pushing him away. “I don’t want you here. I don’t want this… I don’t want you.”

Aemond takes a step back, his heart pounding in his chest. He knows she doesn’t mean it—at least, he hopes she doesn’t. But he can see the determination in her eyes, the resolve. He nods slowly, backing away towards the door.

“I’ll leave” he says quietly. “But this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

She doesn’t respond, just stands there, her arms wrapped around herself, her gaze distant. Aemond turns and leaves, the door closing behind him with a soft click. He stands outside for a moment, his heart racing, trying to process what just happened.

Inside, she sinks to the floor, her head in her hands. She’s exhausted—physically, emotionally. She doesn’t know what to do, what to think. But one thing is clear: nothing will ever be the same between them again.

Another week passes, and Aemond is nearing his breaking point. He’s more irritable than ever, snapping at everyone around him. His new assistant, Lisa, has quit after a particularly harsh comment about her incompetence, and he’s cycled through two more assistants since. No one can seem to fill the void she left behind. The thought of her is always at the edge of his mind, a constant, nagging presence.

Everywhere he looks, he’s reminded of her. The perfect organization of his closet, her sharp but efficient handwriting on his schedule, the way she always knew how to calm him down when he was in one of his moods. He’s tried to forget, tried to move on, but nothing works. He’s come to a stark realization: he doesn’t just miss her work ethic or her efficiency. He misses her. He needs her.

She, meanwhile, is struggling in her new job. She’s started working at a small startup as an assistant, but the pay is a fraction of what she earned with Aemond. Her first paycheck is a harsh reality check—only $400 for month. It doesn't covers her groceries, let alone rent or bills. She’s been wearing layers to bed to keep warm, unable to afford proper heating. She misses the stability, the security of her old job ($4000 for month)—even if it came with Aemond’s impossible attitude.

Despite everything, she can’t help but think about him too. She remembers their last encounter, the way he’d looked at her, the desperation in his eyes. And that kiss. She’d tried to forget the way his lips had felt on hers, tried to convince herself it meant nothing. But she can’t. The memory lingers, making her restless.

One evening, as she’s sitting at her small, wobbly kitchen table, trying to figure out how to stretch her last few dollars, there’s a knock at her door. She freezes, heart pounding. No one ever visits her here.

She opens the door to find Aemond standing there, looking worn and tired. For a moment, they just stare at each other, the silence heavy between them. He says her name, his voice rough. “Can I come in?”

She steps aside, letting him enter. He’s holding a folder, and she knows immediately what it is—a contract. “What do you want, Aemond?” she asks, her voice guarded.

“I want you to come back” he says simply, handing her the folder. “I’ve drawn up a new contract. Better pay, more benefits. And I promise, I swear, I’ll treat you better. No more… no more of what happened before.”

She hesitates, her fingers brushing the edge of the folder. “Why now?” she asks quietly. “Why come back now, after everything?”

Aemond sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Because I can’t do this without you,” he admits. “Because I’ve realized that I… I care about you. More than I should, maybe. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

Her heart skips a beat at his confession. She looks down at the contract, flipping through the pages. The terms are better than before—much better. But it’s not just about the money. It’s the way he’s looking at her, with a vulnerability she’s never seen before.

“I don’t know” she says softly. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“Please” he says, his voice almost breaking. “Just give me one more chance. I promise I’ll make it right.”

She studies his face, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all she sees is a man who looks lost without her. Against her better judgment, she finds herself nodding. “Okay” she whispers. “I’ll come back but only because my payment is good.”

Aemond lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relief flooding his features. “Thank you” he breathes. “Thank you”

The next evening, Aemond invites her to his apartment for dinner. He insists it’s to make peace, to start fresh. She’s hesitant at first, unsure if she should put herself in that position again, but eventually, she agrees. Part of her misses him too, misses the life she had working for him, even with all its complications.

When she arrives, the apartment is dimly lit, a soft, warm glow emanating from the candles placed around the room. It’s surprisingly intimate, and she feels a flutter of nerves in her stomach. Aemond greets her with a tentative smile, gesturing for her to sit at the elegantly set dining table.

Dinner is a quiet affair, the tension between them palpable. Aemond is uncharacteristically quiet, his usual bravado subdued. He serves a simple meal, one he’s prepared himself, and she’s surprised at the effort he’s gone to. As they eat, they talk—cautiously at first, then more freely, memories and old jokes breaking through the awkwardness.

“I’m sorry” Aemond says suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. “For everything. For how I treated you. I was… I was a complete asshole.”

Elara looks up, meeting his gaze. “Yes, you were” she agrees, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips. “But I’m not exactly innocent either. I should have said something sooner, stood up for myself.”

Aemond nods, reaching across the table to take her hand. “You’re right. But I’m glad you’re here now.”

There’s a moment of silence, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Then, Aemond stands, moving around the table to kneel beside her chair. He takes her face in his hands, his touch gentle but firm take off her glasses with thin montature. "I cant'.... I can't see" she whispers, but Aemond doesn't care.

“I’ve missed you” he murmurs, his breath warm against her lips. “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

Before she can respond, he leans in and kisses her. It’s softer than their last kiss, but just as intense, filled with a longing that’s been building for weeks. She melts into him, her hands sliding up his chest, pulling him closer. He deepens the kiss, his fingers tangling in her hair, and she gasps against his mouth.

He pulls her up from the chair, guiding her backward until they’re against the wall. “I want you” he breathes, his lips moving to her neck, kissing a trail down to her collarbone. “I want you so fucking much.”

She moans softly, her fingers curling into his shirt. “Aemond…”

He cuts her off with another kiss, his hands moving to the hem of her dress, lifting it slowly. She can feel the heat radiating off his body, his touch sending shivers down her spine. He breaks the kiss just long enough to whisper, “Tell me you want this too.”

“I—” She hesitates for a moment, her mind racing, but then she looks into his eyes and sees the raw, desperate need there. “Yes” she breathes. “I want this. I want you.”

That’s all the encouragement he needs. He lifts her into his arms, carrying her to the bedroom. The room is dark, the only light coming from the city outside. He lays her down on the bed, his lips never leaving hers, his hands roaming over her body, exploring, claiming.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmurs against her skin, his voice rough with desire. “I’ve tried to deny it, but I can’t anymore.”

He begins to undress her slowly, reverently, as if she’s something precious, something he’s afraid to break. His hands are gentle but firm, his touch electrifying. She arches into him, her body responding to his every movement.

As he presses her into the mattress, his body warm and solid against hers, she realizes that maybe—just maybe—this is where she’s meant to be. Here, with him, despite everything that’s happened. And as their bodies come together, the last of her reservations melt away, replaced by a deep, all-consuming need for the man holding her so tightly.

Aemond’s hands move over her body with a newfound tenderness, as if he’s discovering her for the first time. He slowly undresses her, his fingers deftly unzipping her dress, until it falls open. He slides the fabric down her shoulders, his lips following the path of his hands, kissing the exposed skin. She shivers under his touch, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

“God, you’re so beautiful” he murmurs against her neck, his breath hot on her skin. His hands move to her back, expertly unclasping her bra and tossing it aside. He takes a moment to look at her, his eyes dark with desire, before leaning in to capture her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue brushes against hers, and she responds eagerly, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

He pulls back slightly, his lips hovering just above hers. “You're so pretty” he whispers, his voice rough with need. He lowers his head, trailing kisses down her neck, to her collarbone, and then lower still. His lips find her breasts, his mouth hot against her skin as he takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. She moans, her back arching off the bed, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

Aemond moves lower, kissing a path down her stomach, his hands sliding on her tights. He pulls her lace panties down in one swift motion, leaving her completely exposed. He takes a moment to admire her, his eyes drinking her in. Then, without warning, he lowers his head between her thighs, his tongue flicking out to taste her.

She cries out, her hands flying to his hair, her fingers twisting in the silvery strands. His tongue moves skillfully, licking and teasing her clit, his fingers pressing into her thighs to keep her still. She feels a wave of pleasure building, her body tensing with anticipation. Aemond groans against her, the vibrations sending shockwaves through her.

He flicks his tongue faster, his fingers joining in, sliding inside her with a slow, deliberate rhythm. She’s close, so close. He seems to sense it, increasing his pace, his tongue moving in circles, his fingers curling inside her, hitting just the right spot.

“Oh, God, Aemond—” she gasps, her voice breaking. Her hips buck against his face, her body trembling. He doesn’t let up, driving her higher, pushing her closer to the edge. She feels the tension coil tighter, tighter, until she cries out, her body spasming as she squirts, the intense pleasure ripping through her. Aemond doesn’t stop, his tongue and fingers continuing their relentless assault, milking every last drop of pleasure from her. She’s panting, her body slick with sweat, her mind hazy with bliss.

"I—I'm sorry" she whispers, trembling. "It—it was the first time... I don't know..."

Aemond finally pulls back, his face glistening, a satisfied grin on his lips. He crawls back up her body, kissing her deeply, letting her taste herself on his lips. “You’re incredible, fuck” he murmurs against her mouth. “You don't have to apologize”

Without breaking the kiss, he positions himself above her, his hard length pressing against her slick entrance. "Aemond" she stops him.

"You were right, I'm a fucking virgin"

He holds her gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and something deeper, something almost tender. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice a low, gravelly whisper.

She nods, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. “Yes” she breathes. “I’m sure but... I...don't know, I'm not your type... I—” she is worried and Aemond notice that.

"I'll be gentle, now kiss me"

With a slow, deliberate motion, he pushes into her, filling her wet pussy completely. She moans, her head falling back, her eyes closing as he stretches her, filling her in a way that feels both new and familiar. He sets a slow, steady rhythm, his hips rolling against hers, his movements deep and controlled.

He leans down, capturing her lips in another kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth as he thrusts into her. She wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, her body moving in perfect sync with his. Every thrust, every movement, is a delicious friction that sends waves of pleasure coursing through her.

Aemond increases his pace, his breath ragged against her ear, his hands gripping her hips tightly. “You feel so fucking good,” he groans, his voice strained with effort. “I can’t get enough of you.”

She moans in response, her fingers digging into his back, her body arching up to meet his every thrust. She’s close again, the pleasure building once more, and she can tell he is too, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate.

“Come for me” he whispers, his lips brushing against her ear. “I want to feel you come around me”

His words send her over the edge. She cries out his name as she comes, her body tightening around him, pulling him deeper. Aemond follows moments later, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he spills into her, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

“Don't worry” she whispers. “I'm on the pill”

They collapse together, a tangle of limbs and heavy breaths, their bodies slick with sweat. Aemond holds her close, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his face buried in her neck. For a moment, they just lie there, catching their breath, their bodies still trembling from the intensity of their lovemaking.

She feels a strange sense of calm wash over her, a feeling of contentment she hasn’t felt in a long time. She turns her head, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “What now?” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Aemond lifts his head, his eyes meeting hers. There’s a softness there, a vulnerability she’s never seen before. “Now...” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You're mine....and....”

Fuck, he is hard agin.

Before she can catch her breath, Aemond lifts her effortlessly, pulling her onto his lap. He positions her over him, his hard length pressing against her slick entrance. She wraps her arms around his neck, her body still buzzing from her orgasm, her mind hazy with desire.

“Ride me” he growls, his hands gripping her hips, guiding her down onto him. She gasps as he fills her, stretching her, the sensation sending a new wave of pleasure coursing through her. She moves slowly at first, her hips rolling against his, finding a rhythm that makes them both moan.

Aemond’s hands roam over her body, gripping her hips, her ass, guiding her movements as she rides him. He leans in, capturing her lips in a rough, hungry kiss, his tongue plunging into her mouth, matching the rhythm of their bodies. She moans into his mouth, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groans against her lips, his hands tightening on her hips. “You feel so fucking good.”

She moves faster, her hips grinding against his, her body moving in perfect sync with his. “I...I feel... everything.” The pleasure builds again, the tension coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust, every roll of her hips. Aemond’s head falls back, his eyes closing, a deep, guttural moan escaping his lips.

She feels the edge approaching again, her body straining, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She rides him harder, faster, her body desperate for release, her mind lost in the pleasure. Aemond’s grip on her tightens, his hips thrusting up to meet hers, driving deeper, harder.

“Yes, just like that" he groans, his voice strained with pleasure. “Come for me again.”

His words send her over the edge. She cries out, her body tightening around him, her orgasm crashing over her, a wave of pure, unadulterated bliss. Aemond follows her over the edge moments later, his body shuddering as he comes deep inside her, his release hot and intense.

They collapse agin together, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. Aemond holds her close, his arms wrapped around her. For a moment, they just lie there, their bodies still trembling from the intensity of their lovemaking.

Elara’s heart pounds in her chest, her mind spinning, her body spent but satisfied. She turns her head, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

Aemond lifts his head, his eyes meeting hers. There’s a softness there, a vulnerability she’s never seen before. “Now” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Together.”

She nods, a small smile playing on her lips. Despite everything, she feels a flicker of hope. Maybe this is the start of something new, something real. And as they lie there, tangled together, she lets herself believe that maybe, just maybe, they can make it work.

[theotherbuckley]

a thousand ways to call you mine BONUS CHAPTER

bucktommy | Chapter 3/3 | 1.6K/14.2K | Rated E

For @bucktommypositivityweek nicknames and terms of endearment 💜

Pet names +1 +1 husbands (read on ao3)

Wrapped up in the love of his life’s arms is exactly where Tommy wants to be forever.

He didn’t really think this would ever be a real possibility for him.

Tommy had grown up with a dad who made it clear that he wouldn’t tolerate anything less than a perfectly masculine, woman-loving man. And so that’s what he became.

He pushed down any other feelings he had, squashed them deep down into the depths of his mind until he was sure they couldn't escape.

Every time he’d find a guy attractive, he’d tell himself it was their feminine features that drew him in. It didn’t matter that half the time, they were massive, built like a Greek god, men. He didn’t let himself think about it any more than that. Maybe he was just jealous of them. He repeated that like an oath.

He joined the army because his dad wanted him to — and Tommy wanted nothing more than to make him proud. He did well in the army, he followed orders like a good little soldier. He learnt to fly helicopters, something that would become a place of solace.

He always felt in control as a pilot. The one place where he could be himself without any expectation. Where it wasn’t others' rules that dictated his actions. Just him, in the air, a place where he could breathe.

When he became a firefighter, he found a crew that felt so much like his family at home. He understood how to behave there, he didn’t mess up like he had done so many times with his dad. He knew the unwritten rules. He played his part no matter how many times that little voice inside him told him he was a liar, a hypocrite.

It wasn’t until he was back in his element, flying aircrafts with people who respected each other, that he finally managed to unlearn every piece of hatred that had been engrained so deeply inside of him since he was old enough to understand what it meant.

And then he met Evan. Evan wasn’t his first boyfriend, but that didn’t matter. He was everything in the end.

Evan introduced himself, stumbling over his own name in a way that Tommy found far too cute for the impending emergency they had at hand. He didn’t dwell on it at the time, but he was comfortable enough with himself to be able to look and appreciate the man without hating the thoughts that swirled around his mind like he once had.

What he saw was a gorgeous man who said the most outlandish but well-meant things. Someone who loved so strongly. Someone brave and kind, who blushed so brightly at any compliment. 

He never anticipated that after that, he would end up here — holding that beautiful man in his arms, able to call him his. 

Evan fits in his arms like he was made for them. Okay, maybe it takes a lot of shuffling around for a massive firefighter and pilot to sit comfortably together. It didn’t matter, though, it always felt so right. 

They’re sitting in a hotel bed, lazily drawing lines on each other’s skin with their fingers, smiling up at each other every time the light catches on the silver bands adorned on their ring fingers.

“I love you,” Evan whispers, as though speaking any louder would break the precious bubble they’ve created for themselves.

“I love you, too, husband,” Tommy replies, shooting Evan his signature smile, his eyes scrunching up in the corners. Evan raises his hand to Tommy’s face, fingers trailing the soft lines etched there.

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“I love you,” Evan says again, he can’t seem to stop saying it, hasn’t been able to stop since the ceremony. Tommy isn’t complaining. He feels it, too. He feels the way his heart wants to burst from his chest because of the magnitude of love contained inside. The way he needs to repeat his love for his husband over and over again just to keep his heart in check.

Tommy presses a gentle kiss to Evan’s curls, a move that always has Evan melting into his hold. “I love you, too,” he says back, just because he can.

“I never imagined having a husband,” Evan says, staring at the ring on his finger like it contains all the secrets in the world. 

“Neither did I,” Tommy admits. “But I’m so happy I got to have one. Got to have you.”

Evan shuffles even closer to his body if that’s even possible with the way they’re pressed up against each other, but he tries anyway — tries to merge their atoms together until there’s no telling where one ends and the other begins. 

He kisses right above Tommy’s peck before staring back up at him, smiling lazily, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

Tommy doesn’t think he’ll ever get over this look. His husband’s curls, free and slightly dishevelled, perfect for running his fingers through. He’ll never get over his husband’s rosy red cheeks and bright eyes filled with awe and love. The blooming love bites adorning his smooth skin, evidence of their well-spent honeymoon. The silver ring, engraved on the inside with a simple yours because that’s what they are — inexplicably each others. Each others to love and to cherish. For as long as they each shall live.

“What are you thinking about?” Evan asks, his fingers running down the groves of his chest.

“You,” Tommy says. Always you.

Evan shoots him his award-winning smile, the one that makes his eyes shine. Love so clearly evident within the blue pools of his irises.

“Yeah?” Evan asks.

“Yeah, baby. Just thinking how lucky I am to call you mine.”

“Mmm, yours,” Evan agrees, rolling himself fully onto Tommy's body as he kisses down his neck. Sucking every inch of skin available like he’s starved for it. 

Tommy lets him take his fill, wrapping his arms around Evan’s back and holding him close so that not even an inch separates them. Tommy’s hips jerk when his husband bites at the sensitive region behind his ear. The movement makes Evan laugh. The soft chuckle filling the air with warmth and love. Tommy loves that sound. He wishes he could bottle it up and store it for later to listen to whenever he needs it.

He doesn’t have to, though, because Evan’s not going anywhere.

“Come here,” Tommy says as if they’re not practically glued together already. Evan, always on the same wavelength, understands him anyway.

He lifts his head from the groove of his neck to hover in front of his face.

Their lips move to each other like magnets until they meet in a kiss. Tommy opens his mouth, lets Buck’s tongue explore inside like he hasn’t already spent many months mapping it out. 

Tommy grips Buck’s hips tighter, pulling him flush against himself until their groins meet, electricity rushing through his gut. Tommy swallows down the moan Evan lets out at the action, smiling into the kiss as he rolls them over until his husband is lying on his back.

Evan pulls back, panting, squirming on the bed as he seeks the delicious friction. Tommy gives him what he needs, rutting leisurely against him until they’re both groaning into each other's mouths. 

They’re barely kissing anymore, but neither is complaining, content to trade breaths like they need it to live. Tommy thinks that maybe he does.

Tommy licks his palm, too lazy to reach for the lube sitting on the bedside table. He reaches down to grasp both of them in his hands, jerking them slowly, like they have all the time in the world. They do, of course. Right now, there’s nobody but them; they’re just two men trying their damnedest to become one.

Evan whimpers when Tommy’s thumb brushes over his slit, collecting the precome gathered there, his hips bucking further into Tommy’s large hands.

It doesn’t take long for the both of them to get close. Tommy speeds up his movements, erratically jerking them to the finish line. Evan lifts his legs to wrap around Tommy’s back, desperately trying to press himself even closer. His fingers dig into Tommy’s back, no doubt leaving indents in the skin. Tommy’s not one to complain, he wants the world to know that he’s taken, married to someone he never dared to dream he could have.

“I love you, husband,” Tommy breathes between open-mouthed kisses.

“I love you, husband,” Evan repeats, like a prayer. 

That's all either needs to send them over the edge, come shooting onto their stomachs, marking each other as their own. Evan goes boneless, dropping his arms and melting into the mattress. Tommy feels much the same, dropping onto Evan’s chest, their come sticky between them, but neither cares too much at that moment.

Evan lets out an “oomph” as Tommy rests his weight on him, but he doesn’t tell him to move, craving the feel of his partner in every way he can have him. They stay like that for a while, neither in a rush to move. 

“What was the point of me coming up with pet names when husband was a possibility all along?” Evan says after a moment.

Tommy can’t contain his laughter, tucking his head into his husband’s neck as he shakes with the force of his laugh. 

“I don’t know, husband,” Tommy says with a wink. “But it was a lot of fun.”

“Mmm, it really was, husband.”

[magics-neptunes-things]

Ready, Aim, Shot

Hi! ♥ I hope you are all ok!

I have trouble finishing all the stories I started, but I’m working on it!

This one took me a little longer to write, I hope you like it. It is a little different from what I have written so far, but it is following a request from an anonymous:)

Summary: You’re a journalist and you were sent to a complicated place in the world. Will the attack you suffered prevent you from finding your girlfriend’s arms permanently?

TW: Angst, mention of war and bomb, accident, hospitalization.

PART 2 | PART 3

____________________________________________________________

Alexia is the only woman you fell in love with, and everyday you find yourself falling even harder for her. She was perfect for you. Caring, loving, loyal, attentive and sweat. Your bond is even more special than you ever dreamed before you became a couple.

However, things could have started more easily. You are a journalist/reporter and you know perfectly well that celebrities are not fond of this kind of profession, for good reason. When you found yourself following her for days for the report "Alexia: Labor Omnia Vincit", she was very professional at first. Like, really very very professional. But you lived with her for weeks, met her relatives and finally you found yourself covering her with heart eyes.

What you never imagined was that things could be reciprocal.

Shortly after announcing your relationship, at your friends and family only, you quickly settled together. Your cat met officially Nala at that time and you were spending happy days all four in Alexia’s apartment. I mean, your apartment now.

There are sometimes a few days during which you can't see each other, when Alexia leave for football or when you go in another country for a report. You go watch Alexia at every opportunity you have, enjoying to see her evolve in her element. And you know that Alexia reads or looks the articles or reports you participate in.

Alexia has already had a lot of trouble accepting that you go to eastern Europe last month for a report, so it's with a ball in the belly that you come home tonight. You have to tell her you’re leaving for another complicated place in the world and you know it’s going to be hard for her to accept.

You nervously bite the inside of your lip when you open the door of your apartment, immediately greeted by Nala who comes to rub in your legs, almost making you fall. You laugh gently and lift her off the floor to put a kiss on her skull before resting her gently. Your cat, for its part, opens an eye from its cat tree, long before turning and falling asleep again.

"Thanks for the welcome, Diabolo" you grumble.

You roll your eyes and hang your coat in the cupboard of the entrance before going in search of Alexia. Her sneakers at the entrance and a pleasant smell of food floats in the air, informing you that she’s home. Nala is ahead of you, running towards the kitchen, where you find your girlfriend.

The smile she gives you when you arrive takes your breath away and you accelerate the step to have her faster against you. Your face in her neck, you breathe her smell before putting a kiss, then several along his jaw to finish on her lips.

"Holà mi Amor"

She says to you smiling, passing both hands in your hair.

"Holà."

You let her kiss you again before taking a look at the stove to see what is in the pots.

"Did you finish training early?" You ask when you realize she’s had time to prepare all this and shower before you come home.

"No" she laughs softly "My mom came by to bring us what she cooked for her dinner with her friends tonight. Apparently she planned too big"

"Like she didn’t mean to"

You laugh too and Alexia throws you a smile and a amused look. You both know that she cooked huge quantities on purpose to be able to bring you some, Alba surely received her part too and you wouldn't be surprised to learn that your sister also received Eli’s visit with a tupperware filled with paella.

"Do I have time to shower?"

You want to get comfortable quickly, knowing the discussion you have to bring later. You think you’ll wait until the end of the meal though, not wishing to spoil your girlfriend’s appetite.

"If I had known, I would have waited for you" Alexia whispers, sliding her hands dangerously close to your butt.

"Alexia Putellas Segura, you are worse than a male teenager" you smile against her lips before kissing her tenderly. "I make it quickly."

After a quick shower, you go straight into Alexia’s clothes section of the wardrobe, choosing an old FC Barcelona jogging you love and one of her t-shirts with a Nike logo.

"It seems that you are wrong again on the side of the cupboard mi Amor" Alexia tells you with a knowing smile when you return to her.

"Oops."

********

After the meal, you sat on the sofa in the living room to watch the series that you started to follow recently. You still haven’t managed to talk about it, Alexia seems so relaxed and happy tonight that it breaks your heart to have to make this announcement.

However, your worry must be easily noticeable, since you feel Alexia’s hand on your fingers as you mechanically wiggle between them.

"Okay, what is it?" she asks you, slightly getting up to see you better.

"What?"

"You haven’t paid a single second of attention to the episode since we started it, you play nervously with your fingers and you keep biting your lip. What the hell is going on?"

You sigh softly and sit cross-legged on the couch, not finding the courage to look into her eyes. Beside you, you feel Alexia put herself in the same position. You feel her gaze on you as you speak again.

"I have to leave in three days for a new report" you finally confess.

"Where?"

"In the Middle East"

"No."

Alexia’s firm voice makes you look up and you can’t tell if her "No" is a ban she puts on you or if it's a form of denial to this information. Her eyebrows frown, her eyes are hard and you have to take it on yourself not to lower your eyes again.

"There’s no way you’re going. It’s too dangerous."

"This is my job, Ale" you point out lightly.

"I don’t care. You stay here, there is no fucking way that I let my girlfriend going right to death, your boss is completely crazy and irresponsible."

You watch her get up and go around in circles in the living room, talking while gesticulating her arms in all directions, scaring Nala in the same time.

"I’m not going alone, there will be my team with me."

"I. Don’t. Care."

********

Three days later, you find yourself at the airport with your team. By working together, they became your friends and Alexia knows them very well. And they know Alexia very well too. That’s probably why Lola asks you with surprise about the absence of your girlfriend to say goodbye.

"She didn’t want me to go"

You hardly swallow your saliva and thank Lola mentally for not insisting. Her compassionate smile is enough to bring some tears to your eyes, which you fortunately manage to stop.

Alexia is very mad at you. She tried emotional blackmail, anger, tears and pretty much everything in her possession to keep you close to her. The worst part is you would have preferred to stay with her, but you couldn’t refuse that warrant. You had already refused a report to manage Alexia’s anxiety a few days before and your boss warned you that it was the last refusal on your part that he accepted.

You don’t know if Lola passed on the information to the rest of the team, but they all show themselves to be particularly caring with you. Ben offers to check in your luggage and you gladly accept. You take a quick look at your phone and see that you have messages from your parents, your sister, Eli and Alba, but none from Alexia.

She left for her training saying goodbye of course, it was still out of the question to leave you angry. You can’t blame her, you know perfectly well that if things were reversed, you would react the same way. She too had tears in her eyes closing the door behind her and that didn’t help you leave your apartment earlier

"Well, look who’s here" Marta laughs.

Like the rest of your team, you turn to the point she’s staring off behind you. And you feel an electric current running through you when you recognize Alexia’s silhouette. She hasn’t seen you yet and you can see her look through the crowd with a desperate air, as if she were afraid of having arrived too late. Fortunately not, with the amount of material you have, boarding always takes forever.

Without hesitation, you split the crowd and she finally sees you. A few seconds later, you are in her arms and it's only now that you see Mapi over her shoulder. The tattooed one winks at you before getting away to give you some privacy.

"I thought I was too late"

Alexia’s voice came to you in a muffled way, her face being buried in your hair while she hugs you against her with all the strength of her arms. You give her back her embrace, certainly with much less force, but this embrace brings you the comfort you needed.

"Thanks for coming" you mumble back.

One hand in her hair and the other in the hollow of her back, you breathe deeply for the first time in three days. You stay like this for a few moments, before Alexia lets go of you with one hand to search in the pocket of her coat.

"I have something for you."

You watch her do and after a few seconds she show you a necklace with a pendant hanging. You would swear that something is hidden in it, but before you can question her on the subject, Alexia resumes speaking.

"You’ll open it on the plane, okay?"

You nod and let her hang the necklace around your neck. Her fingers make you shudder and you hurry to get back against her when she’s done. You don’t care if you’re being watched or even if someone recognized you. In any case, it’s been several weeks since edits of you two started appearing on the Internet. Alexia doesn’t seem to care much either since she’s the one who initiates your kiss.

"Promise me you’ll come back"

"I promise"

Her forehead leaning against yours and her look in yours makes you forget the rest of the world around you. The place where you fly is dangerous, you are perfectly aware of it. And Alexia too. She doesn’t make you make those promises every time, but only when she knows there’s a risk.

"I hate your job."

Her remark makes you smile softly and you replace a lock of her hair behind her ear before resuming speech.

"I think this is the last time I leave"

"What do you mean?"

The surprise forces Alexia to take off her face from yours to be able to better observe you. Her hazel look plunges into yours when you shrug your shoulders.

"It gets too complicated for both of us and I don’t have the same pleasure doing what I do anymore. I’ll talk to my boss when I get back, but I’m thinking of resigning"

Alexia’s face becomes perfectly smooth under the shock of the information and she blinks several times before responding.

"I- I never asked you to quit" she stutters, making you smile.

"I know"

You smile in front of her amazed air and kiss her tenderly on the cheek. You have been working for the same people for many years and have made a name for yourself in the profession. And even if a job change is turned down, you know you’ll find something else elsewhere.

You hear Lola calling you gently behind you, meaning it’s time for you to go. Alexia looks at you and your smiles are more like grimaces. It’s time to say goodbye.

"Take care of yourself and don’t let Diabolo eat too much."

"I will"

A new kiss is exchanged before you have to release her. You take a quick look in the direction of your team, most go up to the departures floor thanks to the escalator, only Lola is waiting patiently for you downstairs.

"Be careful, mi Amor. Think of me?"

"Every second of the day Cariño."

A few hours later, you are installed on your plane seat, window side. As if to better stick to your mood, the rain began to fall on Barcelona, drawing shapes on the porthole through which you look. Remembering the pendant that Alexia gave you, you gently take it in your hand to better observe it. You have no trouble finding the security to open it and inside you discover a rolled paper that you unfold. You smile and realize it’s a picture of you and Alexia. Behind it, she wrote a note.

"Forever with you. Te amo tanto. Alexia ♥"

********

Since your arrival, you have been able to exchange several messages and phone calls with Alexia. Things are going better than you both imagined, to your relief. You are not exactly in the middle of the conflict, the work you were asked to do being more focused on the population who decides to enlist in the army to defend their country. You are protected by soldiers who follow you like your shadow and you even feel safe.

It's the mind entirely turned towards the report that you climb in the jeep that brings you and your team where you have to meet several people to interview them. You have to go back to Barcelona in two days and your idea to resign is still on your mind. The more you think about it, the more you know it’s the right thing to do.

You are listening with amusement to Ben talking about his son’s latest mischief when something happens. A click, followed by the panic cries of the men around you. They express themselves in their native language that you don't master, or very briefly. A few seconds later, a heat wave lifts you off the ground and you are thrown out of the vehicle, unconscious, the mine you drove over blowing up everything around.

********

When Eli and Alba appear on the edge of the training field, Alexia knows something bad happened. The joke she was exchanging with Ona gets stuck in her throat and her face visibly pale. Jonathan accompanies them and beckons her to come to them. It's with tingling throughout the body that Alexia stands up and makes her way towards them.

"What happened?" she immediately asks, looking her mother in the eye.

"Y/N's team ran over amine. Half of them are still missing"

It's Alba who speaks, making Alexia look in her direction. Unable to open her mouth, she waits for further information.

"Y/N has been found, but it's not good Ale"

"What do you mean "it's not good?" "

Alexia gets upset, bringing their mother in the conversation for the first time. Obviously she fears the reaction of her eldest, knowing how attached you are to each other.

"Alexia…" she makes a soothing tone by grabbing her daughter’s arm.

"But just tell me! She’s dead, isn’t she?"

Alexia’s tone rises and she must take it upon herself not to push the physical contact initiated by her mother. Eli and Alba exchange a look before the first one resumes speaking.

"No, but she’s in a bad state. She was found unconscious and is on an official ventilator. They don’t yet know how badly she’s hurt. As we speak, she’s still in a coma and they don't know if she will make it."

********

The days that followed were a summary of hell for Alexia, your parents and your relatives in general. Due to the geographical distance, the news has reached them in dribs and drabs only by the interval of your team. Your boss got yelled at by Alexia, your father and Alexia’s mother. If you weren’t about to resign, there’s no doubt he’d demand you do.

After a few days of staying together at your parents', your loved ones have finally started their lives again. Your sister went back to work, but Alexia literally had to be taken out by force to agree to return to the training grounds. To make sure her daughter would go, Eli even asked Irene to come pick her up.

The information about you is vague but they know the main thing, you’re still alive. "She promised to come back to me" Alexia repeated several times, both to convince herself and to reassure others.

Even if she will never admit it, seeing her friends makes Alexia feel better. She strongly suspects them of doing everything to change her mind, but she is sincerely grateful. It changes her from the four walls of your parents' living room or yours, even if your animals also bring her comfort and affection.

Alexia is in the middle of a discussion with Mapi and Aitana when her phone rings from her bag. As always, she feels a mixture of feelings at the idea of dropping out, fearing bad news. But it’s usually your mother who gets calls from your bosses to give them news. It’s been three days now since they learned anything new.

Seeing that the call number is unknown, Alexia hesitates a few seconds before answering but ends up doing so. Normally, people with access to her phone number are allowed to have it. She has never had any problems with that.

"Holà?"

The silence settles on the other side of the phone and the Latin checks that she has picked up before putting the phone back against her ear.

"Is there anyone here?"

A new silence sets in. Just as she was about to hung up, Alexia finally hears a voice at the other end. The voice is barely higher than a whisper, as if the person were particularly exhausted.

"Ale? It’s me…"

The ground slips under the captain’s feet so abruptly that neither Mapi nor Aitana has time to catch her. Sitting on the floor, the one who had managed not to shed a single tear since the announcement of your accident melts into tears, alerting her two friends who are now convinced that something dramatic is happening.

Alexia let a flood of curses that you’ve never heard come out of your girlfriend’s lips when she realizes it’s you on the phone.

"I’m alive" you end up adding, not really knowing what to add.

"You had better" sobs Alexia before finally raising her eyes on Mapi.

Lost in her emotions, she didn’t realize that her reaction alerted almost the entire team. Ona, who had gone to take her shower, kneels beside Mapi, both leaning in the direction of their friend and captain while others stand in an arc around her.

"It’s Y/N. She did it."

********

Your parents had already had to detain Alexia so that she wouldn’t jump on the first plane upon learning of your accident, but this time it was even worse. With the injuries you’ve got, you couldn’t go home right away. The translation was sometimes complicated at first, until the Spanish embassy sent someone to do the translation. From there, you were able to recover your phone and thus be in contact with Alexia and your loved ones more easily. The connection is not always optimal, but having your girlfriend only a call from you does you a lot of good.

It's not in very good condition that you get on the plane to repatriate you to Barcelona, but you specifically asked to return as soon as possible, even if you were then hospitalized in Spain. During the explosion, it was mostly the left side of your body that was injured. In addition to a crumbling shoulder, broken ribs and a damaged knee, you find yourself with a head injury and a broken nose that fortunately had time to deflate. Thanks to that you no longer look like a boxer at the end of his career but it looks like you have two big cockroaches.

You learned yesterday that three of your six team members didn't survive the attack. Ben and Lola have already returned to Spain and it's with a hint of guilt that you leave Marta alone on the spot. But her family is coming in two days and she swore to you that everything was fine for her.

Exhausted by the journey to the airport, you slept all the way back and it is only when the wheels of the plane touch the ground that you open your eyes with a start. The person assigned by the embassy to follow you smiles kindly and you answer vaguely, before looking out the window. When you see the airport building, you feel your heart speed up. Alexia is waiting for you, a few hundred meters from you.

You tried to refuse to be moved around in a wheelchair, in vain. So it is with a sulky pout that you find yourself traveling through the airport, to the place to collect your belongings. The good news is that you had left almost all to your camp and so you were able to recover everything. Even the necklace offered by your girlfriend survived and did not leave your neck a single squad then you left Barcelona.

Your suitcase is much too long for your taste to arrive and you refrain from jumping on your chair of impatience when it is time to pass the security control of customs. Everything is going too slowly and you are convinced that you would go faster by limping with your crutch. But you finally arrive in the main arrival hall and it only takes you two seconds to spot Alexia, your eyes are attracted to her like a magnet. By the time she comes to you, you get up from the chair and two seconds later you’re finally where you want to be forever. In her arms.

The embrace is not very practical, your arm in sling prevents you from holding her as you would like and you clench your teeth not to flinch despite your painful ribs. You still feel that Alexia is doing everything she can to be delicate. She has not yet been able to truly realize all of your injuries.

But in the end you don’t care, because it’s all about her. Alexia feels like she can breathe completely for the first time in about ten days. You feel her coming off of you after a few minutes and you have trouble supporting her gaze. You know that you look terrible, even if you are not the type to wear kilos of makeup every day, there you are really far from being to your advantage.

"Mi Amor" she whispers tenderly, holding your face in her hands before as much delicacy as if it had been porcelain. Her thumbs caress your cheeks and you feel tears in your eyes. "It’s over. You’re home."

You nod and close your eyes, letting her kiss you tenderly before she takes you back against her.

Needless to say, the next day your boss received a letter of resignation from you. Thanks to what happened to you, you received a starting bonus, allowing you to have money set aside before embarking on your new project, writer and WAG. Because from now on, it’s out of the question to part with Alexia for more than half a day.