#sorry no sin here only trauma and tears

[discardedpawns]

[mingigoo]

look after you || k.hj (m.)

🩺 pairing ⇢ nurse! (fem) reader x struggling musician! Hongjoong

🩺 synopsis ⇢ after a long night at work with little to no sleep, you nearly doze off on your way home, hitting a tattooed, spikey-haired guy in the middle of the road. Panicking, you run out to help him and go with him to the hospital, only to lie and say he was your husband so you could go back with him. Well, when he woke up, he didn't exactly take it the way you thought he would...

🩺 genre/au ⇢ enemies to lovers (kind of), some angst, smut, fluff, hospital au

🩺 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ MINORS DNI, injury, car accident, hospital scenes, unprotected sex, undefined relationship, mention of possible suicide attempt, Hongjoong is a scruffy underground musician, trauma with touch, tattoo!joong, grumpy sunshine, cum shot, biting, teasing

🩺 word count ⇢ 10.3k

🩺 taglist ⇢ @atinywhore @jjhmk @yukine-smx @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @y00nzin0 @yesv01 @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @gayliljoong @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @baguette-atiny @seokwoosmole @nyeatinyjunkie @juliettechokilo @pockyddalgi @justaqueerbufoin @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @miriamxsworld @daegale @knucklesdeepmingi @naiify @yeoyeoland @arya9111 @mdibby @8tinytings @angelicyeo @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts @mangishii @yeoyeoland @pink-hwaberry @wooyoluvrr @maru-matt @pearltinyy @loveuwoo @m3chigo @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @interweab @skz1-4-3 (if I missed you please lmk!! bold = can’t tag)

masterlist

A/N ⇢ this story is purely fictional! I am not nurse, and do not have unlimited knowledge on this topic. However, I am a healthcare worker, so I know a little, but not a lot. I am sorry for any information this is incorrect. This is meant for entertainment purposes only. This is not meant to take place in reality.

They never prepare you enough for the things you might see within the hospital walls. 

Nothing is ever enough within those few years of education, the desperate attempt to create life savers. No one tells you how much it hurts to see a child suffer until death, a mother, a daughter.

You just wanted to be something. Do something. Be like the girl you dreamed of being as a child—a child who put bandaids on her mother, all over, decorating her like a painting. Sometimes, your mother would act like she was hurt, just for you to play make-belief, “stitching” up her “wounds.”

And here you were, in the hospital locker room, tears falling silently down your cheeks as you unclipped your hair, letting it fall just like the tears. You sniffed, hiding your face in the locker, although no one was around to see. It was embarrassing enough to yourself—you couldn't believe you were crying. You just…couldn't stop.

The day was rough—just too much. Too much death, too much sadness. This wasn't what you dreamed of. You never thought about how hard it would be to put a smile on your face to a patient, right after witnessing someone leave the world. To act, really. You should've taken up that career instead. You were pretty damn good at doing it—well, until you landed behind the curtain.

You haven't slept in ages. It's been constant insomnia on top of twelve-hour shifts, sometimes even longer, and once you are able to lay down, the only thing you hear is the sound of a patient crashing, the cries of family members. It had you questioning your profession. Your devotion. Your childhood.

As you made your drive home, for some reason, the lines on the road soothed you. Your eyes began to beg for sleep, rolling back ever so slightly as you continued. The gentle patter of rain graced the windshield, the red hue of the stoplight in front of you nearing. 

You stopped at the light—pausing to look at the city around you. The city was bright, even at the dark hour of midnight. People were walking, carrying on,  bar lights bright, apartments lit up in an array of colors. You took in a breath and closed your eyes.

And you closed them a little too long when a car horn sounded behind you.

You jumped, feeling apologetic for holding up the line, and continued forward. People passed you with impatience, but you didn't care. You kept going, crawling, really, till you felt sleep creep up once again, shutting your eyes. You drifted off, only for a short moment, and suddenly you awoke with haste—but not quick enough. In your headlights stood a man, walking across the street, and you didn't have enough time to move. You slowed as best you could, tires screeching, praying to anything, anyone, that this was your imagination.

As your car came to a screeching halt, you hit the man with a thump, causing him to crumble to the ground. You gasped, now wide awake, a scream caught in your throat.

You swallowed hard, hands shaking as you pulled over as best as you could and put your vehicle in park, looking around for any sign of someone. 

No one, absolutely no one, but you and this man you just hit. Just a few blocks back, the city was bustling, bars were hopping, but now, it was like a wasteland. You stepped out of your car, gasping for air, and sprinted through the rain to get to the man.

He was lying still, his head bleeding, his back on the asphalt. His black clothing hid the damage he received from the hit, hiding his body, his black hair covering his face. The only thing you saw was the black ink of a tattoo on his hand as it grasped the road.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, kneeling down to him. You assessed him as best as you could, fighting an anxiety attack. “I am so sorry, oh my god.”

He groaned in response, his arm visibly broken. You hurriedly dialed the emergency line, panting, nearly in tears. You didn't even think about the consequences of this action—you were only worried about the man, the stranger, in front of you. 

After nearly crying once more on the phone, the paramedics explained that they would arrive quickly. You hung up and looked over the stranger once more. “Are you alive?” you asked like a dumb ass, nearly face-palming. You were a nurse, goddammit. Act like one. 

You leaned over him, as gently as possible, putting a finger under his nose, and you felt a soft breath hit it. You checked for an airway obstruction, but nothing. He was breathing fine. In pain, but breathing.

The man tried to move, to roll over sharply, but you quickly bellowed, “Wait, please, you could have a spinal injury,” you pleaded, and surprisingly he stopped. “Don't move.” You caught a glimpse of his face. A large cut near his eyebrow painted his skin crimson, but his eyes were beautiful. His lip was cut, too, and you felt immense pain just looking at him. God, what if he was homeless? He looked it. What if he didn't have insurance? Oh god—

You saw how much blood was coming from his head as he looked up at you. His eyes were hazy, like he wasn't really seeing. You hurriedly looked around for anything to stop his bleeding, and when you found nothing, you took your coat off, then your scrub top, and you quickly put your coat back on. You held your shirt to his head as gently as possible, applying pressure, praying that the paramedics would come soon—

Your anxious thoughts were interrupted by sirens. You let out a sigh of relief.

When the ambulance pulled up, two men came to you with a stretcher. You were barely alert enough to hear them say anything. You mumbled a few things, your hands shaking as they set down the gurney. You mumbled to have them put on a neck brace, chest tightening at how the man cried in pain. You let out an ugly cry with him, but no tears fell. They gently rested him on the stretcher, his head steady, but his arm—

“Are you crazy!” you hissed, standing up quickly. “His arm….he needs his arm stabilized!”

“I’m sorry, mam,” the one man condescendingly said, giving you a dull look. “We know how to do our job. We don't need your input.”

You huffed. Mam? Mam? That was insulting. “I’m a nurse, I also know what I’m talking about.”

They ignored you like everyone seemed to ignore you. They began to move away, but a small object caught their eye that lay right where the man was. You picked it up, finding it to be an empty wallet—you’d give it back later.

They rolled him towards the ambulance, and you followed, forgetting about your car, and everything in it, leaving the scene behind. The paramedics didn't seem to care that you went with them, so you sat in the vehicle, watching them treat the guy you hit. You wanted to throw up as they treated him, as you sat still, like a worthless piece of paper. A crumbled-up piece of paper. Yeah. Crumbled. 

When you arrived at the hospital—a hospital that wasn't yours, you walked beside the homeless man, nearly reaching for his hand. However, your race with him was put to a stop as the emergency room staff stopped you as he headed into the wing.

“I’m sorry, only family members are allowed inside,” the woman softly muttered, her eyes genuine. 

She reminded you of yourself.

What….what if this man was really homeless? What if he had no help, no insurance, no family? You had to do something. You’d feel horrible if you didn't do anything.

“I’m—I’m his wife!” you blurted out, louder than you intended. 

The young lady gave you a heartfelt look and nodded towards the door. “Go ahead. There’s a waiting room inside. What’s your name? I’ll let them know you’re the guardian.”

You told her your name, sparing no second longer than needed, and you ran into the emergency room, sitting down in a hurry.

It was now a waiting game.

—

For what seemed like forever, a doctor came out into the waiting room, looking right at you. 

“Miss y/n?” He asked.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat. “….You are Kim Hongjoong’s guardian?”

You paused, almost forgetting your whole spiel at the entrance. You remembered the name from his ID in his wallet, and nodded sharply, standing up quickly. “Is he all right?”

“He sustained many injuries, but nothing too major. His arm is broken in three places, and that will limit his mobility quite a lot. We set his arm, but he might possibly need surgery.”

You nodded, relief washing over you. Good, minor injuries. Phew. 

The doctor pondered for a long while as he stared at you. “The paramedics stated that you were the one to hit him with the car.”

You sighed. “Yeah, he came out of nowhere—”

“Why was he walking alone so late at night?”

You looked around the waiting room, seeing only one other soul in the corner seat, sleeping. You wondered about what to say, as your little white lie was becoming a web. 

“I uh….he works late?”

“He was intoxicated at the time of the accident—”

“He works at a bar?” you tried not to sound like you were questioning that statement.

The doctor deadpanned and then sighed. “Listen, I’m sure there's stuff that’s none of my business. So I’m going to choose to ignore this,” he nodded toward the emergency wing. “But you’re welcome to go see him. He’s awake now.”

You wondered for a second whether you should go back there. If he was going to rip your head off for lying, for hitting him with your damn car.

You nodded, telling yourself to grow some damn balls. “Okay, I’ll see him.”

The doctor led you to a room at the very end of the hall, the lights dim. There, in front of you, was the man you hit. He was all bandaged up, a large one spanning around his forehead, covering some of the spikey black hair. His arm was wrapped in a cast and held up for circulation, and his eyes were wide open. Right on you.

“Your wife is here,” the doctor spoke nonchalantly as he entered with you. However, you were stationary at the door. 

“Wife?” he scoffed, coughing a bit. He tried to sit up, but you put on your act, walking up to his bedside. 

“Don't move,” you spoke sweetly, eyes pleading. The attractive man just furrowed a brow, his lips curling down in a grimace.

“We’re gonna keep you here for observation tonight, and see how you are doing in the morning to keep an eye on that arm of yours.” The doctor quickly did what he needed to do and left, leaving you alone with….your husband?

The pretty homeless guy spared no second in the questioning. “Who the fuck are you?”

Your eyes widened, looking down at him. He gazed up at you, his eyelashes fluttering as he blinked. A tattoo peaked out of his hospital gown, where it met the skin of his neck. 

“Listen,” you sat down roughly on the seat next to the bed. He watched you emotionlessly. “I’m sorry—I didn't see you when you walked across the road. I take full responsibility,” you breathed, getting nervous under his gaze. 

You were expecting him to scream at you. Well, at least to freak out in some way. It was more alarming that he sat still, completely still, his mouth set in a line.

You blinked.

“I don't care, it’s fine,” he sighed. He showed no emotion, nothing. Not even a twinkle of anger. It was the look in his eye that told you that maybe, just maybe, he ran in front of your car on purpose.

Your eyes widened at the man in front of you—at hongjoong in front of you. He looked distraught tired, brown eyes never leaving your face as you gazed at him. He raised his eyebrows slightly, tilting his head.

“You can leave now,” he huffed, eyes dropping to your open mouth before darting up back to your eyes. “I’m not sure why you're even here in the first place.”

It was your turn to scoff. You crossed your legs in irritation at his lack of care. “Well, maybe because I hit you with my damn car? Maybe I’m worried, maybe I feel horrible, maybe I wanted to see if you were going to be okay.”

Hongjoong just blankly stared. He didn't show any signs of pain, of anger, of anything, really. 

“You don't have to worry,” he spoke eventually, turning away from your gaze to look forward. You watched the tattoo dance against his neck as he moved. “I’m fine. This is all fine.”

You didn't know what to say, how to feel. Your head was spinning, all the tiredness washed away. It pained you to see him so empty, so barren, even though he was a stranger. “I feel like I need to do something for you.”

He bit the bottom of his busted lip, as if forgetting. He made a face, the only expression he’s shone. “No need.”

“But I need to,” you leaned forward, closer to him. He turned to you, eyes void. “I’ll pay for your hospital bill, maybe treat you for a dinner, I don't know—”

“Don't,” he hissed. His eyes grew dark, the fire in them rising. You nearly shrunk back in response to his sudden change of attitude. “Listen, just forget about this, about me, all of it. I don't need your money, or your time, or—” he paused, his anger faltering as he looked at you. “Just…just carry on with your life. I’ll only affect it if I stay in it.”

You frowned, wondering what he meant by that. It didn't matter, though. Your guilt was all-consuming—and the fact that he most likely ended up in front of the car on purpose really was overbearing.

After a second of just…staring at one another, you sighed. “One meal.”

He didn't make a face. Didn't change his plain, empty expression. You looked at his starless eyes, his pale skin. You had the need to brighten him up, to heal him. That was your job, after all.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a nurse came in before he could say a word. You immediately straightened, putting on a smile, hoping he would keep up the act even though he had no reason to. You didn't want to be kicked out—not right now. 

“How are we feeling, Hongjoong?” the young nurse asked, a smile on her bright face. 

“Fine, I guess.” His response was toneless. The nurse still bubbled around, checking his vitals. You watched as he stiffened as the woman touched him. 

She looked at you, arching a brow. “Oh? Are you the wife?” she let out a hum of appreciation, then turned her gaze to Hongjoong. “You’re lucky with this one. They said she freaked out when they didn't stabilize your arm and when they wouldn't let her inside the emergency wing! She must really love you to nearly fight someone to get back here.”

Hongjoong, for the little time you knew him, showed more emotion on his face than ever after hearing that. After hearing that someone—you, a stranger nonetheless—was distraught at his expense. His lips flattened in a line, his gaze faltering.

You grabbed his good hand, although bruises were painted across his knuckles. Old, yellowing bruises. You furrowed your brows, subconsciously rubbing a thumb softly over the colored skin. Hongjoong stiffened, eyes widening, at either your caring touch or the pain it could have been causing. Or both.

You felt your stomach tighten as you met eyes with him. The air was stuffy, his eyes were….practically begging for a reason for your attention, as if he’d never had it before.

“I’m lucky to have him,” you sighed, acting but feeling an intense pull to him. Just touching him, although you didn't even know him, felt like a second nature. 

Maybe it was the regret, the disparity, of hitting him, of being the reason his life was almost nonexistent. Maybe this feeling was because of the responsibility you felt for doing this to him. It didn't matter if it was true; this tension you were feeling with the stranger was more powerful than what you felt with your ex, the one before that, and the one before.

His face was devout of color besides the bruises that scattered his skin. He looked drained, tired, alone. The nurse just smiled at you two, noticing your bloody scrubs and messy exterior. “You’re a nurse, too?”

You just nodded, lost in the feeling that strummed through your body.

Hongjoong’s hand twitched under your hold, his eyes still wide. Still on you.

“Well, Hongjoong,” the friendly nurse smiled. “Don't let her go, she’s a keeper.”

He tore his gaze from you to look at your hand on his. He swallowed hard, blinking. “Ah, yeah.”

Soon after the nurse left, your hand still rested on his. He sat silently, staring forward at the whiteboard with his name on it.

“I….” you struggled with your words, realizing you were still caressing his hand. “I’m sorry,” you said as you pulled your hand away. His head shot towards you.

After a few moments of silence, he said, “It’s okay.” His tone was soft, defeated. 

You wiped your hands on your thighs, sweating buckets. “I, uh, I should go.”

He watched you stand up, but your back was turned, unable to see the wishful glance he offered you. 

You stopped in the door frame, turning around to meet his eyes once more. 

“It was nice to meet you, Hongjoong,” you smiled, watching the glimmer in his eye trying to sparkle. “I wish you well.”

Before you were able to leave the room, he called for you.

“Wait,” he breathed, voice raspy.

You froze.

He took a breath in, exhaling his words. “What’s your name?” 

You turned around. “Y/n,” you spoke softly, your chest aching at the little half-smile peeking through his bruised lips.

“y/n,” he repeated, blinking slowly. He didn't say anything else. You didn't either. You smiled at him once more before turning on your heel and walking out of the room, despite the tear in your heart telling you to stay.

And on your way out, you paid his hospital bill in full, not a single regret in your mind about it.

—

After a few days, you continued your days like normal.

Well, as normal as they could be. Your mind wandered to the spikey haired guy at every sparing second, thinking of how his eyes pleaded something unreadable, how his hand twitched underneath yours.

You were at the hospital, reaching the end of your workday in the emergency room. After running in with a few scruffy-looking guys, they reminded you of a certain someone, and you just wanted to tear at your hair. You were certain your odd feelings were due to the fact that you hit him with your car, and nothing else. This will pass. 

When the quietness of the night was about to still, a man ran into the emergency room door.

“My friend is hurt,” The man huffed in desperation. You turned to the commotion, seeing a thin, black-haired man holding up another—his friend. But that friend and his familiar spikey hair jolted something inside of you.

You jumped out of your seat behind the nurses’ station and ran to the men, meeting eyes with the taller one. He was just as beautiful as hongjoong was, but his eyes were frantic.

“Sir, what happened?” you questioned, reaching out to the man who was just who you thought. Hongjoong’s head rolled back, his eyes squinted in pain, his teeth barred. You carefully steadied him. “What’s hurting you?”

At your voice, Hongjoong opened his eyes wide, looking straight at you. “Y/n?” he grunted out, his breaths strained. He shut his eyes again, and you almost couldn't take the look he had on his face.

“His arm,” the other guy said to you as you called for help,  struggling to hold Hongjoong up. “He got into a fight at the bar, some guy decided to mess with his broken arm and, well…..”

You felt a sense of rage fill your body. You wanted to ask Hongjoong why the hell he was at the bar only days after getting hit by a damn car, let alone getting into a fight.

A few other nurses gathered around, all helping to walk him over to a bed. The wing was empty at this time of night—only a few people around. Once again, Hongjoong looked extremely uncomfortable as the nurses touched him.

You held him gently as you set him down on the bed, feeling his fingers curl around your arm.

He held on to you with his good arm—the hand you held only days before. The other nurses fluttered around, setting things up, but Hongjoong just stared up at you.

“Hi,” is all he said, his fingertips etching into your skin.

Your chest tightened, forcing yourself to smile. “We must be fated or something,” you joked, hoping to brighten him up. “That or you just frequent hospitals often.”

He blinked up at you, his eyebrows knitted in pain. “Maybe I just wanted to see you again.” He coughed as he joked.

Your heart skipped a beat, the other nurses and the man that came with him side-eyeing you.

“If you wanted to see me again, there are better ways than this,” you huffed, looking around. “We have to get an X-ray, alright? We’ll give you something to ease your pain meanwhile.”

The air between you two was undeniable. He nodded, emotion sparkling in his eyes, unlike the days before. You wondered if you were the reason for it.

It was probably just the pain.

The other nurses wheeled him to the radiology room, leaving you alone with the man who brought him there.

“You’re the girl that hit him, aren't you?” His voice was soft, gentle. It held no anger.

You turned to him, seeing the caring exterior he showed. “I….yes.”

He tilted his head at you, blinking, as if figuring you out in a single glance. “He’s been looking all over for you. You…paid his bill. He doesn't like handouts.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh? I didn't think he ever wanted to see me again. You know, I hit him with my car—that isn't something to take lightly—”

“You paid his bill,” the man repeated, crossing his arms. “He feels indebted to you. Please just make sure he knows not to feel that way.” The man sighed, looking into your eyes. “Despite how he looks, he ruminates over things. He’s sensitive. He’s a mess right now.”

You sighed, too. “I…I paid his bill because I did this to him—”

“No,” he interrupted, eyes serious. “You didn't.”

You knitted your brows. “....What do you mean?”

The man gave you a deadpan stare, as if not wanting to spell it out. He let out a breath he seemed to be holding. “He….he jumped in front of your car on purpose, y/n,” he bit his bottom lip. “So no, you really didn't do it to him. He’s…he’s just been a mess lately—and now that you acted sweet, played a wife, held his hand or whatever, he’s even more of a mess.”

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Hongjoong was back, alert and upright, but the pain still rested on his face. His gaze met yours, and you felt your stomach swirl in a mess of emotions.

You couldn't look him in the eye as you took care of him.

—

Hongjoong was sleeping as your shift was about to end. Before you clocked out, you couldn't help but go to him, check his injury out, check his vitals. His friend—Seonghwa, you learned his name—left about an hour ago.

As if noticing your presence, his eyes slowly peeked open, slightly drugged and delirious from the pain medications.

“I didn't expect to see you here,” he mumbled out, blinking lazily.

“I didn't expect you, either,” you spoke, keeping your emotions in check.

Silence enveloped you as you checked his pulse ox. 

“Why’d you do that?”

He turned his head to look at you. “Do what?”

You unclipped the pulse oximeter from his finger. “Why’d you get into that fight? You were really injured.” You wanted to ask the deeper question, the question as to why he stepped in front of your car, but you didn't want to overstep.

He shrugged, wincing. He didn't have an answer. He didn't owe you one, really. 

“Just,” you breathed, moving over to the computer to open his chart. “Just don't do anything like this while you’re healing. You need surgery. You need rest.”

He bit his lip, probably stopping himself from saying something he shouldn't. 

“Also,” you sighed, looking over at him. “Your friend told me you were looking for me?”

“Yeah, well,” he scoffed. “I really didn't mean to meet you here.”

You let out a chuckle. “Well, here we are.”

He nearly smiled at you, lips curling beautifully. He had a bit of dried blood on his lip, and knowing that you were supposed to be leaving, you still reached for a washcloth. You didn't need to do this—in fact, you were acting against every thought in your head as you leaned forward and brushed the cloth against his lip, watching them part.

His breath hitched as you neared, as you touched him, and once again, his hand twitched, begging to touch you.

Your hand lingered on his cheek for a moment too long, meeting his eyes. He stared at you, expression unreadable, lips parted.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

You took a second to study his face before you moved away from him. His eyes followed you as you put space between you and him, dark and beautiful. 

You logged out of the portal on the computer. “We’ll move you to your own room before we prep you for surgery,” you said gently, heart aching as you met his gaze once more. “The doctor will tell you more.”

“Will you….be there for the surgery?” he showed no specific feelings as he asked the question.

“I am only part of the emergency department right now,” you shrugged. “I don't think so.”

He pondered for a second before nodding, settling himself back into the comfort of his hospital bed. “Okay,” he spoke softly.

You offered him a solemn look, causing him to stiffen.

“What?” he asked.

“What?” you repeated, confused.

He blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” you frowned.

“Like you feel sorry for me.” He looked pained, a deeper type of pain.

You thought about a response to that—you didn't necessarily feel sorry for him, you didn't pity him either. In fact, you just felt an immense feeling of wanting to see him happy, to see him without pain.

Which confused you incredibly, given that he was just a stranger.

“I don't feel sorry for you,” you clarified. “I just don't want you to be in pain.”

“You don't even know me,” he huffed, his expression contorting, and you figured that he didn't even know how he was feeling—what he was feeling. “Why would you even care if I’m hurting?”

You smiled at him. “Because you don't deserve the pain.”

He just stared at you, hazily, emotionally. There was a light in his eyes—a light that wasn't there the other day. “You don't know me well enough to know that.”

The air grew cold; you had nothing left to say. You wished he realized that he didn't have to suffer like this.

“Goodnight, Hongjoong,” you hummed, walking away, feeling his stare burn into your back.

—

The next day, you found yourself drawn to the bed Hongjoong was in yesterday. It was empty, with him now in a room of his own in another part of the hospital.

You typed away at your computer as your colleague, Yeosang, came up to you. 

“Hey,” he leaned over the counter of the nurses’ station. “There's a guy asking for you.”

Yeosang, although very young, was a surgical resident in orthopedics. He was super smart, super sexy, super everything. You went to school together, spending lots of time in the library and everywhere else together. 

“Who?” you mumbled without looking up.

“He’s a patient I’m prepping for an open reduction surgery, but he’s having a hard time letting anyone touch him. Says he only needs you or something.”

You looked up, hands freezing on your keyboard. Hongjoong. “He won't let anyone touch him?”

Yeosang sighed, propping his head up on his palm as he leaned on the counter. “We had to give him more pain medication, and it made him a bit….difficult. I suspect he has some sort of trauma.”

You frowned. “And why is he asking for me?”

Yeosang gave you a knowing look. “I don't know. He kept saying your name, saying he needed you.”

You tried to avoid the rush of blood to your cheeks. “I don't even know him.”

“Yeah, about that….” Yeosang looked a bit confused, a smile peeking through his lips. “He keeps calling you his wife.”

Oh, dear god. “How drugged is he?” you huffed, looking defeated. 

Yeosang laughed. “I kept telling him that you weren't his wife, and he got super mad at me. He said only his wife can touch him. I really need him to stop this so I can get him into pre-op,” The surgeon sighed, giving you a pleading glance. “I’ll ask the attending if you can scrub in—”

“I’m an ER nurse,” you raised a brow. “I have other duties, Yeosang.”

“Y/n, please,” Yeosang pleaded, “ignore the rules or whatever. Can you just come and help me so we can get him into surgery?”

Your mind wandered to the fact that Hongjoong was having a hard time. Sure, he was delirious off of his meds and pain, but knowing that he was struggling with touch, a part of you crumbled.

So you followed Yeosang—after getting approved by the charge nurse, and went up to the third floor.

As you neared the room, you let Yeosang enter first. 

“Mr. Kim, I have Nurse y/n here for you.”

There Hongjoong was, his eyes frantic, his breathing rushed. He was anxious, a mess. The nurses tried to ease him, and relax him, but he wasn't having it. That is, until he saw you in the doorway.

“y/n,” he breathed, as if he knew you forever. Everyone in the room let out a sigh of relief.

“Hi, Hongjoong,” you spoke softly, walking slowly near him. You sat in the chair next to his bed, scooting closer as the room emptied, Yeosang being the only other presence. “I heard you were asking for me.”

He blinked, his eyes lined with worry, with anxiety. For someone who looks so tough, he looks like a completely different person.

He didn't speak; he just looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed, his expression all over the place. You took a glance at Yeosang, who was observing you before you reached for Hongjoong's hand just like before. 

The bruises were faded now, only old scars left on his skin. A tattoo trailed the skin of his arm. You went to rub his knuckles,  but Hongjoong gripped your hand tightly.

You met his frantic gaze. No words were spoken. He just pleaded with his touch, his eyes. You knew he was scared. 

“It's okay,” you hummed, fighting the urge to tuck his hair behind his ear. “It's a simple surgery. You will be just fine.”

He mumbled something, but you weren't able to catch it. Yeosang stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, the other nurses peering over his shoulder from the hall. Hongjoong’s gaze moved to the door, seeing everyone watching him.

And you realized that, more than being anxious, he was embarrassed, too.

You looked to Yeosang, giving him a desperate look, a silent cry for him to leave and to get those damn nosy bitches out, too. He complied, and they were alone once more.

“It’s alright,” you hummed, and this time, you did reach out to his face, gliding a gentle hand across his cheek. Without thinking, he leaned into your touch, craving it, longing for it, as if you were really his wife. “They’re gone now.”

His eyes were droopy, his lips downturned. He looked tough, someone with a rough exterior, but now, he was crumbling. He was alone. Alone to the point that he called for you, basically a stranger to him. 

The moment could have lasted forever. His eyes bled into yours, yours into his, your hand on his cheek drawing circles into his skin. He took in a breath, and nodded.

“Will you let them take care of you?” you asked him gently.

He hesitated. You also did, as you realized that he leaned into your touch rather than avoiding it. That he felt comfortable with you—the one who hurt him. In his eyes, though, he didn't see it that way.

Your hand stilled on his cheek, his worried eyes lighting up a little. You didn't even realize that his good hand—the hand that you were holding just a minute before, was now resting on top of your hand that was on his cheek. He gripped it, his medical haze confusing him, confusing you.

You froze, your eyes wide. You allowed his fingers to interlock yours, having him hold your hand to his face as he shut his eyes. He was vulnerable. Human. Although he looked tough, looked troubled, he was just a person under all that trouble. Just a normal guy with normal feelings, normal fears.

And you were indebted to each other. You for hitting him, him for his gratefulness of your care.

“I’ll be there with you,” you murmured, knowing that Yeosang was still outside the room, close enough to hear, close enough to see. “I’ll be in the room while they’re operating.” 

He nodded, his grip loosening slightly, but he still didn't release your hand.

“I’ll look after you,” you offered, and his eyes met yours once more. 

He slowly let go of your hand, allowing you to move back. You looked at Yeosang through the window, giving him a curt nod for him to come back in. 

Hongjoong let the other nurses touch him, but not without a grimace on his face. Yeosang’s words swirled around your mind; I suspect he has some sort of trauma.

Trauma. Trauma that didn't quite reach you—your touch. He allowed it, actually, he wanted it. You wondered what made him okay with yours. Why he needed you when you were the one to do this to him.

Eventually, Hongjoong entered the operating room, knocked out by anesthesia, but not without you holding his hand, making him childlike, making him….a normal human being.

—

After the surgery, Hongjoong sat in his bed even more dazed than before. Before the daze wore off, he kept calling you his wife, causing confusion to stir around the hospital. 

As you left Hongjoong’s room to go back to the ER, Yeosang followed. “What’s this about?”

“I don't know what you mean.” 

You walked faster.

“I mean, why does that guy keep calling you his wife?” Yeosang’s shoulder bumped into yours accidentally as you turned a corner. “And why are you the only one who can touch him? Why did you—”

You stopped suddenly. “Why did I what?”

Yeosang let out a breath. “Why did you….touch him like that? As far as I know, you….you aren't married.”

“I’m not married, you’re right,” you nodded, confused by why you touched him like that, too. Confused as to why he looked so relaxed with your touch rather than freaking out. “And…let’s just say we have met each other before. I did that to calm him down.”

You continued walking towards the elevator, Yeosang following still. “Okay, but you still didn't answer my question about why he keeps calling you his wife.” you pressed the down button and waited.

“Is that really any of your business?”

“Just a little—”

“Why?” you interrupted, turning towards him, arms crossed. “Why does it matter to you?”

You didn't mean to sound rude, you and Yeosang were good friends for a while. You've never dated, but you’ve flirted with each other occasionally. You never thought much of it other than being a little playful.

But the look on Yeosang’s face caused you to pause your racing thoughts. “Because I thought we…we had something going on?”

You blinked. “Do we?”

“I mean,” Yeo scoffed. “With the way you were looking at him, I don't think I have a chance.”

The elevator dinged, doors opening. You paused for a second before entering, Yeosang following.

It was quiet before the doors closed.

“I didn't think I looked at him any differently than anyone else,” you admitted honestly, causing Yeosang to look over at you. 

He gave you a smile, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. “You feel something for him, huh?”

You frowned, leaning back against the wall. “I barely know him. I only…” you sighed. “I only met him twice.”

“But yet, you are the only one he allows to touch him,” Yeosang breathed as the elevator dinged on the first floor. 

“That’s something to think about.”

—

Hongjoong was back to his normal self when you went to check on him in the evening; the anesthesia and meds had worn off. His arm was bandaged up and held in a sling, his eyes empty once more. 

You hesitated on entering, but his stare moved to you.

For a second, you saw regret, and embarrassment, cross his face before melting back into a void stare.

You entered, but he didn't look at you. He avoided your gaze, too. Very unlike his earlier, medical high self. 

You took his blood pressure, fingertips gently wrapping around his tattooed bicep as you put the cuff on. He didn't say anything, didn't even spare a passing glance. He just kept looking forward.

“119 over 79,” you mumbled out, letting loose of the cuff.

He nodded, coughing a bit. He didn't say anything, though.

“Dr. Kang told me that you’re cleared to be discharged,” you tried to start a conversation, but things just felt too awkward. You wrote down his vitals in his chart. “That’s good. Can I call anyone to pick you up? Maybe the guy that was here—”

“No,” he said quietly, looking down at his arm. “There is no one to call.”

“You need someone to help you. You just had surgery—”

“I have no one, y/n,” he hissed, finally looking at you. “Not like that’s any of your business, anyway.”

You didn't know what to say, so you just stared at him with confusion. He was putting his walls up.

“I just….don't want you to suffer alone,” you admitted.

“Why?” he let out a laugh, but it wasn't humorous. “I don't need your worry.”

“Okay,” you breathed, defeated. There was no point; he was just a stranger, just a man. Although, this feeling you had about him was overwhelming. And when you touched him, you wanted to hold him longer. Wanted him to feel better.

You left the room without a glance toward him and carried on the rest of your day as best you could.

—

Hongjoong was sitting on the bench outside the hospital entrance, head low, as if sleeping.

You knew you should keep walking. You shouldn't give him any attention, any time of day. But your chest ached as you got closer and closer, and as you reached him, you couldn't bear to walk past him.

“Why are you still here?” you asked him, keeping a good amount of distance away from him.

At your voice, he looked up quickly, as if waiting for you despite his nastiness earlier.

He took a second to respond. “I, uh, I’m just sitting here.”

You looked him over. His black hair was no longer styled spikey, it laid flat across his forehead softly. His tattoos were on full display in the black t-shirt he wore. 

“You don't have anywhere to go,” you meant to ask it like a question, but it came out more like a declaration. He furrowed his brows at your words but didn't deny it.

“I’m fine, I’ll figure it out,” he sniffed, the cold air dancing around him. He didn't even have a coat.

Without thinking, you spoke quickly. “Come with me.”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because,” you huffed, taking a step closer to him. “I owe you.”

“For what?” he spat out, probably not intending to sound rude. 

You gave him an honest look, and his eyes softened. “Did you just forget that I hit you with my car? That I broke your arm?”

He just sat there, blinking slowly. “You don't owe me anything, y/n.”

You reached your hand out. His own hand twitched. “Come with me.”

After a long moment of just staring at your outstretched hand, he let his hand find yours, standing up at his full height. You got a good look at his face, his eyes, his lips. He was breathtakingly beautiful. So beautiful. 

You held his hand as you walked to your car, feeling a flutter of emotion in the pit of your stomach.

When you got to the car, you helped him into the passenger seat, despite his aggravated digs at you. You leaned over him, buckling his seatbelt, feeling his hot breath against your cheek.

You paused, frozen, inches away from his lips.

He swallowed hard, eyes glancing down at your lips. He didn't make a move. You didn't, either. 

You pulled away, forcing yourself to get out of his personal space to shut the door. You saw him tilt back his head and take a deep breath before you got to the driver's seat.

As you drove, you asked random questions like a goddamn idiot.

“So, uh,” you swallowed, looking over at him for a second. “What do you do for a living?”

What kind of damn question is that?

“I’m a musician,” he mumbled, looking out the window. “Kind of.”

“Ah,” you nodded, thinking of what to say next. Now you were thinking way too much into things. “What do you play?”

He looked down at his arm, sighing. “Well, I played the guitar, piano, some other things. I don't think I’ll be picking anything up for a while.”

“You will, eventually,” you tried to encourage him, but he just kept his gaze even out the window. You arrived at your apartment, pulled into the parking lot, and shut off the car. “We’re here.”

He nodded, watching you get out of the car. You opened his door, and with slight hesitation, you leaned over him again to unbuckle his seatbelt, but before you could, he stopped you with his good arm. 

You paused, inches from his face, meeting his eyes.

“Thanks,” he muttered quietly. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier.”

“You don't have to be sorry,” you whispered, feeling an immense pull to him, to his lips.

You ignored the urge and unbuckled the belt, but you didn't back away. Not like you could, anyway, with Hongjoong’s grip on your arm tightening.

The belt slowly slipped off of him.

He chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes dancing with emotion. “I was just… embarrassed. And drugged, and uh, well,” he paused, thinking. “Mostly embarrassed. I can't believe I freaked out over a little surgery. That’s so lame—”

“No, it's not,” you hummed softly, delicately. “It's a normal fear.”

He smiled. Actually smiled. From the little time you knew him, you haven't seen a genuine smile on his face. Or any sort of light, really.

“Thanks, uh,” he sniffed. “Thanks again. For looking after me.” his eyes fell to your lips. “You don't even know me, and you still…” he trailed off.

You realized that you were inhaling the air he was exhaling, that you were eye to eye, almost nose to nose. His breaths were shaky, labored, and tired. 

“I would want someone to look after me in the same way,” You whispered. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” he tilted his head upward, leaning against the headrest, warm, brown eyes on full display. 

“Mhm,” you swallowed. 

His eyes glimmered. He didn't have anything to say, and you didn't either. Realizing that you were shrinking the space ever so slowly, you took the opportunity to back away from the musician. He let go of your arm, but not without a little tug on it beforehand.

You cleared your throat as he got out of the car. You shut the door for him, and you walked together—slowly, till you reached your apartment door.

When you entered, hongjoong strayed back behind the door, not entering. You turned to face him, eyebrow raised. 

“Come in,” you beckoned, and with one more second of hesitation, he followed you in, shutting the door behind him.

He surveyed the place, his eyes finding the piano that sat in the corner of the room. His eyes danced as if surprised to see it there.

The air was thick. The room was quiet. You tossed off your shoes with ease, noticing his struggle with his own, so you bent down the help him. He didn't pull away, didn't speak. He just let you take care of it—of him.

“I don't mean to be a bother,” he mumbled as you untied his shoe. “But I’d really like to shower.”

You glanced up at him. “Oh,” you nodded, taking off his shoe before standing up. “Sure. it’s the first door down the hall.”

He didn't make any move. He stood, a confused, shy look resting on his face.

And then you realized.

He had no clothes to change into. Nothing. He also only had one working arm, and one covered in material that couldn't get wet.

“I can help you,” you trailed off, trying not to read too much into his stare. 

“If you comfortable with that.”

—

In the bathroom, Hongjoong stood anxiously as you waited for the water to warm up. It took a second, and most of the time, the hot water only lasted so long.

You figured a shower would be too difficult to help him with without seeing too much. You opted for a warm bath, filling the water up once it got hot enough. You made sure to add some suds to it, so he wasn't too uncomfortable.

When you turned around to face him,  his eyes were cloudy, his lips in a line.

“Do you….not like baths?” you mumbled, scratching your head. “I probably should've asked you before I—”

“It’s not that.” His eyes met yours, switching his weight onto his other leg. 

You didn't pry, knowing he was just probably embarrassed that he needed help for something as trivial as a bath. 

Walking toward him, he backed up into the door. You nearly smirked but maintained your cool as you grabbed the plastic bag off the sink counter. “I just have to wrap your cast in this. It'll just be a second. You might want to take your shirt off before I….”

He blinked, eyes wide. “Huh?”

“I don't think you normally bathe in clothes,” you murmured slyly, tilting your head. “Unless you like that.”

He didn't move. His body was as stiff as a board, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Just take your shirt off, dammit, or I’ll do it for you.”

You saw his expression change the minute the words left your mouth.

His good hand found the hem of his t-shirt, hesitating to take it off. You realized that he probably did need your help with taking it off, but with the look in his eye, you weren't sure what would happen if you got any closer to him.

But you moved closer, anyway, setting the plastic bag back onto the counter. His back was nearly up against the wooden door, his breath hitching as your fingertips gently pulled at the fabric.

“Why are you….so okay with this?” he breathed before you could pull the shirt up.

You met his gaze, his eyes unreadable. Almost as if he didn't know what he was feeling, either. 

“I told you already,” you shrugged, smiling.

He blinked, his eyes red with emotion, begging to send a flood down his cheeks. “I don't deserve your help.”

“You do, though.” Ever so slowly, you began to pull his shirt, soft, carved abs appearing as you moved it up. “Because you know, you don't have to suffer alone.”

“Who said I was suffering?” he croaked out, his eyes, his tone, spilling his guts out on the floor for her to see. 

You didn't say anything. You just slowly tugged the black t-shirt over his casted arm, watching him wince slightly. Then, he stood, half-naked, emotionally charged in front of you. He was no longer a stranger. No longer someone that you classified as a patient, either.

His eyes spoke volumes, his good hand twitching at his side. You looked at it, and took it in your own.

“Come on,” you nodded behind you. “I’ll help.”

He looked like he was ready to cry. Ready to break down. He didn't, though, and you walked him over to the bath. You unbuttoned his jeans, but turned around as he stepped out of them and into the tub. 

The soap covered his lower body, all that was on display was his torso, his slim shoulders, the tattoos inked on his tanned skin.  He didn't break away from your gaze as you began to wash him.

“I feel….something I shouldn't be feeling,” he swallowed, his voice raspy, tender, defeated. 

“And what’s that?” you wondered before running your hands through his silky hair, coating the strands in your lavender shampoo.

He shut his eyes, sighing. “I don't know what it is, but what I do know is, for some reason, your touch is very calming when everyone else’s hurts me.”

You paused, hands still tangled in his locks, but he opened his eyes.

A confession of feelings—worth more than any other cliche words. He stared up at you, heart on his sleeve, confusion and fear and everything in between dancing around his eyes.

“For the first time,” he whispered, the only sounds in the room being your shaky breathing and the quiet trickle of water from the spigot. “I feel…comfortable being touched. I….need it.”

His lips parted, his hair dripping wet, your hands still frozen within the strands. You didn't know how to respond, didn't know exactly how you felt, either. But you also knew one thing, and it became ever so apparent as his hand slowly reached your cheek, wet fingertips leaving a trail of soap across your skin.

You blinked slowly.

Softly, gently, you moved forward, over the tub, and brushed your lips against his. His eyes remained open from shock, but his lips moved slowly along with yours.

You pulled away, but didn't go too far, resting your forehead against his. His breaths tickled your skin, sending a blush to your cheeks. 

Emotions are complex. You didn't know exactly why you kissed him. Why you needed to. Why you wanted to do it again. But what you did know was that you liked how his touch felt, liked the little smile that appeared as you kissed him, liked how he gently pulled you back into another kiss.

You took in his breath as you kissed once more, this time a bit more urgent. Your hands gripped his soapy hair, his hand rested softly on your cheek, his thumb on the corner of your lips, his fingers tickling the lobe of your ear. 

He kissed you like he knew you forever. Like he knew just how you liked it. You found your hand trailing down his tattooed neck, fingers dancing on the ink, his dewy skin, his tongue in your mouth.

You parted once more, so close, breaths tangling, fingers scrunching. His breath was hot against your face, his dark eyes pleading.

You’d so get on top of him in that damn tub. You wanted to, so bad. But you remembered that his arm was hurt, that you were the one that did it, and you nearly stood up to move away before he gripped you by the arm.

“Don't go,” he breathed hazily.

So you didn't. You washed him, this time, knowing that you were begging to end this bath and fuck him silly till the sunrise. Till the warm, glow of the burning star fluttered through your blinds. And with that damn look on his face, you knew he was thinking about it, too.

You helped him out of the bath, not turning around this time. He stood slowly, body on full display, even more tattoos, even more scars covering the skin you didn't get to see. 

You sheepishly handed him a towel. He took it, but didn't use it to cover himself up.

“You’re not dating that damn doctor, are you?” he spoke, his tone serious, deep. Sensuous. 

You breathed out, “No.” 

He grinned, cheshire-like. “Good.”

You could tell he wanted to rip your clothes off. He wanted to claw at your skin like some goddamn animal, his expression pained in all of the right ways. 

You needed air. God, this bathroom was stuffy.

Turning on your heel, you forced yourself to walk out of the damn room, because if you didn't, Hongjoong would become something far more stranger than, well, a stranger to you.

But he had other plans. More impulsive plans.

He followed you out of the bathroom and into your main living space. He gripped your hand, his fingertips gently pressing into your skin. When you turned to face him, he was dripping wet onto the lightwash wood floor, beads of water collecting on the ends of his hair. His eyes were wide, begging you for something, anything.

So you gave up on your act.

“Do you want to fuck me right now?” you wheezed, smiling as his eyes widened even more. “Is that what you want?”

You stepped closer to him at his silence, and arched your body against his bare torso, feeling the hardness of him press your thigh, his lips begging to meet yours once more.

You teased him, lifting your mouth to his, letting out a sigh. He shivered as your hands felt up his bare skin, and your hot breath tickled his face. 

He nearly growled, his good arm wrapping around your waist swiftly, tugging your body towards him completely, holding you here as his mouth crashed to yours. His broken arm begged to touch you, too, and without thinking, he moved it quickly. He hissed in pain, his arm definitely hurting him, but he didn't care as much as you did. You tried to part from his lips, to ask him if he was okay, but he bit hard down on your lip to keep you from speaking. 

You moaned while he stuck his tongue down your throat, his hand now tearing at your top, your waistband. You hurriedly tore off your clothes for him, giving him no second to stare at your body before tossing yourself onto him again. He grunted, moaning into your mouth, the vibrations tickling every part of you. He pushed you back, nearly tripping over the throw rug, the coffee table, until your back slammed into the keyboard of your piano.

The keys slammed as your ass hit them roughly, the musician making music without even intending to. His hips bucked into yours, your core right where he needed it, his dick pulsing, aching to be inside you. You lifted your hips, grinding them against his cock, gaining pleasure in his expression.

He nearly whined as you bit his ear lobe, his hips shifting into you, begging for you.

“Can I get inside you?” he moaned, eyes frantic. “I need you, fuck, I need it bad.”

In more ways than one, he needed you, but now, he needed your body. Needed your touch, your moans. You obliged, your body already wet enough for him to enter. You lined up, and without a second to waste, he slowly moved into you, causing you to toss your head back at the feeling. His eyes rolled back; a whine left his pretty pink lips, his chest heaved in pleasure.

His head dipped to suck your nipple, tongue gliding over the sensitive skin of your breast. You huffed, trying so hard to breathe. He let out moans that did something dangerous to your body, to your mind. You moaned along with him as his hips snapped.

“Oh, god,” he whimpered, his tone light, airy. Water dripped onto the soft skin of his chest from his hair. “You feel so good.”

You smiled, tearing your hands up his back as the piano cried along with you. The keys clicked, moaning from the weight above them. The music filled the room, tangled within your breaths, your sweat. You gripped the back of his head, lacing your fingers through his wet, dripping hair, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter by the minute.

Your walls caved into him, his cock pulsing inside you. He looked into your eyes for a long moment as he moved, his black hair stuck to his forehead, his mouth open in gratification. He kissed you, tongue dragging across your bottom lip, tugging on it. He liked to bite.

You felt euphoria reach you before you knew it, and you cried out, gripping his hair, pulling it as he fucked you. His face pained, his teeth barred, his eyes shut tight. Just his expression—his appearance—could've made you come on the spot.

You felt tingles in your fingers, and your toes, and saw stars in your vision. Black spots fluttered, your heart rate probably much higher than it should be. You didn't care if you died right here, right now. It didn't matter. Nope. This was bliss. So much better than that damn vibrator.

You felt like you were on fire—no, more like a falling, burning star crashing to earth. Your stomach ached at his pressure, your hips aching, your head pounding. You came onto him with haste as your vision blurred, tearing into his shoulder blades, leaving little marks on his skin. At your actions, you witnessed the look of utter satisfaction on the pretty boy’s face, his breaths quickening, shallowing. He let out a whine, just as musical as the keys underneath you.

Before he could come, he pulled out, cumming all over your breasts, your stomach. You sighed, closing your eyes, trying to catch your breath.

He stared at you, eyes low, lips swollen and red. So fuckable, so delicious. 

He looked at how he painted you, smirking a bit to himself. He was so full of life, full of emotion. “Let me go grab that towel,” he breathed, his voice crackling a bit. You watched in enjoyment when he walked away from you, watching his ass, his legs, the tattoos move with him.

He returned with the towel, wiping you gently as if he hadn't just made you nearly black out. You gazed at him, not sure what you were feeling, how you were feeling. You could do it all night with him, with this guy who was a stranger only a couple of days before. It wasn't too often that you acted on your desires, but there was no possible way you were supposed to avoid this, avoid him.

When he was done, when you were clean, he set the towel down on the floor, but his eyes didn't leave you. 

“What?” you hummed.

“Just,” he breathed, smiling. “That was really good.”

“I hope so,” you chuckled the feeling of the room lightening, almost in a playful way. “I hope this wasn't your goal all along—you really freaked me out when I hit you.”

He looked down as you jumped off the piano. “Uh, yeah. I bet I did.”

You moved to him, gently reaching to hold his cheeks for him to look at you. “I got you now, huh? No more running in front of cars, unless it's mine. I’ll be prepared next time.”

His eyes widened as if he was shocked by your words. That you knew he did it on purpose. He didn't deny it. He just leaned into your touch, eyes closing tight in comfort.

“Like I said,” you started, giving his lips a little peck. “I’ll look after you, if you’ll allow it.”

He took in a deep breath, opening his eyes, meeting your sincere gaze. His lips curved up. “I’ll look after you, too.”

You smiled along with him. You wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, embracing him, feeling even more intimate than sex. He let out a shaky breath, as if finally realizing he wasn't alone, didn't have to be. That he deserved a caring touch, a longing touch, a needy touch. That he could actually have something to himself.

You didn't know what you were to each other, and it really didn't matter. There was no need to label it so specifically. You could be his rock, his personal nurse, the person to stitch him up when he gets hurt. The one he could confide in, have sex with, whatever he needed. Whatever you needed. 

So when he kissed the top of your head while you hugged him, you tightened your arms just a little, holding onto him as long as he’ll let you.

You’ll look after each other.

[takami-takami]

Nightmares.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. angst. hurt/comfort.

warnings— ptsd. trauma. self harm. nightmares. touch starved!keigo. be careful and know your limits!

Keigo feels the drop in his stomach first before anything else.

His bloodshot eyes snap open, lungs gulping in air as he sits up and grasps at the sheets below.

It doesn't matter that the room is pitch black. All he sees, clouding his field of vision, is red.

Red, when he attempts to blink it away. Red, when they're opened wide. Red, even through the bubbles of tears that he claws away with his nails. Red, when he stares at his filthy palms.

Unclean.

He asks himself if he could scrape it away if he tried hard enough, could expose the fresh cells underneath– the newly formed skin that has never been touched by the sins their owner has committed. New, like the skin of a child untainted by the corruption of those who were supposed to protect them.

He flinches when he feels the drape of his feathers surrounding him. Distantly, somewhere far outside his body, he wonders if they were always this scarlet color. Was he born with white wings? Did something make them this way? Did something make them the perfect shade for concealing bloodshed?

Did someone?

The waves of panic, the ones that shake his system to its core, bubble to the surface of his throat. They taste like disgust, like shame.

Don't let the guilt control you, Hawks, they say. Don't even let the thought pass through your mind. There's no reason to be upset... This is for the greater good. This is for your own good.

That's what they always told him.

His breathing comes quicker, deeper; but no matter how wide his chest expands, he still drowns. He needs to get out of here, needs to escape, there has to be an escape route, there has to be if he can just—

"Baby?"

The room illuminates with the click of a switch. His eyes, golden color swallowing shrunken pupils, glance behind him. Your face is illuminated by the dull, amber glow of the lamp by your bedside.

You look worried. Are you okay? He should ask you if you're okay.

He blinks, eyes focused directly on you. His body feels inhuman, hunched over and trembling with his hands still cupped below him. Stiff.

When he feels the bed creak beneath him, the velvet expanse of the comforter creasing with your movement towards him, he remains still. You offer the soft touch of your palm against his, interlacing his fingers with yours, silently asking permission. He squeezes back.

Your skin is pristine. Don't you know if you do that, you'll get them dirty?

You bring his hands to your lips anyway, kiss each pad of his fingertips tenderly before you begin to speak.

"Dreams again?"

He lets out a shaky breath in response, dropping his shoulders. He hasn't stopped staring at you for a second.

"Yeah, I-I," Keigo stutters, the adreneline beginning to dissipate from his veins, but still there. "Yeah, I guess so."

You hum. "Do you need some water? C'mon, sit up, I've got you. You're okay. I'll get you some water—"

You barely get the chance to move an inch before his hand shoots out and grips your arm, tightly at first before it frightens him that he'd be so quick to reach out. That his touch would be so rough.

"No! Please, don't stop," he all but begs, voice entirely too loud for his own ears. He wishes you were talking instead. Your voice is soothing, your voice is whole. "Stay. You... Can you just hold me? I didn't want to, I had to, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry—"

You know you're not the only one he's apologizing to. You accept it anyway, with a soft kiss that melts him to the core. "It's okay. I trust you." You tuck his hair behind his ears, to which he responds by leaning into the grounding touch. "You're doing your best. You're a good person."

It's difficult for Keigo to allow himself this, but you make giving in to the comfort too tempting. He buries himself into your chest, melts into the scratch of your fingers on his scalp.

Just stay like this. Just a little while longer, he thinks. Until I can feel like a person again.

[vcnillazelda]

disallowed (p.h)

summary: your heavily christian parents found out about you dating patrick.

tags: toxic christianity, (forced) religious beliefs, religious trauma, (verbal) abuse, child abuse, patrick being kinda sweet, slight solipsism, angst with fluff, fem! reader

i’m not trying to bash christianity whilst writing this. i’m just using the more radical/toxic side of christianity purely for a dumb story on the internet. i’m truly not trying to offend anyone and if i have i’m sorry. much love - vcnillamilk <3

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

“y/n.” your father’s voice called from the dining room. you tense, already halfway up the stairs. “yes?” you respond, voice weak. “come here. we need to discuss something.” his voice was stern, almost disappointed. that’s how you knew you were in trouble. “coming, father.” you turn, walking back down the stairs and into the dining room. your parents were both waiting, with your father sat at the end of the dining table and your timid, god-fearing mother stood slightly off to the side just behind him. you don’t speak, waiting to be addressed as your father stares you down. “we’ve heard through the church that you’ve been seeing someone.”

no…

“oh? is that so?” your voice is strained, you’re already close to crying. your father always saw through your lies. “yes… would you happen to know anything about this topic?” he asks, tilting his head back to stare down his nose at you. “no, father.” you respond, voice mumbling. silence falls over the room like a blanket, only to be interrupted by your father’s palm slamming down upon the tabletop and a shriek from your mother. “don’t lie to me!” your father stands, the chair screeching backwards. “you know god hates when we lie.” your father adds on, pointing to you. “i’m sorry.” you whimper, tears dripping down your cheeks as you look down, already clutching your hands together out of nervousness.

“patrick hockstetter. of all the sweet boys at the church you chose the anti-christ!?” he roars, hands hitting the poor, abused dining table as your mother flinches, clutching the crucifix around her neck. “i’m sorry..!” you shout back, sobbing softly. “you are to never, ever- see that boy again. do i make myself clear?!” your father asks, and you nod shakily. “answer!” you jolt, snivelling pathetically. “yes, father.” you mutter, waiting for any more harsh words to be thrown at you. “i’m disgusted by your actions, y/n. god gave you life, and you’re doing this- this taboo?! i didn’t raise you like this.” the man scolds, as if he were talking to a puppy and not his daughter. “i’m sorry.” you whimper, hands trembling before your shrivelled form. “go. say twice the amount of prayers tonight and hope that god forgives you.” your father waves his hand, dismissing you for the evening.

you turn on your heel, rushing from the room and bee-lining to your bedroom. you would lock the door, but your father had personally unscrewed every single screw with a butter knife to ensure you weren’t ‘sinning’. you had no privacy. you whine, clutching your face desperately to try and stop the tears. you didn’t want to pray, didn’t want to appease god for your supposed ‘misdoings’… but you didn’t want to go to hell..! flopping onto your bed, you curled up into a tight ball- sobbing into your pillow for hours. patrick wouldn’t take this well, even you weren’t taking it well. your breathing slows to soft hitches every now and then as you gaze at the small statuette of holy mary. “what do i do?” you whisper, silently hoping for an answer. no one returned your call.

⋅. ✯ .⋅

patrick was annoyed. vexed. absolutely furious. you had been ignoring him all fucking week. the worst part was, he had no idea why. you two had last been on good terms, you had been smiling with him as he retold a very overly dramatic story about how henry had fallen down some stairs in school one day and sprained his wrist. he had walked you home and you gave him a small kiss on the cheek for his act and his good story telling, no doubt.

patrick had tried everything. cornering you in the cafeteria, slipping notes into your locker, calling your phone that sat upon your bedroom table, he even got victor to approach you to try and get some answers. every time, you turned a blind eye, keeping your eyes downcast and your body rigid. something was clearly wrong with you, but you didn’t talk to him. how dare you not talk to him. patrick swallows his anger, storming away from the gang and towards you. you were carefully slotting your science books into your locker; he knows how you love to keep it organised. snatching your arm, patrick hauls you into an empty classroom, almost feeling bad when your lower back smacks into the teacher’s desk. you stare up at him, eyes mixed in sadness and fear. “i’m so fucking pissed.” he starts with a snarl.

“why the fuck are you ignoring me? at the beginning of this shit you always said to talk about stuff to one another- what the fuck is this?!” patrick demands, gesturing wildly with his hands. you were trapped. patrick was blocking the only exit, you had nowhere to turn to. “i can’t..” you whisper, attempting to slip past patrick, but he blocks the door with his arm. “can’t what? huh? you finally come to your senses that not everyone in derry is a god-loving prick like your family? you gonna go date someone from that shitty fucking church you go to? here’s some news princess; i am your fucking god.” patrick rants, and you shake your head. “no.. patrick you don’t understand. i can’t see you anymore.” you whisper, as if someone could overhear you.

patrick furrows his brows in confusion. “what do you mean?” he responds, and you sigh; unsure what to do with your hands. “my father- he’s not allowing me to see you anymore. i’m sorry.” you mutter, avoiding all eye contact. patrick completely softens. all his internal anxiety and stress venting from his body. so it wasn’t him, it was your family. he should of known! “babe, don’t listen to them.” patrick sighs, rolling his eyes a little as he tugs you to his chest, wrapping his slender arms around you. you both needed that hug. your hands clutch the back of his shirt as you slowly start to cry, your face buried into his shoulder. patrick let’s you weep in silence, his chin resting upon your head as he listens to you. your soft apologies eventually reach his ears, and patrick scoffs. “don’t start that shit. your dad’s a dick and your mom’s too scared to leave him.” patrick states, and you exhale shakily. “i mean, seriously.. how that guy managed to get through high school amazes me. he’s definitely got some complex.” the way patrick talks about your awful father makes you laugh a little. “yeah.. maybe.”

patrick smiles, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “stop listening to them. you should listen to me instead.” he mutters to you, and you nod a little. “yeah… i should’ve spoken to you instead of hiding. i’m sorry.” you respond, hands gently grasping his neck as he kisses you again. “it’s alright.” patrick shrugs, much to your surprise. “you’re not mad?” you ask softly, and he shakes his head. “nah. i mean, i was at first- but not i know it’s your parents it’s fine. we don’t have to listen to them, baby. you can screw whoever you want.” his voice is teasing at the end, and you giggle softly; kissing him again. patrick tightens his slender hands around your hips, and he doesn’t intend on letting go any time soon.

[keruimi]

Hello there! If you accept requests I was wondering if maybe you could write some headcanons of the hashiras seeing reader (Who's older and also a hashira) as an older sibling figure? Only if you want to ofc and if it's possible all of them, if not that's alright! Have a nice day / night! ^^

My Saving Grace

Author's Note: I finally have the will to post this. I tried, I really tried because I'm not sure how to write this since I prefer oneshots. I don't see the characters as a sibling figure too so it was really difficult to grant this. But since it was the first request I received, I tried to write this. I love scenarios and this made me really know how to write one. Sorry for taking too long and sorry for not managing to get every hashira included but I hope I did it correctly. Hope you enjoy it!!

Mentions of death, abuse, and trauma.

Characters: Sanemi, Obanai, Giyu

_____________________________

On the torture room, the smell of blood is staining the nose of the Young Master of the Ubuyashiki Family the moment he enter the room.

Within the four walls of the room, his eyes laid on the table that was placed in the middle of the room as a figure of a woman soaking from her own blood was the one thing that greeted him.

He felt his wife let go of his hand as he slowly walked inside the room. The people inside left to give them the private time he requested for.

The moment the door closed, he started to walk closer to the woman he got to learn about.

"Fuyutsiki Y/n, can you hear me?" His gentle voice rang across the room yet silence was the only thing that responded to him.

He sat on the stool that was close to her as he held his focus on the eyes of the woman who was just staring at the ceiling above them.

"Do you still have the heart to listen for what I'm about to request you with?" He continued noticing she won't bother responding with the torture still felt by her body.

"Do you want to take your life back?" That question finally manages to get a slight movement from the woman as she blinks her eyes from what she heard.

"Even if I did..." It was barely heard with how she tried to let those words out.

It was still painful

"What can I possibly do?" It ends up as a whisper that made Kagaya put his hand above hers to offer his sincere comfort to the woman.

"You can protect the people who suffer the same way you did. Under my wing, killing wouldn't be a sin"

A tear fell from the woman's eyes when those words were stated. Somehow, the slight heavy feeling on her chest lightened even just a little bit.

It became more bearable with the guilt she is now experiencing.

"I just want to be free. But no one wants to save me" she stuttered out as more tears followed that mix with the blood trailing down from her head.

"Now that I freed myself from that man, why do they need to punish me for it?", She started to question her fate as the young man silently listened to her pain.

"I became a sinner because I want to be happy"

Kagaya slightly grip her hand to remind her he is still here with her. Sharing the pain she is going through.

"Another chance. There is a path you can take without going against your morals but at the same time where you can heal" he exclaimed that made the woman glance at him.

"I can give you that"

That was the time Y/n chose the path Kagaya offered her.

And that is to become a Demon Slayer...

Known as the Winter Hashira, in three years, she managed to climb the ranks of the corps without any sight of injury ever being seen on her.

If anyone were able to describe her, a woman who moves with elegance and gentleness that became her advantage on the battlefield.

She kills her target without blood even staining her body.

A woman who finished her job beautifully.

Those were the words of the staff that can usually be hear when someone ask about the quiet woman who always spend her time in a garden.

She looks untouchable like a noble lady. So the others never bother getting along with her.

Yet without a doubt, she maintained her Hashira position compared to the Hashiras where the kids (Future Hashiras) were training under.

It made them doubt her abilities. A woman who seems to have no care about the world.

Until...

In the middle of daylight, after a Hashira meeting. A woman's hand is seen gripping her fellow Hashira's neck.

"Y/n-san! Please calm down" Kanae's voice can be heard on the Estate as the kids (Some Future Hashiras), were silently watching from the window of the Butterfly Mansion.

The man let out a gasp when the hands of the Winter Hashira tighten, blocking his airway.

"Let me make it clear to you about your role. You were chosen to become an example, not a corrupt person" the voice of a woman that is laced with undeniable hatred can be heard as Kanae can't help but close her mouth.

"You have no rights to hurt the kids as if they were your stress reliever. Especially if no mistake was made" the woman let go of the man as they fell on the floor, gasping.

"If you can't control yourself, then you shouldn't be a Hashira" the anger of the woman was clearly seen from how her eyes seem to lighten up like she can kill the person in front of her in a second.

"Y/n-san, you're breaking a rule-"

"The rules don't dictate me. It's my job to correct mistakes, especially entitled people like you." She calmly stated as she wiped her hands with her handkerchief, acting like her blood was not boiling from anger a while ago.

"Don't test me"

That moment changed the perspective of the kids who she defended.

____________________________

Sanemi:

He was fifteen when it all started

Anger...

That was all I felt as I held my friend's deceased body. While the demon's body slowly withered from my vision.

I failed to protect the person who gave a chance on the friendship I never thought would bloom.

I lost another person against the demons.

The stinging pain in my chest was ignored as my vision turn red that i ddin't notice I started to have a rampage and killed every demon I encountered without any mercy.

That when I encountered another lower moon, I finally lost the strength to keep going on as I fell to the ground along with Masachika's body.

I'm Tired...

Tired of being the defender, tired of forcing myself to keep going for the people I failed to save.

Tired of holding on to the hatred I held for the demons.

Where is the peace I first wanted. Will all of that be unreachable to reach?

I didn't have the time to see the head of the lower rank demon decapitate before the silhoutte of the well-known hashira stood in front of me.

"What are you doing?" I utter as her blank gaze look down on me.

Somehow in that little time, I wish to just die.

But someone like her prevents that wish of mine from being granted.

"I'm doing what I promised to the world" she answered my question where the answer was already serve.

I felt myself getting pulled up from the ground that made me tiredly sat up as she crouch in front of me.

"This is one of the challenges you need to get passed through" her presence made me almost didn't realize the help that finally arrive as my friend's body was taken away from me.

I felt the anger that made me numb, set free again as it surround the heart that almost stop beating.

"It's not the end of the world, Sanemi. You can't give up yet"

Her words made me scoff as I finally had the courage to gaze on her own orbs.

"What am I even fighting for?"

It was a question that I should have the answer. But now the grief made my mind a mess that is starting to make me confused.

But one thing I'm sure of was I'm really tired.

"What would I benefit from here?"

I sacrifice so many things yet I don't know what I would receive in the end.

"Is fighting really worth it?"

"Yes" she didn't hesitate, not even a bit from her answer as her firm gaze never left mine.

"Make that anger, that pain your weapon. So you would achieve the very first reason why you decided to put your life in line to protect the others." Her grip on my arm started to loosen as she completely kneel to be on the same level as me.

"You want peace. Not only for yourself but also for the world we live in. You want justice, for yourself and for the people who lost their life on these battle." Her words started to enter my mind as my stiff body softened a little and the burning anger, started to slowly rest in my chest.

"Sanemi, there's a lot of reasons to keep fighting. And one of those is being the savior of many" her gaze slowly turned less icy as she put her words in my head.

Dictated every word, and engrave it to my mind. So the confusion that the pain gave me, can be cleared and answered like I needed.

"The world is not forcing you to keep going. But you can rest so you can continue fighting. Let me be your aid in this time you need someone" she put her hand on her chest as a declaration.

"Then after this, you can grant the dream you wanted for the old you and for the people who you lost along the way"

"As someone who keeps going on this path, let me look after you. Let me stay beside you. As your guide, and as your teacher"

I felt my chest slightly warm up when her words made me feel that I was finally being protected instead of always being the protector.

Someone is finally looking after me like how it was supposed to be.

I finally found someone I thought I didn't need.

Obanai:

He was thirteen

"Little one, come over here" I heard her gentle voice towards my direction as I didn't raise my head to look at her. I tightly grip on the clothes I was holding as Rengoku-san gave me a slight push like it was my cue to go near her as she asked.

With trembling hands, I approached the woman and became wary of the moment I saw how she treated her fellow hashira.

But I unknowingly admire her for standing up for me. Due to the trauma I felt, I still can't help my body to stop trembling when a person gets angry at me.

Only her, who stood up for me.

I slightly flinch when I feel her cold hand touch my warm ones before she gently pulls me closer to her.

She raised the sleeves that were hiding my arms and saw some slight bruises that formed from being beaten by a stick.

"Does it hurt?" Her gentle voice manages to calm my nerves as she rubbed circles on it that gave me the strength to look at her and saw her eyes already staring at my own.

"From now on, you would be under my care so don't worry" she lifted a small smile before caressing my cheeks as I nod, trying to stop myself from crying.

"There, there" she soothes me down when she senses I'm near on breaking down as she sat me on the bed before taking the bottle of cream from the side table.

"We both know you can do it for your dreams, alright?" She exclaimed before she applied the cream on my bruises.

"Y/n-san" I called for her in a shaky voice as she hum and raised her head to look at me.

"Can I cover the lower part of my face?" I asked in almost a hush tone and I saw how her eyes sadly gaze on the scar that was clearly seen on my face.

Sensing her attention was on it, a tear fell on my eyes because of fear and shame.

I heard her close the bottle before I felt her hand behind my head as she brought my head to her chest so I could free my tears that I badly wanted to hide from the world.

"If hiding your insecurities can make you stronger. We can hide those" I heard her as I can't help but seek for her warm more.

After being alone on the cold dungeon on my own family's home. I finally heard the encouragement and felt the warmth I was seeking for.

Giyu:

He was fifteen

Within in the shadows of the corporation, only her who look for my figure. Someone who never wanted to be left alone.

The quiet woman who I always spend my time with when I have no one beside me.

I thought we were only acquainted until she started to remind me of my deceased sister.

Until her actions slowly started to comfort me.

I felt someone hold the wooden sword that I keep swinging towards the trunk of the tree as I forcefully let out my breath while trying to stop my trembling hand.

Another nightmare.

The same nightmare that prevent me from moving forward without any guilt or negative outlook in life that those important people in my life want me to think about.

It never fail to remind me how useless I was in that moment. And right now, I felt like I'm still chained to that trauma.

"Giyu" I heard her call for my name first that I snap from my thoughts but my grip on the wooden handle didn't falter.

"Go easy on yourself. Don't degrade the strength you have within"

Her monotone voice didn't help me that I almost want to leave until her next words made me want to stay.

"Because you're just a kid" I lifted my head in a speed of light and my teary eyes met her warm ones.

"As someone who watch you from the sidelines, you're better than what you always thought of" her tone started to soften as she immediately took the sword the moment I began to let go.

"So take a rest"

I finally heard the assurance I always tell myself. The words I want to use as a barrier to my own nightmare.

I was better than I know.

And hearing that from her became my comfort in those silent fights on my own mind.

I finally have someone who would be my light on this dark night

[trickstarbrave]

WIP WHENEVER

HIIIIIIIIII im very excited to share this wip. im so mad i wrote this out of order bc i wanna post it immediately. im looking forward tho to finally being able to edit and post it on ao3 normally

i got tagged by @caliblorn and @your-talos-is-problematic and im taggingggggg @woundjob, @thescrolls-haveforetold, @wellthebardsdead and my roommate @soundwavefucker69

here is smth for moon and star. lots of lorkhan talk. some chim. some trauma. even some dagoth ur

literally i was like "oh yeah. its all coming together" writing this also its long im sorry

also here is my god!nerevar sketch. can be interpreted also as just how lorkhan appears to neht and the ppl around him

Malacath’s hand touched his chest and pain wracked his body. Nerevar could feel the blade cutting away his skin—cutting through the bone of his sternum and splintering it. It ripped apart and opened his ribcage, before that damn hand was then inside his chest. His anxiety spiked as he could feel phantom touches on his heart, a hand gripping it, long claws digging into the muscle as it continued to beat loud and sturdy. His whole body had gone rigid, nostrils flared and his breathing coming in quick pants desperate to get more air in his lungs. 

He was terrified. More than terrified, in fact. It was like being killed in the heart chamber but all the more worse somehow. He was choking now, gagging on blood—thick, black blood that was pouring from his chest, bubbling up in his throat.

And then Nerevar was overcome with the urge to laugh. To laugh besides the terror coursing through him, to laugh even though he was gagging and choking on his own blood. He knew he would die; it had been a part of his plan all along. He hadn’t known what death would be like, but he had anticipated it, at least on his own terms. And yet here Trinimac was, killing him himself. Ripping his heart from his chest. 

He had intended the first death to be slow and simple. A fading ember rather than a bright, all encompassing flame that destroyed everything with it. He had intended to bear the burden as the cause of the first death in their reality where death did not yet exist—was merely a theory. But here Trinimac was, unknowingly mantling that sin himself. A cruel irony he would be the one to blame for this. It was not his fault, but it would be his responsibility and duty.

He’d collapsed at some point, gasping, crying, and choking on blood as Voryn held him close. Voryn shouldn’t see him like this—not his beloved, sobbing and begging. He couldn’t hear his voice over the drumming of his own heart but he tried to speak despite all the gagging he was doing. His gorgeous, sweet lover, his beautiful hawk shouldn’t have to watch him die like this. Not when Nerevar knew this was coming, deep down. Not when he had doomed them both, sacrificed Voryn’s life on the altar just as much as his own. He was regretting it now, if only because he couldn’t apologize; how could he speak when Trinimac had already ripped out his heart? How could he explain he never wanted to hurt Voryn in truth? How would his beloved hawk even react to his death? Oh the fury he could bring down, how he could drown the world in blood and tears if he was pushed to the brink…

And what of Azura, his sister? His poor, vain, vindictive sister… She hadn’t agreed to help him, but he knew she would be in a rage over his death. And even the man killing him was sobbing and crying, apologizing despite his lord—Nerevar’s own brother—ordering his execution. How could he apologize to this man? To tell him he knew he didn’t mean for it, that Nerevar was the villain all along in this story? Would that soothe his grief? Trinimac, Kyne, Azura, all of the others… How would they fair without him? Tears were now spilling from his eyes not from pain but sorrow that he wouldn’t be there to comfort and love them. Ah, if only he could kiss his hawk one last time…

“Nerevar!” Voryn’s voice finally cut through, and a disconnect happened in the vision. He was untethered now, the sensation of falling back into his own body hitting him, and his ears were ringing loudly, a dizziness washing over him. There were no more feathers on Voryn’s face or on his cloak—why would there be? Voryn wasn’t… Voryn wasn’t a hawk, why would he call him that so fondly? There weren’t even tears streaming down his face like he had seen before, but his face was in a grimace, pained watching him writhe and flail choking on imaginary blood.

His hand came up to his chest as he felt around, but there was no gaping wound like he’d expected. Why had he felt it so clearly then? His whole body was still shaking from the terror and pain, unable to calm the trembling. 

“Do you remember now, Lorkhan?” Malacath asked, still standing over him. Vivec and Sil were currently being held back by the numerous orcs, though they were swearing up a storm and desperately trying to fight their way closer to defend him. Even Voryn had a spell prepared as he cradled Nerevar close to his chest, posed with the ferocity of a wild animal protecting its young.

“I-I’m not…” Nerevar began, though it felt like a lie on his tongue. He could still taste the metallic black in his mouth, the unnatural blood he was choking on. His body felt hot now, his mouth dry making the metallic taste all the more nauseating. “Lorkhan is dead!” He shouted definitively. Lorkhan was a dead god—long dead before Nerevar had ever been born as a lowly half blooded chimer in that ebony mine. 

“And yet, here you are, alive and in the flesh.” Malacath responded, his expression unwavering. “I would know that heartbeat anywhere. I would know how you battle more than anyone else.”

“Stop it!” Nerevar shouted, covering his ears, still shaking. 

“Why you deny it is my only question for you.” 

“I’m not Lorkhan!” Nerevar growled, teeth bared. His whole body felt like it was burning, just like in the heart chamber. That supernatural chanting from his dream came back too, at the edges of his senses, as he fought back the urge to vomit. “I’m not Lorkhan, just shut up, shut up, shut up!!” 

The next thing he knew, everything went black, the last thing he heard being his own heartbeat pounding in his ears and Voryn calling his name. 

--

Nerevar’s eyes snapped open. His hands frantically touched at his chest, once again checking for the wound, only to find nothing. Still, the unmistakable ache was there, however faint. 

“Where…?” He found himself someplace… Bizarre. There was stone architecture, that much he knew, but it seemed… Foreign, though they were in a state of disarray. It looked like some kind of abandoned tower, the roof having long since caved in, vines growing over stone. In the middle, where Nerevar was laying was soft grass and a few wildflowers. He sat up, looking around even further, confused. 

“Damn Trinimac, causing problems again…” Someone behind him muttered, and Nerevar quickly turned to see--

Himself? 

He jumped, panicked. No, no he could tell it wasn’t himself. He looked a lot like Nerevar, and sounded a lot like Nerevar, but there was something off about his appearance. He was taller than Nerevar--around Voryn’s height maybe? His hair was much longer too, not to mention he was wearing long robes Nerevar would never wear given how complicated and annoying they looked. Not to mention the longer he looked at him the more his appearance seemed to change--subtle ripples you had to focus on to know. His eyes subtly changed shape, along with his other features, sort of at random in moments where if you blinked you’d miss them. 

“Apologies for that.” The man said, walking over and plopping down to sit next to Nerevar. “I never expected his followers to summon him, nor that he’d do something like that…”

“Who are you?” Nerevar asked, his heart still racing in his chest. The other simply plopped his chin in his hand, staring back at Nerevar, amused.

“You and your lover--both just asking questions instead of even trying to figure it out for yourselves…” He tsk-tsked with a soft click of his tongue and a shake of his head. 

“How the hell am I supposed to know who you are?” Nerevar snapped. “I don’t even know where I am!” 

“Easy, no need to raise your voice.” He still looked amused, despite Nerevar’s anger. 

“Why in Oblivion do you look like me?” Nerevar demanded an answer now; he was in no mood to play games at the moment. He felt his heart being ripped out by that damn orc god and now he had someone playing mind games with him. 

The other sighed.

“I am Lorkhan.” Nerevar’s blood ran cold. 

“What…?” Nerevar stared in confusion and shock. “But Lorkhan is--”

“Dead?” He asked with a smirk and a quirk of his brow. “Don’t I know it.” Lorkhan then laughed heartily. “But when did that stop the dead from interfering with the living from time to time?”

“Why are you here?” Nerevar asked, leaning away from him. 

“I thought it would be only fair to show myself to you after that stunt Trinimac pulled.” He explained. “Though I imagine the fact you were stabbed through the chest once before only made it that much harder for you.”

Nerevar was trying to figure out the situation he was in, putting the pieces together the best he could. Several daedra called him Lorkhan, and here was Lorkhan looking remarkably similar to Nerevar. Was it possible people were mixing them up based on appearance? That didn’t seem quite right; it would make sense for Malacath and potentially Dagon, but Dagon didn’t call him Lorkhan initially, and not to mention it wouldn’t explain the nords. He doubted the elf hating people of Skyrim would so readily accept an elven appearance for their chief deity. Nor did it explain the strange, supernatural beating of his heart that drove him to accomplish strange feats out of sheer willpower alone. 

“... Why do you look like me?” Nerevar repeated his question again.

“Come now, I thought you’d be smart enough to figure that out.” Lorkhan laughed again. 

“Answer me.” 

“Well,” Lorkhan’s grin looked mischievous now. “It’s only fitting I look like you because I am you, don’t you think?”

This time a numbing tingle followed the chill in his blood. “Y… You…”

“Or well, I suppose it might be easier to understand if I say you’re a part of me.” Lorkhan continued. “You wouldn’t be the first mortal to be a fragment of me, anyways.”

“I’m not you!” Nerevar snapped, gritting his teeth. He did what he was best at: lashing out when he was truly scared and confused--when problems became too difficult to ignore or solve on his own. “I’m not you! I’m not Lorkhan!!”

Silence followed, the faint sound of birds chirping having vanished, the sky turning a stormy gray. He was panting from his outburst of yelling, but the screaming hadn’t really solved anything. Lorkhan was still sitting in front of him, looking at him with a serious expression, unphased. He was still in this crumbling tower, sitting in the grass. 

How long could he run from this? Daedric princes called him Lorkhan. The nords called him Shor. The strange visions he received that only made sense if they were Lorkhan’s memories, not to mention his heart--

Nerevar curled up, hands moving up as he felt a pain in his chest, clutching his shirt tightly. 

He was scared. He was scared and he didn’t know what was going on. He was terrified because ultimately, he didn’t know what this meant. He didn’t know what this made him.

Gingerly, two arms wrapped around him, pulling him up from the fetal position he curled himself into and into a warm embrace.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Lorkhan whispered, “Just let it out.” As soon as he said that, tears were flowing out of Nerevar’s eyes as he openly sobbing into his shoulder, holding onto him. Nerevar never really had a father--as the Nerevarine he was an orphan who didn’t really know who his parents were and as Nerevar his father was hunted down before the two of them ever met. But at that moment Nerevar couldn’t deny there was something paternal in the way Lorkhan held him gently, letting him cry and sob with arms that felt so much stronger than Nerevar could imagine. As alien as it was, he felt safe in his arms, the pain in his chest fading though he was still distraught and crying. 

Eventually though, his tears died down to soft whimpers rather than open sobs, Lorkhan stroking his hair all the while. 

“It’s alright.” He repeated, trying to reassure Nerevar.

“It’s not alright.” Nerevar countered. “If I’m just you that means I don’t really exist!” It was the truth; if he was just some shard of Lorkhan then he had no real identity of his own. He was just a piece of a larger whole, delusional in that it thought itself independent and separate. “No one really knows me. No one really loves me.” The person Voryn loved wasn’t even real, just a false identity of someone who denied who they truly were. Was the person Voryn actually loved just the pieces of Lorkhan that made up Nerevar? Lorkhan said there were other mortals like him--what if Voryn left him for someone who was a larger, better part of Lorkhan? “I’m just a part of you, an extension of you. I don’t have any thoughts or feelings of my own!”

“Hey now, that’s not true.” Lorkhan interjected. “If you had no thoughts or feelings of your own, how could you deny being me?” 

“But--”

“You have thoughts and feelings and emotions of your own.” Lorkhan reiterated. “You have your own identity, your own history, your own relationships.” Lorkhan gently dried the tears on his cheeks, careful of the sharp nails on his hands. “You don’t have all the same traits as me, and likewise, how you act on things is entirely up to you.” 

“But then how am I you?” Nerevar asked, apprehensive. 

“Hm… How to explain this…” Lorkhan began, humming softly, trying to gather his thoughts. “... Do you know that sometimes people take cuttings from plants to make a new one?”

Nerevar did know that, though he’d never done so himself. He was bad at growing plants, but he’d heard of it a few times. 

“When they take a cutting from a tree for instance, it was once a part of that tree.” Lorkhan continued. “One of the many, smaller branches of it. But with care and cultivation, it grows roots of its own, and then spreads itself deep into the soil as a little sapling, before finally growing into a tree itself.” Lorkhan then smiled at him. “You’re like a cutting made from me that grew into its own tree. We might be made up of the same things and bear the same fruit, but you might have different branches than me and grow in different ways.” 

“... But what if someone only loves that tree because of its fruit?” Nerevar asked. 

What if Voryn only loved him for the parts of him that were Lorkhan? What if, when Voryn found out, he became disillusioned? Why would he bother with having Nerevar as a lover if he was just a part of a larger whole? What if there was a better piece of Lorkhan out there to love, or he could simply worship the dead god in earnest to get closer to the source?

Lorkhan responded by pinching his cheek playfully, pulling Nerevar from his mental spiral.

“Then someone doesn’t really love that tree specifically, now do they?” 

“But--”

“Trees are much more than the fruit they bear.” Lorkhan continued, cutting him off. “They provide shade in the sun, and shelter in the rain. They are homes for birds, and the wind whistles through the branches to make music, or even children play in the branches and leaves.” Lorkhan was still smiling at him warmly. “Even if they love the fruit it makes too, not just any fruit tree can be their tree. And if they only love the fruit, wouldn’t you prefer someone who really loved the tree to take care of it rather than someone who only cared about what the tree produced?” 

Ah, Nerevar saw what he was getting at here. If Voryn only loved the parts of him that were Lorkhan and didn’t care about him otherwise, that meant he didn’t really love Nerevar. Nerevar’s hand reached over to caress the scar on his left shoulder gently, unable to really feel it through his shirt and armor, but comforted by the knowledge it was there nonetheless. 

Would Voryn have really asked Nerevar to carve his name into him if he didn’t love Nerevar? Perhaps the rest of Lorkhan didn’t appeal to Voryn. Perhaps the other traits other mortals shared with Lorkhan weren’t the same as how Nerevar was. Nerevar wanted to trust Voryn with his heart and make this work--he shouldn’t be assuming once again that Voryn would be quick to leave him and replace him with someone else. Voryn committed to Nerevar.

“There we go.” Lorkhan smiled, seeing his stormy expression fade. 

“... But I don’t know what any of this means.” Nerevar continued. “Why am I a part of you? What does any of this mean?” How was he supposed to move forward like this? How many other daedra would challenge him calling him Lorkhan? “How can I tell what’s my thoughts and abilities and what’s just yours? How can I tell if I’m even real?” 

That was the part Nerevar was still grappling with. If he was called Lorkhan and acted like Lorkhan and did what Lorkhan was supposed to do… Didn’t that just make him Lorkhan? When he was the Nerevarine he slowly just assumed Nerevar’s memories, thoughts, and identity after he was sent back in time--or was going back in time not real either. “The future--what about my memories of the future? Are those fake too or--”

Lorkhan smiled softly, almost knowingly. 

“Oh little star,” Lorkhan chuckled as though he was recounting something funny. “None of your memories of the future are real.”

“... Huh?” They weren’t… Real? “But Dagoth Ur--the Tribunal--” Didn’t Vivec have a vision of Nerevar being killed as king? That was in the future Nerevar saw as well.

“None of it was real.” Lorkhan was still smiling, but Nerevar was sent spiraling again. 

It was all so real. Nerevar could feel it. He felt Vivec’s spear ramming through him. He could hear the hurt and betrayal in Dagoth Ur’s voice, along with the cold anger as he revealed he would never be able to trust Nerevar even if Nerevar had agreed to join him. Almalexia had attempted to kill him a second time as the Nerevarine, and he remembered fighting her after discovering Sotha Sil’s mangled corpse. 

Panic set in then. If none of that was real then… Why did he not remember his past? Why had he dreamed up such a strange turn of events? Why--

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Lorkhan leaned in close, a devilish smirk on his face now. “I’m not real either.”

Nerevar blinked in shock, only to find Lorkhan was gone. In fact, everything was gone now, leaving Nerevar floating in an inky, black void. 

Nerevar’s panic rose at that. It could have been Lorkhan just telling him he was a figment of Nerevar’s imagination and not actually the ghost of a dead god but… Nerevar knew that wasn’t the case. He could feel it, deep in the pit of his stomach, and the revelation was not a comforting one. He was left entirely untethered in this void, and looking down at his hands, he saw himself flickering in and out. 

If Nerevar was Lorkhan, and Lorkhan didn’t exist, then that meant that he didn’t exist either. Really didn’t exist. It was so much more comfortable to imagine himself as a shard of Lorkhan, living and moving on its own, ignorant to the fact it was part of a larger whole. 

A clawed hand touched his back and a sickening chill overtook him as he found himself in the heart chamber of Red Mountain once again. He was trembling as he continued to flicker in and out of existence. The heart’s rhythm was equally unsteady, stopping and starting at random, the sounds a disjointed mess. 

If the heart of the world was not stable--was not real--then what did that make the world?

What did that make his friends? The people he loved? 

What did that make Voryn?

A familiar voice called out to him, large, clawed hands gripping him tightly and pulling him in close.

“I told you once before,” Dagoth Ur began, “We are bound to the dreamsleeve together.” Nerevar knew that wasn’t right, but he didn’t know how to counter it either. 

“I am the dreamer,” Dagoth Ur continued, “And this is all my dream, my sweet Nerevar.” Nerevar didn’t like the fondness in his tone. This was a twisted version of Voryn, corrupted and maddened, fully delusional. He preferred Voryn sane and warm, affectionate and protective. He didn’t want the delirious, maddened version of him that was Dagoth Ur.

Then, the two had changed locations. Instead of the heart chamber with the unsteady heartbeat echoing around them, they were in what seemed to be a rainbow colored river, all the different colors flowing in strange, glowing patterns. They moved up and down, left and right, forwards and backwards, swirls of color that flowed like incoherent water simultaneously both much thicker and almost syrupy than pure water, and also like it was barely there as they caressed his legs. Each movement came with a strange, fragmented thought, emotion, or memory. 

“You are simply a part of my dream.” Dagoth Ur’s hands moved to the front of him now, caressing at his chest. “My most glorious, beautiful creation…” 

Nerevar knew that wasn’t true either though. It was an instinctive knowledge, perhaps, but he could tell that was simply not the case. If there was a dreamer, it certainly wasn’t Dagoth Ur. 

And then Nerevar looked to his hands to see he was a dunmer again, grey skin and all to match the equally grey hands on his chest. One of Nerevar’s hands moved to caress the scar left from corprus he got as a Nerevarine when he was forcibly attacked to infect him with it, sending him further in his quest, ironically. The scar was an ugly, messy thing--a gross mess of scar tissue trying in vain to form over an injury that wasn’t truly there, growing more mangled and grotesque by the day. Before he couldn’t remember where the attack was from Gares, as his memories of the Third Era faded more and more with his time in Resdayn like a hazy dream, leaving him unsure if it was on his chest, his stomach, his thigh, or his arm. But now he remembered it was--

All of them. He had been hit by the attack in all of those places, in different moments in time, in different versions of the same event. And in that way, it wasn’t one moment specifically but simply an event that could have played out differently, in a way bending and contorting around the flow of fate. And just as he realized it, the scar itself faded entirely. 

“Nerevar, stop this.” Dagoth Ur warned, his voice concerned. Almost frightened if Nerevar was being honest, though he knew the other wouldn’t admit to it. 

“It… Didn’t happen.” 

“Yes, it did.” Dagoth ur stressed, but Nerevar stepped away from his hands, walking along the multicolored river. “Do you doubt your own memories? My own memories?” Dagoth Ur insisted. “Just as that was my dream, this too is my dream. A dream where we get to be together.” His voice took on a facsimile of warmth and affection. “A dream where nothing can keep us apart--”

“No,” Nerevar countered, his voice soft. “It happened and… It didn’t. Just how this… None of this is real either.” The thought wasn’t as scary as it was the first time around. In fact, the revelation seemed to almost bring some relief. He dipped his hand into the liquid that pooled around his thighs, running his fingers through it in what seemed to be an arbitrary pattern, relishing in the feelings that washed over him. Like this, he could make them seem coherent. Like this he could move them until he could faintly hear a song--

“Nerevar Mora, return to my side at once.” Dagoth Ur’s tone was threatening again. It seemed that Nerevar had gotten under his skin. 

“You are not a god. I’m not a figment of your dream…” Nerevar could insist if anything he might be the one dreaming all of this up but… He knew that wasn’t quite right either. Lorkhan didn’t exist. Nerevar didn’t exist, so he couldn’t be the one dreaming. But he knew he wasn’t a figment of Dagoth Ur’s imagination, that was for certain. “... And you’re not a figment of mine.”

Dagoth Ur was in front of him again, clawed hands gripping his arms tightly while his teeth audibly grit from behind the gold mask. “If I am not the dreamer then you’re saying I don’t exist! Do you even understand what you’re saying?!” His hands gripped Nerevar’s arms even tighter, but Nerevar himself was unphased. “I exist because I say I exist. You exist because I allow you to exist.”

“Or have you forgotten your nightmares? The memories of me?” Dagoth ur changed gears now that he saw it wasn’t persuading Nerevar. “Have you forgotten the way you shuddered at my touch? Or the way I could make such sweet, passionate love to you that you forgot everything else?” Nerevar had to admit he did in fact enjoy those moments with Voryn; Nerevar loved nothing more than losing himself completely in Voryn’s body, of being unable to think about nothing else but how wonderful Voryn could make him feel. But Nerevar knew he couldn’t forget this whole mess even happened and fall readily back into Voryn’s arms, trying to delude himself that it was real. He knew he’d go mad even trying, unable to take joy from it as he tried to deny the reality he was confronted with before. 

“Do not make me rip you asunder and remake you.” Dagoth Ur threatened, venom dripping off his tongue. But at the threat, Nerevar reached his hands out, cupping the golden mask in them, before throwing the mask off entirely. 

His face looked like Voryn’s but so much older and more tired. His eyes were dead, glazed over and foggy, with only the third eye on his forehead seemingly capable of sight. His complexion was equally dead--ashen even for a dunmer. A dead sleeper who dreamed he was still alive, just as that wise woman said so long ago. 

Nerevar leaned up, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to his lips. He didn’t like this maddened version of Voryn, but he knew he still loved him. He loved Dagoth Ur and mourned for him. As horrible as it was, it was a mercy for Nerevar to slay him as the Nerevarine. It was a mercy for things to return to the past so they could have a better future, one where Nerevar wouldn’t hurt him as cruelly as he did the first time around. 

Then, just as the gentle kiss started, Nerevar pulled away, whispering softly. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he even realized it, but the truth spoken in them was more real than anything else he had seen. 

“I already unmade you.” 

Dagoth Ur stared down at him in shock, before, like ash in the wind, he faded. And Nerevar was left standing alone in the dreamsleeve. 

Yet, something was gnawing at his psyche. If Dagoth Ur was not the dreamer and didn’t allow him to exist, then what was his purpose? If this was all a dream, then who was dreaming? 

Dread washed over Nerevar again, overwhelming him as he felt like someone or something was watching him. Like he was a tiny insect crawling where he shouldn’t have, about to be crushed by the figure that finally realized he existed. 

Yet, part of Dagoth Ur’s words made sense. He wasn’t real. None of this was real. Nerevar could either stand there and accept it and fade into the liquid around him and dissolve into nothingness…

Or he could insist he did exist. That he wanted to exist. That he wanted to continue on, in spite of how nonsensical it was. 

“... I exist because I will it.” Nerevar knew he wasn’t the dreamer, but he existed in spite of it. He refused to vanish and become nothing more than a disjointed collective of memories free floating around him. 

“Well done.” Lorkhan’s voice echoed, and Nerevar found himself once more in the black, inky void, outside of the dreamsleeve. “I was a bit afraid you might not be able to handle it,” He chuckled softly, “But I can see it was silly of me to worry. You already remade the world, you’d be ready to handle the revelation of the tower.” 

“Was that… You?” Nerevar questioned, wondering if Lorkhan took on the appearance of Dagoth Ur just to help him along. 

“No. What was in fact a remnant of Dagoth Ur, based on your memories.”

“My memories?” Nerevar raised a brow, as the crumbling tower and soft grass slowly came back into focus around him, real and present once more. It was more comfortable than just free floating anyways. 

“Things can’t exist if nothing remembers them.” Lorkhan explained. “But you remembered him, so he continued hiding and lurking…”

“Would he…” Nerevar began, apprehensively. “Would Voryn have become him again…?”

“No.” Lorkhan’s voice was firm and confident, making Nerevar relieved. “Your beloved has already rejected that path.”

“Then how could he exist?”

“He existed outside of Voryn. A part of him and also not. Perhaps in a way also part of you?” It was a confusing explanation, but Nerevar supposed that was in line with everything else so far. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t exist anymore--not as he did just now.” Lorkhan hummed softly again. “Now he’s merely a memory, returned to water once more.” 

“I… Don’t understand.” Once again, Lorkhan reached over to pinch Nerevar’s cheek.

“Yes you do, don’t lie to me about that.” 

“I mean I get that he’s no longer a problem since I just saw him vanish but I don’t… Know how I did that.” 

“He was mostly tied to you. It would have been very easy for anyone in those circumstances to cut him off.” Lorkhan clicked his tongue. “Then again, I suppose not everyone can be connected to the dreamsleeve and confront not existing as well as you did.”

“So I don’t exist?” It was a question, but not asking for an answer more so a confirmation that he was understanding it correctly. 

“You don’t. And yet, you do.” Lorkhan confirmed, before elaborating. “All of us exist in that state. But I made Nirn in the first place because I realized it was impossible to move beyond that revelation and actually do something about it without real growth--growth that can only come from trial.”

“... What?” Now he was losing Nerevar. Go beyond the revelation of not existing? How would you even move past something like that? 

“Dagoth Ur had a few things correct I’ll admit.” Lorkhan continued, almost rambling now given how little it made sense to Nerevar. “The trial of flesh is needed to overcome the dream…”

“Again, I don’t really understand.” Nerevar interjected, before Lorkhan sighed.

“Ah… Right. I’m getting ahead of myself.” He then reached over, pulling Nerevar into a hug once more. “We don’t have all day, unfortunately. Linear time still exists.” He gave Nerevar’s back a firm pat. “I would explain if I could but… Well, we’d be here for some time. I think your beloved is calling you.” A ringing was in Nerevar’s ears now, the rest of the dream getting fuzzier and fuzzier. 

“Voryn…?” Nerevar asked, before his eyes cracked open. 

He wasn’t in the grass, but laying on Voryn’s cot, blinking up in a confused daze. It was night, that he could tell from how dark it was in the tent. Beside him, he heard a gasp, as Voryn looked to him frantically. 

“Oh thank gods,” Voryn looked close to tears. “Nerevar, do you have any idea how worried I was?” He cupped Nerevar’s cheek, his hand warm and familiar. It felt like Nerevar had been away for ages and also hardly any time at all. “I thought I almost lost you again…”

“I’m alright,” Nerevar sat up slowly, but his arms felt weak. “How long was I out for…?”

“More than a day.” Voryn explained, before helping support Nerevar’s upper body, settling Nerevar to lean against him. “Nothing we did could wake you up. We wanted to raze that damn orc camp to the ground,” He could hear the anger in Voryn’s voice. “But Malacath said his people would assist us and that you would wake up in time.” 

Nerevar could tell Voryn hadn’t believed the prince--not after what seemed like an attack on Nerevar. 

“I’m fine now.” Nerevar insisted, stroking Voryn’s face. “I’m--”

“Is he awake?” Vivec asked from outside the tent, and Voryn stiffened under Nerevar’s weight.

“He just woke up--” Voryn began, “Give him a few minutes to regain his senses before you shake him down for answers.”

Vivec entered the tent now, his brow furrowed. “You swore I could ask my questions when he awoke.” 

“At least give him until the morning.” Voryn pleaded. Vivec looked between the two of them, and it seemed that Nerevar looked haggard enough for Vivec to relent, though he was unhappy about doing so. 

“Fine,” Vivec scowled, leaving the tent once more. “In the morning I want answers.”

[orangevtae]

Walking Sins, Lost Tragedys [J. Miller x Fem!Reader x Platonic!Ellie Williams]

Summary: As the winter came loose and the snow covered the ground, you finally got to Wyoming with Joel and Ellie in the search of your Brother-in-law, Tommy. But in your short stady in Jackson, Joel's start to think that maybe it's better if Tommy takes Ellie to the Fireflies than him.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst. Spoiler from the Episode 6. Talking about loss and letting people behind, past traumas, Sarah and a bit of the reader past. Joel and reader are married so stabilished relationship. afab!reader and use of she/her pronouns.

A/N: I-i can't stop writing for The Last of Us and i fully blame it on Pedro Pascal and the love i have for that game and now show, that's it, enjoy! <3 It's not proofread so that may be mistakes!

"Did you know? About her?" Ellie asked you, sudenly entering the house, door slaming behind her.

"What?" you asked puzzled, closing the book you were reading and letting it on the small table in front of the couch.

"Sarah" Ellie said, a sharp tone on her tongue.

You closed your eyes, a small sigh leaving your lips. You had been in Jackson for a while now, some few hours maybe, the sun light still up while it was starting to get dark with the last hours of day, Maria (Tommy's wife) had lent you, Joel and Ellie a house and you had just taken a shower with hot water and decided to read a book while Joel was somewhere with Tommy and Ellie had went to Maria's to get a new coat.

"How do you know about her?" you asked, a frown present on your forehead

"Just answer the question!"

"I did" you nodded towards her after a while

"Why you never told me?" Ellie asked, a little bit angry now

"Because that is something that it's not my right to tell, Ellie." you answered her sharply

"But you his wife, right? You guys share things, why isn't your right to tell?" she asked again, a little bit on the edge

"Yeah, but there's things that only belong to Joel. I never met Sarah, we got together years after she...she died, the only thing i know about her is her death cause Joel refuses to talk about her. So don't you go and throw a tatrum about this like you have all the right to, young lady." you reprimended her, not yelling, you never yelled at Ellie, you sighed "Look-"

A knock was heard on your front door and the person outside was Maria, asking if she could come in, which you only responded with a soft "yes" and she got inside.

It was like she could feel the tension in the air between you both, she decided that it was better not to intervene in something she hasn't had the right to "You ready?" she asked Ellie.

"Yes" Ellie said, nodding

"You wanna come along?" Maria asked you

"Where you guys heading to?" you smiled at her

"To watch a movie" Maria answered you

"Sure, let me just grab my coat"

Hours after, you were on the improvised theater of Jackson, they put on a movie you didn't reconize but thought that maybe your parents would if they were alive, you thought about how they would love Jackson and would love to have a stabilished live in here with a little bit of normalcy that you surrounded you in that small city that Maria and Tommy built together and hoped, at least hoped, that if things with Ellie got right and she has done what it is that she has to do, you could live with her and Joel here, in that small house that you could call yours.

"You okay?" Maria asked beside you

"Yeah" you said, smiling up to her and cleaning a few tears that you didn't know that had fallen "Sorry"

"Nothing to apologise here, care to share? I'm a good listener" she smiled at you, a hand on your shoulder

"It's just..." you sighed "I was thinking that my parents would love this, the theater, the houses, Jackson in a whole. My dad always said that he would try to find an empty house far from the cities, so that we could live on it without the fear of the infecteds or the people" you sighed "They would love here and..." you did a little pause, suddenly thinking that your little daydream was stupid "...i don't know, i was thinking that we could live here, the three of us. Give Ellie a normal life that she deserves, cause she deserves to grown up as a kid and do things people her age do and the life i never had when i was on her age."

"You grown up during everything?" Maria asked

"Yes. My parents they...they died when i was fifteen, protecting me and my brother then after, i lose my brother too, he got infected and i...i had to shoot him" you sighed, it was the first time anyone besides Ellie and Joel heard about your family.

"How old was he?" Maria asked, concern all over her face

"Six. My parents died protecting us from an attack and told me to look after him, but he got bitten during it, i lost my whole family in a spare of twelve hours." you chuckled dryly, not am ounce of humour on it "Sorry Maria, i shouldn't trouble you with my past." you shook your head.

"Bullshit, we family now. I'm deeply sorry for what happened to you and your family and, if you guys want to, you can stay here on Jackson, i know that Tommy would accept it right away and i would too. You could have a tiddy bit of normalcy here, Jackson has a place for everyone and we would love to have the three of you around." she smiled to you

"Thank you" you said softly, a small smile prrsent on your lips.

As your small talk with Maria came to an end, you decided to have a look around to make sure Ellie was okay but a small panic settled on the pit of your stomach as you didn't see her and the spot she was seated was empty and you sighed as you passed your eyes trough the place and on the people but couldn't find her anywhere "Shit" you mumble

"What is it?" Maria asked, trying to look for whatever you were searching

"Ellie" you looked around again "She's gone" you sigh again "I sware that that girl sometimes get on my nerves. Excuse me Maria, i'll go out and try to find her, with lucky, she's at home already, see you tomorrow."

You just heard her mumble a soft "okay" and headed out, putting your coat on. You stumbled on Tommy on your way out asking him if he saw Ellie on his way over but only received a no so you decided to go and look on the house you were staying before saying goodnight for him.

As you neared the house and you felt your lungs fail you a little for the little run you did, you let out a relieved sigh as seeing that the light from Ellie's room was lit so you decided to get inside. As you cleaned your boots outside the door and got inside after getting rid of said boots and your coat, you heard yelling upstairs before you could call out for Ellie and a loud sigh got out of your mouth as you started to climb the stairs as you heard Ellie's and Joel's voices going back and forward on her room.

Deciding to not interrupt whatever tatrum they were having and knowing damn well that Ellie brought up the Sarah topic, you almost wanted to punch Joel on the face when you heard him saying that she was better off with Tommy than him and finished with "You right. You're not my daughter and i ain't as hell your father".

You sighed deeply again, you were sighing too much since you arrived and as you got rid of your socks, crossed your arms as you heard Ellie's door slamming and the door to your and Joel's one opened, you heard Joel stop on his track as your eyes met him and he could see the deep frown on your face and the harsh look you gave him.

"How long you here?" he asked softly

"A while now." you asnwered him

"How much you heard?"

"I heard enough Joel" you answered with a low voice and you could almost hear him hiss on his breath, you never called him by his name, never, he knew that he fucked big when you called him by his name "I heard from 'You better without me' to 'You're not my daughter and i ain't your father'" you looked sharply at him "The hell is all of this about Joel Miller? Hm? What? You think that it's okay to get rid of a fourteen year old girl that has been travelling with us for months like she is damn nothing?"

"No, it's not about that" he trailed softly, still stopped in front of you, hands being cleaned on the jeans he wear

"So enlighten me" you kept pushing "What on earth you think you doing to say those things to her?"

"You wouldn't understand" he tried again and you just let out a scoff

"That's how it is things with you, right? It's always that" you got up

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" he frowned deeply

"You always push people out Joel, you go and always try to keep them out because you think that that's whats better for them even if they said that that's not it" you let out on one breath "I wouldn't understand, i know, i have never had a daughter and lost her, i know that"

"Darlin'..."

"Don't you darlin' me, Joel. I know that i'm being harsh here but...you never talk about her, the only thing i know about her it's about the way..." you started, but suddenly the words got stuck on your throath and your eyes started to burn with tears "...about the way she died."

It was like the entire world has stopped, Joel knew you were right, he never talked about Sarah, he never let her name be mentioned by anyone, not even him, it was like the mere thought, the mere mention of her name was a taboo on people's tongue or thoughts. He never mentioned anything about her and you never pushed, because you knew it was a topic that hurt because he never healed from her loss, it was like the mere mention of her brought back memories he was so trying to not remember.

"I could never understand the way you feel cause i was never a parent, but i know the loss, i know the pain and i know that it fucking hurts to try remember those that are not with us anymore...and Ellie does too, Joel. You said that she doesn't understand because...what? she's fourteen? she's too young?" you paused, looking deeply in his eyes "She has gone trough a lot too Joel, she has lost people that were dear to her, she said that she was left behind for those she thought she could trust and now you go and are trying to the same they did with the futile point that 'that's whats better'? It's better for who? For her...or for you?" you paused again, still looking deeply in his eyes that you could see now that were full with unshed tears.

That was rare, Joel always tried to be someone stoic, out of emotions and with a fake facade that he wasn't someone he cared when in reality, he tried so deeply to not care cause that was easier

"I'm sorry Honey, i'm sorry. But there's things you need to hear because, that girl..." you pointed towards your door, where Ellie's was just across the corridor "That girl right there, she's of no faught of the things that the world made her to be. She's just a kid, a kid that has grown up in this kind of world where the only thing she knows is what to do to keep on surviving and alive, where the only people she has to look up is the both of us. You right, she's not your daughter, she's not Sarah and she'll never be" you stopped a while to make sure that he was letting everything you were saying to him would sunk "...but you can't go over and tell her that she's off better without you, that you ain't her father when the reality is that you a paternal figure to her for months now and you and i know that. So yeah, you can go and try to get rid of her because that would mean that you can stop being afraid to loose her like you losed Sarah."

You were crying now, because you knew that that was what all of this was about, even if you were having a monologue with him where you would just speak and he would listen, you and him both knew that you were saying the truth and that he had nothing to say because he knew that you were right and there was nothing he could say to try and change your mind because you knew him very well, you knew him for years now, he plenty sure that if he so sort of breathed strange, you would know something's up.

The truth is you never thought about kids, it wasn't a thing you wanted cause in a world like this, to bring and raise a kid was setencing them to probably death or corrupting them with what was the world right now, you never wanted that kind of responsability but when you met Ellie, it was a matter of time till you started to care for her in every way you could.

You let her sleep with you if she was sacred with something, she would hold tight on you if there was trouble and she was out of bullets cause she felt safe with you, she let you brush her hair if Joel wasn't around because she liked the feeling of someone brushing her hair cause she felt cared for and she would never admit any of it, cause Ellie wasn't the type to let ger feelings out like this, that's why her and Joel had that sort of agreement and care. So yeah, they weren't father and daughter but they acted like they were, he would hold her hand if there was any kind of trouble, he thought her how to shoot with different kinds of guns so she would know what to do if you or him weren't there, he would look over her when night came to make sure she was safe and he would joke around with her.

"She's not your daughter." he said after a while "She's not ours for us to care that much about her"

"I know that Joel, she's not your daughter just like she ain't mine but if i could change that, if it was given me the chance to be her mother i would, because we have been travelling for months with her and you know what she always did since she saw she could trust me? She came to sleep on my arms cause she always knew that she would be safe and i would take care of her, she's not my daughter but i damn well wish i could be, cause that girl need stability and someone that can take care of her cause even she won't admit, she's scared because that what's this world do. She's a fourteen year old girl that it's scared and i would give my life if that meant that that she would feel and keep safe." you sighed deeply "I wish that you could talk to me about Sarah, you know? I know that it hurts to even think about her but not talking and not mentioning her won't make the pain go away, i learned that in the worst way, she deserves to be remembered Joel, cause i know you were a good father for her and i know damn well that if she could say something to you is that she doesn't blame you for what happened, cause her death wasn't your fault" Joel started crying at this point, letting his unshed tears to finally fall as you neared him and gripped his arms, your own tears falling "It wasn't your fault Honey. You didn't killed her, that soldier did. You haven't failed her, that world did. You shouldn't carry the blame and weight of failure in your shoulders cause it wasn't you fault, you're not responsible for her death and i know that if she could, she would say that to you."

Joel let himself sink into your arms, holding you tightly to him as he body shook with the tears that streamed down in his face. He carried the feeling of failure and that he was the cause that Sarah was dead all of those years and those same feelings resembled again when he met Ellie cause he was afraid that he would fail her too and that that would cause her death and he thought that the best way he could keep her alive was to let her go.

That night, Joel let himself cry to sleep on your arms amd the last thought that runned on his mind before sleeping is that he wouldn't let anything happen to Ellie, he was too attached to let that happen now and he knew that if he let anything happen to her, that would imply that you were gonna suffer too, and he wouldn't let that happen.

[lokiprompts]

The Shifter - Chp 10 (Final)

Summary: You unintentionally shift/dream walk in your sleep. You finally realize that your time with Loki is not a dream....will you decide to stay with him?

Warnings: Mention of SA, Smut 18+ only. Oral sex (f receiving), P&V.

Words: ~4,500

Previous chapters on my masterlist here.

The final chapter!! This was such a wild ride, and hope you all loved it <3 Your savior will be ending tomorrow!!!

“What do you mean, ‘you remember everything?’ Loki’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, still holding you firmly in his arms.

            Happy tears were now brimming in your eyes, threatening to spill over and confess the unbridled joy overwhelming your heart. But it was Loki. Your Loki. That thought made the first tear fall and your prince was quick to wipe it away.

            “Shhh, shhh, you’re safe now,” He cooed, clearly thinking you were talking about Stephen’s assault.

            You shook your head, “No, I remember you.” Letting out a shuddered breath, you continued, “I remember us.”

            The shocked expression on Loki’s face was enough to twist your lips into a goofy, love drunk smile. You watched as his eyes darted all over your face, looking for a lie. When he did not find one, the smile that split his face took your breath away. Loki cupped your face with his hands, his thumbs gently stroking the happy tears that continued to fall wordlessly down your cheek.

            “Truly? You remember…everything?” His eyes searched yours, uncertainty swirling in his crystal blue irises that asked the question: Do you remember choosing me?

            You lifted your hands up and placed them on top of his that still rested on your wet cheeks, “I remember it all. Me coming here. Me forgetting you. Even throwing the drinking glass at you,” You both laughed at that, the memory of that traumatic day coming to the forefront of your mind.

            “I remember deciding to stay…with you.” You heard Loki let out a sigh of relief and you didn’t miss how his eyes flickered down to your lips. It was all the invitation you needed before you surged forward and crashed your lips to his. The surprised squeak that bubbled up from him, made you smile against the kiss. It took no time at all for Loki’s initial shock to wear off, now taking control as the kiss became more heated and passionate. His strong arms pulled you impossibly closer, scooping you into his lap as his tongue swept against yours.

            The heat, the longing, the joy of finally having him after everything drove your body to act on its own accord. Your hips ground against his and the sinful moan that erupted from your throat seemed to shake Loki out of the moment. He pulled away from you, making you whine.

            “We shouldn’t,” He breathlessly said, lips swollen from your kisses, “I can’t…with what just happened…it wouldn’t be…” He stammered, struggling to find the words, but his eyeline went straight to the dumpster. The dumpster that held Stephen’s lifeless body. The thought that he cared about the fragile state of your heart, how your trauma may be affecting your mind. The lingering touches of your ex’s hands felt like ghosts on your skin; buzzing and unwanted. You just wanted it to go away. To forget.

            “As sweet as it is that you care about what just happened, I just want to move on from the past. Those first two weeks were a whirlwind, a dream I clearly never wanted to wake from,” You chuckled a bit, remembering how you thought he was a dream for the longest time, “And I am sorry that you had to endure these last few months on your own, but you are my soulmate. I am yours, and you are mine, and I don’t want to waste another second of my life now that you are a part of it. I…I just want you, Loki.”

            Without another word, Loki stood up, pulling you up with him. In a flash, he was out of his Asgardian leathers and back in civilian clothes; a sight that always went straight to your core. He took your hand in his and led you back to the Tower. Past the dumpster, through the Tower doors, and up to the elevator to the floor where his apartment was. The quiet was not uncomfortable and unwelcomed. Instead, a new tension lingered there. Shy glances, bitten lips, and the occasional quiet giggle. It made your heart swell with hope and relief for a better future. A future that felt so secure, so safe, with endless possibilities. As long as Loki was holding your hand, anything was possible.

            Before you knew it, you were inside his little apartment within the Tower; a far cry from the palace he once lived in. You had been here several times before as his friend without memory of your romantic relationship, what your relationship truly was: a soulmate bond. Everything was the same; the dark green paint, the rows and rows of old books, and the hallway that led down to his bedroom. His hand lightly squeezed yours, pulling your attention from the hallway. He brought your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of it with a small smile.  You smiled softly back at him, and he led you down the hallway.

            You had never seen his bedroom before, but it was just as much him as was the rest of the apartment. A large bed, fit for a king, that was covered in soft, silky emerald sheets loomed in front of you. A bed that held a lot of meaning, of promises, but still the fear that what you had, what you just recently found again was going to slip through your fingers again like grains of sand.

            The soft click of the bedroom door broke you from your thoughts and you turned to face the man, the God, that you loved. Love? Was that what this was? The soulmate bond came so easy to you, so easy to accept, but the idea that you loved Loki shook you to your core. The terrified look that was now plastered on your face brought him quickly to you, placing his hands on your shoulders, grounding you.

            “Dove, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We have each other now and the rest of your lives ahead of us. There is no rush.” He stroked your shoulders and you sighed.

            “Some lives are longer than others,” You said sadly, and the acknowledgement of your mortality brought his hands to a dead stop, “Our connection, our bond is so incredible, Loki, but I am still an average mortal girl. You are a God, and Avenger….Loki, I love you with all that I have, but I don’t deserve you.”

            Loki’s face became stern, his voice low and deep, “Don’t you ever say anything like that again.” He stared into your eyes, a burning intensity that left no room for argument, but still you shied away and turned from him. With the gentle hook of his finger of his chin, he turned you back to him. His eyes were softer now, but still conveyed the seriousness of his words.

“Dove, it is I that does not deserve you. You helped me see myself as more than a monster, more than a stolen relic that was destined to be tossed away.” He let out a shuttered breath, “Destined to die.”

He now held your head between both of his hands, as he left lingering kisses across your forehead, each of your cheeks, your nose, and finally your lips.

“I love you, Dove, more than words can ever say. Every moment with you is one that I cherish with my whole heart. So, you see,” He murmured against your lips, “You are far from average. You are a Goddess worth kneeling for.”

And with that, Loki sunk to his knees in front of you. He grasped both your hands in his, tenderly kissing your knuckles as he gazed back up at you with glassy eyes. Immediately, you slung your arms around him, joining him on the floor and kissing him with all the pent of love, and passion that had built up over the past few months. He held you tightly against him, like you would vanish if he let you go. You moved on from his lips to latch yours on the soft skin of his neck, making him groan. The sound went straight to your core, and your hands became tangled in his long, inky locks.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” You whispered against the flesh of his neck like a prayer. The combination of your words and his skin tasted sweet in your mouth. You were hopelessly addicted to Loki, and you needed more. Pulling away, your eyes took him in. His normally pale skin was flushed. His lips were plump, and swollen from your onslaught; parted from soft, breathless pants. His was hair messy and still tangled around your fingers. But his eyes remained locked on you, filled with adoration and love. He was just as addicted as you.

He was beautiful.

“Make love to me, Loki.” You said breathlessly.

His eyes went wide, and it made a small giggle bubble up from your chest. The shock was cute, endearing even, because it was obvious that was the intent as soon as you walked back to the Tower.

“Are you sure? We can…,” He swallowed thickly, as if to swallow his growing desire for you, “We can wait.”

You ground your hips against his from your position on his lap, making him groan again. The sound was so sweet in your ears, you continued to grind against his already hard length; the delicious friction against your clit already building the pleasure within you.

“I am sure, Loki.” You leaned forward, placing a long, wet kiss against his cheek, “My prince,” before moving on to bit at the sensitive skin under his ear, “My King.”

It was all the convincing Loki needed, before he scooped you up in his arms as if you weighed nothing. You couldn’t help but giggle, and Loki grinned at you, proud to have you in his arms.

“As my Queen wishes,” He carried you to the bed before gently placing you on the soft fabric of the sheets. He crawled on the bed after you, hovering over you as his eyes greedily took in your body now on his bed.

“I have dreamed of this for months. Norns, I love you so much.” He confessed, before capturing you in another heated kiss, pouring out all his passion and longing for you with each movement of his lips. He pulled away to look back at you again and you felt your skin flush from both your arousal and his scrutinizing gaze. You imagined you looked as fucked out as him.

“So, beautiful.” He crawled down your body, grabbing the hem of your shirt before pulling it over your head exposing your bra. His large hands wandered over the lace of the cups, making your back arch into his touch. The God of Mischief grinned at your eagerness, before helping you out of your bra as well. As soon as your skin was exposed, he was upon you – licking, biting, and sucking at the sensitive skin of your breasts.

Your hands flew to his hair again, as his tongue swirled around one of your nipples while his fingers tweaked and teased the other. Gasps and moans were erupting from your body like a symphony and Loki knew how to play you perfectly until you were a writhing mess underneath him.

His mouth switch sides, giving your other nipple just as much attention with his tongue as his hand started its descent down your belly, towards the hem of your pants. Your hips involuntary bucked towards his hand and he rewarded you with sharp, yet teasing bite against the side of your breast.

“Patience, Dove. I want to savor this.” Despite his words, he made quick work of ridding you of your pants, leaving you in just your panties. The sight of the damp spot on your panties, the evidence of the arousal caused by him, making him feral.  Loki felt you tap his shoulders and his eyes snapped up to yours, concern apparent.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You smiled, reassuring him, “I think things are a bit uneven here, My King.” You motioned to the fact that Loki was still fully clothed while you were just left in your soaked panties. He huffed out a breathless laugh.

“Oh. Right.” Loki went to unbutton his shirt, but you were quick to stop him. You sat up, catching Loki’s lingering gaze on your naked chest. Grinning, you started to slowly unbutton his shirt.

“I want to savor this,” You said, echoing his words back to him. He gave you a pointed look that you knew held no bite and allowed you to undress him. As you unbuttoned his shirt, you placed kisses down the center of his chest, before caressing the hard muscles of his pectorals and sliding the fabric off his shoulders to fall against the bed.

Now, it was your turn to stare as you took him in. Your fingertips lightly trailed against the skin of his collar bones, his biceps, and down his stomach – making him shiver and twitch. Your exploration took your further, now unbuttoning his dress slacks and pushing them back his hips to expose the soft fabric of his boxers and his straining, hard cock that waited for you underneath.

“Like what you see- hrmph.” His cheeky comment died on his lips as you gripped his length over the fabric, making him hiss and moan with each stroke. His head fell on your shoulder, biting the flesh there as you slipped your hand past the waistband and finally taking ahold of him properly. Your eyes went wide as you felt him fully against the palm of your hand. You had expected him to be big; he is a God after all, but it momentarily made you worry how this was going to work. But his sweet moans of pleasure tickling your ears spurred you on.

You continued to stroke him, your thumb swirling around the head of his leaking cock until he was thrusting into your palm, chasing his pleasure. The sight had your pussy clenching, desperate for him, but watching him shamelessly fuck your hand like some wanton whore made the wait worth it. Until he suddenly stopped.

Loki gripped your wrist, pulling you away from him and hissing at his own denial, “Norns, are you a Goddess or a witch? If we continue like this, I am afraid our night will be over too soon and as I said…I intend to savor every moment.”

He pushed you down back against the plush mattress, before making quick work of removing the rest of his pants and boxers. You bit your lip at the sight of his now freed cock bouncing against his hard stomach. The God flashed you a toothy grin at your oogling, winking at you before starting his onslaught of licks and teasing bites against your inner thighs. He settled in on the bed, pulling down the sides of your panties and down your legs, exposing your wet and waiting core to him.

He licked his lips, shamelessly staring at your hot pussy like it was his favorite meal, “Is all this for me?” You went to answer him, hopefully with a witty quip of your own, but any chance of that ended when his mouth consumed you like a man starved. With each expert lick and suck, you knew how he truly earned the title ‘silvertongue’. Each gasp and moan spurred him on more, throwing out his promise of ‘savoring the moment’ and instead quickly building you up to orgasm. Teasing licks of the tip of his tongue against your clit had you arching your back off the mattress, begging for more.

His lips latched onto your clit, gingerly sucking as his fingers circled your entrance. First he entered you with one finger, making you squirm, before quickly adding another and stretching your walls against his long digits. His fingers curled against that special spot, making your eyes roll back as you felt your orgasm on the precipice, ready to overwhelm you with tingly pleasure.

“I’m gonna…I’m gonna cum, Loki.” You gasped, your hands scrambling for purchase in his hair. Loki moaned against your clit after a harsh tug against his scalp, sending vibrations up your center that almost sent you over the edge.

“Cum for me, Dove. Cum on my face and let me taste you,” The combination of his sinful words, his deep voice, and swipe of his tongue against your clit made the tension snap within you, sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body. Your toes curled against the muscles of his back as he held you in place, helping you ride out your high with gentle licks.

You were still seeing stars when you saw Loki’s smiling face above you, his mouth still glistening with your juices. His gaze caught yours and his stuck out his tongue, swiping it against his lips to drink in the remnants of your sweet nectar. Immediately, you reached out for him and dragged him down to you, capturing him in a kiss. You tasted yourself on him as your tongues dueled for dominance and it brought a fresh wave of wetness to your core.

“I want you, Loki. Please.” You begged, pushing your hips against his weeping cock that laid proudly against your supple thighs.

“I love hearing you beg, Dove.” He growled, “And I am going to love hearing you scream my name even more when you cum around my cock.”

Loki gripped his length, guiding it to your entrance before slowly pushing in and swallowing your moans with another heated kiss. The stretch from his cock was delicious, but the sting still made you hiss in both pleasure and pain, making Loki pause.

“Are you okay?” He asked, tenderly stroking your face with his thumb. You loved that despite Loki’s feral promise to make you scream his name, his sweet nature always made sure you and your comfort was always his priority. It warmed your heart, and you placed a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose, making him smile.

“I just needed a minute.” You swiveled your hips, making you both groan, “You can keep going.” He pushed in further, finally bottoming out. You were panting underneath him, the feeling of fullness, of his every ridge rubbing against your walls already threatening to overwhelm you.

“Please, Loki,” You breathed out, “I need you to move.”

He leaned down, placing a tender kiss on your forehead before pulling his hips back to withdraw his cock almost completely from you to only push it back in. Each movement was slow, gentle, yet calculated as he hit your g-spot, again and again, making you quiver beneath him. His arms enveloped you, holding you close. Your legs wrapped around him, your ankles settling above the curve of his ass and your arms held onto his back. The scrape of your nails against his skin made him groan as he slowly fucked you into the mattress. As he made love to you.

“I love you so much,” He moaned into your ear, placing kisses against your neck. You were completely lost to him, now meeting each of his thrusts with one of your own until your hips were crashing against each other, drunk on the pleasure the other was providing. Tears started to prick at the corner of your eyes as you remembered the long path that brought you here, to finally being together with Loki.

“The light of my life. My purpose. My Goddess.” Loki panted, picking up his pace and you felt that familiar coil begin to tighten.

“Ohh, Loki, you feel so good.” Your hands moved from his back and into his hair, pulling his face to yours, “Kiss me.” His lips latched onto yours as soon as the command left your mouth. Swallowing all your moans, he snaked his hand between your bodies and began to rub your clit.

You cried out into his mouth, feeling your orgasm quickly approaching with each expert caress of his fingers against your clit.

“Loki…” You whined, lost in the sensation of the God that loved you.

“Yes, Dove, say my name.” He growled through gritted teeth. His movements becoming sloppy as he neared his own release.

“Loki!” You cried out as your orgasm hit you like a freight train, drenching his cock and clenching around him. Your face twisted up in pleasure and Loki reveled in the sight of you coming undone beneath him, sending him into his own climax. Loki bit onto your shoulder as he spilled inside of you, painting your walls white with his cum.

Loki’s hot breath fanned your cheek as you both panted, coming down from your highs. Gently, he withdrew from you, making you whine, but your displeasure only lasted for a moment. In one quick motion, he grabbed onto you and flipped you, making you squeal with giggly delight, so he was on his back, and you rested on his chest. He wrapped you in his arms, holding you tight and placing a fierce kiss on the top of your head. There was no other place you wanted to be, but the stickiness between your legs had other plans.

“I think I need to get up…get myself cleaned up.” You groaned, not wanting to move from your new comfortable spot.

He squeezed you tighter, and you hummed with contentment, “Don’t you dare move, My Lady. Allow me.” With the wave of his hand and a shimmer of green, you suddenly felt clean, refreshed, as if you had just emerged from a relaxing bath. You burrowed in closer to him, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck.

“Now, that is a handy skill.” You paused for a minute, considering if you wanted to open this can of worms. You decided to test your luck, “See, you are so incredible, and I am just…. average.”

You felt him let out a heavy sigh against the top of your head. The silence lingered between you two for what felt like ages, before he finally spoke, “Dove, you have bewitched me in everyway possible. It does not matter that you are mortal –“

“But it does!” You yelled, snapping your head up to look at him directly in the eye, “It does, Loki! I have what, fifty, maybe sixty years left and then what, Loki?  You’ll be all alone, and I don’t know what to do with that.” Tears started to gather in the corner of your eyes, stinging with the pain of the unknown. You were so familiar with Loki, his essence and very being as a character that you loved. He had been through so much pain, so much suffering, and dealing with that pain alone. The thought of him handling your death by himself crushed you.

“Shh, Dove, it’s fine. Let’s not talk about such things right now. Let us enjoy our time together.” His voice was unmistakably solemn, and you felt a pang of guilt for putting such sad thoughts in your mind after finally reuniting and finding happiness, “Can I fetch you anything? Something to eat?”

Loki then suddenly stilled, shifting upright, and taking you with him, “Unless…” He started but didn’t finish. You looked at him, confused and you could see the cogs turning in his brilliant mind. The answer was there, whatever it was, you just had to wait.

“Have you heard of the Golden Apples of Idunn?” Loki quickly said, practically vibrating with energy.

“Yes, of course. They give immortality….” Your eyes grew wide at his implication, “Do you have one, Loki?!”

“No, they’re all gone.” He said excitedly, and you instantly deflated. You didn’t understand why he was so enthusiastic about the solution for your mortality being gone.

“Oh.”

“Unless…” You perked back up, of course there would be more, “Unless, having an apple is something that you truly desire…”

“What are you talking about, Loki?”

He turned to you, so he was facing you properly. His hands moved wildly as he spoke with fervor, his mind running a hundred miles a minute, “You are far from average, Dove.” You rolled your eyes, but he pointed his finger, silencing any sarcasm or self-deprecating comments.

“You brought back my mother…You forget this.” He placed his hands on your shoulders, rubbing your soft skin, “You brought her back from the dead because it was what I truly desired. You made the impossible, possible…and I would argue that bringing back an extinct apple is easier than bringing back a person from Valhalla.”

“I don’t even understand how I even developed that gift…and if I even have it still, now that I am here in your world.” You paused, thinking carefully about his phrasing, “Besides, it is more about what you desire, than what I desire.”

Loki’s hands moved down your shoulders to clasp your hands in his, “These past few months, my mother and I have been doing research. Soulmate bonds are extremely rare, but a bond that travels across the multiverse is the rarest of them all. It is unheard of completely…. except for one other instance.”

You were almost afraid to ask, but your curiosity won out, “What happened to them?”

Loki frowned, squeezing your hand, “Unfortunately, one of the lovers did not survive. They dream walked, much like you did, but were not able to complete the transition of the mind into one universe.” He saw the look of sadness flit across your face, all the memories of how you almost lost each other flooding back.

“But there is one thing that I did learn from their story that I found encouraging.”

“Which is…?”

“That not only did they possess the same gift to manifest their lover’s greatest desires out of nothingness like you, but they both had the gift.”

Your eyes went wide. You never considered the fact that Loki could manifest like how you did, but who knows if you even could anymore? Before you could let your mind spiral, Loki was looking directly at you.

“So, tell me, Dove. Do you desire an eternity with me?”

There was no hesitation. Not a second of doubt. Your mouth screamed out the answer your heart and soul knew to its very core.

“More than anything.”

Loki held out his hand, palm up and closed his eyes. You watched his eyes twitch beneath his closed eyelids, his brows furrowed in intense concentration. You didn’t dare take a breath even though your lungs burned, too terrified that one single exhale would ruin any chances of this working.

His palm began to glow and sure enough, a golden apple appeared within his grasp. If it wasn’t for the fact that he could feel the magical fruit under his very fingertips, there was no way Loki would have believed this, his eyes were so wide and disbelieving. The God was a legendary magic wielder, but this was something new, a whole other level that was unknown to him. He looked from the apple that still rested in his palm towards you with watery eyes. The proof of your love, your desire to spend an eternity with him manifested into reality.

“So,” He chuckled through happy tears, offering the apple to you, “Care for a bite, Dove?”

It was the sweetest thing you ever tasted.

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Unicorns 🦄:

@theawkwardavenger @nonsensicalobsessions @purplekitten30 @lostgreekgod @roguemetalmaster13 @huntress-artemiss @midnights-ramblings @xorpsbane @ravenmailey @vbecker10 @lazulifoster @winterfrostsarmy @ada17h @lokisprettygirl22 @theaudacitytowrite @lokis-little-love @themorningsunshine @strawberry-canyon @howdidurhammergrowchris @michelleleewise @80strashbag @roseeatta @asgardianprincess1050 @jaspearl31 @ozymdias @vickie5446 @itsybitchylittlewitchy @kittiowolf210 @nightshadelm @maeisonline @hikirstenhere @trickster-maiden @jazkidding

[the-cult-of-russo]

Such a Softer Sin (Part 9)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: I’m not specifically tagging this one, if you’ve seen the show, nothing will shock you. Smut will happen eventually so minors DNI, thanks.

A/N: I’ve really been enjoying all of your comments and it's been fun seeing all of the theories people have been coming up with looool

Thank you all for your super kind words about this story so far! I really appreciate the support.

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You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the moon as you all waited for Billy to speak to the Goddess. You’d never seen anything like it, the moon wasn't supposed to wane before it even got full and the implications scared the crap out of you. You were gnawing your lower lip raw as you stared at it, Kos and Frank quietly talking among themselves. You heard the sound of the castle gates opening and your head whipped over. When they opened, you were surprised to see Atticus strolling inside the grounds. Alone. You felt a conflicting mix of relief, happiness and anger and you started storming right over.

“Well look who decided to grace us with his presence. Your mate not with you?” you asked snidely as you got close enough. He blinked at you for a moment, a little frown etching his brows and he seemed to tense up as he shook his head.

“She’s stayed behind for now, she’s dealing with some things,” he said simply.

“Like what?” you asked, raising a brow and he shifted on his feet, unable to look at you.

“It’s personal, it’s not my place to say,” he frowned and you scoffed a mirthless laugh.

“Right, of course not,” you muttered and his frown deepened.

“You know all about trauma, Y/N. You know what that shit’s like,” he murmured and the look on his face made your mouth clamp shut. You felt a little bad then. You didn’t know this girl at all, no idea what the hell she'd been through. Maybe she’d been through similar horrors to you and Atti, maybe that’s why she behaved the way she did. You felt a little bad at how you’d been behaving. Maybe if you had the chance to bond with her, this wouldn't happen. You hoped to be able to connect with her at some point to suss her out, to really get to know her. 

“I’ll be going back in a few days, I don’t really want to be away from her,” he said quietly, a sheepish look on his face. Your jaw ticked as you looked away at the news but you bit back your snarky response.

“I know I’ve been absent and I’m sorry. I want to divide my time between you all equally, it's just hard. Having a mate… it's more overwhelming than I thought it would be. I didn’t expect to feel like this. The love, it’s just… it's so much. A love that would make you do anything. It’s… It’s intense and I don’t know how to deal with it. I’m struggling,” he admitted a slightly panicked edge to his voice that had guilt ramming right through you like a sword. He looked completely and utterly lost and you suddenly found yourself feeling like the worst friend in the world for only thinking about yourself here.

“It’s okay, Atti. I won’t pretend to know what it’s like, but I can imagine it’s a lot to deal with. And I haven't exactly been the most understanding friend. I’ve just been scared to lose you,” you confessed and he reached out, taking your hand and the gesture was so comforting that it made your chest feel like it imploded.

“You won’t lose me, I promise. I’m just trying to adjust,” he murmured and you nodded. You were just glad to finally see him, to finally talk to him and clear the air between you. 

“Have you noticed anything?” you asked with a wry smile tugging at your lips and he looked at you confused.

“No, what”? He asked warily. You gestured with your hand to the moon and he looked up, blinking at it as a perplexed look washed all over him.

“Is it… is it smaller?” he asked slowly before he looked back to you.

“Seems like it. The King's just trying to contact the Goddess Selene to figure out what’s going on,” you shrugged and the pair of you shared a worried glance before you started making your way back over to Kos and Frank. Kos greeted Atti a lot more amicably than you had done and your eyes kept darting up to the moon as you wondered what Billy might find out. You looked over at Frank and he frowned, a look on his face that once again let you know he was being mindlinked.

“The King wants us in the meeting room,” he muttered, looking at the three of you before he turned and made his way up the steps. You all followed him and up to the meeting room just as Karen, Micro and Curtis were arriving too. You walked inside the room and Billy was at the head of the table pacing and it made a knot form in your stomach. He looked worried and that made you worried. You moved to sit down between Kos and Atti, the others taking the other side of the table, all of you looking to the King for answers.

“I can’t reach my mother,” he bit out worriedly and a deafening silence overtook the room.

“That’s… that’s never happened before, somethin’ ain’t right,” he added, his frantic and wide eyes flitting to you then to Frank as he shook his head. The news was even more worrisome and made you think something incredibly nefarious was going on, not just the moon being funky. 

“Could the vampires be behind this? I mean, if the moon never gets full then the wolves can’t turn. It would weaken us over time,” you frowned with dread. Not being able to shift for an extended period of time was dangerous and in some cases, even deadly if it went on long enough. 

“I agree with Y/N. This has the undead freak’s stink all over it and if they’re tryin’ to weaken us, then they’re already plannin’ somethin’,” Frank muttered tensely, his cagey eyes boring into Billy who wiped a hand over his face with a nod.

“But how could the vampires mess with the moon like that?” Micro asked in confusion.

“Is it possible they have witches on their side?” you asked as your eyes cut to Karen across from you. Her eyes widened for a moment before a deep frown creased her brows.

“I mean… Some witches would definitely have the power to pull something like this off, but the witches have no loyalty to the vampires and they respect the laws of nature. They’d never do something like this willingly,” she shook her head.

“What about unwillingly?” Frank asked as he gave his mate a pointed look. “They could have taken some against their will and be forcin’ ‘em to do magic,” he added gravely and Karen’s face paled, fear shining behind her eyes.

“I need to go and speak to some of my girls, see if we can figure out if this is magic related or not,” she stood up and rushed out the room and Frank watched her forlornly at how upset she seemed. 

“Frank, I need you and Curt to get the guards ready, some warriors too. I want ‘em stationed outside around the castle and at the outposts. Micro, you need to contact all the local pack leaders, take some warriors to each pack to keep ‘em safe and tell them what’s goin’ on,” Billy started firmly and the three men nodded before leaving to complete their tasks. 

“Kosmos, I need you and Atticus to take point with some of my men outside the castle. I know you guys can handle it, we’ll be doin’ it in shifts,” he ordered.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Kos nodded as he and Atti both stood. Atti shot you a look before they left you were left sitting there alone. If you were honest, you felt a little put out that you hadn’t been given a job to do. You were more than capable of handling it and you didn't understand why you weren’t with Kos or Atti. The idea of him thinking you weren’t up to task prickled at you.

“Can I do anything?” you asked, trying to keep the edge from your voice as you watched him run a hand through his hair and mess it up. He glanced at you before his eyes quickly looked away, rolling his shoulder as he nodded.

“I need you for somethin’ important, actually. Come on,” he muttered. He looked like a tightly wound coil and you got up as you followed him out of the room. You had no idea what this supposed important job was but you were just happy to be helping in some way. 

He led you down the main stairs and through a door just near them. You’d never been in here before and you were surprised to find more stairs going down. Even more surprised that instead of some kind of basement, you were walking into what looked to be some kind of temple. Wall to ceiling was made of the brightest white marble you’d ever seen with a large white marble altar in the middle. There were two huge gold wolf statues against either side of the back wall with a gold statue of the Goddess herself taking center of them. You were in awe as your eyes soaked it all in, it was breathtaking. He gave you little time to really bask in the place before he was talking to you.

“I need to visit my mother… I’ve never done it before, there’s a ritual to do it and I couldn't… but I need to try now. I don’t even know if it’ll work, but I gotta try,” he frowned and you hated how lost he looked. 

“Okay… Why do you need me for the ritual?” you asked curiously. 

“I just trust you, okay? This is… it’s urgent, there’s a lot on the line here. We just need to get there and find out what’s goin’ on,” he muttered and you nodded, not wanting to upset him further. Then his words hit you.

“Wait… we? As in we both are going to see her?” you asked in surprise and he nodded jerkily. You could see he was still tense, his body was almost rigid and you decided not to push your luck here. You were surprised you would be going there, getting to see the Goddess yourself like that. You weren’t sure if it was breaking some kind of rules but Billy was asking you to do it, so you hoped it would be okay. You still weren’t sure why it had to be you. While you were touched that he’d trust you with something of this magnitude, you didn’t know why he’d picked you out of everyone. But you told yourself that his men were busy with their other tasks so you were the only one he trusted left without a job. You knew what was at stake here. Not only was the moon being weird but he couldn't contact the Goddess. Nothing good was happening and it needed to be fixed as soon as possible. If that meant you helping him with whatever this ritual was then you’d do it. 

“Okay, I’ll do it,” you said with a smile, trying to ease this awful tenseness he had going on. He smiled at you, looking somewhat relieved but it didn't seem to help too much as he frowned once more. He looked at you for a long moment, his dark eyes shining with something you really couldn't decipher.

“Just remember, this is a ritual, alright?” he said slowly, raising both his brows at you. It confused you as you blinked at him but you nodded, wondering what the hell it would entail. After one more look at you, he grabbed his dagger that was strapped on his belt and you were sure he probably carried it around with him everywhere. 

He stepped a little closer to you, taking a shaky breath and all you could do was wait for what was about to happen. You could only hope the ritual wouldn't be him sacrificing you. He took one of your hands in his and you were surprised to find it trembling in your own as he lifted it up a little. You winced as he sliced the blade across it and he shot you an apologetic look as the blood started to pool in the cut. He let go but you kept it there so you didn’t drip your blood all over his pristine floor as he did the same to his own hand. His eyes shot to your face then, almost sheepishly before he took your bloodied hand in his own, mixing the blood together. But then he pulled you closer to him by your hand and you bumped into his chest a little.

“Ritual, remember,” he whispered and you wondered how bad it had to be for him to keep reminding you. But you nodded and then he was capturing your lips with his own. You were startled, flashes of the other kiss bursting behind your eyes and you felt yourself tense. But you remembered what he’d said, that this was a ritual and you forced yourself to relax. His hand still clutched your own tightly as you kissed him back and while this wasn’t what you thought would happen, you knew kissing him wasn't the worst thing the ritual could have called for so you were grateful. Feeling you kissing back, his other hand moved to grip the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss and you found yourself melting into him, allowing yourself this one moment to give into the urges you’d been feeling as there was a reason for it. He moaned softly into the kiss and it sent a jolt right through you as his tongue tangled with yours and you felt like you might pass out. It felt like you were glowing from the inside out. He broke away and you felt a pang of disappointment as you both panted and he rested his forehead on yours. Your head was spinning, heart going a mile a minute as you tried to push past what just happened as it didn't mean anything.

“Did it work?” you asked softly, a slightly dazed tone to your voice. He was just staring at you and you felt like you were getting lost in his almost black eyes until he pulled away completely, his hand letting go of yours. Now able to breathe, you both looked around and you were startled to see you were no longer in the temple at the castle. You were standing in the middle of a large field, trees scattered about either side of it. The colors were so much brighter than you were used to though and it caught you off guard. The green grass was greener, the color of the flowers more brighter than you’d ever seen and the night sky didn't look black like it did back where you were from, it looked the deepest blue you’d ever seen. It was beautiful.

“Where do we go?” you asked as your eyes landed on everything you could find as you marveled at the beauty of it.

“No idea, I’ve never been here before,” he replied and when you glanced at him, he seemed just as awed as you did. 

“Maybe we should start there,” he suggested, pointing off into the distance and you followed his line of sight. He was pointing to what seemed to be a large stone temple, torches burning on either side of the stairs. It was a little distance away but you could still see it clearly. 

“Feels like a good place to start,” you agreed, shooting him a smile when he looked at you. His face brightened, a somewhat bashful smile on his face as he nodded and you set off walking. You were trying to keep your mind off the kiss you’d shared and you knew it would take a while to scrub it clean from your mind. The first time had been easy enough to get over, you hadn't kissed him back. It had been no more than his lips pressed against yours for a brief moment but this time it had been a full blown kiss. The kind that made your toes curl and set your body on fire.

“Have you never met your mother?” you asked curiously, trying desperately to keep your mind focused on something else. He gave you a small smile that seemed a little sad as he shook his head.

“No, I wasn’t raised by her. I’ve only ever been able to talk to her in the temple but it's in my head, kinda like a mindlink, I guess,” he explained and you nodded. You felt a little bad for him, hearing the mild hurt in his voice when he said he wasn't raised by her. You knew the circumstance between your upbringings were wildly different but you knew what it was like to have no parents, you knew what that pain felt like. You weren’t really sure what to say to that and a strange silence settled over you both. You weren’t sure if it was the kiss that was making things feel so stilted. He’d been adamant in reminding you that it was for the ritual but you could hardly blame him after the way you’d reacted the last time he’d kissed you. He probably felt uncomfortable because he thought you felt uncomfortable.

It didn’t take as long as you thought it might to reach the temple and the pair of you climbed the big steps up and walked inside. The first thing you noticed before anything else was that while this was a temple, it almost looked like a home on the inside. And there lay on the bed was the Goddess herself. She was the most beautiful woman you’d ever laid eyes on and your knees wobbled in reverence to her, but what stood out more than that was how sickly and pale she looked. You looked to Billy quickly who was standing stock still beside you. His breathing was labored, eyes wide as he stared at his mother and you could practically feel the pain radiating from him. The Goddess glanced over, a small gasp leaving her lips before a wide smile split her face and she rushed to get up. She almost fell and Billy snapped out of his stupor as he hurried over to her, catching her quickly and helping her stand. 

“Oh, William, my beautiful boy!” she beamed, looking up at him as she placed a small hand on his cheek. He gave her a watery smile, leaning into her touch as he gazed down at her. 

“Mom… what’s wrong?” he asked worriedly, his eyes scanning her as you hovered uncertainly. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be noticed or not, not sure if you were really supposed to be here and it felt like a very private moment. To witness the King meeting his mother for the very first time and in not so great circumstances. He guided her to sit on the bed as he lingered near her as if he was scared she might fall again. 

“It’s magic tampering with the moon. The vampires have been kidnapping witches and forcing them into using their magic,” she explained weakly and she wobbled a little, causing Billy to reach a hand out to steady her. He frowned deeply at the news and it made dread curl low in your stomach. It had been your own theory but part of you hoped there had been another explanation for it because this meant an escalation in the war. 

“You need to save the witches, William. Not only because it's endangering the wolves, but the magic the witches are being forced to perform is killing them and the vampires plan to go through as many witches as it takes to keep the magic going,” she insisted as she stood. She was still a little shaky on her feet but she managed to stand on her own this time as she looked at him imploringly. 

“They’re being held at an outpost in the Winding Forest. You need to save them,” she repeated firmly and he nodded.

She turned her gaze to you then and your breathing hitched. She started to slowly make her way over, Billy watching you both warily and you dropped to your knees, bowing your head quickly. You really couldn't believe you were in the presence of the Goddess herself. 

“You can stand, Child. You need not kneel for me,” she smiled warmly and you blinked up at her carefully, eyeing the hand she held out for you. You took it with a shy smile and let her help you to your feet. You were taken aback when she cupped both of your cheeks in her warm soft hands and you had no idea what to say as your wide eyes stared at her.

“You’re a beautiful and brave warrior, Y/N. You have a fierce yet kind heart,” she murmured and you almost felt like you couldn't breathe. Her kind words felt like they touched your soul and you couldn't get your mouth to work to tell her thank you. She gave you another warm smile then, her thumbs brushing your cheeks before she stepped away and Billy came over. 

“Can you… Can you reconnect her to her wolf?” he asked hesitantly and your head whipped to him in shock. You were surprised he’d asked such a thing, even if it was his mother. There were far more important things going on right now. You’d be a liar though if you said you weren’t touched by his request as you knew you’d never have the courage to do it yourself. The Goddess’s face fell then as she looked back to you for a long moment before she dragged her eyes back to her son.

“I can’t, William,” she frowned and Billy’s jaw tensed as he rolled his shoulder. You were caught off guard by the anger on his face.

“Why?” he bit out. He and his mother shared a look and you felt like you were missing something at the hurt all over his face. You didn't understand why he was so upset over this. Yes, you were disappointed but it was what it was. After staring at each other for a long moment, she turned her eyes back to you and she looked upon you with sympathy. 

“I can’t help, not yet. It will happen when the time is right,” she affirmed with a smile and you felt a spark of hope bloom in your chest. You felt so much relief at knowing it would happen one day, you’d started to think it would never happen. You’d gladly wait as long as it took if it meant it actually happened.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice wavering and small to your own ears.

“Everything happens for a reason, you should know that, William,” she said with a pointed look thrown his way. He still looked hurt and he rolled his shoulder once again with a curt nod. You still didn't understand his reaction, not when she’d just told you it would happen one day. 

“You should both go and save the witches,” she insisted, backing away a little and Billy stepped closer to her.

“Can we come back?” he asked, a desperate edge to his voice now his anger seemed to evaporate. She gave him a sad smile.

“One day. You're not really supposed to be here, so use the ritual sparingly. You need not come and check in on me, I’ll connect with you when it’s done,” she assured and Billy’s face fell. You felt the urge to comfort him at the sadness that seemed to blanket him.

“Is there anythin’ else we should know? Anything that could help with the war?” he asked her hopefully and she shook her head once again with a sad smile.

“I can’t. It would tamper with fate and it’s bad enough what I have told you. I shouldn't be getting involved but I fear what would happen if this keeps going,” she explained regretfully and Billy nodded. You felt awful then as you watched Billy share a tearful goodbye with his mother. You tried not to watch such a private moment but you’d been unable to help it as she held him and stroked his hair as they said goodbyes. You could see how much he loved his mother and now he was once again going to part with her and he couldn't just come back when he wanted. You knew he missed her, that he found it hard being away from her. You could only assume it would hurt more now he’d met her finally in person. Once they parted, Billy sniffled and wiped his damp cheeks, giving you a somewhat embarrassed look as he walked to the door. You gave the Goddess a smile but before you could leave, she walked over to you once more. You hadn't expected her to give you a parting hug too.

“You're stronger than you think you are and worthy of more than you could imagine,” she whispered to you. She pulled away then, giving you a bright smile before she moved back over to her bed. You blinked at her for a long moment, once again stunned by her words and the fact that the Goddess had been the one to say them to you.

“Goodbye, Goddess,” you murmured, bowing your head in respect before you hurried outside to where Billy was waiting anxiously. The only word you could use to describe the look on his face was devastated and it made your chest ache as you got to the bottom of the steps. He seemed to be trying to hold himself together, not a word leaving his lips as you took off walking. Without thinking, you reached out and took his hand and his head snapped to you, eyes wide with shock. You gave him a tentative smile, hoping it would give him even the smallest of comforts to ease what it was he was feeling and you felt relieved when he smiled back. 

“I want to go with you and your men to save the witches,” you said firmly after a while of walking hand in hand. He looked at you, licking his lower lip before nodding and you were glad he didn't argue with you on it. You wanted to help.

“The Vampire King won’t be there, he’d know we might come for him so it’s probably just gonna be some of his men, maybe some rogues,” he mused and you nodded in agreement. A very big part of you was itching for a fight and knowing the vampire assholes were using the witches the way they were, that they were killing them like they meant nothing, infuriated you. The Goddess had tasked you all with saving the witches and you took it personally. When you got to the clearing you’d arrived in, you both stopped and Billy let go of your hand and grabbed his dagger once more. You’d almost forgotten about the kiss with everything that had happened and you hadn't really thought about the fact you’d have to do it again to get back. 

“You ready?” he asked and you nodded with a smile. He still seemed sad and you were both eager to get back to relay the news to the others and get going with the plan. He once again cut your hand and then his own, holding them together. His other hand came up and cradled your face as his dark eyes flit over your face in question. You gave him a firm nod, ready for it this time and then he leaned down, his lips connecting with yours. It didn't get intense the way the other one had, no doubt the heaviness settling over you both. Instead, his lips were soft against yours as he kissed you almost delicately and you kissed him back. This time, you felt the ground shift beneath your feet and it startled you, making you break apart and look to the floor. You were once again in the temple under the castle. You looked up at Billy and found him already watching you. He gave you a little smile before he let go of your hand and stepped backwards. You hoped the kisses wouldn't make things too awkward after you’d gotten your friendship with him back on track. These kisses had a purpose though and they’d served the purpose well. 

“I’m gonna go update my men. Would you go and let Kosmos and Atticus know?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded softly, giving him a reassuring smile. You both walked back up the temple steps and into the main castle before you parted ways. Your head was spinning and not just from the kisses you'd shared with the King. Knowing the vampires were indeed behind this and that they were using witch slaves left you reeling. You left the castle gates, letting your nose guide you to wear Kos and Atti were stationed and they both smiled when they saw you. They’d had no idea of the adventure you’d just had and you told them everything, except maybe about the kisses because you knew what Atti would say and now wasn’t the time. You explained what the Goddess said about the witches and the vampires and that you’d need to go and save them. 

“I’m coming too. No way I’m sitting this one out,” Kos said firmly, fire dancing behind his eyes and it made you happy to know that he would fight by your side. You’d save the witches and at least take out some of the Vampire King’s men in the process. 

“I need to leave. Aurora shouldn't be without me with everything that's happening right now,” Atticus frowned deeply, worry painting his face. He didn't even wait for a reply before he was off and you watched him leave with a frown. You'd expected him to agree with Kos, to tell you he’d be coming and fighting along with you as he always did. You hadn’t expected him to just go running away like this, backing down from a fight. The three of you were a force to be reckoned with out on the battlefield. You knew he was worried though and told yourself to let it go. She was his mate and things were really about to go to hell, of course he’d want to be with her, to make sure she was protected. You felt anticipation starting to thrum through you at the prospect of a fight, especially one against the vampires and rogues. You knew though that once you went to save the witches, that was it. Everyone knew a war was coming, you’d been on the cusp for a while, but this would be the catalyst for the war, the thing that started it all for real. This would set everything in motion and you knew things were about to get rough. You were ready for it though, even if you did end up dying in battle. You’d go out on a blaze of glory helping your pack and the King and you’d do it with a fucking smile on your face.

Taglist: (if you’ve been asked to be tagged and aren’t here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people.)

@firexfate

@blanchedelioncourt

@on-ya

@sunshinedaisies-anddeath

@snowkestrel

@music-indie-tv

@idaofinfinity

@sweetserendipity65

@ramadiiiisme

@k-marzolf

@celestialams

@woowwwee

@noortsshift

@rainbowgoblinfan

@mysweetlittledesire

@promnightbinbaby

@intothesoul

[the-downwardspiral]

The First Commandment ;;; Asa Emory x Male!Reader SMUT

TW: Religious Trauma, Mentions Homophobia & Bad Parents, Asa, Y'all fuck in a church so-

ALSO M/N MEANS MALE NAME IG

You lean against the cold wood of the church pew. Your face is wet with tears and snot as you're sobbing, begging for God to forgive you. Your parents had just kicked you out. They found out. They found out about that "DISGUSTING" and "UNHOLY" way of loving you felt. You left your diary out and they had read all about the boy at church you had a crush on. You were ashamed, embarrassed, REVOLTED with yourself for feeling these feelings so you came to the only place you felt could take them away. That place being the church that has teared apart your mind and soul and heart and anything else that could have made you your own person. You have simply been a shell, a vessel for their scriptures to flood into and brainwash. But yet, you wish that they could save you. You wish they could have made you normal, wish they could have you living your life normally with your parents. But yet, you're here sobbing on the cold limestone floor and nobody has answered your prayers. 

"GOD, I'M SO SORRY.. PLEASE JUST REMOVE THIS SINFUL DISEASE FROM ME.. I WANT TO GO HOME.." you say, crying out more. But then, you heard the tap tap of some boots.

 You look from the pew to see a rugged, older looking man walking up to the altar. He looks up at the beautiful yet painful artwork on the ceiling and sighs heavily. You gaze at the man, admiring his looks until he turns your way. Its as if he had felt your sinful gaze on him. You wipe your tears and try to get up to leave but he grabs your shoulder with enough force to almost break it. Your already teary eyes started to cry again from it.

"It's late." he says firmly. 

You swallow. How would you explain yourself for being here at this hour without delving into your shitty life? Instead of responding with words, you simply look down. You're sure the tear soaked, solem face you have at the moment speaks for itself. The man takes some time to look over your face as if he were reading every thought you're having at the moment. He then lets go of you and grabs one of the bibles from the shelf on the back of the pew. 

"This book. It's full of lies, you should know that."

He stares into your eyes as he rummages in his pocket, pulling out a lighter. The man shifts the bible in his hand to hold it in a better angle. But right before he can set it on fire, you grab the bible and look at him with anger and fear in your eyes. 

"Why the hell are you doing this? Trying to burn a bible in a church? Are you fucking insane?"

The man grabs the bible back from you with no struggle at all, and you cry and plead for him to not burn it.

"Listen, boy. Why do you try to defend this book when, and this is a long shot, it seems to be ruining your life?"

He stares deep into your eyes, awaiting a real answer. There's no getting out of this already weird and awkward encounter. 

"I.. have to. I don't want to end up in hell.. Although I guess I've already got myself a damn ticket for the bullshit I've been thinking."

The man raises an eyebrow at you and lets out a sinister laugh. 

"Oh? What kind of things?"

You gulp. Is it getting hot in the church? Or is it the fire of hell coming to take you for the sinful things you are thinking about right now. The man notices how red you are and laughs yet again.

"No need to answer me, boy. Your reaction speaks for itself."

You feel your face get hotter.

"I uh- I never caught your name sir. I'm m/n by the way."

He smiles, dropping the bible onto the floor and stepping closer to you.

"Emory. Asa Emory."

That name seemed familiar, but you couldn't care less. You were tired from crying (among other emotions at that moment.)

"Well, nice to meet you Mr. Emory."

"Nice to meet you too, m/n. Now do me a favor and sit down on that pew for me. Alright?"

You nod, sitting down confused.

"Say, m/n, do you happen to remember the first commandment?"

You take a moment to think, but then you remember it.

"That one is... 'You shall have no other gods before Me' if I'm not mistaken."

He smiles at you again, lifting your chin up to have you looking at him.

"Good job. It's such a shame you'll be breaking that commandment pretty soon boy."

Your face turns bright red. Those sinful thoughts are going a mile a minute, and you don't feel like shaming yourself for them right now. Asa's comment has you intrigued.

"W-What do you mean-?"

Asa grips tighter on your chin, his smile becoming a bit more sadistic.

"You innocent little thing. I'd like to save you like a real god should."

He then moves his hand from your chin up to your hair and pulls you up, having you stumbling to stand. The larger man kisses your forehead lightly and then lets go. Before even being able to stand up right you drop back to the floor, looking up at him fearfully. The sight of you down there had his mind as full of filth as yours was.

"B-but- We're in a church Mr. Emory- We can't do such sinful deeds in here-"

"Says who?"

You gulp, hoping he doesn't see the growing tent in your pants. Of course, Asa is a very observant man so he did in fact notice.

"Seems you've got a bit of a problem down there. Would you like a bit of help, boy?"

"I-I.. Y-Yes-"

Asa smirks as he looks you up and down. It's as if he's undressing you with his eyes, and honestly you'd love if he actually was. Yet again, it seems as if he read your mind. Asa kneels down in front of you and kisses you roughly. You moan through the kiss and grasp at his shoulders as he starts to pull off your shirt. 

"M-Mr. Emory--"

"Hush, boy."

And you did.

Asa started to undress himself as well with a rushed pace, he was fully prepared to ruin the smaller man in front of him. You bite your lip as he pulls his boxers off, revealing his huge, hard dick. You shut up every last doubt and lick slowly up it from base to tip, then just going in circles on the tip. Asa, seemingly annoyed, puts his hand on the back of your head and pushes you all the way down on his cock. Your eyes tear up and you try desprately to pull back from it. His strong grip doesn't let you though, and your vision starts to go black. He sees you start to slow down fighting back so he pulls you back for you to catch your breath. You gasp for air, tears running down your face. Asa wipes the tear from you, and stands up.

"Be a good boy and bend over the side of the pew."

You do as your told, eager for the man to be inside you. 

"I'm about to show you who your real savior is."

And with that, he rammed his cock so hard into you that you swore you could see stars. He kept this bruising pace, grabbing tightly onto your hips so he can keep ramming fast and deep into you and hitting your prostate head on. Your moans and screams echoed through the church, and you knew if anyone was anywhere close to the place they'd be able to hear you. But the thought of everyone around being able to hear you in there made you want to be even louder. Soon enough, with the amazingly painful thrusts and the embarrassment of being made such a whore in a holy place, you cum more than you ever have. Asa pulls your head back by your hair and starts going even faster if that's possible. Your face is covered in tears and sweat and your throat hurts from both the hard throat fucking you just got and all of the screaming. Finally, Asa does one last deep thrust into you and cums. Both of you are left panting as he pulls out, and you collapse onto the pew. He starts to put his clothing back on and redresses you, giving you his shirt to wear instead. Asa then carries you out of the church and heads to his place, not caring about the mess you both made.

[creppersfunpalooza]

Nothing to Celebrate

(Rosé and Adonis writing drabble because i felt silly)

it’s not that bad because it’s before rosé’s whole transformation thing and all of the more serious stuff between them but uhmmm it still makes me want to tear at adonis soooo

CW/TW: Mentions of religion and religious themes (Catholicism), religious trauma, cult/shunning implications, invalidation, and a teensy bit of manipulation.

————————————————————————

“I just don’t get it.”

“Hm?” Roe looked up at Don, temporarily taking his attention off of the half-decorated tree.

“I mean, I don’t get why you’d wanna remind yourself of such horrible memories. It doesn’t exactly seem healthy, love.” He continued, scrunching his nose at the angel settled on the top. “And it’s not exactly… You know, real. What’s the point in celebrating it?”

Roe sighed and went back to wrapping the popcorn strings around the fir branches. “I don’t know. Call it silly if you want, but it’s comforting to me.” He hummed, still focused on the tree. “It’s about forgiveness and love. If someone was willing to die for my sins, then that means I was worth saving.”

“Yeah, but that didn’t happen. Sure, some guy claiming to be a prophet probably got himself executed, but it doesn’t actually mean anything. It’s just… I don’t know. It feels offensive.” He huffed, crossing his arms. “You want a god to love you, and I’m right here. Forgiveness and all. Look, I think it’s doing you more harm than good to put all this effort into something so pointless.” Don scowled.

He stared at Don incredulously. “Does this upset you that much? It’s not really a worship thing. It’s about what it means to me. It would be ridiculous for me to pray to a being I know doesn’t exist.” Roe murmured, setting down the garland and making his way over to Don, sitting next to him on the old couch. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings though. It wasn’t my intention.” He gently set his hand on Don’s shoulder, staring at him with a sweet expression. “I can take it down, if you want to. But I’d still like to celebrate some traditions with you. I understand if you don’t want to though.”

Don paused for a moment, but his scowl had long since faded. “I don’t know. I don’t want anything to do with the holiday. It’s stupid. I just wish you could see that.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Sure. I’m done speaking anyways.”

“It was the only time of year they’d ever pretend that I was a normal person. It was nice to belong.” Roe lowered his voice. “It made me feel less alone, even if it was only a temporary thing.”

Don stared at him blankly. “And you still feel alone? Even with me?”

Roe sighed and held his tongue. “No, of course not, my dear.”

[thegayfromrulid]

I apologize for how little I've been on tumblr in the latter half of 2023. I know there's a lot of people on here who used to look up to me as a fan and some who still do. I'm sorry for being disappointing.

This year started out really good. I thought most of my absence would be because I'm doing really well in school, and I'm so so close to the final step to becoming a doctor in my field. In fact, my goal for 2024 is to start my dissertation, and that's a huge step and grand accomplishment that has taken hours of dedication, and I appreciate my readers' patience as I write during this time.

I passed (unofficially, just have to do some cleanup) my final doctoral qualifier. I finished up two fanfictions after trying so hard to get back into my pace after my accidents in 2021. I got engaged to the love of my life, and I reached spiritual and emotional peace over a 14-year-long trauma that I've been fighting. These were such good things that happened this year, and I'm ready to receive what goodness lies in 2024.

October sent me into a spiral I am just struggling to recover from. Not only is my family in a war zone, but that war zone is one of the most controversial ones in the world right now. And I have spent hours, days, weeks wailing over this genocide. I cannot help the people I love in either Palestine or Israel, who are caught in these crosshairs. And I drag myself to my university, where people scream and tell me that all Jewish people should leave or be accountable for these crimes. It was everything in me to make it to break. I rarely want to go home to my parents for extended time, but I practically fled my campus, and I broke down in tears in my mother's arms. I weep both for the injustice and for the guilt my own community forces on me, as if I am responsible for the sins of Israel.

I cannot promise a lot of activity from me in 2024. As long as Israel behaves this way, I will most likely remain distant from tumblr. Please don't take it personally. The flood of activism isn't wrong; I am just very weak from those voices which are loudly being antisemitic instead of critical of specifically Israel's government. Those voices are so loud I could some days barely get out of bed.

In 2024, I do ask people to be kind. Being kind will not fix everything. But it is one of the greatest things an individual can do during hard times. Kindness is treasured so much right now, especially as I am at such a low from the antisemitism around me. Give a compliment. Do a nice thing for someone. Sit in silence with someone who is too hurt to speak. And, most crucially, love those who struggle to love themselves.

Happy New Year, Shana Tovah

— AJ

[hydravrtx]

ROGUE SPEAKS

“You, who call my sisters witchhunters. Women strong and powerful enough to advocate, to fight for the wounded and the fallen, brave enough to hold members of our community accountable for their actions despite the consequences, you liken them to medeival demons who tortured, murdered, brutalized whole scores, whole cities of women, our would-be ancestors brought to an early grave for the sin of their sexuality, their knowledge, their power. You are punishing us still..Maybe, for the first time in your life, you are feeling what it is like to walk into a room, and not automatically know if you're safe, not know who your friends are, or why they are looking at you like that. Maybe this makes you feel hunted. But you, my friend are no witch. And I don't have time to feel sorry for you, no way, no time, not when a woman in America is raped every 2 minutes...Every 2 minutes. Think about that. I do not have time to listen to your version of the story: your convoluted truth, not when there is a woman out there, millions of women, who have noone to turn to for support, for validation.

I don't have time to nurse your wounded ego, or shed a tear for the dying patriarchy.”

that was the ending piece to a zine i read called WITCH-HUNT: addressing mental health and confronting sexual assault in activist communities and it pushed me to write — july 26th 2023 i put together what is known now as the “list”, you might’ve heard about it if you are young and enjoy the nightlife in the city of atlanta. the masterlist of abusers with the creative communities here. i was compelled instantly to read the zine because i + the community that advocates for the same thing as i do been called exactly that, witches.

“putting a list together to cause mass hysteria and a witch hunt” some said to me and i found it compelling. shaking people out of the shitty broken bed they have laid in for years is a witch hunt? wanting safety for everyone is the mass hysteria? i’ll never fully understand but anyways…that’s not why i am writing this. i’m writing this because lately ive been seeing a ton of think pieces about how activist can be heavily impacted by the work they do and i can say that it has heavily impacted me. negatively and positively. negatively i’m hearing/seeing tragic stories from different people every day… and feeling sometimes powerless that i can’t just have everyone see what i/the survivors do. i can’t make people that don’t want to be empathetic feel empathy. it’s april in 2024 now and my passion still hasn’t shrunk to amplify the voices of each survivor but it has been hard carrying around 100+ people on my back. i appreciate hydra so much for this alone.

harm i’ve learned is inevitable, everyone causes harm. it might not be physically but verbally or emotionally. those are the most common forms of harm as human we enact on each other but i don’t believe in this lifetime we are meant to strive to be a “good person” because the concept of a “good person” is within white supremacist ideals. maybe, the concept of a “good person” should be abolished and reinvented. why to be considered a “good person” you must be compliant with oppression? to be considered a “good person” you must never feel anger and express it? to be categorized as “good” it’s to ignore and deny?

i say all of this to say, that during my journey advocating and standing firmly in my beliefs i allowed myself vulnerable to the perpetrators that caused me harm to take this time during something uplifting to contort the truth of the trauma they induced on me..and manipulate anyone that will listen for the benefits of their ego. on the opposing side i believe that the population of people that hate women are far greater than i believed..this weird patriarchal mindset that all women are “devious” and wretched witch like creatures seems far too comfortably sitting with the mass majority. this idea only amplifies more for black women and other women of color. sometimes i fantasize that one day the actors of my own harm will finally be accountable and just let go. i am tired of fighting for my autonomy, truth and desire to finally be seen and heard. the closest i got to being seen was when stephvon branch ( kashphon) pleaded guilty to aggravated sodomy and is now serving 5 years in prison. though, i never pressed charges…i still felt seen when talking to the advocate that asked me my story. but those 5 years dont erase the trauma…or hate that im still working to snuff out. yes, i advocate for abuse survivors because i am a survivor of abuse

“So this brings me to the dilemma of how to implement a safer space policy, if we cannot agree on who is "right" and who is "wrong". I believe that if believe that if somebody (man, woman, trans, etc.) feels that a crime was committed against them, that they were violated, assaulted, abused, or raped, no matter what the circumstances, we as a community need to acknowledge, despite the lack of "evidence" that something very wrong occurred. It is also my belief that many many people, good and bad, have harmed others without realizing that what they were doing was wrong. Therein lies the problem. Patriarchy, misoginy and abuse are so embedded in all of us (and by that I mean all of us), that it is inevitably a harrowing experience to be called out as an abuser or an assaulter. I feel that every incident has to be dealt with individually, and according to the reactions of the suspected perpetrator, as well as the wishes of the survivor. Often the reactions of an accused perpetrator can be more than revealing of their truth”

was something else from the zine that sat with me heavily, there’s so many harmful behaviors deeply imbedded in us that we are in no position to ever tell the next person that “i didn’t cause you harm” because we are not them you can’t tell someone how to feel based off your opinion or observation! trauma is complicated. people are so complex and different we aren’t in their bodies and the sooner people stop projecting their defensiveness everything would be rather different.

carl jung is a philosopher that i spend a little too much time researching, he talks a lot about archetypes and i believe that’s what he is most known for. one archetype that caught my eyes was “the fool” where’s a quote from this video i watched; “There are two ways to be fooled. One is to believe what isn’t true; the other is to refuse to believe what is true. When there’s an uncomfortable truth that needs to be spoken, and those in power are afraid to speak about it, it is usually the fool who steps in. There is something heroic about this. It is the fool who speaks a truth nobody else dares to utter, and this brings instant relief, because people know it has to be said.”

maybe, hydra and i are the fool

[enjoy-the-small-thingsxx]

“He was an old friend.”

“She just had a quick question.”

“It was just a snapchat.”

“It was just one picture.”

“I was just feeling neglected.”

“It was just innocent…”

Until. It. Wasn’t.

The regretful remarks of so many….According to startling statistics.

Proverbs 31 says she watches over the ways of her household…

We should watch over the ways of our “DMs” too.

You don’t need a white picket fence…

You need barbed wire.

I want to promote something that the world isn’t celebratory of..

..Hard boundaries are okay in a marriage.

They really are.

It’s okay to include a third party in when texting the opposite sex.

It’s okay to be totally against an innocent “DM” on Facebook from someone you used to know…

… Even when asking a simple question.

Do you have plans to fail?

Absolutely, no.

But is the enemy out for blood?

Absolutely, yes.

He is sold out to passionately pursuing the demise of your devotion.

He is relentlessly seeking the death of your uprightness.

He is consistently blowing winds of temptation against the fence guarding your marriage.

The entire agenda of this world is poised and purposed against your covenant.

Against your promise.

There is nothing wrong with…

Hard. Solid. Boundaries.

And you owe NO ONE an excuse.

Not even the people that will probably show up in these comments disagreeing. 👋🏻

Is it weird? Sure…

But so is holiness, now.

And it’s only weird…

Until you’re in so deep that the bathroom floor is the holder of your tears.

Is it clingy? Maybe…

Until you have to crawl back from the bondages of sin with every demon in hell chasing after you.…clawing and prying for your soul.

Is it needy? Perhaps.

Until the one time turns to six times turns to shattered dreams, broken homes and childhood traumas.

Harsh. But true.

Friend, reflect back to how a simple question led to the fall of mankind…

One innocent question.

So to you fierce protectors…Go you. 👏🏻

Keep saying “We don’t do that here.”

Keep flying flags of “Better safe than sorry.”

Keep building spiritually charged barbed wire fences while everyone else is more worried about white picket ones…

You are not a stage five clinger.

You are not insecure.

You are not broken.

As a matter of fact you probably have spiritual discernment.

You better fight for your marriage, you better not think yourself untouchable and you better not care what one single naysayer has to say about it…

Because someone else is fighting tirelessly to find a loop hole…Fight. Back.

And Fight wise…Not culturally trendy.

It’s okay to proclaim that…

Here..we don’t flirt with the devil.

Here…we don’t make excuses.

Here…we don’t forsake boundaries for reputations.

It’s never okay to walk the line.

It’s never okay to be arrogant concerning your resistance.

It’s never okay to toy with a potential weapon…

If you haven’t noticed..

The enemy is continually shredding through white picket fences…

You better build yours out of something else.

-Original poster: Honestly, Ashley.

Don’t learn the hard way. ♥️Ashley Sistrunk

[saintobio]

sincerely yours. (5)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. profanity, implied cheating, cuckoldry, violence, domestic abuse, blood, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationship, degradation, explicit smut

notes. 14.1k wc. longer wc means longer waiting time, but it’s finally here. special thanks to my soulmate @/sunareign for beta-reading <33 i’m sorry i can’t answer all the other asks in time for sy5 bc i had little free time this weekend :’(

series masterlist -> episode six

At this hour of the night, only the cityscape and the distant stars served as his nighttime beacon, supplying his eyes with faint lighting. Each step brought him an eerie feeling of what he was about to witness while standing five steps away from the entrance to the master bedroom. The silence was dreadful and the absence of light limited his senses from immediately picking up the scene before him—a very ribald scene that made his knuckles turn white, bringing a wave of acid to well up in his stomach. The entire room was pitch black, and Gojou could only use his sense of hearing as he stood on the corner, allowing a few minutes for his vision sensitivity to adapt to the dimness of this room.

Voices. He couldn’t fully see, but he could hear the shameless voices coming from his wife and her extramarital lover doing an unforgivable sin on the same bed he slept on.

“Toji…”

Satoru’s mouth formed into an unpleasant twist as anger etched its way into every crease. He was sick to his stomach and even more repulsed as he stepped further inside the dimmed room, unnoticed by the adulterers who continued exchanging their titillating moans while succumbing to the sensuous pleasures of the night. Satoru wasn’t a heavy believer of God. He never believed that there was a supreme omnipotent being in heaven judging every living human based on their good and evil deeds. He wasn’t exactly an atheist, a nonbeliever, but he worshiped no one, not until tonight when his own wife was committing a sin that deserved the most cruel punishment known to mankind. He imagined what things would be like if he ‘did’ strongly believe in God, wondering if this blatant sexual affair would be enough to send you to hell. However, had it been the case, he knew that he would be joining you there, too.

So, in that sense, was this some sort of retribution?

“Aah, Toji. Fuck me m-more!” Your moans hinted that you were at the height of your sensual gratification as the skin slapping noises got louder and louder every second. You were basking in euphoria, oblivious to your husband who stood like a statue on the side, staring at you in catatonic stupor.

Gojou could fucking see it all now. His eyes zoomed in on every detail to magnify the nauseating deed that you were doing with another man. But as he tried to step forward to stop the act, he realized that his limbs and his legs had gone static. The soles of his feet were well wedged on the carpet, leaving him with no choice but to be forced into watching his own wife be fucked into filth by another man. It wasn’t the humiliation that paralyzed him, it was the fact that there was no shadow of guilt behind your erotic expressions, your lustful moans, or your insatiable carnal desires, this… this wicked lechery… No!

“Y/N, stop this!” Satoru yelled, a thread of warning laced in his voice. He was so fucking sick to his stomach. His muscles stiffened at the sight and tears brimmed his eyes while he was subjected to be a spectator to this crudity. “Y/N! I said stop!”

His screams had gone on deaf ears as you allowed Toji to hold your buttocks closer to his crotch, stretching your folds and slamming his hardened cock inside your sopping cunt to no end. You were intoxicated from the pleasure of having the man go in and out of you as if he had been doing it many times before. How many times had you been doing this behind his back? “Ah, shit…” the man let out a guttural moan, increasing the pace of his jostling to chase his climax. “Like having my cock inside your pussy, yeah?”

“Y-Yes.” You smiled through your moans and arched your back into a C to meet Toji’s scarred lips with yours. You stuck your tongue out and rolled it around his in the most lascivious manner, making Gojou feel all the more disgusted. “I wanna keep doing this with you.”

Your extramarital lover sucked your wet muscle before pulling away to smirk. “Better than with Satoru?”

You let the man squeeze your tender mounds from behind—his index finger moving in circles to play with your nipples. “Mmm, y-yes. He’s not even interesting to look at,” your hurtful statement came out in a hushed voice and your legs were already shaking from the hard thrusts that the raven-haired man was doing to destroy your cunt. “You’re the only one I want, Toji. He doesn’t have me.”

Satoru was horrified, revolted, and painfully in disbelief to see this atrocity with his own eyes. And yet, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t reach an arm to push the man off. He couldn’t lift a foot to take another step closer. The more he watched, the more it tormented his mind and he was already at the zenith of losing his sanity knowing that you were willingly doing this in front of him. Why? Why were you doing this? Bile was rising from his throat as a surge of unanswerable questions flooded his disoriented mind. “Y/N, don’t fucking do this. Please… please. This is sickening. Stop it.” He closed his eyes, unable to watch more. He was better off deaf and blind than to be sandbagged on this marble floor with no other choice but to witness his wife becoming an impenitent cheater. “Don’t do this. Stop this! STOP!”

Stop. This had to stop. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Don’t do what, Satoru?”

And only at the sound of his name did he open his eyes again, confused at how the scene completely changed. His breathing became ragged. A swirling motion turned his phantasm into a kaleidoscope of images. Was his vision playing with him? There was no Toji in sight. There were no discarded clothes on the floor. You weren’t naked nor was your body mapped with hickeys. But despite the changes in the scene, there was none in the sarcasm on your face. So, he asked you with tearful eyes, “What did you do?!”

His wife. How could his wife do this to him? How could you betray him like this?

“You saw it, didn’t you?” you taunted, standing before your lawfully wedded spouse with a face full of indifference. “You’re such a burden expecting me to look after you like I’m your fucking caregiver. You’re sick in the head like the rest of your family. You can all go to hell—”

The next thing you knew, he was already lunging towards you.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Satoru’s voice was wild with hysteria and his eyes carried a murderous blaze, but neither the spasm of anger in his face nor the fist that clenched your hair prevented you from looking up at him contemptuously. “Was it fun? Was it fucking fun for you, huh?! Did he fuck you so good you let him cum inside you?” He released your hair only to cup your jaw tighter—veins bulging from his unforgiving hand. “Do you enjoy being fucked like a whore? Tell me!”

His body was shaking with rage, and yet yours was vibrating with despicable laughter as if you became unhinged from his rapidly growing ire. “Yes, I loved every second of it.”

The rise and fall of his chest was a tidal wave that triggered his mind to do the most despicable things to you. You hardly managed to break away from his grip when he pushed you against the wall—his roughness almost giving you a concussion, but for Satoru who was reaching his crescendo of anger, inflicting pain on you was only satisfactory to him. “Take it back or I’ll fucking ruin you,” he uttered those words as a warning and used his hand to strangle your neck, blocking your airway and asphyxiating you with his fatal grip.

“You already did.” And yet, you spat out those words with venom in your voice. “You can’t ruin m-me anymore. I’d r-rather give Toji that p-privilege.”

Seething, he hissed at your face and violently slammed his fist against the wall. “Y/N!” And another slam. And another. “I’m gonna kill you both! You can’t do this to me! Why are you doing this to me?!”

“What?” You grinned in deep breath, snaking your hands on your husband’s chest. The movements of your fingers were followed by the act of lifting the hem of his shirt, but you stopped as soon as you saw how the fire in his eyes also sparked the rage in heart. Instead of being in fear, it excited you. “Does it hurt? Does it hurt to know that he’s been raw-dogging me every night while you were in that hospital? You’re pathetic.”

His brain was in such a befuddled state that he had to pull his hair to try and rip the protective skin covering his skull. He couldn’t understand why you changed so much. What the hell was happening with you? He was on the verge of submitting himself to lunacy as your words continued to drive him into madness. “You’re not my wife.” No, he refused the thought and shook his head desperately. “You’re not her. You’re a demon! You’re a—”

“Accept it, Satoru.” You cupped his cheek and leaned in to trail soft kisses on his clenched jaws, soon pulling your head back to release a wicked giggle. “You should have killed yourself when you had the chance.”

He wanted to wipe that sardonic smile on your face, and the only way he was able to do so was when he raised a hand and forcibly swung it across your cheek. Not just once nor twice, but more than what you could take until blood was bursting out of your lower lip. Until you were crying in pain. Until you were screaming for him to stop. Until your face was covered in bruises. Until you were—

“S-Satoru!”

“...Satoru.”

“...Satoru, wake up.”

Horror flashed before his cerulean eyes as they shot wide open. His whole body flinched when he regained his consciousness back, chilling his bones to that of splintering ice because it felt as though he was transported back into reality after having suffered a mentally destructive dream. It’s a dream! Gojou allowed it to sink into him before he looked back at your worried eyes, realizing that you were sitting at the edge of the bed and caressing his cheek out of concern.

“Are you okay?” you asked in a gentle voice, “It looked like you were having a nightmare again.”

Yes, a violent nightmare where he just slapped, choked, and beat the hell out of you. Satoru refused to meet your eyes and gripped his head as vivid images of that nightmare flooded his mind once more. The scene of you having sex with Toji was driving him insane in the worst context. How you moaned his name, how you allowed him to touch you, how you insulted your own husband to appease your lover’s ego—Gojou had to swallow the pain in his heart and remind himself that it was just a dream. It wasn’t real. It was a dream. It wasn’t real. Chanting those two might help ease his mind, but it didn’t. It only worsened now that he remembered the physical pain he punished you with.

No matter how vexed he was, he knew he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on you and he found it sickening that his subconscious even created those atrocious images.

“Hey, seriously. Is everything okay?” The trouble in your voice only grew more as you raked your fingers through his white hair. “Does your head hurt? I’ll get your medicine.”

“I’m fine, I...” He ended up swallowing his anxiety back in. “Can you leave me alone?”

Confusion bathed your clueless mien. “But you don’t look fine,” you insisted, brushing your palm on the side of his cheek, “Let me check if your stitches opened up.”

“Don’t touch me,” he snapped, unreasonably at that. He knew he was being irrationally mad, but his mind was vulnerable and you being all up in his face was making it worse. And in addition to that, he suddenly recalled Toji’s real text to you last night. So, even if the disturbing events during his slumber were a nightmare, bits of it were still true. “You don’t need to take care of me if it burdens you. Go look after yourself. Leave.”

You couldn’t tell what thoughts were bubbling inside Gojou’s head, but he had been shunning you away for a reason you didn’t know of. He would tell you that things were okay and that he was just not in the best mood, yet you would catch his eyebrows furrowing whenever he was spacing out alone by himself. Clearly, that was a good sign that things were definitely not okay and you were determined to know the root of his erratic behavior. Satoru, as you had mentioned a gazillion times already, was susceptible to depression because the way his brain processed things were now far different than how he used to. For starters, him having a nightmare was something to be concerned about since the doctor told you that it was a symptom of his previously acquired PTSD and his cortisol levels had to be lowered with the help of many natural and medicinal remedies.

But how could you help him get better when he was pushing you away the same way he did back when he still hated you?

As much as you would love to sit down and talk, Gojou had to regulate his stress levels and so did you. Many things had already been stressing you out lately—most of which could have easily killed you if you had not undergone angioplasty. There was never any assurance that your angina wouldn’t come back since it never truly went away, hence, you had to be very careful or else all of your symptoms could easily return. The problem was, how in the world could you avoid the weight of your crises? You had to deal with three ticking time bombs at once and they could all explode without prior notice. By then, could you even survive? Who would be the casualties?

Time bomb # 1. The alleged pregnancy.

The key word was alleged because it was Toji who brought it up when you mentioned that you had been feeling really nauseous these past few days. Not even a Calonal could ease your headaches and morning sickness, which was why it was logical for your fiancé to assume that your safe-sex practice wasn’t as safe as you thought. With a condom and a birth control pill? The possibility was close to zero—a mere decimal percentages away; therefore, a sly sperm could have bypassed all your contraceptives and the next thing you knew, Sachiro might have a new half-sibling. That wasn’t the case, though. You loved Toji and you hoped to spend a fruitful life with him as your husband, but it had been an unspoken decision for the both of you to not create a child at this point in time. You didn’t need another baby while Gojou was still a baggage of yours and Toji certainly wasn’t ready to become a newborn’s father when he was still far too busy handling a business empire. It was a mutual decision decided by two mature individuals who knew how the real world worked.

How to diffuse the time bomb: take a pregnancy test.

And negative was the result. That day, you had to sneak into the bathroom to take a test, waiting for only one line to show up as you leaned against the marble vanity in worried silence. The sigh of relief that flew out of you was akin to the alleviation in your voice when you called Toji to tell the news. He accepted it so casually and concluded that the main reason for your nausea and migraine was simply stress, meaning that the time bomb was no more.

Time bomb # 2. Your busy schedule vs Satoru’s mother.

This one was very explosive, but in a different sense. This bomb was the type to be in-your-face rather than silently ticking on its own. You weren’t sure how many times you would have to explain to your ex-mother-in-law that you weren’t really neglecting your husband, but rather, simply prioritizing what you had to do at the moment. Unfortunately, she took your words differently and suggested that it was ridiculous how you were classifying your own priorities, claiming that your own image must be more important than your family. Frankly, you were just too tired. Exhausted. This conversation was getting repetitive as though she was merely using it as an excuse to be angry at you. Was it still reasonable? You considered that maybe you could ask her to limit her visit to the penthouse, but that could pose a deeper problem because she would only find another reason to direct her misguided bitterness at you. It was a dead end situation.

How to diffuse the time bomb: let her know that you were going out for Sachiro’s birthday.

There, since your baby boy was turning three years old, you would take a day off from your hectic schedule to celebrate the special day with your son and your pseudo husband. Disneyland was your venue and everything had been planned, thus, would leave Satoru’s mother on a checkmate with no options left for her next move. She couldn’t tell you that work was still your priority when you willingly scraped off even a thirty-minute meeting just so the full day would be spent with your family. At least, in the meantime, she wouldn’t have nothing more to say and than to simply leave the penthouse without further comments to support her Anti-Y/N agenda.

Time bomb # 3. Satoru Gojou.

The carrier of the most beautiful pair of diamond blue eyes and snow white hair that made him otherwise known as the Jack Frost of Japan. Maybe that western personification was even more fitting to say since he was acting really ‘cold’ around you. It felt like a winter breeze whenever you received his icy stares as you knew that those lingering gazes bore so many possible grudges behind them. Was he angry about something? Did he finally remember the reckless decision you made three years ago? You would rather that he say it straight to your face than let you play this guessing game because you barely had enough brain cells to even go through the day. If you ever said something hurtful to him or if it was because you brushed him off on the shower, then you would easily apologize, but how could you even know what you did wrong when he was choosing to keep his distance? And when he said that you didn’t need to take care of him because it ‘burdened’ you, where did that come from? Perhaps his mom planted the idea in his head. Perhaps Suguru did. You didn’t want to point fingers because a mirror would be pointed back at you.

How to diffuse the time bomb: communication.

And it failed. Your plan of talking to him didn’t work and now time has run out. You would soon be blown into smithereens, detonating like a nuclear explosion as you find yourself stuck on how to deal with an amnesiac husband who relied on antidepressants to calm his erratic mind.

You still tried, though. For Sachiro’s sake, and for your peace of mind. “Please don’t take your mask off, okay? We’re gonna try and avoid people from recognizing us.”

Gojou allowed you to fix the disposable white face mask by looping the elastic band around his right ear. “I could’ve had Miwa rent the whole place for us,” he mumbled under his breath, rocking Sachiro on his lap while the three of you sat at the back of a Range Rover en route to the happiest place on Earth.

“But it’d ruin the Disneyland experience,” you replied, now sealing your ex-husband’s messy white hair under a black cap before you looked down and pinched your son’s cheek, “Is my baby excited?”

Sachiro’s eyes turned into moon crescents, temporarily removing the baby bottle from his mouth. “Yes, mama.”

“How old are you, my baby?”

“Three!”

You beamed and gave him an Eskimo kiss. “You’re growing up so fast.”

That domestic moment was soon cut short. “What did we do for his first and second birthday?” Satoru’s question was merely out of curiosity, but his eyes looked distant as he pressed his chin above the toddler’s head. “I don’t remember a lot of things.”

The truth: because he wasn’t there. The lie: “Well, we celebrated the first one in the US. The second one, we threw a Sesame Street themed party.” That wasn’t technically a lie, but you did exclude the fact that he wouldn’t be able to remember them because Sachiro’s first two years were celebrated without him.

Fortunately, he didn’t ask further, but you did note that it was his personal choice not to send an avalanche of questions your way because of the very simple fact that he didn’t want to talk to you. Remember the same man who engulfed you in antagonistic silence on your first night as newlyweds? This was him. This was how he was presenting himself right now. But for the most part, your child became the ceasefire to your cold war. Gojou just continued to snuggle with his son on his lap, ostracizing your presence until a text notification on your phone suddenly forced his attention back to you. “Who’s texting you?” he asked straight away, also in a tone that sounded incredulous.

You offered him an honest answer. “It’s Shoko. She said she’s already in the park waiting for us. I invited her.”

“You did? But I invited Suguru, too.” Satoru sighed and threw his head back, knowing full well that Getou and Ieiri were currently not on good terms right now. “Whatever. They can resolve their issues today.”

So should we, you wanted to say, but held yourself back until you finally arrived at the destination. Sachiro was the main priority and you would never do anything to ruin this special day for your son because his happiness was the most important for you above all. What kind of parents would you be to fight on his birthday? It would have made sense if you even knew what the fight was going to be. Unfortunately, not another word was spoken when the three of you walked to the entrance, donning each of your own face masks so that you could blend in amongst the crowd. It didn’t take long until you saw Ieiri waving from a distance, rushing off to you the same way Getou was patting his best friend’s back after coming in from the opposite side. The moment the engaged couple saw each other, it turned out to be more awkward than you expected, but Shoko quickly put her feelings aside by squatting down at Sachiro’s level.

“Happy birthday, Sachi!” she lovingly greeted your toddler, putting Mickey Mouse ears on his head after giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Did you open Auntie’s gift this morning?”

Your little boy shyly nodded and you squeezed his hand to remind him of what to say when people gave him gifts. “Thank you, Auntie!”

“How about Uncle?” Suguru stepped closer, ruffling your son’s head and encouraging him to place a kiss on his cheek. “Happy birthday, buddy.”

In that short moment between Shoko, Suguru, and Sachiro, neither three of them noticed how the parents of the birthday boy were exchanging the briefest of glances. There was hesitance in his eyes when he looked at you, possibly theorizing in what way he could act amicably while obviously feeling disturbed by many things that you unknowingly did. You had to swallow your pride and pull his hand, leading him closer to you by the time Sachiro looked back and jumped excitedly. “Okay, Sachi. We’ll go in.”

“Wait, you guys need to take a picture first,” suggested Ieiri, who brought her film camera along with her, “It’s gonna be your first family photo.”

She froze just as you did when she realized that she slipped, leading Satoru to look at her in curiosity. You were quick to save the day by clearing your throat, “First family photo for this year since daddy was in the hospital for a long time.”

Suguru’s moue was evidently because of his distaste with your lies, but the oblivious Gojou accepted the excuse and carried Sachiro in his arms. “Okay, let’s take a new one, then.”

You had to admit that even if you were just playing house with him, your heart was felicitous at the fact that you were spending time like an actual family. No divorce, no lies, no toxicity—just pure domestic bliss with Satoru as a husband and you as his wife. The result of the brief love you once shared was now in his arms, clinging on to his shoulder as the two of you stood at the perfect spot with the Disneyland castle serving as your backdrop. He held you by the waist and carried your son, letting you lean in closer until Ieiri finally snapped a photo to capture this moment forever. Her eyes looked glossy so to speak, and you knew that it was because seeing you and Gojou brought her memories of the last time she had seen you next to him like this. Her mind must have drifted back to that sunset in the yacht, three years ago when you started to wear your rings again. Although those same rings were now both in your fingers, the marital connection that you and Satoru had at the present was just a charade that might soon end into chaos one day.

For now, you let it be the ‘calm before the storm’.

And what better way to spend that peace than to be in a children’s paradise? It wasn’t your first time in Tokyo Disneyland and you roughly remembered going there twice as a kid and a teenager, but going back as a 28 year-old woman made you see many new attractions that weren’t there back in your youth. The first ride where Sachiro dragged you into was on the whimsical array of spinning cups and saucers called the Alice’s Tea Party. There were no height restrictions and a maximum of four people could ride one cup, so you ended up keeping the little boy between his mother and his aunt as the dizzying ride started rotating.

“Just sit still, Sachi,” you told your son, watching how he giggled at the fun ride.

Next to him was Ieiri who chuckled at how adorably excited your kid was. “He’s so cute. I wanna bite his cheeks.”

During that ride, you could see Satoru snapping photos on his phone outside like a proud dad while casually chatting with Suguru. The reason why you didn’t allow him to get on this spinning ride was because it wasn’t good for his brain, especially since all the swirling could give him intense headaches. “Dada!” Sachiro, however, waved at him in a jovial mood. “Dadaaa!”

Since you finally had this privacy with Ieiri, you took the chance to ask, “Are you and Suguru still…?”

“Together?” She glanced at him, unaware that he had already been looking at her all this time. “Yeah. It’s just, he still thinks it’s unfair that I kept things from both him and Satoru. He’s mad, but not too mad anymore.”

You nodded as the cup continued revolving like a pinwheel. “It’s all my fault. I hope you don’t cancel your wedding because of this.”

“Stop saying that.” Ieiri smiled at you in reassurance. “I put some thought into it and the reason I’m kinda hesitant is mostly because I know what you went through when you got married and I’m scared that I might end up hurt like you did.”

“In that sense, do you—,” you lowered your voice so your distracted son wouldn’t hear, “—think he’ll be unfaithful to you?”

She seemed to have considered the thought. “You know he’s been sleeping around before we got together.”

“Well, he never looked at any other girl when he started seeing you,” you tried to reason out, “I’m not saying this for the sake of getting you two back together, but I genuinely do believe that Suguru loves you. He wants to spend his whole life with you because he truly sees you as his other half. If he said something hurtful to you, it’s simply because he’s disappointed to know that you didn’t trust him enough, especially when the lie that you kept from him for my sake was what nearly placed his best friend on the brink of death.” As you reached for her hand, she squeezed it in return. “Your marriage will not be the same as ours, trust me. You’re writing your own romance book and it’s up to you two to make it work. Don’t let mine or Satoru’s experience be a reason for you to hold back. It’s not going to end that way as long as you know how to communicate with each other.”

Ieiri’s eyes moved towards Getou for a fleeting second, soon sighing when she pulled you for an embrace. “Surprisingly, I do miss him a lot lately.” She chuckled softly and kissed your temple. “And I’m grateful for you. I’m sorry that Suguru is such a dick to you and yet you’re here defending him. Your soul is so pure that… that it hurts me sometimes… because I know you’re letting people step on you out of your sense of guilt. It makes me wonder if it’s masochism at this point.”

“It’s not really just guilt.” A small, but sad smile formed on your lips—your chest grew so tight it became harder to breathe. “I just feel the need to understand other people’s perspectives. I grew up in a loving household where selflessness was always shown and I saw how my mom treated everyone with kindness until the day she died. I guess I carried some of her traits with me.”

While the ride finally ended, the both of you carried on with your conversation while she began to unhook the safety straps around her waist. “It’s okay to be selfish sometimes, you know.”

“Yeah, well…” You picked Sachiro up and stepped out of the cup. “Look where that one selfish choice led me to.”

Side-by-side, she placed her head on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. “You had a reason. Don’t beat yourself up.”

The next attraction you went to was to Peter Pan’s Flight because Sachiro insisted that he wanted to go to Neverland. It was an enclosed ride in a dark setting, illuminated by neon lights and decorated with character figures in every corner that all moved as you rode the flying pirate ship. You thought that it would be just a fun little ride until you saw the boarding restrictions that stated 1) guests who cannot maintain a stable sitting position alone in a moving vehicle may not ride and 2) you may not hold your child on your lap. Good luck, because as soon as you were ushering Sachiro inside the pirate ship, he started screaming in fear when one of the character figures moved.

“Shh. Baby, don’t cry. It’s okay,” you tried your best to calm him down, but he was bursting into tears really badly, “It’s okay. Didn’t you say you wanted to see Peter Pan? Mommy will ride with you, don’t worry.”

His sobs only became louder. “M-Mama, S-Sachi’s scared—”

You felt a hand on your shoulder, realizing that Gojou ran up to you with eyes full of worry as he looked at his son. “What’s wrong? Why’s he crying?” And because he was a six-foot tall man with beautiful blue eyes, he stole the attention of all the people on queue while you were trying to soothe your blubbering toddler.

“I think he’s scared because it’s dark and the statues are moving,” you explained to your husband, now feeling uncomfortable from the sudden attention he had drawn.

It seemed that Gojou easily read the discomfort in your stance when he took the initiative to pacify your little boy. “Sachi, daddy’s here.” He easily lifted his son in his arms and kissed his cheek. “It’s alright, we’ll go somewhere else. Don’t be scared.” He then took your hand, pulling you out of the area just as he gave the ride facilitator an apologetic smile behind his mask. “Sorry about that.”

Your only hope was that none of them recognized you since the place was dark and you had your mask on. You did hear murmurs from some of them who made comments about how you two were “such a good looking couple” despite having masks to conceal your identities as the infamous CEO of the Gojou Group and heiress of the Creston Financial Group. In your dilemma, you simply avoided their eyes and walked towards the exit because this was the first time you and Satoru had been in public three years after you had separated and it would strike rumors if these people figured out who you were. Thankfully, they all seemed oblivious. And by the time the light greeted your eyes again, Satoru already released your hand as he reunited with Suguru and Shoko to explain why the birthday boy’s eyes were all red and puffy, telling them that Sachiro started throwing a tantrum, which was why he had to carry him out as he muttered that there must be other rides that were a lot more toddler-friendly.

“Aww, he’s scared of the moving statues?” Suguru teased your son and subsequently, your husband. “Wonder where he got that from.”

Gojou’s eyes were playful, but defensive. “Not me!”

“Not me, too,” you chimed in and wiped Sachiro’s eyes, “My poor baby.”

Shoko took out a lollipop from her bag and offered it to your son. “Here you go, Sachi. Don’t cry now.”

“How are you gonna protect mommy when you grow up and you’re easily scared?” Satoru rubbed the tip of his nose on his mini-me’s cheek, unaware of the aftereffects of his words to your fluttering heart. It might be such a fleeting moment, but the domesticity of it had put things into perspective for you. You had gotten used to being a single mother and for three years, you dealt with Sachiro’s outbursts on your own, and yet here you had a husband who helped you soothe that same child. You had a husband who eased the responsibility on your shoulders. You had a husband who, in spite of abandoning him, loved and cherished you.

At least, for now.

“Where do we go next?” You forced a smile and looked at him.

His gaze was reluctant. “I guess we'll try more rides and then watch the parade.”

The parade he was referring to was the one that takes its guests into the “world of dreams” as per the brochure. But before Sachiro could see Mickey Mouse and his Disney Friends, the day was still packed and loaded with many different activities to indulge in. It was surprising enough that the hyperactive toddler hasn’t lost his energy after riding the Western River Railroad, Pooh’s Hunny Hunt, Buzz Lightyear’s Astro Blazers, and now the Castle Carousel. As the sun was setting, Satoru insisted that he would be the one to accompany his little boy in that carousel because the ride was harmless and he wouldn’t really be putting his ‘sensitive brain’ at risk over a simple merry-go-round. It did take you some time to agree, considering that your husband was also a responsibility to you instead of your child’s guardian, but you eventually gave him a free pass to get on the ride with Sachiro so they could bond together.

Besides, Satoru was having fun seeing how his son was enjoying himself. The little boy was even flapping his arms as his father held him securely from the back while riding a horse in this merry-go-round. “Say hi to mommy,” Gojou encouraged, keeping his child safe between his tall figure and the pole, “Look over there.”

“Mama!” Sachiro giddily waved his hand as soon as he spotted his mother, and the excitement in his eyes made Satoru ponder about a sick, twisted thought roused by his recent nightmares. His back stiffened and his hand unknowingly balled into a fist while you remained clueless as you grinned from below the platform when they passed you. Each roundabout was enough for Gojou to get lost in his bottle of unhealthy emotions, anticipating the spillage of words to flow out of his mouth.

“Sachi?”

The little boy quickly responded at the mention of his name, looking up at his father with curious baby blue eyes. “Dada.”

Satoru displayed a sad smile and kissed his son’s forehead. “How do you feel about living without Mama? Just you and me?”

To ask a child such a question, Gojou must be sick in the head. Not just literally, but figuratively speaking, because he knew that it was wrong. He was completely agreeing to his subconscious brain who told him that it wasn’t right to take his son away from his mother, but that speck of curiosity won over the good moral values that were holding him back. He wanted to hear it from Sachiro himself if he could ever consider life without his mother, and as expected, the child declined. “B-But I wanna be with Mama.”

“What if mommy can’t be with Sachiro anymore?” he further asked, brushing the white strands away from the little boy’s eyes, “What if mommy has another family? Another baby? What if she doesn’t love us anymore?”

When Sachiro’s lips started to quiver, Satoru woke up from his senses and realized how much of a prick he was for saying those and he became even more profoundly guilty when the toddler was about to burst out crying. “M-Mama s-said she won’t leave S-Sachi!”

Fuck. He didn’t mean to do this. He didn’t mean to hurt his child, and now he was paying the repercussions of having to hurt the same. His child’s tears stung his heart so bad that he started to panic internally. “I’m sorry,” he said in urgency, “I’m sorry, Dada didn’t mean it. Your mommy loves you. She won’t leave.”

Of course, Gojou expected the questioning gaze that you would send his way after the carousel ride. While you didn’t really hear what he said to your son, you were immediately defensive when you carried the boy in your arms. “Why did he cry?” was your first question, “What’d you say to him?” was your follow-up, “Did you scold him?” was your conclusion.

Either to lie or tell the truth—Satoru ended up taking the wrong path in order not to blow things out of proportion. “No, it was just…” he trailed off, glancing at Sachiro who was now far too distracted from the parade’s introductory music that was booming from a distance. “We should go.”

He wasn’t really off the hook somehow because he could recognize the distrust in your eyes before you walked away, holding Sachiro closer as you tried to find the best spot to watch the parade. Satoru would have followed closely behind until he decided to halt from his footsteps, watching how you and Ieiri settled on the spot across from him. The parade had already begun and he couldn’t exactly run athwart the road, so he stayed in his place and simply kept an eye on you.

“Everything alright?” Suguru patted his back as he joined his best friend’s company. He soon gestured his chin forwards as if to point at you. ��You two fighting or what?”

Ironically, Gojou’s heart melted at how you and Sachiro were smiling together, waving towards the caravan that carried all the famous princesses in the Disney world. Yes, he was angry at you because of that text message. Yes, he was angry at you for the obvious adultery that you were committing behind his back. Yes, he was so fucking angry at you for acting like you weren’t doing this as a revenge. But you see, whenever Satoru looked at your gentle smile and the softness that masked your beautiful face, he realized that he was still a husband who was deeply, irrevocably in love with you. That with every betrayal you could think of doing, he was still the husband who was paying the sins that he himself once made.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do, Suguru,” he mumbled, almost inaudibly because of the loud, euphonious sounds coming from the parade, “I love her. I love her so much and I’m a mess.”

Getou couldn’t understand what his best friend actually meant by it, but suggested another idea that Satoru could hopefully consider. “Many things happened before the accident, you know? And you can’t remember most of them.”

He swallowed and furrowed his brows, touching the conjunction where his neck met his shoulder. “Like what? Tell me everything.”

“I’m not in the position to say it to you,” said his long-haired pal, “Even if I do say it, you’d probably have a hard time believing because you’re so… you’re so into her right now.”

‘Right now’? Gojou picked up the terms that Suguru was using, but couldn’t understand the root of them. He just couldn’t formulate a reasonable conclusion out of this mess, so he chose to form his own by asking a candid question. “How long has it been going around?” he asked with gritted teeth, “She’s cheating on me, right? She’s sleeping with Toji Zen’in?”

On the contrary, Getou’s narrow eyes became wide. “I-Is that what she said?”

“No, I caught her.” Satoru shook his head insistently and grabbed his best friend’s shoulder. “Just tell me, Suguru. Did you know about it, too? She was sleeping around while I was in the hospital. Did you know that? Was that the reason I got into a car crash?”

Based on the other man’s countenance, he must have realized that the contortions on Satoru’s visage was an indication that he was reaching a dangerous level of stress. That became Suguru’s driving point to not disclose any more information that could potentially be damaging to his mind and instead, sugarcoated things by redirecting the topic. “You’ll understand once you remember, Satoru.”

Remember? When? Until when would he have to suffer from this stupid memory loss for people to acknowledge the turmoil in his brain? Gojou was already filled with heartbreak when he looked back at you—his visions blurring as images suddenly flashed before his eyes.

Of him waiting outside the ER. Of Gen yelling at him to go away. Of your father saying that he wasn’t needed anymore.

And just before reality pulled him back, he could feel a sharp stab of pain in his chest. He was looking at you from across the road with everything in slow motion, everything was blurred in the background, every noise was replaced with silence—all except for you and his son smiling so happily and so free. He couldn’t understand if that scene with Gen and your father was a phantasm or a memory, but one thing he was certain about was that there was an inexplicable ache deep within him. What was the reason behind Gen’s antagonism? Why did she push him away with such hostility? What happened to you that caused you to be hospitalized?

His own brain couldn’t even answer him.

Unfortunately, that night, Gojou headed off to dreamland again and it was completely unrelated to the flashback that briefly entered his mind back at the parade. Perhaps he was just really filled with anger because of your affair. Perhaps he was just suffering from the same pain that you went through back when he was the cheater in your marriage. Satoru should have known that he was yet again bound to have another round of disturbing images that would continue to mess with his fragile mind. He couldn’t consider this one a nightmare, but neither was it a dream. It was more so a sensual desire formed by his subconscious that didn’t really make any sense until he was submitting to the REM stage of his slumber.

“Ngh! S-Satoru,” your breathless moans only forced him to shove his cock deeper inside, holding your hips close as you lay above the dinner table, “I-I want you.”

Despite being so deliciously naked before him, he was harsh when he spread your legs open and rammed his aching member inside your cunt. He penetrated your tight walls until your pussy had become swollen and moistened by his precum, withdrawing his cock all the way from the tip and sliding all seven inches back in. “I’m gonna fuck you stupid,” he hissed, clenching his jaws before he forcefully jolted his hips forward. He was far too deep that his balls were slapping against your plump folds, emitting a loud cry from you when you entered into a euphoric state. “I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you pass out. ‘S that how you like it?”

Your breasts were bouncing wildly with how he continued his hard thrusts—stimulated when your husband kneaded your mound and sucked the nipple in his mouth. He swirled his tongue around your bud and soon suckled your tit with fervor, leaving a circular bruise around your flesh to mark you as his and only his. “A-Aah! S-Satoru, y-yes!”

“Open your mouth,” he ordered in a raspy voice, rocking his hips back and forth while forcing two of his fingers down your throat, “You fucking slut.”

That was what you were. A slut. A whore. An adulterer who deserved none of his sympathy. He didn’t have any pity left to give you even when your eyes were brimming with tears, choking because of the intrusion on your tonsil. “G-Gojou, p-please.”

As he did take out his fingers, he replaced the action by spitting into your mouth. “You feel dirty, huh?”

Upon waking up, Satoru was disgusted.

Satoru was horrified.

Satoru Gojou was heartbroken.

Not to say that this was his first time feeling it, but having gone through the same type of pain over and over did not make the pain any less.

Instead of feeling aroused by a supposed wet dream, he was sick to his stomach, chest rising and falling when he opened his eyes to see you like an angel in a deep sleep and completely unaware of the haywire in your husband’s brain. He was beginning to find it difficult to differentiate what was a memory and what was a mere nightmare as either forms were still driving him insane. He didn’t know what to feel, didn’t know what to make out of this odd situation. Was he supposed to feel guilty? Angry? Regretful? Sexually frustrated? For fuck’s sake. One thing for sure, however, was that sleeping next to you was no longer as comforting as it felt three years ago.

And in saying that, the best way to calm his mind was to get out of bed at 4 AM, making his way outside to sleep on the couch like you were supposed to do on the very first night of your wedding.

Today was a special day and you had been anticipating it ever since you dreamed of becoming a fashion designer. It was never really part of your plan to be a designer considering that you were supposed to help Gen on running CFG, but because Toji actively supported and encouraged you to chase your dreams, you eventually learned to have the confidence to embrace the career path that you had always wanted to take.

Who knew that the girl who made simple fashion sketches in her spare time was now about to launch her own brand into the public? To say that you were proud was understatement. It just felt surreal to you that your blood, sweat, and tears would finally be rewarded by seeing Hearte fly on its own wings. That Akemi, your employees, and colleagues would finally be free from the imprisonment brought about by weeks of stress. Whether the launch would become huge or not, this was something to celebrate about.

You would surely save your tears of joy for later, but for now you had a packed schedule ahead. Gojou was still acting odd around you, although you didn’t really have the time to deal with your ex-husband on this specific day because your career required more attention than anything else. You were admittedly relieved that he chose not to address any issue that he was having while you had other things to worry about and it was the most considerate Satoru had been since the trip to Disneyland. The atmosphere between you two was definitely tense, probably even awkward at most, but at least you weren’t being treated with rancor as you had initially thought. Gojou didn’t bother to ask what schedule you had for the day and told you that he would look after Sachiro, reassuring that the maids would be there to help around.

Maybe, you and Satoru were really way past the toxic husband and wife stage.

“I’ll see you later?” you said, rushing to wear your favorite set of heels. “I might come home late, though.”

He stayed sitting on the stool, placing his coffee mug on the island. “What time does your meeting end?”

For a moment, you debated whether or not you should tell him that it wasn’t actually just a regular work day, but an official brand launch and an afterparty to celebrate. He wasn’t invited because his presence would be very controversial and it could become a very risky PR for your launch, especially since you were still hot on paparazzi pursuit. It could also put Satoru in a really dangerous situation since the influx of paparazzi could be emotionally and psychologically stressful for him to deal with. You hoped that he could understand. You hoped that he wouldn’t be hurt that you couldn’t offer an invitation, but until then, you decided not to tell him. “I don’t know really,” you eventually answered, “Stay at home and take some rest, okay? If anything happens, you can call my assistant. If there’s an emergency, I’ll be right with you as soon as I can.”

“...Okay. See you.”

To begin your day, the whole morning was spent doing last minute preparations. You met up with some of the runway models that would be walking for your show and also double-checked for any possible wardrobe malfunctions that could occur. It was an unparalleled experience to know that your vision was becoming true to life and Akemi was even teasing you about how obvious it was in your eyes that you were truly joyful. The both of you worked together throughout that afternoon and partnered with the marketing team to ensure a successful launch, wishing for nothing but good things to come. From New York to Tokyo, you could only hope that the fruits of your labor would be generously rewarded.

“I can’t believe it,” said Akemi as you two sat in front of a vanity mirror to get your hair and make-ups done professionally, “The moment we’ve been waiting for, it’s here.”

You reached for her hand and held it tightly. “I know! I feel like I’m gonna cry. I’m so nervous for some reason.”

She soothingly rubbed her thumb across the skin on your hand. “Don’t be. Everything will go as planned,” she assured, tilting her head slightly to add, “Does Satoru know about the launch?”

“He will, eventually. He doesn’t really go on social media anymore, but he might hear it somehow.”

“Well, he’s gonna be proud, I’m sure. He seems like a very supportive man.”

You sighed and stared at your airbrushed face in the mirror, feeling empowered from how your make-up artist beautifully crafted her art into your face. You imagined the scenario if you and Satoru never divorced; would you still be sitting in this chair preparing for the launch of your own clothing line? Or would you have been a housewife who only did sketches in her free time? It was a good perspective to look at considering that Gojou had once ordered the reconstruction of one of the rooms in the penthouse and turned it into your own working space. He would certainly be supportive had you chosen to pursue your career after giving birth, the only problem was that your postpartum depression could have been so much worse if you stayed with him.

You had to remind yourself that Satoru Gojou was just your past and there was no point in pondering about the what-ifs in your marriage. Your present was Toji Zen’in, who ironically showed up in the dressing room just in time when you got into your long-sleeved mini-dress with a draped bottom held by a carabiner, and further accentuated by an adjustable neck strap. To your surprise, he was donning a classic tailored Zegna suit which only achingly reminded you of your ex-husband even more. You could remember all the events you and Satoru had coordinated your outfits as a married couple, and thinking about his usual taste for Zegna suits made you think fondly of those memories. You two had always been a pair and it was quite sentimental for you that you were now about to attend a public event alone—a solid proof of your divorced, single mother status.

“Toji, you made it!” On the other hand, you greeted your new companion in life immediately, pulling him into an embrace after receiving the bouquet of pristine cream roses that he was holding. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

He leaned in to peck your lips and placed a hand on the curve of your hip. “You look gorgeous. Are you excited?”

You fixed his tie and cupped his cheek. “Excited and nervous.”

Truth be told, despite the amount of encouragement that left Toji’s lips, it was still nerve racking for you to make your debut as a local fashion designer. Akemi was with you throughout the whole process and she was a firsthand witness to how you were becoming more and more restless backstage as each model started walking on the runway. The theme of your debut collection was to show that Hearte was “crafting a signature aesthetic that comprises classic yet conceptual, ready-to-wear pieces that thrives on elegance, simplicity, and modern minimalism” as described on the website. At the time of the catwalk, the website had also been launched online and those who were anticipating to see your collection could finally place their orders. You still haven’t heard from your brand’s eCommerce manager nor from your social media team, so you had no idea about the reception that you were receiving on the web. However, being on the center stage was a different scene.

When the models finally lined up to do their last catwalk, that was when you made your first stride on the vertical platform as Y/N L/N, the Designer and Creative Director of Hearte. It was for the first time where you felt that you weren’t being seen as the heiress of Creston or the ex-wife of Satoru Gojou or the current fiancé of Toji Zen’in. No, you were finally making a name for yourself and you showed gratitude by blowing a kiss to the audience and making a bow to acknowledge the applause. There was your dad, Gen and Ian, Toji and the Zen’in kids, and even Mitsuko Watanabe who was the editor-in-chief of Vogue Japan and essentially one of the most influential people in the industry. You weren’t an established designer yet, but you also managed to invite a few celebrities and social media personalities who all expressed admiration for your craft. They described just how elegant the pieces were and how much they were looking forward to wearing the ones they particularly liked. It was a high class social event that required extensive energy and you somehow enjoyed the whole experience. Although Toji couldn’t exactly be pictured next to you in light of recent controversies, you were still grateful for the smile of encouragement that he was sending your way as you socialized with the key people in the fashion industry.

Apart from that, you received such amazing news from your eCommerce manager that five of your pieces had sold out within half an hour. She also told you that the website crashed because of the traffic coming from all the people who were dying to get their hands on your most popular designs.

But to balance out the good, there must always come the bad. Everything was going well until you encountered one of the reporters who was quick to point out the flaws in your collection which, apparently, was trending on the Twittersphere and not in a good way.

“What can you say about the backlash that you’re receiving?” the reporter asked, “You’re currently trending on Twitter because people are unhappy with the prices!”

You forced a professional smile even though you still had no knowledge of the full context of the public’s concern. “Well, there’s always room for improvement considering that it just recently launched. This brand is very flexible and we strive to make sure that the pieces are inclusive to everyone and that these designs are intended not just to follow the latest trends, but also to make people feel empowered. I’m also very much open to visual deconstruction if it helps my detail and craftsmanship as a novice in the industry.”

While you did carry yourself well out there, it still didn’t change the fact that your team was reading through the criticism that Hearte was receiving online, mostly because of you.

“What’s going on?” You headed straight to your social media manager after the event. “What’s the whole Twitter thing that the reporter is talking about? I thought the website was successful?”

She gave you a sympathetic smile and gestured towards Nobara who was handing your phone to you. “It is but, take a look for yourself.”

I genuinely loved the collection, but the fact that she’s put them up for such high prices is beyond me! So disappointing as I actually looked forward to it.

What in the Shein? You can literally get these pieces for half the price. Scam!

When nepotism can’t even save your brand LOL You’re trying too hard. Find another career!

Her clothing line seems to be marketed for the rich. Elitism at its finest. They’re not even good. So basic.

Aside from the endless criticism that you have read as you scrolled through, someone was also trying to get everyone to boycott your brand for misleading advertising. According to them, you had been setting up anticipation for the brand for the past month, claiming that it would be accessible to all when in fact, only those who were more financially stable could afford it.

“Don’t mind them, Miss Y/N.” Nobara tried to console you. “Hearte is still successful. You worked so hard for it and—”

“It’s f-fine.” Unfortunately, you couldn’t hide the weakness in your voice as much as you wanted. Even if you swallowed the lump in your throat, there was no chance you could mask the glossiness of your eyes. No matter what you did, no matter how much you worked hard for something, it seemed that you were always going to be seen as Public Enemy #1. To be called names, to be referred to as a scammer, a fraud, a wannabe, an elitist—it hurt you that people could not sit down and simply appreciate the hard work and the effort that you had placed into creating and conceptualizing these pieces. “I-I understand they’re pretty upset with the price, but there’s no way else we could lower the cost of production. I pay my employees fairly and my pieces aren’t made of cheap fabric. I-It’s just a bit unfair that th-they’re… judging right away.”

Both Nobara and your social media manager tried to rub your back, comforting you with words that were meant to uplift your mood. “We know,” said the older lady, “Y/N, you did such an amazing job and everyone in Hearte loves you. You’re talented and your creative visions are outstanding. Don’t let this ruin your night.”

You couldn’t explain that even if they were right, you still felt hurt at the fact that you must have disappointed your team. They spent sleepless nights to ensure that everything was going according to your plans and concepts, only to be met by the judgment of the general public whose prejudice must have rooted from other reasons. Would things have been better if you listened to Akemi and delayed the launch? Would things not hurt you as much if you weren’t too ambitious?

‘When you expect disappointment, you won’t be disappointed.’ It was one of the movie quotes that stuck with you for a while now and you realized just how fitting it was to your current situation, seeing as you could have shielded your heart from this ache and saved your face from humiliation if only you had set reasonable boundaries since the beginning.

Could this be your karma for the things you did to Satoru?

You were despaired and humiliated when you walked out of the event place to get some fresh air, at least to hide from the obvious concerned looks that you were receiving from your employees, co-workers, and even your families. Despite Gen’s attempt at calling your name, you didn’t look back when you headed towards the car park, leaning against your white Corvette as you looked up at the night sky. You already had a sensitive heart to begin with and to deal with disappointment, stress, and humiliation all at once was leading you up the summit of this never-ending suffering. It seemed like there was no escape to your woes and the world was simply against you.

“Y/N.” You knew that the deep, manly voice coming from behind you was from none other than the man who convinced you to chase your dream of becoming a designer. His next move was to place hand on your shoulder, pulling you in for a comforting hug to ease your anxiety from growing. “About what those people are saying, screw them. Don’t think about them. They have nothing else to do with their lives so they’re trying to ruin yours, okay? Just forget what they’re saying,” he said each word carefully before pulling away to cup your cheeks, “There are so many more people who are supportive of you, and I don’t mean just me or your family, but many others who genuinely do know and understand you as a person.”

You pressed your lips together and prevented yourself from succumbing into tears. “It’s easy to say that I should focus on the good and to forget the bad, but I’m a freaking person, too,” you replied, voice becoming murmurous, “Like I’m standing here, smiling at people, trying to do my best to fulfill my dreams. I’ve always been fair to everyone and I’d never do anything hateful to anyone. Ever. I-I don’t understand why—”

“Trust the process.” He brushed the hair out of your face. “You’re just starting and it’ll take some time for you to settle in the industry. It’s tough, I know. But didn’t you say you were prepared? Didn’t you say that you’d be willing to receive criticism so you could learn?”

You touched his wrist and wiped your eyes. “I-I just feel like such a disappointment. They’re just so mean with their words and…”

“You don’t deserve it,” he added, kissing your forehead, “So don’t let it discourage you. Look at the bright side and always find a silver lining to everything. Even though some people will continue to spout nonsense on social media, Hearte is still doing well in numbers. I’m proud of you and I’ll keep saying that if I have to.”

His thumb traced your cheek just as you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning forward to kiss his lips. “I love you, Toji.”

Little did you know, a few meters away from you and your fiancé was another heartbreaker in the form of a white-haired, blue-eyed ex-husband who was shaking with hysterical rage at the sight of you and his business rival. Discarded on the floor was the bouquet of blush peonies that he was previously holding.

“So, this is why my own wife didn’t invite me, huh.”

A FEW HOURS AGO

Gojou had a plan and it was to win your heart.

After spending the whole day contemplating how he should deal with his predicament, he came to a conclusion that he wanted to become a better man. And to become a better man, he had to be a better husband. And to be a better husband, he had to approach his dilemma with a mature mindset. Surely, he trusted that the Satoru Gojou before the accident must have learned his lesson after hurting his wife, so this reconstruction of a new and improved husband shouldn’t be surprising for you to see. He carefully thought this through and figured that the only way to get rid of his sick nightmares was to face one of his biggest fears—you.

In order to overcome his fear, he had to be the one to fix the marriage he ruined. He was the one who did it first, hence, being neglected and being cheated on were part of the aftermath. Perhaps he was even just overthinking it because it was not in your nature to be an adulterer. It wasn’t in your personality to be the kind of person Satoru once was, because you were better than that. You were modest, conservative, sophisticated, and no part of you lacked class. No part of you would have slept with another man behind your husband’s back for the sake of revenge.

Now, call him stupid if you want, but Satoru decided that he would turn a blind eye on all the possibilities that you were indeed having an affair. In his head, the text message was a mistake. Toji must have mistaken you for someone else and had sent an absurd message out of the slip of a finger. In his head, these were the only thoughts that he religiously believed in: you weren’t pregnant, you weren’t having an affair, you weren’t neglecting your husband, you weren’t indulging on intimacy because you simply lacked the energy, and most of all, you weren’t falling out of love him.

You loved him. Satoru was sure you did.

Until he wasn’t.

That evening while ordering the chefs to cook the best dishes they could possibly make, instructing the maids to prepare the dinner table into an intimate setup for your date night—Gojou thought that his little plan would work. He imagined the scenario where you would come home from your meeting, surprised by the candlelit dinner and the peony petals that would greet you as your husband stood in a corner in his favorite Givenchy suit. He imagined that you two would take this opportunity to improve your marital relationship and whisper sweet nothings to each other over your recherché selection of wines. He imagined that he would be laughing over how stupid he was for being suspicious about Toji’s text after you confirmed to him that the message really wasn’t meant for you. He imagined that he would carry you to bed at midnight and make sweet love to you under those silk sheets that were as smooth and fragrant as your skin.

On the other hand, the universe gave him a reality check. His mother called him that night and told him that it was useless to wait because you were busy with your clothing brand’s launch and that you would be getting wasted at an afterparty without him.

Satoru was impulsive and reckless—you, of all people, should know what he was capable of doing at the height of his anger. He couldn’t just sit there in his penthouse waiting pathetically for his wife to come home, no. He rushed out of your home and had his driver take him to the events place where you were having your launch so that he could finally confront the questions that were burdening his head. He wasn’t really going to make a scene. He just wanted to see it for himself why he wasn’t told that you were having such an important milestone in your career when he had been nothing but supportive of you. Did you leave him out because you were worried that being thrown into the social scene might stress him out? That could be it, right? That was more ‘you’, right? There wouldn’t have been any other reason because you loved him and you always wanted the best for him.

Thankfully, he wasn’t underdressed when he arrived at the event to see many people in high fashion pieces being photographed by the paparazzi outside the venue. It looked like the show just finished and now everyone was heading to the afterparty, strangely glancing at Satoru’s way with their scandalized gazes. Was it really that surprising to see him at his wife’s event?

There was a building sense of anxiety in his chest as he walked past the people who recognized his albino hair and tall figure, searching for no one else in that place but you. It took him a while until he even managed to get ahold of Ian whose eyes were just as wide as Gen’s when they saw him. “What are you doing here, Satoru?” He would have laughed at how in sync the couple was with their question, but there was no humor in his sister-in-law’s eyes.

“I’m looking for Y/N,” he said, eyes wandering, “Have you seen my wife?”

Gen’s visage turned dark—her face showing the same cloud of austerity that he had seen in his flashback. “Leave! You shouldn’t be here, you—”

“Gen.” It wasn’t Ian who uttered her name, it was your father who appeared behind Satoru with a standoffish countenance. Although he showed some reservation, he was at least kinder to his son-in-law when he looked up at him in concern. “Satoru, go home.”

“But Dad…” Like a child who had been deprived of a chance to play, Satoru’s confused state earned the sympathy of Ian and your father. “Why is everyone so angry at me? Did you all think I missed my wife’s event? She… She didn’t even tell me and now I’m confused. I wanted to support her.”

Ian was about to usher him out until a familiar woman with raven hair and choppy bangs came to save him from the awkward scene. She was quick to grab his wrist, smiling apologetically to Satoru’s in-laws before proceeding to lead him out of the exit sans the flock of paparazzi’s from the entrance door. “Why did you come?” Akemi only stopped from her tracks when no one else was around and it was obvious how her eyes were filled with panic. “You can’t be seen here!”

It was starting to get frustrating. So much that Satoru could feel himself losing his patience every second. “This is the second time you told me that I can’t be seen near my wife. What the heck is your deal?” he questioned, sharpening his eyes at her, “Just tell me where she is.”

“I can’t.” She clutched his forearm and shook her head urgently. “Satoru, I’m sorry you really have to go. Y/N’s doing fine and I’ll tell her you dropped by, okay?” she tried to convince, “Or better yet, I’ll take you home if you want, but—”

“Akemi,” he warned, mouth curving into a cold smile as he looked at her warm brown eyes. “I like you, so don’t change my opinion about you. Just tell me where my wife is.”

There was something in her gaze that looked like she was cornered, and yet she still refused to give in. What she did was to take his hand and pull him away. “Do you have a driver? I’ll drive you home.”

It was at this point where Gojou had finally lost the last string of patience in his reservoir and had Akemi flinching when he swatted her hand away. “Let me go. I’ll find her myself.”

All these damned people. Satoru couldn’t stop cursing in his head as he stomped across the hall and ignored Hirai's pleas, forcefully grabbing a waiter by the arm to ask where you were. He finally got his answer when the frightened waiter said that you were at the parking lot and Gojou found himself unceremoniously dashing out of the building to seek you. His heart was pounding in his chest, his body became tense, his mind was spinning from the whirlwind of emotion that he was about to have knowing full well that the anxiety he was feeling inside was because he knew that he was about to discover something that would break him in half.

There, under the moonlight and the blanket of stars, was his wife kissing another man with such passion that drained all the blood from Satoru’s face. His body grew unnaturally still as he clutched the bouquet in his hand and watched how his business rival became the recipient of those soft lips and fond gaze and… and…

“I love you, Toji.”

First, Satoru was about to faint. Then, his anger rose up. Then, he wanted to laugh like a deranged man.

“So, this is why my own wife didn’t invite me, huh.” Satoru’s voice was laced with spite as he dropped the stupid bunch of flowers to the ground and clenched his fists.

It was like you were thrown into a horror movie as you turned to your husband with wide, fearful eyes—gaping, unsure whether to breathe or speak. You chose the latter. “S-Satoru, what are you doing—”

“What am I doing here?!” He stepped closer and made you recoil in trepidation. “I’ve heard that question from everyone in this fucking building since I’ve arrived! You turned me into a fucking joke while you’re out here liplocking with this bastard?!”

His chest was moving at a scary rise and fall as he saw red, mouth contorting even more grotesquely when Toji had the audacity to step in and pull you back. “Don’t curse at her, Gojou! It’s not what you think.”

“Not what I think…” Satoru scoffed before he slammed his fist squarely on Toji’s jaw. The violence elicited alarmed screams from you and Akemi who both tried to pull Gojou away from the other man as he continuously lunged after him for another attack. At the height of his adrenaline, it was impossible because even Toji himself wasn’t fighting back and Satoru found it insulting how all the man did was wipe the blood on the corner of his lips. “You kissed my wife and you tell me it’s not what I think?!”

Toji was about to retort until you stopped him.

“No, Satoru, please. I’m sorry. P-Please, don’t do this. L-Let’s talk and I’ll explain.” You choked on your own sobs and tried to get in between the two males, but what hurt him worse was the way you protected Toji instead of your own husband. That you chose your lover instead of your spouse. That, in a situation where you could choose between him and Toji, you went ahead and ran to someone else. That your primary concern was to ask if Toji was okay.

Did you even consider if your husband was okay?

“Fuck.” Satoru laughed maniacally and lost all rationality in his brain. He could feel Akemi's comforting squeeze on his arm, but felt nothing as he stepped back with an agonizing stab in his heart after realizing that his wife had truly fallen in love with someone else. “You really did this to me. Are you happy now? Is that what you… what you fucking want? Do you wanna just kill me now instead of hurting me like this?” Tears escaped his eyes and he felt pathetic because of it. “Or do you wanna take it the next level and make me watch you fuck him like a whore, too?”

Toji gritted his teeth. “Satoru Gojou!”

“Toji, don’t. P-Please.”

After exchanging sickeningly worried gazes with your lover, you finally approached Satoru and pleaded with trembling lips for him to understand. “Gojou, w-we need to talk. Please c-calm down.”

No, why would he even listen to you at this point?

“Satoru!”

“Satoru, please!”

“Satoru!”

He was walking away without looking back, eyes fixed on the path leading to his car where he met with his driver who was just getting out of the driver’s seat. “Move,” he commanded in a scarily deep voice, pushing the man away so he could get inside the car.

“Chairman, you can’t drive!”

“Gojou, no!” Your screams echoed through the parking lot, but you were too late when you reached his vehicle and banged your fist against the window because he had all the doors locked and there was no chance he would be stepping out. “Don’t! No, get out of the car! Please, Gojou!”

Calling him by his last name—Satoru didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Were you not a Gojou, too? Did you replace him so quickly that you didn’t even acknowledge his last name as yours anymore?

Before you knew it, he was already revving up the engine and speeding off.

With a tight grip on the steering wheel, he saw by looking at the side mirror how you screamed and tried to chase after the car, eventually giving up as your knees failed you. He could understand why you were acting scared, though. It wasn’t because you cared about him, but because you were most likely afraid to carry the guilt if your husband got into a car crash the second time around. What would the news headlines be if he ended up in another accident that actually led to his death? Would you attend his funeral? Would you pretend to grieve and then celebrate with Toji after? Would you be happy that Satoru was finally gone from this world?

How he wished it was that easy to kill himself. There was no way he would even think of committing suicide when every time he closed his eyes, he could see Sachiro’s face. He could see the son he loved with all his heart and he was hurting at the thought of leaving him behind. He had to think straight for his child’s sake. He had to be a father who would not abandon his child like his mother did to him. He had to protect his son from you.

However, when he returned home, Satoru was already in a sick state of mind.

His head was filled with so much rage, chest filled with so much pain, heart filled with so many emotions that could fill up a thousand pages of a book. He needed an outlet to release the heavy weight that was suffocating him and he did it by smashing the first vase he had reached above the console table. And when he saw the dining arrangement that was supposedly prepared for you tonight, Satoru ended up grabbing the bottle of wine and taking a swig of the liquor before explosively kicking the table. The dinnerware, glasses, and dishes all crashed against the floor, scaring the maids who stood at the side while looking visibly afraid of the ‘crazy white-haired man’.

Although, surprisingly, he was a lot calmer than they expected when he leaned his back against the bar counter and ordered for them to leave. “Get out.”

And so they did. They scurried out of the place like a bunch of preys hiding from a dangerous lion who could devour anyone at his current state. Did they even know what it felt like to have Satoru Gojou’s brain right now? Ask him and he would tell you exactly that his head was in tremendous pain and that he was having a flashback of the nightmare where he was beating you to death like how his father did to his mother.

“No, I’m not like you.” He slid against the counter and sat on the floor, tearing up as he chugged the wine bottle. “I’m not like you, Dad! I’m not! Stop! Stop!” The more brutal images flashed in his mind, the more he was screaming and weeping in absolute denial. He was clutching his hair with one hand and banging the back of his head as if it could help remove his hallucinations until you suddenly came running towards him in heavy breaths and lachrymose eyes.

“Satoru! Y-You’re…!” Despite your relief, you were crying all the same as you attempted to approach him. “I got so worried, I-I thought something happened to you. I’m sorry, Satoru. I r-really am, but you need to hear me out.”

He kept his guard up and lifted a hand, eyes pooling with warm tears. “Stay back. Don’t take another step closer. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

It was a warning that you ignored when you still ended up reaching a hand out. “Satoru—”

“I don’t wanna hurt you!”

“But, Satoru—”

“I SAID STAY BACK!” He threw the wine bottle across the room and nearly had you stumbling in terror as he stood up and pulled his hair with shaking hands, the ridges of his neck becoming dangerously pronounced. “Answer me honestly! Since when are you having an affair?”

“I’m not!” you answered right away—your voice shaky and restrained. He didn’t know if he should be offended that you still denied it desperately, seemingly resolute with your response. “I’m not cheating!”

“Stop fucking lying to my face!” With one step forward and you were taking two steps back. This slow but suspenseful cadence continued as he eventually had you cornered against the wall, hands pressed on either side of your face while your eyes drifted towards the veins in his neck that were standing out in livid ridges. You were drowning from silent tears while he was studying your face with unforgiving judgment. “Does it hurt your pride to say the truth? Just fucking say it. Say it. SAY IT!”

Your breathing became labored. “You don’t know anything! I’m not cheating on you, Satoru! It’s not like that!”

He smiled in frustration and threw his head back before slamming his fist against the wall, soon pressing his forehead against yours. “I’m giving you one last chance to admit the truth,” he carefully warned under his ragged breath, hiding the torturous squeeze in his heart, “Why can’t you just tell me that you did this to get back at me?! The more you lie, the more you’re fucking murdering me inside! You’re so, so shameless sleeping with another man while you have a child at home! It’s because you’re sick of me, right? RIGHT?”

But instead of ceasing the pain in his heart, you still insisted with your blatant skull-splitting lie. “I’m really n-not cheating on you, Satoru! We’re div—”

Gojou had experienced different kinds of heartbreaks. One from his father’s abuse, one from his mother’s abandonment, one from Nana’s death, one from the haunting guilt of hurting you in the past, and a new one which was of a stronger, more impactful, excruciating heartbreak from his three year-old son.

Sachiro was bursting with painful tears as he ran towards his mother, kicking Satoru and pushing him away in an attempt to protect you. “Dada, you’re b-bad!” he blubbered, leaving the father completely stunned, “Don’t hurt Mama!”

“Sachi, hey…” You wiped your eyes and carried the toddler in your arms, stopping him from swinging his small limbs at his dad. “Baby, no. Shhh. It’s okay. Daddy didn’t hurt me. Don’t cry.”

How ironic was it that the only person that managed to drain the intense emotions out of Satoru was his own child?

A child that not only looked like a mirrored copy of him, but also reflected his emotions back from when he had to witness his father being physically violent to his mom.

With this, Satoru took a step back in both realization and in horror. He didn’t want to be a monster. He didn’t want to become like his father. He couldn’t subject his son into the same environment that shaped him into becoming the man that he was now.

“I-I’m sorry,” was all that he could say before he walked out of the door in a daze, hoping to find solace away from you and your son after his heart and soul were shattered that night.

[ssahotstuff]

HOME//Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader PART 5

All previous parts can be found here

Summary: Emily Prentiss convinces Aaron Hotchner to get a nanny, and she knows the perfect girl for the job. You.

word count: 9.8k

Warnings for this series: SMUTTTT of all the types, minors DNI!! any minors that interact with my work with be blocked! my blog is 18+, violence, depictions of ab*se, terror, cursing, drug/alcohol content, death, crime, in-depth explanations of abuse, trauma, etc, mentions of scars from abuse, this part and the next are very triggering

ILY GUYS sorry im going through it heavy rn but didn’t want to leave yall hanging 

ALSO it only gets literally insane from here. buckle tf up please and thank u,i don’t want anyone hurt on the ride down

When I found her she was on the top floor, in front of the massive window on a giant fur rug she'd made herself at home on. She was drinking tequila directly from the bottle, patting the space in front of her for me to join her.

"You'll need this," she handed the bottle to me and I took it gratefully.

"I'm telling you this because I trust you. If you want to know so bad, you'll know. Just promise you'll still love me when I'm done talking."

I took a swig, grabbing her hand.

"Nothing you could tell me would make me stop loving you."

"Okay... Aaron, be patient with me. I've never said any of this out loud."

She took a deep breath, visibly shaking as she reached for the bottle, taking another large sip.

"My dad left before I was born. I still don't know where he is. My mom was okay, halfway at least, until I was 6 and my brother was born. No idea who his dad is. She had postpartum psychosis, but that was just the tip of the iceberg. She was on drugs, which didn't help, and she didn't want kids, which made having 2 children really tricky," she chuckled, voice cracking already, but she pushed through it. My beautiful, brave girl.

"Ben, the oldest, was 3 weeks old when she left us. She cried for days, and I knew something was wrong. So, I watched her make the bottles and change his diaper so I'd be prepared if it did. One night, I was asleep in the recliner and she woke me up and said that I'd done this to her, made her so sad. That's what she meant. So I had to help her by taking care of him. So I did. It wasn't until I got busted for shoplifting formula that my family got involved, but no one ever did anything. My mom is really manipulative, so she would just turn the tears on and they'd forgive her. She'd come home, beat me for being careless, and leave again."

She removed her shirt again, lifting her breasts to reveal a constellation of tiny spots, scars, I realized after a minute.

"Cigarette burns. Tears set her off. Made her have these meltdowns. She couldn't handle babies, or the crying. Tears were the most horrible sin, only unforgivable one," she whispered, pulling her shirt back down as quickly as she could.

"Baby," she moved closer, letting me hold onto her. "You never have to hide from me, pretty girl. Never."

"Emily tells everyone we met in school. That's not entirely true. She was my neighbor. She was the deciding factor in me staying alive some days. But my mom knew that Emily knew. So Emily taught me Morse code, so I could tap out 'SOS' on her window if I needed her. It's a habit I still haven't kicked. I'm surprised you didn't catch on to it immediately."

It was all starting to make sense.

"Emily got me out of there. I didn't come straight to Virginia, not at first. I went to school, but Emily got me into a program for minors that were in abusive households, and they emancipated me and I graduated high school at 17. Had a degree by 21, and another by 25. I did everything I could to make sure I never had to go back there."

"Two degrees?"

"I have a degree in criminal psychology," she admitted, earning a low laugh from me in return.

"My impressive girl didn't even want to tell me she was impressive."

"I wanted to be just like Emily. But once I finished, I realized it wasn't what I wanted to do, so I went back to school and now I'm writing."

"I hope you know you amaze me. Every single thing about you is astounding to me."

"Do you feel better now that you know?" She asked, face buried in my neck. She was still shaking slightly, but she seemed to be calming down some.

"I feel closer to you than I've ever felt. Thank you for telling me. I know it took a lot of courage and I want you to know that I'm proud of you." I promised her, knowing that she'd kept it a secret for so long that it was probably second nature to her to keep things in.

"I know I didn't tell you everything, but you know more than anyone else ever has."

"The fact that you told me anything at all means the world to me, sweetheart. I hope you know I will always keep you safe. I know you've spent your life being scared, but I don't want you to live like that anymore. Let me take care of you," I kissed her softly, hands on her hips, her body in my lap.

"I have a secret to tell you," she said between kisses, tongue lazily tracing my lips as we sat on the rug together.

"Tell me, baby. You can tell me anything any time you want."

"The real reason I didn't do relationships before was that I was afraid for anyone to see me. I had never been completely exposed to anyone. You were the first and the last. I won't give myself to anyone like this after you. The things we've done together... I was terrified, Aaron. Petrified for anyone to see me. I never felt that with you. There was never a minute of hesitation when it came to you."

My dick twitched involuntarily at the thought of being the only person in her entire life to have her, and she noticed because she shifted herself on top of me so she could straddle me. My length was still covered but nestled in the heat of her thighs.

"What is it, baby? Do you love the idea of being the only person to ever touch me?" She teased in my ear, mouth nuzzling lightly at my jaw. She was driving me mad

"I don't want anyone else to ever have you the way I have," I growled, grinding her against my hips to find any sort of relief.

"I don't want anyone else, only you," she promised, fingers lifting my shirt over my head, trailing so delicately over my skin that I felt goosebumps rising all over me. Between the tequila, the thrill of our first Christmas together, mixed along with everything else, the surge of emotional connection I felt towards Y/N was like electricity. I wanted to memorize every second of my life with her from here forward.

"I never thought I'd tell anyone I loved them ever again. I'm glad you proved me wrong," I muttered against her chest before wrapping my tongue around her nipple, causing her to push her chest forward and further into my face. I worked with my free hand on her other breast, massaging it gently as she moaned softly, eyes glued to my mouth.

"I love every part of you, even when you weren't so sure about things," she panted, and I watched with wide eyes as she slipped her hands past the waistband of her shorts, rubbing furiously at her clit while I sucked on her chest.

"Oh baby, are you desperate to cum?" I questioned, laying her down on the rug so I could shed her shorts. She never removed her hand, she just nodded, whimpering slightly as I stripped her down.

"Want you so bad, Aaron. Feel," she guided my fingers to her center, inhaling sharply when I slid them through her folds, collecting every drop of her juices I could get my hands on. I sucked her off my fingers without a second thought, not bothering to reply as I let my tongue find her clit. She screamed into her hand, hips bucking to meet my mouth.

"No one around for miles, pretty girl. Make all the noise you want," I half begged her, desperate to hear her scream while I was between her thighs. Spreading her open, I took my time licking from her lips to her center, using my fingers to expose her clit completely.

"Let me know if this is too much," I told her before I wrapped my lips around her, sucking lightly at first, earning a series of beautiful whimpers from her.

"More please," she pleaded, replacing my fingers with her own. I understood what she meant, sliding two fingers inside of her, curling them into her. I kissed her clit lightly, remembering how crazy it made her the last time I did it. I didn't expect her to clench around my fingers immediately, soaking them as she screamed my name.

"Yes baby, so good," normally I would have given her a break, but it was Christmas, and the liquor coursing through my veins wanted me to get intoxicated on her taste. I continued kissing her pussy, letting her wrap her legs around my neck as I got lost in her. I don't know how long she just let me lay there, but neither of us was complaining. She was too busy soaking the rug to care about the time, and frankly, I would have spent the entire duration of our getaway right there with my tongue inside of her if she would have let me.

"Not tired yet?" She questioned, hands holding my face firmly between her legs. I shook my head, taking a break only long enough to ask her to sit on my face. She agreed immediately, situating herself above me, hovering above me long enough for me to get the best view of her. She was glistening, pussy pink and swollen, dripping down her thighs.

"Do you have any idea how much it means to me that you let me touch you like this?" I asked, kissing her thighs, her ass, my lips had no particular destination in mind, they just wanted to be attached to her.

"I trust you completely. I want to try everything with you," she breathed, watching me closely as I pulled her down to sit halfway on my chest, halfway on her legs.

"You aren't going to hurt me, baby. Sit down on my face, please," she finally sat her face on my mouth, causing me to moan into her. Her head was thrown back as she finally quit being shy, using her hands to guide my mouth where she wanted it, grinding against my tongue as sweat dripped from her brow and her cum dripped onto my chin and my chest. I wanted to wear her around my neck just like this, like a trophy.

"Pretty girl," I mumbled, mostly to myself, but it earned a soft smile from her in response before she turned around abruptly, switching positions quicker than I could keep up, all so she could put my cock in her throat.

"Fuck, Angel," I hissed, meeting her mouth with my hips as I thrust into her, the little moan she made causing me to shudder beneath her. Our tongues worked mercilessly on each other, our filthy cries of pleasure echoing throughout the cabin like a pornographic movie. The fact that she'd never done this with anyone else only fueled my desire to do it more, and then some. I'd spend the entire weekend giving her firsts, and maybe getting a few of my own in the process. I was sure we'd probably have sex while we were here, but I never expected to experience something so purely passionate with her. That was the best thing about her, just when you thought things couldn't be better, she had a way of surprising you, giving you more than you ever thought possible.

That's all I could think about as she gagged around me, my cock so far in her throat I wondered how she was breathing. She gave every bit of herself, body, mind, and soul, every single time she did anything. It was admirable to the point that it was almost eerie. It gave her a saint-like persona that anyone else would think was fake, but I knew better. She was an Angel walking here on earth, and I'd been lucky enough to get to experience her. Selfishly, I wanted to keep her here forever so I never had to share her with the world again, but I knew that wasn't practical. So I'd settle for making her a permanent part of my life, no matter what the cost.

"Gonna marry you," I managed to choke out, head resting against her thigh as I watched her, tits bouncing against my chest as my dick bobbed in and out of her mouth. She moaned harshly, causing her throat to tighten around me.

"Oh, fuck, baby," I could barely hold my eyes open as she worked her hand at the base of my cock, her mouth wrapped around the rest, working in perfect rhythm together. I was starstruck, I couldn't even raise my hips to thrust into her mouth anymore. I just let her choke on my cock, thick streams of cum sputtering into her mouth as she hollowed her cheeks around me.

I took advantage of the current position she was in, pussy still in my face, ass in the air, her knees spreading above me so she could completely open herself up above me.

"I'm not done," I told her, burying my tongue inside of her, feeling the heat of her core on the entirety of my face.

"Aaron, oh my god," I felt her body stiffen above me, and a second later I felt the sweet rush of her orgasm on my tongue. It was taking hardly any effort at all to make her cum at this point, and it was addictive. Every time I tasted her cum on my tongue, I wanted more.

"You tired?" I questioned, not waiting to hear her reply, I was already tucked away between her lips, clit on my tongue.

"Not in the slightest," she giggled, and in return it made me smile. So pure. So sweet.

"Cum one more time and we can take a break. Get a snack and move to the bed," I told her, kissing her clit lightly, knowing that's all it would take to make her come undone.

"Don't stop," she pleaded, and I shook my head, kissing over and over until her thighs shook and my face was drenched.

"You know better. I'd never stop knowing you were so close," I whispered, kissing her thigh before letting her crawl off of me. She kissed me hard; if I would've been standing, my knees would have gone weak.

"I love you, Aaron." It was like music to my ears.

"I love you," I kissed her temple, helping to get her dressed before I worried about my own clothes.

"I meant what I said, about marrying you," I mentioned, watching her curiously as I pulled my own shirt over my head.

"I never thought I'd be anyone's wife. Are you sure you want that?" She sounded almost worried as she doubted herself. I grabbed her wrists, holding them firmly in one hand and tilting her face to look at me with the other.

"Would I have said it if I wasn't sure? You don't realize how precious you are, sweetheart. I don't ever want to have to give you up," I kissed her, releasing her hands so she could jump into my arms. I loved that she would do this, let me carry her around in my arms. I craved being able to make her feel secure in any way I could. I wondered how I let myself go so long denying my feelings for her. It wasn't fair to either of us, but especially not to her. I'd spend the rest of my life trying to make up for those weeks of doubt.

"I just don't want you to regret it," she mumbled, sitting on the counter long enough for me to find the two of us a snack. I held up a tub of vanilla ice cream, receiving a thumbs up in response, so I grabbed a spoon, grabbed my girl, and carried her up the stairs.

"I'd never regret anything I did with you, and I mean that," we flipped on the television, snacking on ice cream and talking about the future.

"I think marrying you sounds like a great way to spend the rest of my life," she said, resting her hand on my thigh. I admired the way the ring Jack and I had gotten her looked on her hand, and fantasized about things I never thought I'd think about again. Marriage, a change in career, or a transfer at least.

A baby.

Wait, what?

I hadn't thought about being a father until we already knew Jack was going to be here. The idea of planning a pregnancy, watching Y/N glow, Jack becoming a big brother...

"Baby, your phones ringing," she interrupted my thoughts, my heart sinking at the thought of my phone ringing so late. I wandered to the hall, finding it near the rug from earlier, realizing it was Dave.

"Hotchner."

"You're gonna hate me for what I'm about to say," he started, and I rolled my eyes, knowing it couldn't be good.

"On Christmas? Really?"

"No. On January 2nd. Leading some sort of task force overseas. You were requested specifically by Strauss."

"Of course I was."

"She'll be fine. She knows it's part of the job," Rossi said coolly, and I sighed, knowing that she'd be more than understanding. That's what made it so difficult.

"I'll talk to her. Does this mean my vacation can continue as planned?"

"Hey, no more interruptions from me. Have fun. And I'm sorry. That sort of distance is rough."

"It'll be dealt with. Thank you, Dave."

She knew something was off immediately, climbing into my lap to comfort me. I gripped her tightly, knowing months away from her overseas would drive us both insane. It was, unfortunately, part of my job, but Jack and Y/N made me question my loyalty to the BAU with every passing day.

"Are we leaving?" She questioned, and I shook my head, sighing as I explained to her what Dave had just told me.

"I understand," she said almost immediately, causing me to pull her into me, my hands in her hair.

"I knew you would baby, but you shouldn't have to. This is no way for me to ask you to live," I told her, and I meant it. I was going to have to either give up my position or give up my time with my son and my relationship, and neither was going to be easy, but they needed me more.

"I don't think you understand that I mean it when I say I'll support you no matter what," her voice was so soft, I knew it would be easy to leave and come back and she'd love me as nothing had changed. She'd be waiting on me at the door every single time. But eventually, it would wear her down. She'd probably never tell me if it did, but that wasn't a risk I was willing to take.

"I know you would, and I love you for that. But Jack deserves a father that's around for things regularly. And you deserve consistency from me. Earlier, we were talking about marriage and it was the weirdest thing..."

She perked up, eyes on me.

"I was just thinking about how I want to give you everything, and I couldn't help but imagine us and Jack and maybe a baby? Is that's something you'd be interested in? We should talk about that, it's important," I encouraged, and she nodded, settling into my side.

"I've never thought about it before, but I've definitely been considering it lately."

"Define lately."

"Since earlier, when you said I was motherly without trying to be. It made me think about what kind of mother I'd be, but I already have a pretty good idea, I think."

"You spend every second of the day with Jack. You do everything a mother does and you choose to do it. That's very admirable."

"I love him like he's my own, that's for sure. I've never loved anyone the way I love Jack," her voice was different when she talked about Jack. It was pure love, projected into words. It made me almost breathless.

"You went from a stranger to someone I want to share my life with within a matter of a few months. You shook our entire world, baby. I hope one day you can see how special we both think you are."

She was almost asleep, arm around my waist, breathing deeper with every passing moment.

"I love you, Aaron," she whispered, barely audible above the noise of the tv.

"I love you, Angel. Get some sleep."

✨✨✨✨

Things had been interesting for you since Aaron had gone overseas. You were actually communicating with him actively, him texting you every spare moment he got. He'd been extremely clingy, and you were enjoying every second of it. You couldn't get enough of him, and you weren't sure if you'd ever be fully satisfied ever again if you didn't have him. He was showing you what love was like for the first time, and you wondered how it could get any better.

But he continued surprising you.

About 6 weeks into his assignment, he asked if you were awake around 5 am. You were, every morning on the dot so you could get Jack ready for school. He was calling you, so you retreated to his room, flopping onto the bed as you answered.

"Hi baby," you breathed, excited to hear his voice.

"Hi, angel. Miss me?"

"More than ever. I'm glad you called," you told him, hearing him chuckle lowly in response.

"I miss you both so much. I can't stop thinking about you. I'm on my way to get some sleep but I wanted to talk to you on the drive."

"I'm glad to hear you're making time to sleep," you said honestly. He had been so tired when you first moved in, you often wondered how he functioned.

"Have you thought about what we talked about?"

"I have. I've been sure, I just wanted to wait for you baby," you assured him, hopeful for your future with him. Before he'd left, he'd given you a job: house hunting. If you wanted, of course. And you did. You wanted a home with him, and everything that had to offer.

He'd also said if you wanted to quit your birth control, that would be fine too.

You quit taking it the day after Christmas, and your body was suffering the consequences. You'd been moody, irritable, and so hungry.

"I've been so grumpy, I didn't realize how bad it could mess me up," you told him, fishing through your closet for something to wear for the day. Once you'd come home from the cabin, you moved into Aaron's room. It was his idea, even though yours was bigger. He wanted to share a room, and this is where you'd settled.

"I'm having a hard time concentrating over here because all I can think about is coming home and putting a baby in you," he admitted, voice an octave lower.

"Plenty of time for baby-making when you're back, do what you have to do and get home to us," you said, knowing that his stay overseas wasn't even halfway over.

"I'm requesting a transfer when I get back. Something more stationary. I want to be home every night."

"We both know you won't be happy with that," you told him, earning a sigh in response.

"It doesn't matter. I won't be happy if I don't ever get to see Jack or you," he countered, and you knew this was a conversation that no one could win.

"We can talk about this when you get home, just think about it okay? I want you to be happy at your job. Let me take care of things here, just worry about getting you back home safe."

"I love you. I'll text you after I've slept. Tell Jack I love him please."

You promised you would, getting off the phone and going about your normal routine. You'd have coffee, make Jack something to eat, and wake him up in time to have breakfast with you. It was your routine every single morning, and you loved every minute of it.

After you had him dropped at school for the day, you usually went grocery shopping for something for dinner, but you had different plans today. You were house hunting, scouting houses in Jack's school district so he wouldn't have to switch schools. You'd found a few potentials, jotting down the information and making a mental note to find the listing online so you could show Aaron. You were in love with one, in particular, an older home still in the district but away from the suburbs. It had a giant yard, and a reasonable price tag considering the location was excellent. You put it at the top of your list and took a break for coffee.

On a normal day, you'd go through the drive-through, but you had all day to spare, so laptop in tow, you headed inside, ordering the usual and finding a place to get comfortable.

"Y/N?"

You looked up from the screen, a mixture of horror and fear coursing through you as you realized the voice belonged to Lea, your previous roommate. You'd dipped out on her months ago, cutting all contact after your move to Aaron's. She'd tried to text and call, but you weren't interested in answering.

"Oh, hi Lea," you said shyly, terrified of what she might say. She took the seat across from you, her red hair dull in the harsh lighting, making her appear more menacing than usual.

"You've been ignoring my calls and my texts. What's your deal?"

You sat down your coffee, annoyed by the way she'd just intruded on your space.

"I have a life, one I couldn't have living with you, so just leave Lea. I'm trying to work," you spat, hoping you could get her to just walk away without causing a scene.

"How is your little boyfriend doing?"

You eyed her curiously, wondering how she knew anything about him. You hadn't talked to her or told her anything.

"Not sure what you're talking about," you bluffed, typing away at your computer like she wasn't even sitting there.

"Cut the crap. I saw you buying a shiny new watch a few weeks ago. Aaron Ellis...Hotchner, was it?"

"Are you following me?"

"Oh, don't be so vain, everyone Christmas shops."

"Whatever. Who I buy things for is none of your concern," you told her, texting Emily from beneath the table to see if she was around. She wasn't, and neither was anyone else you texted, except for Derek Morgan, who assured you he was on his way as quick as possible.

"Scared I'm gonna hurt ya?" She teased, leg kicking yours beneath the table.

"Cut the shit, Lea. Back the fuck up. You're in my space and I don't have to deal with your shit," you normally didn't curse, but you were seeing red. She was one person who knew how to push your buttons.

"I don't think putting your hands on the fiancée of a federal agent is a very good idea," Morgan said calmly, his arms crossed over his chest. You hadn't even noticed him come in.

"A federal agent, huh? Fancy," Lea continued, statue-still in the seat across from you.

"Let's go mama," Derek told you, grabbing your laptop and asking the barista to make you a coffee to go.

"This isn't over, not until I find out what makes Aaron Hotchner so special," she glared at you, gathering her things and heading for the door before Derek could even hand your fresh cup of coffee to you.

"That girl is obsessed with you," Derek said, walking you out of the cafe and to your car.

"I haven't seen her since I moved in with Aaron, but apparently she's seen me. I think I'm going to go get Jack from school," you muttered to yourself, searching for your phone so you could text Aaron and make sure it was okay. Jack never missed school, so Aaron would immediately know something was going on.

"You don't think she'd do anything to hurt you, do you? Hotch would kill me if I let you leave here like this," he already had his phone out, calling Rossi to see what he should do. Aaron was calling you within minutes of Derek hanging up the phone.

"Listen to me," his voice was serious, calm, but terrifying. You were definitely listening.

"Derek's going to take you to get Jack. Go to my office, you have the key. Toss your phone as soon as we hang up. From now until I get back, you don't go anywhere alone, baby. JJ is at the house with a team, packing a bag."

"I don't think it's that serious, I just got freaked out."

"Derek does think it's that serious, and that's enough for me."

"Okay. I'm sorry, Aaron, I'm so sorry."

You didn't want to cry, but you couldn't help it. You were terrified and he was a literal ocean away from you. You were scared, but more than anything, you wanted him with you, and that was impossible.

"Don't apologize. I'm sorry. I should be there."

"You work, we'll figure this out," you assured him, giving Derek the honors of smashing your phone against the pavement.

The entire ride to Jack's school, your heart pounded. You prayed that she wouldn't do anything to hurt a child, but you didn't really know anything about Lea other than the fact that she thought you belonged to her because you were roommates. You finally calmed down for a little bit once you had him safely in the backseat, but it was short-lived after Derek received a disturbing call from JJ.

"Morgan. You're not serious? I... I gotta tell her, JJ. She's right next to me. Call Hotch. We're headed back now."

He ended the call, turning the radio up. You were only a few short minutes from the FBI academy where Aaron's office was located, so you rode in silence, knowing whatever he had to say could wait until Jack wasn't listening. The two of you followed him inside, and you didn't dare to speak until Aaron's office was unlocked and Jack was tucked safely inside, stepping into the hall to join Derek, Spencer, and Rossi.

"JJ just called, the whole house is bugged. Dust on the cameras and mics, so probably has been since she moved in," Derek said, and your first instinct was to turn sharply to make sure Jack was still behind the door where you left him. You were sick at the thought of someone, not just someone, Lea, spying on you, Aaron and Jack.

"It still isn't enough for a warrant. All Lea did was threaten her, we can't know anything for sure," Rossi said, and you nodded, feeling the blood rush to your head all at once. You were going to pass out, or be sick, maybe both. Just before you hit the floor, Derek grabbed you, leading you into Aaron's office so you could sit on his couch.

"He should be here, Derek," you whispered, head in your sleeve as you tried your hardest to calm down. Jack needed you to be strong and with Aaron so far away, it was your responsibility to make sure Jack stayed safe. You patted the space next to you, urging Jack to come and sit with you. He came gladly from his spot on the floor, library book in tow as he sat next to you.

"I know. But we're going to keep you safe until we figure out what's going on," Derek promised, setting the laptop up on a secure network so we could still watch Netflix, and not be bored out of our minds. A few episodes into a show Jack was watching and you were both asleep, curled up together on the couch.

✨✨✨

Aaron's POV

The amount of convincing it took for me to get Strauss to let me come home early basically sealed the deal on my transfer. She was going to make my life hell if I continued to work beneath her, and despite the respect I had for her and her position, she had a way of making my life harder than it had to be. I didn't really care where I ended up at this point, all I could focus on was getting home to Jack and Y/N.

It was bad, and the entire flight home, I knew it was only going to get worse. Y/N knew the house was bugged, but she didn't know about the cars being bugged, and Lea's criminal stalking record going back a mile long. Rossi and Spencer were working to find anything we could use to get a warrant, and in 6 long hours, I'd be landing in Virginia, ready to sort this mess out. I managed to get some sleep until we landed, feeling a lot better now that I had a fresh set of eyes. I'd be back in Quantico within the hour, and I didn't think Y/N even knew I was coming back yet, so I'd get to surprise them.

Keeping them safe was my number one priority. The entire situation gave me a bad feeling in my stomach; it was all too familiar. I prayed things didn't get out of hand to the point that I had to send her and Jack away from me. I was a nervous wreck, relieved to see Spencer waiting on me at the gate so he could deliver me to my office.

"Any news?"

"Jj has been keeping an eye on the apartment they shared but she hasn't been back. No motel check-ins under her driver's license, no plane tickets. Garcia is trying to find her now," he told me, making the drive short and sweet. Rossi put his finger to his lips as I walked past, shushing me before I could open the door. I crept inside, Jack asleep at Y/N's side, her arm pulling him in tight to her. She was awake as soon as I'd shut the door, eyes still bleary from sleep.

"You're home," she whispered, staying put so she didn't wake Jack. I kissed her softly, glad to finally be back on the same continent as her.

"I am, and after this, I won't be leaving anymore. We're gonna figure this out, and I'm walking away."

"Aaron," she warned, hand on my cheek as I sat on the edge of the couch next to her.

"I'm done having to leave my family and worry about them constantly. I've said it before, this is no way for you two to live. There's nothing you can say that will change my mind."

"If you're sure."

"I am. I'll grab you both something to eat, I'm gonna figure this out so we can go home."

I locked the door behind me, knowing she and I were the only ones with a key and made my way to the bullpen to see what the team had come up with so far.

"Lea Radcliffe, 29 years old. Degree in criminal studies, early criminal record. Shoplifting at 11, along with petty theft until her early twenties, that's when the stalking starts. Two restraining orders from two different women, all within 2 years," JJ explained, and you noticed no similarities in the two women before and Y/N now.

"Did the other two women live with Lea also?" Spencer asked, and JJ shook her head.

"Case notes say the first woman Lea met at school, and the second worked at a bar near campus," JJ said.

"So the university and the surrounding area is where Lea is meeting these women she's stalking. Does Y/N have a criminal justice background also? The first victim, Sara Thomas, was pre-law, and the second, Darla Louis was a police academy dropout. Lea has a type," Rossi observed, and I nodded.

"She has a criminal psychology degree."

"So that's the common factor. Easy enough to make a friend if you have similar school schedules and interests," JJ stated, looking over the corkboard for anything we might have missed.

"News, friends," Garcia announced, bouncing in with two different stacks of folders.

"Our girl Lea bought the cameras at a pawn shop the day she got back from Ohio and realized Y/N was gone. We also have her on Hotch's neighbor's security camera breaking in one night back in October. Is that enough for a warrant?" She asked, and we all nodded in agreement, gearing up to see what we could find in Lea's apartment that might tell us where she is while JJ got a judge on the phone.

"Garcia, keep digging on Lea, see if you can find any family nearby that could give us some insight on where she might be. Morgan and I will check the apartment, if there's something there that may lead us to Lea, we'll find it."

"There's something else, sir. Every month on the 15th, someone from Y/N's hometown wires 500 dollars into Lea's account. It's weird because Lea is from here. Y/N isn't."

"There's no way to trace the wire transfer?"

"No, sir, but if they stick to a schedule, whoever it is will be sending the money tonight."

"Good work, Garcia, see if you can find where she withdraws the money, her bank account statements for a withdrawal location, atm cameras, anything that'll give us a clue where she'll be tonight."

"Got it."

"Morgan, let's go. I'll check in on them before we leave." Before I could get far, Rossi was at my side.

"I'm going to stay behind, help Garcia. Keep my eye on them."

"You can help Reid with the geographic profile and find Emily while you're here," I suggested, knowing he would make sure Jack and Y/N stayed safe.

Emily hadn't been answering her cell, which worried me, but I had bigger problems to handle currently. Emily would be found.

When I peeked in this time, they were awake, watching tv on her laptop. Jack ran into my arms, hugging me tightly. Y/N joined him shortly after, her eyes rimmed red.

"I'm gonna grab some cash so I can get you guys to a hotel for the night," I told her, promising I'd be back after checking out Lea's place. I asked Reid to take them something to eat before I left, a tiny bit relieved that I could be home to figure this out myself.

"So who's the hometown fund?" Derek asked once we were alone in the car.

"Educated guess? Her mother."

"She not get along with her family?"

I shook my head, offering no further explanation. I prayed her past could stay a secret throughout this ordeal because she'd be devastated for everyone close to her to find out about her skeletons.

"There's someone snooping outside," he told me, gun up, telling whoever it was to get their hands on the ground. It was a young guy, no more than 18 if I had to guess.

"Don't shoot! Please! I'm not even sure I'm in the right place," he pleaded, voice with a similar tone to it.

I paused in my tracks. Surely it wasn't...

"I'm just looking for my sister," he told Derek, who still hadn't put the pieces together.

"Derek, let him up. That's Y/N's little brother."

"Wait, is she in trouble? Are you guys cops?"

Derek helped him to his feet and the resemblance made my blood run cold. They had strikingly similar features, his were just more sharp and masculine as opposed to her soft features.

Derek and I flashed him our credentials, explaining the situation as best we could without giving him too much information.

"Ironic that you're just now looking for her after all this has started," Derek mentioned, and he hung his head.

"I didn't exactly get to choose when our brother died, but she deserves to know, and she deserved to find out in person. Lea was the only one who knew where she was. I talked to Lea yesterday, she told me Y/N was still living here."

"How often do you talk to Lea?"

"I don't. She got ahold of me, told me Y/N wasn't handling the news well. I wasn't sure how she knew, considering I hadn't told anyone yet, so I got suspicious. It only happened two days ago," he told us.

"Sounds like our stalker has graduated to murder." Derek huffed, on the phone to tell the others the news.

"What does he mean, stalker? Is my sister okay?" He asked again, and I pulled him to the porch and away from Derek so I could talk to him privately.

"Your sister is okay. She's safe. But Lea is dangerous, and if you know where she is, your sister's life could depend on it."

"She mentioned she'd be out of town and we could join her if we felt like it. I have the address here," he showed me his phone, showing the address for somewhere I'd definitely been before because it was Rossi's cabin.

"Send Reid and Rossi," I told Morgan, finally asking Y/N's brother for his name.

"Thomas Bennett Y/L/N. I go by Ben though."

"When was the last time you saw your sister?"

He shrugged, head down as he tried to remember.

"A year and a half ago, right after I turned 18. She brought some money and said she was moving. Took us to our grandma's and that was the last time we saw her. She couldn't stop crying. She just said that she was sorry over and over. But she didn't do anything wrong. We know she had to have a life too," he told me, and my heart broke for both of them.

And now he was here to tell her their brother was dead.

"What happened to your brother?" I questioned, and he shrugged again.

"He left for school and we found him an hour later in the creek bed. They said he fell in and hit his head on a rock."

"We gotta go, Hotch. Lea's car was spotted two minutes ago gassing up and heading towards Rossi's place." Morgan announced, and I was dragging Ben along with us, instructing him to put his head down and stay down.

Sure enough, in plain sight, we found her at the gas station, Rossi already putting her into the back of a patrol car. It seemed almost too easy, especially considering she'd been silent for months, and now all of a sudden was coming around. After finding the cameras in the house and car, I was more ready to move than ever. I wasn't sure I'd ever feel safe leaving them in that house again.

I let Rossi and Reid handle the questioning while we took Ben to see his sister.

I was mentally preparing for what was to come. She raised these children like her own, took care of them. I feared she'd take this loss just like a mother would losing her own child.

"I think you should be the one to tell her. She doesn't want to see me," Ben told me, and I shook my head.

"That isn't true. She just knows that your mother knows your every move, and she's trying to keep herself safe."

He followed me to my office, where I went in to get Jack so I could give the two of them some privacy.

"Lea's with local PD for questioning. Rossi and Reid are there," I told her, realizing Jack was asleep in her arms yet again. I scooped him up, moving him to the opposite end of the couch.

"Baby," I said softly, pulling her up and into my arms. I just wanted to hold her and shelter her from every bad thing happening.

"What's wrong, Aaron?" She saw straight through me, eyes wide with fear.

"Ben's here. We found him looking for you outside of Lea's."

She just stared at me.

"He's here, right now?"

I nodded, leading her to the hall to see him. It was hard to judge her reaction at first, but the overwhelming relief that washed over her face was obvious as she pulled him in for a hug.

"I told you not to come looking for me," she cried, her embrace only tightening further when she felt his body heave with a heavy sob. It was heartbreaking to watch.

"I had to. Beau is dead, Y/N." He whispered, barely audible over the noise of the office, and all I could do was stand idle as the bomb dropped.

✨✨✨

You know how when you go from normal temperatures to extreme cold, and the way it sucks the air completely from your lungs? That's how you felt, the air being drained from your body as you fully absorbed what Ben was saying.

The sweet boy you  taught to read, write...taught everything he knew, he was gone.

You kept thinking, this has got to be as close to death as you can get without dying.

This has got to be a fucked up fever dream. Maybe you're still asleep on the couch with Jack. Maybe, just maybe, this isn't real.

But Aaron's arms pulling you into Rossi's office before you could crumble into the floor was the only reminder you needed that this was indeed real life.

Beau was gone, and you didn't even know what his face looked like as a 17-year-old boy. He'd been 15 when you last saw him, stuck in between phases of his body as he became a man.

Now he'd never be a man. He'd be perpetually 17, reduced to a wooden box before he even had a chance to experience living.

You couldn't breathe, your chest was on fire, and you were keenly aware of Ben and Aaron talking around you, but it was muffled as your ears rung continuously. How could they be talking right now? How could the world still be turning when you hurt like this? You were suddenly furious with the world's inability to stop moving, surely if everything was just quiet and still for a moment, you could gather yourself enough to make sense of things.

But this would never make sense to you, no matter what you did to silence the world. How long had you been gasping for air, struggling to focus your eyes on anything but the floor? Even that was blurry as your eyes stung with tears that didn't seem to have an end.

Aaron was in front of you, begging you to breathe. You didn't realize you weren't. You tried to slow the rapid thump of your heart, but it quite literally felt like it was breaking inside of your chest. You never knew loving and raising someone could hurt so much.

"Baby?" You tried to meet his gaze and failed, only catching a glimpse of him here and there through your tear-coated lashes.

"I'm okay," you don't know how you formed the words, but you were breathing, and that was a plus.

"I have a room at The Claremont, I'm not leaving until tomorrow. Make sure she finds me before then," Ben told Aaron, typing his number into Aaron's phone.

"Y/N? I love you," Ben said softly, and you gripped his arm in response. You loved him more than any words you could have said at that point.

"I love you." You choked anyway, terrified that something would happen between now and tomorrow, and you'd regret not actually saying it out loud.

Aaron was checking on Jack, leaving you alone in Rossi's office. You didn't realize she was even in the office today until she was at your side.

"I'm so sorry," Emily whispered against your hair, wrapping you in a tight hug. You were thankful for the contact in Aaron's absence, but honestly, you wanted to disappear into the floor. You weren't sure when and if you'd recover.

"Hotch is taking you and Jack to a hotel up the street for the night. Just... take it easy. Let him help you," she encouraged, and you nodded, only half-listening.

"Okay."

"Can you walk with me?"

You nodded, following Emily to Aaron's car, letting her help you into the passenger's seat. Jack was nestled in the back, sitting quietly. He had been quiet most of the day, and you assumed it was just because he was tired.

"Y/N?" He squeaked, causing you to turn and look at him from your spot in the front.

"Yes, buddy?"

"I love you."

There was nothing quite like the love of a child, especially one that you had no part in creating.

"I love you, sweet boy."

And that was it. He continued sitting patiently as his dad drove us down the street, not even realizing that he and his dad were the greatest things to happen to you in your life. You made a mental note to hold him a little tighter at bedtime, and every other time that he'd let you.

"I'm gonna check us in, I'll be back for you in a second," Aaron told you, leaving the engine running as he ran inside the hotel.

"Can I come to sit with you?" Jack was already unbuckling his seatbelt, something his father strongly disliked him doing, but you couldn't respond quick enough, he was already crossing the armrest and climbing into your lap. He laid his head on your shoulder, your cheek against the smooth skin of his forehead.

"I like it when you hold me. It reminds me of my mommy," he whispered, and you kissed his head softly.

"I know your mommy was the best mommy, but I hope you know I'll always be here for you, just like a mom would," you promised him and he looked up at you with those big, beautiful Hotchner eyes.

" My mommy would like that," he whispered, and you knew in your heart that Haley definitely would like that.

Aaron was joining you after a few more minutes, shooting you a loving look before grabbing Jack from you so he could carry him inside. He led you to a side entrance, the three of you taking a service elevator to the 4th floor. Once you were in the room, you realized it had a kitchenette and a living room.

"This may be home for a while," he said, settling Jack in the smaller room with the television. You quickly found the bag JJ had packed for him with your stuff, finding pajamas and his favorite Chewbacca stuffed animal. You'd asked Derek to make sure JJ grabbed it when she packed up. You took them to the room he was in, earning a hug from him in response. You left him to change, joining Aaron on the sofa.

"Thank you. For coming home." You told him, his arms wrapping around you from behind as you leaned into him.

"I would have come sooner, but Strauss gave me hell. I'm sorry I had to leave in the first place."

"You don't have to apologize to me for doing your job," you reminded him.

"I will apologize for not being here during something scary. Lea has been watching us for a long time. That's unsettling enough, not to mention everything else. I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now, and I hate the fact that I'd still be overseas right now if not for Lea getting involved. You'd be dealing with this alone, and I never want that for you."

You leaned back to kiss him, unsure of what to say. Part of you would never forgive yourself if he left his job. He loved his work. He was a hero, to Jack, to you. To everyone. You hated the thought of that being taken from him.

"I don't want you to regret leaving the BAU, and I especially don't want you to resent me for it," you confessed, causing him to sit up abruptly.

"This is my decision to make. I'm stepping down as Unit Chief, and that's all there is to it. I'll teach a profiling course at the academy, or work from the office. I can't keep missing my son's life. And I can't start a life with you if I'm not around. I'd never resent you for a decision that I'm making alone."

He seemed angry, and that's the last thing you wanted.

"I'm sorry. I just don't want you unhappy," you explained, and he sighed, running his hands through his hair before loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, removing it.

"Then let me do this. I've missed enough."

You had told him you'd always support him in his career. You weren't about to stop now, especially if it meant having him around more. You just prayed he didn't regret it.

"I can't believe Beau is gone."

You didn't have any more tears to cry, so you opted to check on Jack, who was watching tv peacefully, oblivious to the horrors around him. You planned to keep it that way. He wanted you to see the show he was watching, something about a boy with superpowers. You had sat down on the bed when you heard the shower running, so you left Aaron alone, climbing into the bed with Jack to watch television.

"My daddy told me he loves you," he said randomly, eyes still trained on the tv.

"I love you both," you said simply, knowing Aaron had told him when we came home from the cabin that you were going to be together. He hadn't minded at all, if anything, he took it as an invitation to get closer to you. You loved every second of it, especially at times like this. He was a massive comfort, and you were always grateful to spend time with him. He was a human heater, just like his dad, causing you to get too cozy every time you cuddled up to him because you were asleep in no time.

✨✨✨

Aaron's POV

I came out of the shower and found them asleep for the third time all day. Jack knew something was wrong, and he had clung to her side since. She hadn't told him anything that was going on, but he could sense her sadness, and my sweet son wanted to be as close to her as he could get.

I didn't realize until I found them, her asleep next to him like she'd been doing it all her life how much Jack needed someone like her in his life. Losing Haley had been devastating for both of us, to the point I thought I may not recover. Sure, Jack had Jessica, but despite being Haley's sister, she lacked a certain motherly aspect that was necessary for Jack to have around.

Jack was so much happier with her around. He'd learned so much from her, from all the things they did in the kitchen and teaching him to read, she'd done it all gladly, every minute of it enjoyable to her.

She was like our personal ray of sunshine.

But it was obvious she was hurting, and I wasn't sure how to help her. I decided to let her sleep, leaving her with Jack as I crept into the living room area to call Rossi for any updates.

"She still isn't talking. But we know Y/N's mother is the one sending Lea the money. She's called Lea's phone nonstop since we've been questioning her."

"I'll see what Y/N is willing to tell me about her when she wakes up. We have 70 hours to hold her, let her sit until morning. I'm going to sleep with my family without having to worry about Lea roaming around," I told him, instinctively looking towards the room where they slept soundly.

"I don't blame you one bit. Call me if you need me. I'll be around."

The bed was entirely too small for the three of us, and I wasn't risking waking them up to move them to the bigger bed. So, I sat next to the bed, sleep creeping in quicker than I could get comfortable.

✨✨✨

Derek had taken Jack to school the following morning, Y/N didn't budge the first time all night long. I wasn't entirely sure what I should do, so I called Prentiss, hoping she'd be able to give me some help.

"How's she doing?" She didn't greet me, just expressed concern for her friend.

"I don't know. She's slept since we got here. I... I'm not sure I know what to do to help her," I confessed, sighing at the thought of hearing myself say it out loud. How in the world could I marry her if I didn't even know how to help her?

"She just needs time, Hotch. She raised Beau like her own child. You didn't see those boys when Y/N was a kid. They followed her everywhere. She was 11 years old putting Beau in a baby carrier every morning to take him places with her. That was her baby. What could anyone do for you if you lost Jack?"

"Nothing. I'd be inconsolable."

"Exactly. She needs time. Just make sure she knows you're there for her. That'll mean more to her than anything."

"I think I'll have Garcia come sit with her today. Keep her company."

"Hotch? She'd kill me if I told you this, but our periods are in sync. Could be why she's so tired."

"She quit her birth control over a month ago so-"

"She what?"

"Day after Christmas."

Silence. I wasn't sure why, but Emily seemed to be uncomfortable.

"Do you have any idea how screwed up her hormones probably are right now? She's been on the pill for years. Jesus, she's probably an absolute wreck. If it's okay with you, I'll come to sit with her for the day."

"I think that's a good idea. You don't think-"

"That's absolutely what I'm thinking, Hotch."

"Fuck."

"Yeah. Fuck is right. What did you expect to happen when she came off birth control?"

We knew we wanted to try, but the thought of her being pregnant this very moment...

"How fast can you get here?"

"15 minutes. I'll stop by a pharmacy."

Fuck.

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