#'not helping him… just keeping him alive' fuck yeah support women's wrongs

[blimbo-buddy]

OK so I’m gonna have to give some context behind what I’m about to do with scourge and tigerstar.

so in the fate of flames when tiny ran off and explored the thunder clan border, her mom actually found her and try to get her back to the house, but the thunderclan patrol found them, and in trying her best to protect her (then) son she was striked down by thistleclaw right in front of her, tiny tries to grieve over her mothers body before she is sliced in the face by tigerpaw. blinding her in one eye. and the blind eye is a remind her of that day. The day of the clans had took her mother life away. the day she was helpless to save her.

(now that’s the context to why she has a personal history with the clans)

the reason in this to why she accepts tigerstars deal because it’s a genuine interesting deal to have. And if he backstabs her, she can easily dispose of him and the scene happens and she exactly what she does in canon but except this time instead of him, losing all nine of his lives all at once. He’s basically down to five. But still losing that many life still incapacitates him.

She’s confused about how he even survive that she hears murmurs from the cleanse about how he’s down to five lives. She takes a guess, and it clicks.

He has multiple lives. Images of her mom’s dead body flashes in her mind.

The pain, the grief, the anger it all comes back to her.

a thought flashes in her mind “if he has multiple lives, then he can endure more pain than others” then orders multiple of her men to essentially take tigerstar hostage. she wants to prolong the pain he has inflicted on others. right back at him. slowly and painfully.

one of the bloodclan members say “so you’re helping him?”

And she simply responds with. “not helping him… just keeping him alive”

Damn Marina you outdid it again, this is such a cool fucking idea with Scourge in the au, and it really makes what she does to TigerStar later down the line satisfying for her character and her past when you remember what he and the Clans did. What kind of society doesn't even allow a child to grieve for their mother/father? What kind of society attacks a helpless child and gets away with it?

The latter part about the deal being genuinely interesting to her does somewhat make me think of the canon books. Like, I feel as though Scourge really did find huge amounts of interest in the deal of being given plenty of land for Bloodclan to hunt and thrive in, no more starvation.

But back to the topic: The conclusion that Scourges makes with the 9 Lives really is a neat take on it, 100% if this had actually happened in canon then Scourge would have totally tortured TigerStar. Imagine how satisfying it is for Scourge in those moments, finally being able to avenge her mother in her own sick, twisted way

[respectthepetty]

Pride Petty Watch - LiTA (Sky/Prapai) 2/3

It took me much longer than expected to make it through the first two episodes of Sky x Prapai's arc in Love in the Air, but Prapai called Sky his boyfriend out of nowhere, so now I understand that he is Manifest Destiny-ing his way to love, and for the non-Americans, that's bad. Like real bad.

Let me be like Prapai and keep marching forward even though all the signs are telling me to stop.

In my first year of teaching, I was told I couldn't want the grade more the student did. I was reminded that some students don't want A's. Some students just want to pass the course, and that's fine. I need to take that approach with Prapai because he held Sky while he clung to him and cried for the nightmares to leave him in peace, yet in the morning, Prapai slings it back in Sky's face and makes it callously sexual. Clearly, Prapai doesn't want points for Slytherin. He does not want an A in decency. He does not want to pass "Go" on the board. Whatever he wants is between him and the demons he is fighting because obviously this ho does not want to be saved.

"Let me help you" - Look at that! As soon as you let men go, they wanna come back correct. Asking to help instead of forcibly inserting himself. Wow! So you are capable of not making everything aggressively sexual?

I'm watching you like a fucking hawk, Slytherin, which if you want to pass this course, you will note that hawks eat snakes, so basically I'm telling you I will devour you whole if you make another wrong move.

"That's all I ask," he says as he asks for EVERYTHING. "I will not restrain myself next time." "You cannot escape me." "Has he blocked this number?" Sky, babe, hon, bestie, rob this fucking man in his sleep. Take the watch off his wrist, the money from his wallet, and the audacity out of his mouth. These are the queer wrongs I'm trying to support this month.

"You should be spanked" - So 🙃 . . . IGNORING THAT! As a lifelong member and advisor of Greek life (fraternities and sororities are different for BIPOC), every time I see these university rituals, I always wonder what is the equivalent of a compliance officer in other countries because This. Is. Hazing.

And now Payu and Prapai are just hanging out at university activities like THEY DON'T GOT JOBS! Payu has a room in a garage, a room at his house with a toy car collection, and a terrified mechanic hiding under cars, so the man has got bills. Prapai has companies (plural) to run, and an overworked and rightfully annoyed (always in red) secretary holding down the fort, yet he is on a little vacay. Women in GLs - big bosses and screwing at work on company time. Men in BLs - FORGETTING THEY HAVE JOBS!

*Regina George has entered the chat* So you agree? You think you're a bad guy to Sky?

Every time Payu or Prapai mentions getting a reward (for not assaulting the boy they are chasing after especially when that boy is in a vulnerable position), I think of the conversation between Uea and King in episode five (part one) of Bed Friend when King asked for a reward and Uea said "The fuck you just say? Get outta here with that noise" then he left. Uea would eat these men alive.

The thinnest of ice, Prapai. I can see the freezing water rushing underneath. That's how thin the ice is that you are on, sir.

Because Prapai is confessing to sleeping with three other people since he began stalking Sky (no shame, as one slut to another, I'm actually very proud he admitted to it), can we get a STI test? We got condoms, so miracles can happen.

*squints* Is that a heart on your chest, Sky? No, I'm not angry. No, you're not in trouble. No, you're perfect. I'm just working through my own stuff, so I'm gonna need a minute to process this.

If you wanna live that chismosa life, you gotta be aware of your surroundings. Amateur.

Yeah yeah yeah, the wind needs the windmill or whatever dumb shit Dangerous Romance said. Now go make the lapel pin of it, and GET BACK TO WORK! This reeks of nepotism because there is no other way you would still have a job.

Prapai calls Sky by his name, no honorifics. Prapai sleeps on the floor. Prapai asks his mom for advice on how to care for someone. *squints* This is sus af.

And now he is swerving advances and doing his job. *squints even harder* Are you actually trying to pass this course now?

I, too, would be sad if rope was spewing out of my shirt like that.

Prapai just swindled a key to Sky's apartment without asking Sky for it. WHY DON'T YOU WANT TO FUCKING PASS THIS COURSE?! I DO NOT WANT TO SEE YOUR ASS AGAIN NEXT SEMESTER!

I play with my ears when I get tired, so now I feel even more connected to you Sky, and PRAPAI IS KISSING YOU?! NOOOOO! STOP!!!!! HE'S TIRED! LEAVE MY BOY ALONE!

"I can't guarantee your safety if I stay" - It was a fake out, and I have lost years off my life because of this show. YEARS!

The first step is admitting you have a problem are the problem. *growth*

I'm not going to question the aerodynamics of riding with that project on a bike, but I will state that Prapai is the prefect example of the MAME Extremes I wrote about in the previous post because when he is good, he is really fucking good, but when he is bad, he is The Worst™ so can't we just find an in-between?

Don't you go pointing your scrawny finger at my boy like that! You're lucky he even still speaks to you. Shut up, five! A ten is thinking!

Prapai spending all his money on Sky. Prapai deleting all the numbers from his phone. Prapai getting the lapel pin. Prapai cleaning Sky's apartment. Prapai being honest about wanting Sky without being aggressive or crass. *squints so hard my head hurts* This is how Joe must feel with Ming in My Stand-In because I want to trust your ass, but my God, do you make it so fucking hard. I'm begging you to not screw up after this. PLEASE!

I've seen this scene eighty different ways from my dash, but hearing Sky tell Prapai to get bored with him quickly so he can move on while internally begging for Prapai not to get bored knowing what I know about his ex . . . it is salt in the wounds, poison in the wells, and the phone call from within the house. It is painful, deadly, and terrifying.

Prapai listening tentatively as Sky finally tells him what he actually likes to eat. Prapai responding with little tidbits he has learned about Sky along the way. Prapai giving shoulder kisses. Prapai asking about the ex. To quote RuPaul, "don't fuck it up"

Sig is the realest of all these boys, and I would give him the softest ear bites, the best thigh kisses, and the most amazing blowjob because that's what he deserves!

Prapai - Claim me. Own me. Mark me!

Sky - Gross.

While all of Payu's after scenes only made him look worse as he embraced the Manipulate-Mansplain-Malewife way into Rain's heart, all of Prapai's scenes make him seem like the biggest simp, and I am, once again, pleading for balance!

So now on to the next episo - - -

Wait a minute . . . I know this scene

This is where Sky gets in his head and distances himself, so Prapai breaks in and reads the journal. Oh no. Oh no no no.

*lays face first in a field of lavender*

I need liquor, ice, and a blender. They are all needed for different reasons. No, I will not elaborate.

[alvivaarts]

Simulation Swarm has become my new favorite RE au and I’m SO SO SO desperate to know more of your thoughts on Ada because she’s my complex queen and I am incapable of not supporting women’s wrongs. I’m only on chapter 4 but I deeply want to see her finding out about Leon’s funky new extra features

Ah hey!!! Thanks for reading, I'm SO psyched you're enjoying things so far and I am SO excited to bring Ada into the story here soon! I think her arrival is in T-Minus 10 chapters?

I have a lot of super complex feelings about Ada myself, but she's going to be playing an... interesting role, needless to say. Most of the fic is already planned out/drafted, but I have to take some time to actually think about where she's at!

I have a LOT of ideas though, and it may run on, so I'm gonna put a cut here so I don't flood people's feeds. For those interested, here is the fic in question- and onto our Ada discussion below!

Needless to say, she IS going to meet up with them again, and she's gonna to be very surprised- things might be a little standoffish at first, but with everything that's going to be happening, it might actually be the least of her concerns so long as Leon is up and kicking and still trusts her.

What I can say is that she has two major points, but she's going to be a bit more of a 'background' player up until some major points in the middle, and then at the end. She has her finger on the pulse of everything that is going to happen and she, likely because of Leon's influence (the change conversation, cough cough) is going to make some decisions that are new for her. At the same time, she's going to make some decisions that are going to cost her greatly in the long run, especially with she and Leon's tentative relationship.

Her second major point is going to be her personal growth and her relationships with others. CAPCOM is weak and hasn't given her a proper backstory yet (outside some comics), but from what we do know, she does have a tendancy to make cut and dry decisions at the immediate cost of herself and others... so long as she truly believes there will be a long term benefit for everyone involved. Considering that this is a Leon centric fic, their relationship tension thing is also going to be in the spotlight a lot. I don't want him to be her sole influence here though, so I'm gonna imply some of her history and touch on her relationships with people like Luis, Claire (who knows her due to me having to retcon some Resi2 events for things to make sense), Sherry and even getting to know Ashley.

Moreso, I want to touch on some soulmatism- it's kind of a background theme in this fic, but Ada is definately a 'wrong time, wrong place' kind of soulmate. They could absolutely improve each other's lives if they had the chance, they just can't, because their priorities and the way they solve their problems has skewed so far in opposite directions.

Needless to say, though, she's going to be in and out. Trying to keep herself on the down low, trying to follow her own leads, while also trying to help in her own special way. That special way is going to include making executive decisions on Leon and Ashley's behalf, at their expense. Is it going to help in the long run? Yeah. Are they going to be fine? They'll be alive. Is it worth it?... that's debatable, but to her it is.

She's not wrong, but fuck is she going to regret it. Change is gonna be a hard thing for her. She's going to be spending a lot of the second half of the story making an effort to change, even if in some circumstances, it's too late to go back on the choices she's made.

[thedysphoriadiaries]

Entry 17B - 3 March 2023, 3:20pm

Well... I went out to eat again.

As if I ever learnt from my own mistakes.

I hate how my brain just focuses on the women around me. I hate it. I don't want to be a predator. It's disgusting how I keep glancing at school-going girls, some of which haven't even entered their teenage years. I deserve the title of a pedophile for doing this.

Honestly, I... kind of give up. If this is what I have to live with, so be it.

I haven't had a shower in a week, or at least a couple of days. I cannot bear to see myself. I can't even look in the mirror anymore. I do not know why I am alive.

...

I asked my brother to imagine a version of him who wanted to be a girl. He couldn't do it, the same way I couldn't imagine a version of me who was comfortable being a guy.

What in the fuck is wrong with me?

The other people around me constantly deadname me, but that's on me, since I didn't give them my preferred name, and to be honest, I no longer care that much about it.

I'm not comfortable being referred to as a guy, but I know that I'll never be a girl. My frame (my physical frame, and my frame of mind) literally prevents it from coming to pass. I hate myself for it.

I will not take that anger out on others. I will... support them, maybe not vocally, but from the sidelines. Give them acceptance, where I never found any in myself. I will keep screaming into the void; the void serves the same purpose that a beam dump does for a laser - it vents excess things out safely. If it wasn't for this and all the sleeping pills I've been taking, I'd be throwing things around.

Speaking of that, I wonder how Avery (am I misremembering his name?) is doing? He used to rant quite a ton back when I was a part of a trans group. No, I'm NOT going back. I just wonder how he's doing. Wouldn't be surprised if he told me to fuck myself. Yeah sure, let me just rip that dead thing out from between my legs and fuck my ass with it.

...

Even now, the thoughts of how masculine I am are beginning to seep into the activities that I do for fun. Yes, I'm able to play riffs from Polyphia, but what good is it if I begin to think about how masculine my arms are as they move about while I play the guitar?

Why am I like this? Why am I so hopelessly attracted to the thought of going through life as a female?

Would things be better if I was gone?

If I was an only child, I would have gone a long time ago. Since I have a brother, I'd be traumatizing him, and I could make him suicidal, which is NOT something I want to do.

Funny how I love others but beat myself up over and over again every single day.

Funny how I'm self-aware of this, but refuse to seek help. Maybe the only help I'll seek is a bullet to my head. I've destroyed far too many things to be left alive. And no, you're not going to report this to the authorities. It's not like you know my legal name.

...

I can't help but keep thinking of a letter a redditor sent to her spouse. Being called my chosen name only brings up how different who I want to be, and who I am, are, and I hate that. I don't feel like I deserve that name. Yet, I so desperately crave to be called a good girl.

No, this is NOT an invitation for you to call me that.

If you do decide to call me that, go fuck yourself. Spare me the pain of knowing that I'll never be what I want to be. I'm just some lunatic with a couple of loose brain screws.

I'm thinking of hiding behind the label of aro-ace. Even if I could feel anything, I'm too damaged to feel proper sexual attraction, much less romantic attraction. What I feel towards women is NOT romantic attraction. If these feelings persist, eventually, I WILL succumb to the same envy that being with my ex-partner brought upon me. My partner does not deserve that fate. They do not deserve a disgusting pile of sludge envying them.

I cannot keep living like this, but it is the only life I know.

I don't know why this life has to be so long. I feel like I died years ago.

... I wonder why I keep writing this. Is it for attention?

It doesn't matter. I can only hope I make it through conscription, so that more parts of me can die for others' comfort. And after that, once those important to me have gone, go by myself.

As some sick pedophile with loose brain screws, I've done far too much damage to ever redeem myself.

...

Ok, rant time's over. Go away. Shoo.

And no. No hugs.

Leave me alone. I'll go sleep, or play some Polyphia riffs.

[chalkrevelations]

So, Word of Honor Ep 23, and LISTEN. This is going to be another long one. We are in it, now.

(Clearly, spoilers, so if you’re thinking you might want to start watching and don’t want to know everything up front, scroll away and come back after you watch the ep.)

Look, I’m just gonna talk about this first because I can’t even process anything else, or function, until I get this out of the way: I came for the bl and the pretty boys, but at this point, I have to reiterate what I said after Ep 22, that I am so grateful Zhou Ye got her fingers into Gu Xiang and absolutely refused to let go of this role, through everything. She’s going on my actors-to-follow list, and I’ll also be following scriptwriter Xiao Chu into whatever she writes from now on. A little bit, I’ve come out of Ep 23 thinking, did anything else even happen, other than That Scene with A-Xiang and Wen Kexing? (Oh, yeah, That Other Scene with Wen Kexing and Cao Weining about Gu Xiang.) The show is going to have to work to top That Scene for me. The first time watching, I couldn’t even really focus on how the Gu Xiang/Cao Weining and Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishu relationships continue to reflect each other and how everything A-Xiang expresses during this conversation is exactly what Wen Kexing feels/fears about himself but cannot say out loud. All of that was there, and I mentally picked through it and unpacked it some more on a re-watch of the scene, but the first time through, I was too busy being legit distressed about Gu Xiang’s fear and pain and how desperately she wants this new thing and how afraid she is, not only of fucking it up or having it fucked up for her, but of getting it. Last night at dinner I compared this storyline to a kind of reverse Persephone story, where she’s being pulled by her lover OUT of the land of death, but is nevertheless having to leave behind everything and everyone she knows and is familiar with, including her beloved brother/parent figure. And all this after being told for essentially her whole life that what she’s doing is forbidden and unworkable, that the human world and the world of Ghost Valley do not mix. (We just saw Wen Kexing have his own little mental stall over this, just so the show can make sure we don’t forget.) And Gu Xiang is so unprepared for all of this and so terrified by it, despite the fact she wants it so badly, that she literally cannot do anything - this shining, clever, fierce girl who will stab you if you look at her the wrong way because she’s been taught to survive above all else - she can’t do anything other than sit down with her arms wrapped around her knees pulled to her chest so that she’s the smallest target possible, protecting all the tenderest, most vulnerable places, and weep. Y’all, it is killing me even thinking about it. I might have to take a minute.

So, then they come at me with the second hit of the one-two punch, which is the scene between Wen Kexing and Cao Weining, where Wen Kexing talks about how this little girl not only saved him, but he calls her meimei, and at that point, I’m done. I’m just. There’s nothing else I need right now from this show. I realize this is supposed to be a story about Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu, and up until now, my ride-or-die has been Zhou Zishu, but whatever. Fine. I WANT TO LIVE HERE AT LI MANOR FOREVER, SHOW, WHY MUST A-XIANG AND CAO-XIONG GO BACK TO HIS SECT? Listen, I think it is a far, far better idea if Cao Weining marries in to Four Seasons Manor, and Gu Xiang’s paternal figure is the ... lol, I almost just called him the Ghost General ... he is who he is, so frankly, I don’t know why he should be so concerned about following social conventions, like having daughters of the house marry out. (I know you think you’re protecting her, Lao Wen, but YOU ARE BREAKING UP THE FAMILY. I need them to stay with the rest of you forever. I need Zhou Zishu to continue to call A-Xiang a “good girl,” because I suspect that hasn’t happened very often in her life, and she needs more of it.) Then, as a last kick in the ribs, once I’m down, the show has WKX tell A-Xiang that she’s not a wild girl because she’s his girl. Thanks, show, I didn’t need my heart for anything like pumping blood to oxygenate my brain or any of my body parts. It’s OK. I can do without it.

Anyway, going back and looking at multiple story-telling levels of all this, there’s the additional issue that during That Scene, A-Xiang is also a proxy for Wen Kexing, saying things that he can’t. (For emotional and psychological reasons within the show, and for practical reasons because they probably wouldn’t pass censorship.) Maybe some things that he can’t even let himself think, at this point. So every time, from here on out, when Zhou Zishu asks Wen Kexing about his past and Wen Kexing momentarily freezes with that trapped look on his face, we can think back to this conversation with A-Xiang and realize that Wen Kexing is terrified by his relationship with Zhou Zishu, despite how desperately he wants this new thing. He is so afraid of fucking it up, but he’s also so afraid of getting it, and he’s so unprepared for it that he literally cannot do anything - this fierce survivor, this ghost king, who will crawl over corpses and skin a guy alive and kill you if you look at him the wrong way because almost (almost) all he’s known is to survive above all else - he cannot do anything except mentally and emotionally curl up so that he’s the smallest target possible, protecting all the tenderest, most vulnerable places. So thanks, show, for what promises to be a repeated exercise of stabbing me in the heart.

Just a little bit more about these scenes: I also think we’re getting at least one, maybe two other foils in the story-telling, which are more about the Wen Kexing-Gu Xiang relationship. Maybe less supported but nevertheless intriguing, I have to wonder if, when he took on that little girl despite (or maybe because of) still being essentially a child himself, Wen Kexing was trying to re-create - even subconsciously - something of the shixiong-shidi relationship he experienced for that brief time with Zhou Zishu as a child. Yes, she saved him by making him keep his heart, because he had this actual nurturing relationship to at least try to model their relationship on. I also think that we’re maybe supposed to be seeing them as a foil to Xie Wang and his AWFUL yifu, who appears to have taken on a kid and turned him into a murder weapon not in any effort to help him survive, but to use him as a tool in his quest for power. Both Wen Kexing and Zhao Jing have produced Poorly Socialized Murder Babies Who Love Them Very Much, but I think Wen Kexing actually had his kid’s best interests at heart, as he understood them, and tried to do the best he could with the extremely broken tool box he had to hand. Also, he loves her back. All that doesn’t mean she’s not fucked up or necessarily any better prepared for the “human” world than Xie Wang, but it may have made the difference between an amoral murder baby who can learn better and an actual sociopath.

In other comparisons, that first convo of the ep between Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing - when ZZS says that he doesn’t want to see more sins on WKX’s hands - is essentially the same convo that Cao Weining had with Gu Xiang in the previous ep, when he tells her that he wants her to be more careful because he knows she actually will feel bad for killing innocent people. This is the same conversation because these two relationships are the same relationship. (Note, I don’t think they started out like this, or that their beginnings were all that similar. Cao Weining was much more of a pursuer and initiator than Zhou Zishu was, in the beginning. But I think the courses of the two relationships have converged, at this point, with Cao Weining and Zhou Zishu knowing what they want and being all in, while Gu Xiang and Wen Kexing also want it but are too fucking scared of it for practically the same reasons.)

Meanwhile, speaking of Xie Wang - what are you up to Xie’er? Do you want the Water of Lethe so you can drink it and get over your awful yifu? Are you finally at the point that you’re doing some critical thinking about this relationship? Or do you want the Water of Lethe so you can slip it to your awful yifu, so that he’ll forget about his obsessions with power that prevent him from focusing on YOU? You call Beauty Ghost an idiot, but I think you may be empathizing (though not sympathizing) a bit much with the women of the Department of the Unfaithful.

Finally, that brief little moment of Zhou Zishu’s face when Wen Kexing spits out his wine after stealing it from him ... Oh, god. You didn’t realize how bad it tasted, did you? Your sense of taste is going.

[moon-light-jukebox]

“All you have to do is ask” Chapter 5 - [Reid x Reader]

previous chapter // series index // next chapter 

Summary: The team has a case that takes them to Illinois. Our favorite boy wonder gets jealous and challenges Reader. So, she decides to show him who is really in charge.

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female Reader)

Word Count: 5.7k for Chapter 5

Content Warning: Here we go. The team has a case, so talk about m*rder, the usual criminal minds stuff. Jealousy. BDSM. Femdom. Degradation. Slapping. Spitting. Face sitting. Face fucking. Vaginal fingering. And I think that’s it.

A/n: In celebration of my 1 week of writing again, and all the lovely support I’ve gotten, I’m giving you chapter 5 a day early. Chapter 6 is still scheduled for Saturday. (Mostly because I haven’t written it all yet.) Chapter 5 is my favorite so far. I hope you love it as much as I do...because things only escalate in chapter 6. 😇 Some names on my tag list still aren’t working. I’m sorry! 

y/n = your name. y/l/n = your last name. italicized text are Reader’s thoughts.

-- Chapter 5: “Are you jealous, Doctor?” –

I don’t resent my job, I repeated mentally for the thousandth time. I don’t resent my job. I am not upset. I am happy to be here to help people in need. I didn't even sound very convincing in my own mind. I had known it was too good to be true. I finally had Dr. Reid right where I wanted him…when both of our phones chimed with the same text message. "Avengers, ASSEMBLE.” But it’s fine that we’re sitting on the jet at 10 pm headed to the Midwest. Keep telling yourself that, y/n. Serial killers were such cock blocks.

The ding from the computer on the small table signaled Garcia's digital arrival. "Hello, my loves!" Her sunshine personality would not be dampened by our sleepy grumbles. Or sexually frustrated grumbles, in my case; and from the way Dr. Reid kept sneaking glances at me, I suspected his too.

“What do we know so far?” Hotch asked, cutting right to business. If he was tired, he certainly didn't show it. I'm still not even sure if he's human.  

“The Illinois state police say that our 5th victim is named Sarah Gossman. She was a 32-year-old middle school teacher. Reported missing by her husband, Ralph, two days ago. Locals didn’t realize she was connected to the other victims until her body was found 2 hours ago.”

Hotch nodded, scanning the open file in front of him. “How were they able to connect them, Penelope?” David Rossi, the grandfather of the BAU questioned.

Garcia cringed. “They found the same wound on her shoulder blade. A square of her skin was missing.”

“It’s an interesting signature,” Spencer interjected. “The edges look jagged. Almost like the blade was serrated.”

“That’s what the M.E.’s thought too.”

“Babygirl, do they know if it’s the same knife that was used in the other murders?”

For a moment all that was heard was the clicking of her keys. “That is the suspicion, my beautiful chocolate sculpture of perfection.” I snorted at that one; every once in a while, their flirting quips got me. “They need the knife to be sure.”

"Thanks, Garcia," Hotch said before ending the video call. “Alright, if this unsub holds to pattern, he is going to take his next victim before 10 am tomorrow morning.”

“We might not be able to stop it,” Prentiss said. “But we can get her back. He keeps them for at least 36 hours.”

Hotch nodded. “Get some sleep if you can; it’s gonna be a long night.”

--

I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder; my fear evaporating when I turned and saw it was just JJ. “Hey,” she said softly. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I said with a yawn that I couldn’t muffle. “I just feel like I’m stuck in a swamp, you know?” She nodded. “How he’s choosing them will be how we find him. How we find her.”

True to pattern, the unsub took his next victim the following morning after the body of Sarah Gossman was found. Alicia Sheldon, 31, was reported missing by her mother just after 10 am this morning. We had no proof that she was with our unsub outside of the profile, but we all knew that the clock was ticking if we wanted to bring her home alive.  

JJ nodded, reading over my shoulder. “Narrowing down when can help too. Any luck?”

“Not really,” I sighed, closing my eyes. “I don’t think he does it at night, though. Garcia was able to see the activity for Alicia’s phone before she was taken. She replied to a text message at 4:45 am this morning.”

“Jesus Christ, that’s early.”

“What’s early?” Emily Prentiss asked as she walked into the conference room, Derek following after her.

“4:45 am is early,” I supplied. “Alicia replied to a text at that time.”

"Do we know if it was her?" That voice came from someone I hadn't laid eyes on yet. He must have followed Derek and Prentiss in. Dr. Reid was staring at me intently, his shirt wrinkled, glassed perched on the bridge of his nose. Even like this, he was so pretty it almost hurt to look at him. “Could the unsub have answered the text message to throw off suspicion?”

“I don’t think so, Doc.” I pointed at the evidence board where her most recent text messages and emails had been printed and tacked up. “Her text seemed personal. Not too much detail. It was sent to her best friend; unless the unsub was stalking her, there isn’t a way he would know that.”

Spencer nodded, walking around the table until he came to rest in front of the board. “Why would she be up so early…” His posture stiffened. What do you have, baby? What do you see? He turned and hit the phone that was in the center of the table.

“Speak and be heard.”

“Garcia, can we determine what time the last digital activity any of the women had was? We need to determine if they were all taken in the early morning hours.”

Morgan commented, “What are you thinking, Kid?”

Spencer didn’t answer, Garica spoke first. “Victim one and three are a no go; but victims 2 and 4 both had some digital dealings before 5 am the days they were reported missing, but they were all still at home according to the GPS on their phones.”

"Again, I say, Jesus, that's early."

I nodded at JJ. “Right. Who wakes up that early?”

“Someone with a strict routine,” Spencer said, his eyes never straying from the paper in front of him. “Garcia, did all of the victims have gym memberships?”

“Yeah, but to different gyms.”

Reid looked like he had just won the lottery. “What if all the women were on their way to the gym when he grabbed them? They all look athletic but have hectic schedules; it might be the only time they can fit it in. It’s still dark, but it’s technically morning. The women might feel safer. We didn't connect it right away because victims 2, 3, and 4 lived alone, no one knew their routines. He lies in wait and then grabs them, stuffing them into their own cars and driving off.” He was speaking rapidly at this point. “That could be why no one has found their cars yet. He has them.”

“Oh shit,” I muttered. “We need to see if the gyms have outside cameras.”

“Already on it, crimefighters.”

--

The unsub had left his car in parking lots adjacent to the gyms where the women were abducted for almost 2 days each time.

He thought he was smart; Spencer Reid was smarter.

“Hey,” a voice called from behind me. I turned to come face to face with a local deputy. He was a bit taller than me, stocky build, blonde hair that was cropped close to his scalp. “Good work out there today, Agent.”

“Thanks. You too, Deputy.” I turned, continuing to pack up my files. I was ready to go to the hotel and get some fucking sleep. Our jet was set to head out at 8 am the following morning. I’d gotten some sleep Saturday night; the team had gone back to the hotel in shifts while we continued searching for the unsub. But now it was Sunday afternoon and the exhaustion was starting to wear on me.

He cleared his throat, wanting my full attention again. “I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go for a drink?” Oh no.

I smiled at him, trying to be polite. “Oh, thanks for the offer but I’m really tired and we fly out early tomorrow.”

Deputy Douche didn’t like that one bit. He stepped forward, placing a hand on my upper arm. “Well, it doesn’t have to be a drink,” his smirk made my lips want to curl up in a snarl. “I can meet you back at your hotel and we can break in that bed together.”

Oh gross. I jerked my arm out of his grip. “No, thanks.” I turned my back to him.

He looked miffed but had the sense to not make a grab for me again. I felt his fingers brush over the end of my hair as he leaned in. “Let me know if you change your mind,” he whispered. He slid a piece of paper on the desk before he turned and finally left me alone.

Gross. I threw the paper in the trash.

My attention was so focused on finishing up so I could escape before Deputy Douche came back that I didn’t notice Spencer watching me from across the precinct with a deep frown on his pretty face.

--

I was unbuttoning my shirt when I heard a firm knock on my hotel room door. “Come the fuck on,” I whined. Leaving the two buttons undone I went to the door, expecting to see Hotch, given how sharp that knock was. It wasn’t Hotch. It was my boy looking angrier than I’d ever seen him.

He shoved through the doorway, making his way into my room. Luckily, we all had separate rooms this time. “Well, come on in,” I muttered before I shut the door.

Spencer was fuming. “What the fuck was that?”

I blinked. “What the fuck was what?”

His hands balled into fists at his side. “At the police station. With that Deputy.”

Maybe it was how tired I was, but none of this was clicking. “Deputy Douche? You saw that?”

“Yeah, I fucking saw that,” he scoffed. “I saw him touching you. Flirting with you.”

“Right.” Right?

Wrong, apparently, because that did nothing to dampen his anger. “Why did you let him touch you?”

It clicked then, right at that exact moment I saw what was beneath his anger.  “Spencer…are you jealous?" I knew it wasn't the best idea to laugh but I really couldn't help it. The idea was so ludicrous to me. Morgan didn't call Spencer 'Pretty Boy' for no reason. On top of being one of the most brilliant people in the world, he was also the most gorgeous person I had ever seen. His bone structure alone was enough to make most women do a double-take. The thought that I would choose to spend my evening with the Deputy…over Dr. Spencer Reid? Yeah, no.

His cheeks burned pink, but he held his ground. “You said we were monogamous.”

Oh, hold up. I barked out a laugh. “No,” I corrected. “I said we could talk about monogamy in our dynamic if you wanted to continue." I felt my anger rise so quickly. "You have a fucking eidetic memory, baby. You know what I said.” Plus, I can’t control who flirts with me, dickbag, I thought, choosing not to say it out loud.

His anger matched mine. “I thought it was understood!”

“Nothing is understood until we talk about it, Doc.”

“Don’t call me that, not right now.”

Bad move, baby. “Oh, so you think you give the orders, Doc?” I made sure to put a lot of emphasis on the last letter in an attempt to rile him up further.

It worked because no sooner had the words left my mouth than his body slammed into mine. His mouth sealed over my lips in an angry kiss, his tongue demanding entry to my mouth, his hands tangled in my hair, holding me to him.

I was so lost for a moment; I hadn’t felt this in so long. For years my relationships were in perfect control, nothing unexpected. Who knew Dr. Reid would be the one that broke that pattern?

I hope you’re ready for this. My right hand grabbed the hair at the back of his head, tugging hard. His mouth broke away from mine with a yelp, but my left hand came up to hold his face, forcing his lips to pucker. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He looked scared for just a moment. Come on, baby. You can do it. Enlightenment washed over his face as he whimpered out, “I’m sorry.”

I tugged his hair again, only this time he moaned softly at the sensation. “You’re sorry what?”

“I-I’m sorry, Miss.” He licked his lips, looking more unsure than scared now.

Despite how fast my heart was beating, and how blown his pupils were, I couldn’t move forward until he understood. Spencer needed to understand the rules of a situation to feel comfortable. “We don’t have to do this, baby,” my voice was a whisper; somehow my serious tone didn’t manage to break the tension that hung around us.

“I want to,” his voice was hushed, urgent. “I trust you, y/n. And I feel so…I don’t know what this feeling is.”

I rubbed my thumb over his cheek, brushing over his bottom lip. “I know, sweet boy. I’ve got you.” I pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Green, yellow, and red,” I said knowing he’d understand what I meant. “There’s no shame here, pretty boy. I will not be upset with you if you need to use a safe word. It doesn’t mean our relationship ends, just this scene.” He nodded quickly. “I need your words, baby.”

“Yes Miss,” his voice was breathy, but his eyes were steady.

I smirked at him. “Good boy.” My hand tightened in his hair. “You’ll be a good boy for me, won’t you Dr. Reid?”

“Y-yes Miss.” I had guessed that the honorific would be a turn on for him, and judging by the whimper that followed his words, it looks like I was right.

“Take your clothes off and lay down in the center of the bed,” I released him, backing away to put as much space between us as I could. “Wait for me. You’re not allowed to touch yourself.” Honey brown eyes met mine, he wasn’t confused anymore. All that I saw reflecting in those eyes was desire.

I walked around him, never turning to look at him, and I headed into the bathroom. I finished taking off my shirt. I ran a brush through my hair. I did any tiny little task I could think of; I wanted him to wait.

The thing about BDSM dynamics that most people don’t understand is that no relationship is the same. The punishments that made one submissive tremble wouldn’t be effective on another. Anticipation would make Spencer squirm; I was sure of it. I had given Dr. Reid a lot of thought since our first conversation. I needed to understand what desires drove him if I was going to be able to bring him to the heights I wanted to.

Looking in the mirror, I puffed out a big breath. Truth be told, part of me being in the bathroom was to build anticipation for Spencer…but, part of it was because I was afraid. Even before tonight I had decided that my nervous boy deserved more than I gave the average sub. I cared about all my submissives to a point but, Dr. Spencer Reid was different. Maybe it’s because he had already held my life in his hands for almost a year; that made it easier…hell, it made it possible to trust him with this.

Squaring my shoulders, I turned and walked out of the bathroom. The main room was lit only by a lamp on the bedside table, covering our little world in a soft glow. I stalked slowly towards the bed, my eyes dragging up, up, up, until I saw him. He had followed my directions; I realized this was the first time I had ever seen him completely naked. He was beautiful, so beautiful. He wasn’t as scrawny as he looked to be with his clothes on. His body was covered in lean, toned muscles. He had no hair on his chest, giving him a slightly delicate appearance in my eyes; I wanted to mark that chest with scratches from my nails and bruises from my mouth. His cock laid against his thigh, half hard already. Like the good boy, I knew him to be, his arms were at his side, hands balled into tight fists.

I reached for the button of my pants, undoing them slowly, my eyes never left Spencer’s. Once my pants were off, leaving me in just my bra and panties, I placed a knee on the bed. I was careful not to touch him while I crawled up the bed to kneel beside him. Spencer's eyes bounced all over my body, his hands clenched and relaxing. My boy didn’t know what was to come and waiting for it was agonizing.

I reached out my hand to him, allowing my fingers to barely brush his arm. I trailed them up then down again and again. “Tell me why you came here tonight,” his eyes searched my face, still looking so vulnerable. “Why did you come to my door, Spencer?”

He licked his lips. “I-I was mad.”

My touch became firmer, a sort of reward for his honesty. I let my fingers wander up to his collarbone, over his chest. "Why were you mad, Dr. Reid?"

The whimper that slipped from his lips when I called him Dr. Reid was music to my ears. His hips were shifting on the bed, he was fully hard now.

“Because he touched you.”

I moved to swing my leg over his body, straddling his abdomen, careful not to touch his cock, not yet. “And why were you mad that he touched me?” I whispered.

“He can’t touch you,” his voice was breathy but firm. “You’re mine.”

Slap.

He looked startled when my open palm connected with his cheek. It wasn’t as hard as I wanted; I was still unsure. “No, Dr. Reid. I’m not yours. You are mine.” I leaned over him, my arms going to either side of his head to cage him in. “Do you understand?”

In the way that Spencer knew everything, he knew what I was really asking. His voice was no more than a whisper. “Green.”

I offered him a small smile. Then I lifted my hand to grab on to his face again. “I asked you if you understand, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer nodded quickly. “Yes Miss, I understand.”

I released his face before moving off the bed again. “You’ve been a very naughty boy, Spencer.” I gave him a frown as my hands reached behind my back to undo my bra, letting it slide down my arms. Spencer licked his lips, his fists becoming tighter. “I’m very disappointed in you, baby.”

“I-I’m sorry, Miss.” His voice was dry as he stumbled over his words.

"Are you, Dr. Reid?" I asked as my thumbs hooked into the waistband of my panties. "Are you really sorry?" Wiggling them down my hips, I let them drop to the floor before I stepped out of them.

“Yes. Yes, Miss. I’m so sorry.”

I crawled onto the bed, sitting back with my legs underneath me, letting my hands run up and down the skin of my thigh. “They’re pretty words, Dr. Reid, but I don’t know if I believe you.” I tilted my head to the side, bringing both my hands to my stomach, inching them up to my breasts. I let out a moan when I finally reach my destination, massaging my breasts, twisting my nipples while Spencer watched. I heard him whimper, causing a smile to tug at my lips. You’re doing so well, baby. I raised my body up so I was on my knees; I spread my thighs slightly, letting one of my hands drop to the apex of my thighs. Spencer watched so closely I’m not sure he even blinked when I dipped one finger inside the place that ached for him. I moved my finger in and out, biting my lip while I watched him.

After a moment I removed my finger, surprising him by bringing it to his mouth. “Open.” He obeyed instantly, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucked on my finger. “I wonder what else I could make you suck on.” I withdrew my finger from his mouth, bringing it back to my pussy. “How are you going to prove that you’re sorry, Dr. Reid? What are you going to do for me?”

His voice was filled with longing and hunger. “Anything, miss, I’ll do anything.”

I smirked, moving closer to him. Bracing my hands on either side of his body, I swung my leg over his torso, keeping on my knees so I didn’t touch him. Not yet. “Anything, huh?” He nodded quickly; his eyes fixed on my pussy.

I moved one hand to the headboard, the other moved to touch those beautiful curls of his, pulling hard enough to get another moan from him. “If you really want to apologize, Dr. Reid, maybe you can put that pretty little mouth of yours to better use?” I applied a tiny bit of pressure to his head.

He looked confused for a second, his eyes were wide in surprise like he couldn't believe what I was asking him to do. He probably can’t, I thought.

“What’s the matter, baby?” I teased. “Do you not want me to put my pussy on your face? You don’t want me to fuck your tongue?”

“No, no!” He whispered hurriedly. “I want that more than anything Miss.”

“Good boy.” I think he felt the significance of this moment too. “I’ll forgive you if you can make me cum before I get bored of you," I smirked down at him. “What do you think about that Dr. Reid? Can you make me cum all over your pretty little face?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Open your mouth.” I leaned over, putting my mouth closer to his, making it clear what I was going to do before I spit into his mouth. “Swallow it.” He swallowed obediently without any hesitation. Noted.

“Okay, Dr. Reid. I’ll take that apology now.”

He moved so fast. His hands hooked on the backs of my thighs, pulling me up his body while also pushing himself down the bed. My pussy was hovering over his mouth, he licked his lips, his fingers flexing on my thighs. He looked so desperate for me…but still so unsure. “Go ahead, baby,” I whisper, pulling on his hair hard enough to make him whimper.

With that, he gripped my hips and pulled me to his mouth. I felt his tongue move through my folds, gathering the wetness that pooled there. He moaned so loudly, pulling my hips down further, bringing my pussy closer to his face.

It had been so long since I’d felt this. I hadn’t let anyone touch me like this in years; it was so much better than I remembered, but that may have just been because it was Spencer doing it.

“Ugh,” I moan, starting to rock my hips. “Fuck, baby.” I pulled his hair, tugging hard enough that I knew it hurt. “I’m already getting bored, Dr. Reid, and you just started. You can do better than that.”

I wasn’t ready, not even a bit, for his lips locking around my clit. He flicked it with his tongue, then circled it, trying to find the method that made me groan and grind my pussy down on his mouth.

“That’s more like it, Dr. Reid,” I said, earning another moan from him. “I knew there had to be a better use for this smart mouth." My hips started rocking faster, his fingers were digging into my flesh. "What would the team say if they knew about what a dirty boy you are, Dr. Reid?" His tongue sped up, causing me to shudder. I bit my lip so hard I felt real pain. I didn’t want him to hear me moan; he hadn’t earned it yet. “What would they say if they heard Dr. Reid beg me to fuck his face? You’re always such a good boy, baby. But you’re not the good boy they think you are. You’re my good boy.”

My hips were moving more rapidly; Spencer hadn’t slowed his pace at all, almost like he could feel how close I was. What I had planned would be hard for me…but I knew it would be torture for him. After a few moments, when I felt my pussy spasm with the telltale signs of my impending orgasm, I gripped his hands and pulled them from me while I lifted my hips.

His mouth was red, wet, and his lips were swollen. His face morphed from one of bliss to one of confusion. “Wha-“

I moved away from him. “That was really the best you could do, Dr. Reid?” He bit into his lip, he looked almost embarrassed as his eyes moving down to my pussy.

“Please, Miss,” he begged. “Please let me finish. You taste so good. You were so close, I felt it.”

I chuckled, “Oh you felt it, huh?” I reached between my thighs, gathering some of my wetness, then moved that same hand to grip Spencer’s cock. At that first touch he let out a strangled sound that was almost a scream; my poor boy is so sensitive. I gave him a few pumps before I removed my hand.

“Miss, please.”

“You didn’t make me cum, Dr. Reid,” I said sweetly. “What makes you think you’ve earned my touch?” I moved my fingers back to my clit, rubbing slow circles, still so, so close. “Touch yourself.” He obeyed immediately, his eyes never leaving my fingers that were swirling around the place his mouth had just been. “I want you to touch yourself like you do when you’re at home in bed, Dr. Reid. Back when you still felt so guilty, but you just couldn’t help it…because I know you thought about me when you touched yourself long before Nebraska.”

His eyes shot up to meet mine; it was hard to tell if his flushed face got a little pinker in the dim light of the room. “You don’t need to deny it, baby.” My fingers started working faster. “I know. I’ve always known. So, I want you to touch yourself like you did back then. You can do that for me, right baby?”

Hand moving faster and faster now, he gave me another beautiful whimper, “yes Miss.”

“Good boy,” my finger’s slowed. “I said you could touch yourself. I never said you could cum. Stop, Spencer.” I could tell from his breathing that he was so close to the edge. “I said stop.” I reached out to grip his arm tightly, digging my nails into his skin.

Once he had released his cock, I took in his appearance. His stomach muscles kept tensing, his cock was leaking precum steadily now, his dick was an angry red, his teeth were digging into his bottom lip, and I could see the tears of frustration swimming in his eyes.

“Aw, baby,” I cooed, leaning over to put my body above his again; I caressed his cheek softly. “What’s wrong?”

"I-I" the chatterbox that was Dr. Spencer Reid was finally speechless.

I lifted my hand off of his face only to bring it back down in a sharp slap. “I asked you a question, Dr. Reid.”

I saw the desperation in his eyes. I know baby, I know. We’re almost there.

“Please, miss,” his words were so quiet. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m sorry. I’m yours.”

He deserved the world. This wonderful man deserved the entire world. “I believe you, Dr. Reid.” I leaned over him then, sealing my lips over his, my tongue stroking into his mouth softly. I felt his hands rise up towards my body only to stop just before they made contact.

He made my heart swell. I pulled my mouth away, looking down at him with an emotion I didn’t want to name shining from my eyes. “You’ve been such a good boy, baby.” I pushed the damp curls off of his forehead. “Such a good boy. I think you deserve something special.” I rose up on my knees, straddling his body again, my hand moving down to my pussy to spread myself open for his eyes. “What would you like more? Do you want me to put my pussy on your pretty face again? I’ll let you cum while you make me cum. I know how badly you need to taste me, Dr. Reid.” I bit my lip at how quickly he nodded his head. “Or, I can let you fuck my mouth. Hold onto my hair and fuck your pretty cock down my throat. Then I’ll let you watch me cum after.” I left a kiss on the tip of his nose.

Dr. Spencer Reid usually made decisions quickly; his mind worked so much quicker than everyone else, but he was struggling here. His eyes met mine, he looked so desperate and lost in a sea of his own desire.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you, baby.” I moved down his body then, trailing kisses down his stomach. I gripped his cock hard in my hand, causing him to moan so loudly I’m sure someone in the neighboring rooms heard him. “Fuck my face, Dr. Reid. I want to watch you come undone.”

Needing no further encouragement, his hands tangled in my hair, tugging the strands so hard it made my eyes water. I opened my mouth over him; he lifted his hips going far deeper into my mouth than he would have done normally. I relaxed my jaw, swallowing around the head of his cock. My eyes were watering too much to watch him, but I heard him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, pulling my head down to meet his upward thrust. “You feel so fucking good, y/n. I’m gonna…” he let out a ragged breath. “I’m gonna cum.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than he came apart. His groan was from deep in his chest and it sounded like my name as he filled my mouth. He slowed his thrusts, but I continued sucking. I needed him to feel every ounce of this.

When his hands finally dropped from my head, I released him. I wiped my eyes and I took him in. He looked so overwhelmed, shattered, and beautiful. I moved up the bed, lying beside him and wrapping him in my arms. I peppered his shoulder with kisses. “You did so good, Spencer,” I praised. “So, so good. I’m so proud of you.”

Spencer turned, his hands cupping my jaw while he stared so deep in my eyes. What I saw swirling on the surface of those amber eyes made my heart stop.

“You didn’t cum.” His voice was scratchy.

“I know. It’s okay,” I reassured. “We can take a break. Or you can watch me cum now.” I kept stroking his hair, his body. “Whatever you want, Spencer.”

My core was still throbbing, the sight of his release only pulling me closer to the edge.

His lips lifted in a smirk. “Whatever I want?” he teased.

“Yes.”

He blinked once, then again. He didn’t know quite what to do with my confirmation; but I meant it, in this moment, I was willing to give Spencer Reid anything and everything.

“…Can I make you cum?” he searched my eyes for any sign of hesitation. “I…I want to finish. What I was doing earlier.”

My laugh bubbled out of me. “I just had your cock down my throat but now you can’t ask me if you can make me cum on your face?”

I was still laughing when he leaned forward to kiss me; both of his hand cupping my jaw. There was heat behind this kiss; it brought my simmering arousal back to a giant flame in my lower belly. Heat wasn’t all that was there though. I can’t think about that. I couldn’t dwell on what I felt, but I felt it with my entire soul.

Despite what we had just done, this felt different. The scene felt over, his powerful orgasm had shifted the mood in our little bubble. I wasn’t his Miss. He wasn’t my pretty, nervous boy. He was Spencer and I was y/n; and he wanted to make me feel good. He rose over me then, wasting no time on foreplay; he knew I didn’t need it.

He settled between my thighs, his hands wrapping around them, his fingers digging into my skin. With one final look at my face to make sure this was really okay, he put his mouth on me. My back arched and my mouth hung open in a silent scream. Spencer didn’t toy with me; he knew how close I was.

“Spencer, Spencer, fuck,” his eyes opened when my fingers tangled in his hair, my pussy grinding into his face. “I’m so close. Fuck.”

I was so lost I didn’t realize his hand had moved until I felt two fingers enter me, curling expertly. He pumped his fingers and wrapped his lips around my clit, sucking firmly. That was all it took for me to cum for him.

It all happened so quickly I didn’t have time to be scared. He was the first man to make me orgasm in longer than I wanted to admit. I knew the last time I let someone put their mouth on me. It had always felt like a deeply intimate act to me, I was always nervous to let anyone do it.

Spencer rose up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Why is that sexy?

He laid down beside me; I'm not sure who's arms wrapped around who first, but we were clinging to each other, both of us breathing hard.

“So,” I said, after clearing my throat. “What did you think?”

Spencer chuckled, the hot air of his breath puffing against my hair. “I liked it.”

“Yeah?” I pulled back to look at his eyes.

“Mhm," was his response as he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on my lips before his mood shifted. "Y/n…I'm sorry I got so mad." He looked so embarrassed as he said it as if it wasn't the sweetest thing in the world that Spencer Reid would care about me like that. “I just…I saw him touching you and I just…” he dropped his gaze. “I know we didn’t talk about monogamy, but I thought- I was just so worrie-“

My finger pressed against his lips. “I don’t want to be with anyone else, Spencer.”

We fell asleep shortly after that. I couldn’t help but wonder if his thoughts felt anything like mine; the irony of it all was I was too afraid to ask.

Series tag list: @abschaffer2​ @liaabsurd​ @brokenanxiety​ @thisiscalmandits-dr​​ @less-intelligent-spencerreid​​ @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @cielo1984​ @sarcasticsagittarius1998​ @101donuts​ @heyitssarahk @creepingfromthecorners​ @imjusthereformggcontent​ @fanfictionislifetho​  @annestine​

Taglist: @rachelxwayne​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @sickeninglyshoujo @justagirllookingforherplace​ @nanocoool​

[awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands]

Guns N’Roses when they discover that their girlfriend is bisexual:

A/N: Requested by this anon, and I couldn’t do anything but write it because y’all know my bi ass loves some bi-positivity. Also today is bisexual awareness day, so this is a gift to all the wonferdul bi girls/ bi female presenting people ( don’t worry bi nb/ bi boys, soon I’ll do the second part for you)

TW: Mentions of sex, curse words, mentions of internalized biphobia

Axl Rose:

You were constantly afraid that your boyfriend Axl could discover your secret.

You never told him that you were bisexual, too afraid of being rejected or laughed at. Everybody knew what Axl had said on people of the community like you, in the past, and even if he was growing and changing, you were still too scared to come out.

But a part of you knew it had to be done, if there was something Axl hated was liars, many people in his life destructed his trust, also everyday you were finding more difficult keeping the real you hidden, and you were afraid it could make you two break up.

You two were cuddling on the couch, not so invested in the random movie on the TV, he looked so calm and happy, smiling every time he looked at you, kissing gently your hand. You hated to burst his bubble of happiness, but you knew it has to be done, so you decided to gather the courage, and talk to him.

“Axl, I need to tell you something.” You wanted to sound chill, but your voice was trembling a bit.

“Did something happen? Is it bad?” Axl was getting scared, even if he was trying to hide it.

“I kept a secret from you, and I’m sorry. I’m…. I’m bisexual. I’ve never told you because I was afraid you would have found me disgusting, like all the others, I was scared that you thought I could cheat on you just like your exes, but even more just because of my sexuality. But I’m not more likely to cheat and I’m not confused. I-” You broke down, salty tears streaming down your cheeks.

You waited for screams, for insults, or any bad reaction. Would he left? Would he be angry with you because you kept a secret? Would he throw you out of the house?

He did neither of those things, instead he took you into his arms, kissing your forehead.

“Shhh, baby it’s okay. I’m not angry or disappointed, I know what I’ve said in the past and I’m sorry, I’m trying to change, and I could never hate my girlfriend, I could never be angry at you for who you are. I’m proud of you! And I hope to learn more and be a better boyfriend with you at my side!”

“So is it not a problem for you?” You asked, still unsure.

He shook his head, and kissed you softly, first on your lips, then all over your face.

Slash

You and Slash were slumped on a couch, pretty drunk, in the Hell House. All the other members were too busy or passed out to give a fuck about you two, so you were talking about random shit, like you usually do when you are not sober.

You were on your boyfriend’s lap, his arms around you and you were talking about his first time having sex. You were not shy to talk about past relationships, even the sex parts.

“Wait, you were really only 14? Fuck, that’s impressive! “You said with a giggle.

“How was your first time?” He asked you, taking a long sip from his Jack bottle.

Well, your first time was actually with a girl, they one that made you realize you had feelings for other girls too, rather than just boys. But you could have just lied and tell him your first time with a boy, right? I mean you were not out to him so it was the logical thing to do.

Wrong! Your inebriated brain didn’t want to collaborate, so you just started telling him the real story.

“I was older than you, like 17 or 18. I knew her for quite some months, she was my friend, and we did it at their parents’ house. It was great, until they come back earlier than we thought and I had to jump out of the window!” You laughed hysterically, but the look of confusion on Slash’s face made you stop.

Oh, fuck! You were so screwed!

“So it was a girl?” Your boyfriend questioned, completely chill.

“Yeah, I’m bi, so I like girls too. Are you disgusted with me?” You were usually never scared, but then your heart was jumping out of your chest.

“I could never be disgusted with you, baby. I’m just surprised that my girl likes girls too, but that doesn’t mean I don’t agree with that or I don’t support you. I’ll keep loving you, no matter what.” You kiss him on the lips, too happy to say anything.

“Plus I could use that as an excuse to have threesomes with some groupies!” He added, and you punched him on the shoulder with a smile.

Duff Mckagan

You were sitting at the bar counter, when you felt Duff’s long arms around you.

“Babe, something weird happened earlier, you can’t believe that!”

You were starting to get a little worried, but Duff seemed mainly amused, so it wasn’t something too bad.

“Okay so a groupie approached me backstage…” Well know you started to  get worried and a little jealous.

“And?”

“Well she looked me in the eyes and told me that she thought my girlfriend was into girls too. I was like What the hell? And she said you totally have like this energy, I don’t know she was weird, but I want to show you to her so she could prove me her point!”

Okay, now you were super scared. Because, you were bisexual, but Duff didn’t know that. So did you had to pretend that you are straight or be honest? But what if they already knew and it was all a test?

You decided to nod and follow him, just to not raise any suspect on you. However, once you had the groupie right in front of you, you stopped dead in your tracks.

Oh, no she was hot!

Of course, you loved Duff and didn’t feel any desire to date the girl, but hell if you were not in love him, you would have hit on her tonight. She totally made your bisexual heart skip a beat.

“Oh wow, she was right then!” Duff said surprised, looking at your open mouth. The girl just smiled, happy to have proven her point and left you two.

Those words brought you back to reality, and you started to feel a sense of dread inside you, while your eyes started to get wet. Fuck, you felt horrible, Duff would have left you and you couldn’t live without him.

“Hey baby girl, hey look at me!” Duff’s smooth voice said, cupping your face.

“P-please don’t leave me. I-I swear I love you!” You were so scared and desperate, while the void inside you kept growing.

“I’d never do that sweetheart! I love you so much, and this doesn’t change anything between us!” He hugged you closer, rubbing your back.

“I’m sorry if I didn’t tell you that I was bi sooner!” You said between the sobs.

“It’s totally okay, I’m proud of you for doing it now.” The blond answered with a smile.

“By the way, you have a great taste in women, if I was not your boy, I’d be your wingman!” He joked, kissing your forehead and your lips.

Izzy Stradlin

Today was not a good day for you.

For years, you had struggled with your feelings, you tried to keep them down, to convince yourself that there was no way in hell that you could also like girls, but they never went away. You just couldn’t understand, that was not normal, you were supposed to like either girl or boys, you had to choose.

But then, thanks to a friend, you realized that what you were feeling had a name : bisexuality. You never felt brave enough to come out, and you still felt like you were “wrong”, but things seemed to be easier.

However, since Izzy became your boyfriend, you felt bad keeping this thing from him, and also to feel in that way. You were not sure if he would ever accept you or not.

“What are you thinking? You have been pretty distant today, and I’m saying that!” Your boyfriend asks, with his usual calm.

You were bad and you clearly needed to take this thing off his chest, so maybe you could have talked about it with him? Izzy was a very smart and kind man, never the judging type, but still that’s different when it is about your girlfriend.

“I’m bisexual. I think I’ve known this since I was a teenager, but I’m admitting it with myself just now. I’m so fucking scared that you could hate me, or that I could hate myself, everything is so confusing and scary. But yeah, I’m sure I’m bisexual!” You bit your lips, nervously.

“Okay.” He simply answered, getting back to play his guitar.

“Just okay? No screams, or disgusted faces? No I’m proud of you?” You were happy that he didn’t seem angry, but still disappointed with his nonchalance.

“I love my girlfriend and this won’t change anything. I’m glad you realized who you are, but I won’t treat you any different. I loved you before and I still love you now!” He was serious, but then a smiled softly.

“Well I’m so glad you feel like this, I was so scared to lose you!” You admitted.

“Nah, I would never leave you. Oh, I’m proud of you!” He said at the end, gently kissing your lips.

Steven Adler

Your boyfriend Steven was on tour, and you spent much time thinking about whatever you should come out to him as bisexual. Sometimes you felt super confident while others you just kept stop imagine the worst, you loved him so much and the thought of him leaving you would break your heart, but also keeping this secret was eating you alive.

In the end you realize that you had to do it, but in a fun way, doing something that Steven would have loved and maybe that could have helped you being accepted, and what better way to do it that with a lovely chocolate cake, your boyfriend’s favorite.

So you started to bake, picking up all the ingredients and swaying  to some random music, hoping that it would have calmed you down a bit. Once the cake was in the oven, you prepared the frosting and also decided what to write on it : a simple “I’m bisexual” with two little hearts.

The doorbell rang right when you finished decorating, so you quickly put the cake in the fridge, and opened the door. Steven picked you up with force, hugged you tightly and made you spinning, all with a huge smile on his face.

“Babe I missed you so much! This tour was awesome, but without you there was something missing, like I needed my girl to be there!” He explained, getting inside.

“Well I’m here Stevie and you can spend as much time as you want with me.” You answered, kissing his nose.

“I’ll stay with you all the time. Oh, is it chocolate cake the smell I sniff?” He asked excited.

“Ehrm… yeah but it is a surprise, so sit and close your eyes.” You tried to hide your trembling voice and with shaky hands you put the cake on the table.

The blond drummer smiled, then he frowned, looking quite confuse. You felt like every bit of air left your lungs.

“Honey, what’s this?”

“I’m bisexual, I like girls too. I wanted to tell you, but I was too scared that you could have taken it the wrong way, so I keep it a secret. However, it was too much and I felt the need to tell you, please don’t go away from me!” You pleaded scared, just to be in Steven’s arms the next moment.

“ Hey I love you, you’re my girl, and I’m very happy that you decided to tell me this very important thing! I’ll always love you, no way I stop doing that. So please don’t be scared or cry now, okay?”

You were in tears, but they were happy ones. Your boyfriend held you even closer, keeping telling you how proud he was of you.

“10 points for creativity, that cake looks amazing, can we eat it now?” You cut a slice and gave to him, his smile priceless as he realized it was a two flavor one.

A bi cake though and through.

[blinder-secrets]

Lion Tamer - part 10

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine 

4,211 words

warnings: nsfw, language, canon violence + blood

ao3 link

If Arthur was anyone else, anyone else in the bloody world, he’d have thought he was dead. But he wasn’t, he knew that, because men like him didn’t go to heaven, and women like her would never be in hell. Cause there she was, lying at his side, all golden, like the sun shone out of her fucking chest, as close to an angel as he’d ever be, and so he mustn’t have died yet. He was alive, more than ever, while she was next to him. He’d done some good then, somewhere along the way. Something had led him to this waking paradise. Banked his deeds in exchange for the wealth.

‘Mornin, love,’ he drawled, stretching up to push life back into his limbs. He moved like an old man now, sometimes, just in the mornings. Cracked like splintered doorframes.

She peeled her eyes open to look at him, smiling once they’d focused. He’d never touch whiskey again, he thought, not while he had that in front of him. She put more fire in his heart with half the effort, none of the cost. ‘It’s the afternoon,’ she whispered, ‘we slept all morning.’

And thank fuck we did. His fingers went to her hair without planning to. ‘Good,’ he said. Bloody good, enough mornings, enough work. Time didn’t exist in that room, not to them. They needed the laziness, deserved the peace, they’d spent years waiting for it. ‘Bout time we had some fuckin’ rest.’

He swore too much. Maybe that’s what she thought, why she was staring. He tried not to fidget under her gaze because, well, really, deep down, he knew she’d never think anything malicious, he hoped, not about him. He was just worrying ideas into her head, yeah, putting reason to the gaze that she slung across his shoulders, his chest. She still was shining and it wasn’t just the window behind her, wasn’t the cream silk of her slip. The one that had melted through his fingers like ice, like water, brushed his nose when he went down her body. If he tried hard enough, he could find the taste of her on his tongue still.

Say something, then, Arthur, fill the quiet. ‘Feels like heaven,’ he confessed, thinking of her, thinking of the night before, thinking of everything at fucking once.

Then they’d talked, and talked, and she’d put their schedule together. Decided what they should do, which was good because he hadn’t considered it at all. Had thought they would just stay in bed, go somewhere to eat, then be back in the hotel again. Making a home in the over-priced room he’d booked. Then he could finally have her, properly, see her take him in, beg for him, ask for more. He’d wanted that forever, really, thought about it enough times that it almost felt like they had already. Like he had fucked her before and they’d just never spoken about it. But that was all in his head, all just a fantasy, and now it was real, an actual possibility, he was living it. He’d pinch himself but the heat of her lay against him was enough.

She kissed him and his chest tightened, the blood ran from his head straight into his underwear; how she hadn’t felt him, he didn’t know. He forced a gulp and put his palm to the dip above her arse. I want to listen, he thought, I want so badly to pay attention, to be gentle for you. He tilted his head to breathe in the scent of her neck, because that’s where it was strongest, that’s where she smelt most like herself. And his lips went to her skin like she had a fucking magnet beneath.

‘Don’t know how long I can be a gentleman for,’ he told her. It was the least he could do. He was an animal, right, a bloody chauvinist pig like the rest of them, but he wanted her, wanted her so bad, the least he could do was confess it. Honest. He was always honest with her and he was trying, he was. He’d been as good as he could.

She said something back, but all he took from her words was a ‘yes’, a please, so he put his teeth to the edge of her ear, and her breath hitched so sweetly that he thought he might cum on the spot. It was now then, fuck, it was happening at last.

But the fucking phone rang and he knew in an instant who it would be. Who in the world had the bloody seventh sense to always be there at the exact, wrong, moment, to always kick his shins right before the winning penalty. ‘Fuck’s sake,’ he swore. ‘I should take this.’ If he didn’t, he’d just ring again, and again, and he would never be able to enjoy himself, or her. The ringing wouldn’t stop and it wouldn’t help his rhythm, wouldn’t let him find ecstasy, as he knew he would, in her beautiful, sweet, wet—

‘Yeah,’ he said into the receiver, sharper than he intended.

‘Arthur?’ Tommy clarified, as if he could sound like anyone but himself.

‘Yeah.’

‘I need you to do something for me, brother.’

‘Alright,’ he said, agreeing because it was inevitable, it saved time. ‘When?’

She stood from the bed, shutting herself into the bathroom instead of lingering to listen. He looked at the woodgrain while Tommy explained.

‘Alfie Solomons,’ he started, sighing between the words, ‘has asked to hold a meeting, a dinner, of sorts. Tonight. He wants to meet you.’

‘Me?’

He hummed a confirmation; he was probably setting a cigarette into his mouth.

Arthur scoffed, shaking his head a fraction. ‘He’s fucking mad, Tom.’ He’d seen the man only from afar, but heard enough from the boys they had working with him to know that he wasn’t normal, wasn’t right in the head.

‘We’re all mad, Arthur. It’s just how he does business.’

‘Yeah, well, it’s not how we do business,’ he grumbled. They were a collective, a trio. He never went into meetings on his own, never without the support, without at least one brother on his flanks.

‘Go with Billy, alright, our man from the bakery. He’ll meet you outside at six.’

‘Billy? Bloody Billy?’

‘I’d go meself, but there’s something I have to do.’ He exhaled. The smoke may as well have poured through the phone and into Arthur’s ear. ‘Just a couple hours, Arthur, then you can get back to your holiday.’

He was seeing a woman too, of course, it wasn’t something, but someone. He thought they didn’t know he was slipping away, to her house in the country. Dossing about with the maids and the toffs like he was one of them. He put a fuck over his brother, threw the bad jobs to the foot soldiers so he could play between her tits.

‘You should be there,’ Arthur said, tutting. ‘Makes no sense, it being just me.’

He sighed. ‘You wanted more control, brother. Now’s your chance.’

Prove yourself, he meant, prove your worth. Pull your weight. ‘I know,’ he agreed. He had asked for more opportunities with the expansion, but he would never have asked to be dealing with Solomons alone. He rubbed at his brows like he could work will-power into the skin. ‘Right,’ he said, ‘I’ll handle it.’ Because he could. He would.

Tommy coughed into his end, chipping the noise against the side of Arthur’s head. ‘He’s one for theatre,’ he said dryly. ‘Probably just wants to make an impression, alright, and have you running back to me with the gossip. That’s all. Just a fucking show, for sport.’

‘Yeah,’ Arthur laughed, ‘well, you better be fuckin’ right, Tommy. Sending me in blind.’

She was back from the bathroom, bumping against the mattress as she waited. He looked at her once and then pulled away again because she looked like snow, for one dizzying moment, she looked like fucking snow. Not literally, but in feeling. One glance at her had the same effect as a line, as a fresh-filled bottled in his palm; his brain fuzzed in anticipation, excited before he’d even done anything, before he’d even rubbed it on his bloody gums.

‘And don’t fucking fight anyone, eh?’ Tommy nagged in his ear. ‘Keep it civil.’

‘Yeah, alright.’ He was nodding, rattling words out to get it over with, to end the call. ‘Best behaviour,’ he agreed. Then the line cut and he put it back on the stand so he could focus on her again, so he could get the reassurances out of the way, and make her gasp in his ear like she had before. If he didn’t hear that again, his head might blow off, he thought, his teeth might chew themselves to gravel.

‘Fuckin’ showgirl, you are,’ he told her, once she was on his lap and around him like wildfire.

It was a novelty still, thinking things about her and then getting to just say them, to bark them carelessly, knowing it wouldn’t cross any line because the line had gone. Gone up in the smoke, away from them at last. He’s always thought she was a blinder of a woman; he’s always looked at her and felt curses pool in his skull, hot-phrases of compliments dying to go out and all over her. Now he said them freely, now she said intoxicating things in return.

‘Will you have me then?’ she asked and he felt like he’d put his head through the fucking mirror.

Like she didn’t know the answer already, like he wasn’t hard against the back of her thigh. Panting, yanking on the bit, he felt like he did when he lost his calm, but this time it was welcome. This time, she was the stoke beneath the flames. Her hand was in his hair, running through it and back again, rough enough to send goosebumps down his spine. He dragged her over him before he went mad with need.

‘You want it?’ he asked, not bothering to sound polite. He was done with being polite. She melted between his hands, went limp and let him do as he pleased. Let him grind her over, and over, and over on his cock, and there it was, that noise again. That chirp in his ear, the sound of her composure splitting, snapping in a soft ping like thin glass. Like fucking crystal vases. ‘Yeah? You like that?’

He wasn’t a genius, but it didn’t take one to know the answer was yes. Yes, yes, fucking yes.

She liked it, and she kept on liking it until he felt like he was the king of the free world, and she was the country. She was the gold beneath the dirt, the water in the rivers, the stars, the fucking stars, that were spinning behind his eyelids as he lay over her, as he panted into her collarbone. Spent. He was bloody spent. He wouldn’t be able to fuck again, he thought, not after that. Not after what she’d taken from him. He pulled his hips back and they both shook slightly, both worn out and delirious, sensitive like they were having withdrawals.

‘I think,’ she said, taking a breath big enough to lift him, ‘that you have something to say to me.’

‘Eh?’ His brows pinched. He was still a ghost behind the pleasure, sunken in euphoria, slowly coming back to reality. ‘What?’

‘You said—‘

‘Oh, right.’ He knew now; it had shot out of him like a fucking bullet before, in his head one minute, into her chest the next. ‘That.’

‘Yes, that, Arthur.’ She was smiling. Her cheeks were still hot, her mouth still swollen from all the kissing. He’d never kissed a woman as often, and as hungrily, as he kissed her.

‘I do love you,’ he said. ‘A lot. Like, a fucking lot.’ He laughed with it but only because it seemed stupid, silly, to feel the way he did about her, and so strongly, and so freely already. But it wasn’t that new, not really. It wasn’t a feeling that either of them hadn’t felt before. It was as overdue as what they’d just done. Just as sweet, even with the delay.

She put a palm to his face and he wondered for a moment if she cared that it was damp, that he was sweating like he’d run a marathon.

‘I love you too,’ she said lightly.

And he said, ‘say it again,’ because no one had ever told him that and meant it. But she looked like she meant it, he knew that she meant it. ‘Say it again,’ he insisted.  

‘I love you.’

‘Again.’

‘I love you.’

He kissed her, lips to her jaw, her cheek, her temple. ‘Again,’ he said once more, addicted to the sound of it already. He wanted it over and over, until he was drunk on the feeling. Until it was the only noise in his head.

Later, outside the gallery, Arthur waited until the cab had taken her round the corner, and out of his sight entirely. She was safe, and she would stay safe at the hotel. He could do his job in absolute certainty that nothing would happen to her. Not that it would, anyway. She was too smart for that, too tuned in to her surroundings. Always seeing the smoke before he’d even smelt it. That was enough of a comfort to be able to portion her off, just for a bit, tuck her away in his head so he could think clearly. So he could focus. So he could be Arthur-fucking-Shelby, the one man military, the self-contained arms of the Blinders.

He hailed another cab for himself and gave the driver the address, or the almost address, to Solomans’ bakery. He wouldn’t drive right up to the door, sitting like ducks in a tin can, he’d be dropped on the street once over from it. Find Billy and walk in like he owned place.

He could do with some snow, he thought. Just to smooth the cogs, polish the senses. If Billy had any on him —and if he had any mind, he would— he’d take some of that. One boost of the powder couldn’t hurt. They put it in the horses to get them out of the gate and, well, this was one hell of a bloody gate. If Tommy was right, he had nothing to worry about, if he was wrong, he would need all the cocaine he could get his hands on. Tommy had intuition where he had blind rage but, for once, he wasn’t ready for a fight. He wanted it to be easy. Wanted to be back in the hotel like he was a man on holiday, like he’d stepped out for a paper and now he was back again. Ready to make peace with the soft between her thighs.  

Billy was where he was supposed to be, ginger and lumbering, towering above Arthur’s head. He looked nervous; whether it was for the meeting, or for himself, he didn’t know. Didn’t bother to find out. If he was worried about working with Arthur, he should’ve never come in the first place.

‘You got snow, lad?’ Arthur asked, before saying hello or anything else.

‘Snow, Mr. Shelby?’

‘Cocaine.’ He fidgeted with his coat, straightened his tie, waited for his partner to find some fucking common sense. ‘Do I look like a copper, Billy?’

He shook his head. ‘No, sir.’

They didn’t have time for pratting about, he needed the fix, the spark, the ignition. ‘Then stop playing fuckin’ dumb,’ he said, ‘and give me the bloody stuff.’

The bottle was pulled out of a pocket and put into Arthur’s waiting hand without further hesitation. Right, then, they were off. The evening was well on its way. Turning on heel, the pair walked the remaining distance, only stopping when faced with the large double doors to the most elaborate booze-front in London.

They were greeted by a lad taller, but younger, than Billy, who led them through the barrels without saying a word. Arthur tipped a pile of snow onto the edge of his fist as they went and then brought it up, sniffed it in, shot it right into his fucking brain. Felt the zing, the relief. The flash of white behind his eyeballs. He had missed it, he had. He wished he didn’t, but he did and, God, it ran round his skull like a hare on the dog track. He was the winner, now, he’d take the prize. The curly-haired jewish boy looked at him, watched him wipe the excess from under his nose, but said nothing. Good, good, not for him to judge. He knew that well enough. Anyone who worked for the type of people he worked for, just like the Shelbys, knew not to say a damn thing about anything. You had to be trained well to survive in the underworld.  

‘Gentleman! Welcome, welcome!’

There he was, the man he’d come to meet, the eccentric that had asked for him specifically. Alfie boomed into the room, arms wide, like he was a friend and they were much awaited. ‘Mr. Solomon,’ Arthur acknowledged, dipping his chin as the group came to a stop.

‘You must be Arthur.’

‘That is right.’ Alfie took his hands into the both of his; they were cold by comparison. Arthur was running hot already, full with the fire, burnt from the snow. ‘Pleasure to meet you, sir,’ he said, though the baker was still trilling his name over and over. Like Arthur was the fucking royal guest, and maybe he was. Maybe his presence in the club scene hadn’t gone unnoticed. His name preceded him at last, his work put notches in their fucking bedposts.

Alfie pulled forward, tucking their joint hands into his chest. Preening like an eager mother-in-law. ‘I’ve heard so much about you,’ he said, in that unusual voice of his.

It was a warm welcome, in truth, a polite one, and to his luck, to his bloody luck, Arthur was very good at being polite. Fucking wonderful, in fact. He’d already asked Billy what to say in the hallway before. The word bounced around in his head, rattling in excitement. It was ready to come free, to impress, he just had to say it.

‘Shalom,’ he told him, leaning forward too, rounding the syllables, plopping it from his mouth into the small gap between them. ‘Let me just say…’

Alfie looked to his partner, wide-eyed, in surprise, he thought, but the good surprise. Probably impressed, really. Probably didn’t think a Shelby would have the fucking good manners to say it.  

He shook their hands and said again, ‘Shalom.’

It was a strange gathering. Just a handful of them, sitting round a table that was really just four smaller ones, pushed together in a line, under low-hanging lights. He hadn’t seen a crumb of food, but they had rum by the barrel and that was enough. That filled his stomach plenty.

He hadn’t been listening much, not really, just repeating the odd word and agreeing like a good little boy. Like a nice humble gangster. He laughed to himself between sips. If she saw him now, what would she say? What would she think? Bet you never expected this love, grace like a fucking politician. A diplomat. He sat, pleased with himself, and watched it all happen, followed Solomon’s strange, choreographed show behind the cocaine-curtains in his head.

He didn’t come through the noise until they walked a bloody goat into the room.

It was white like snow, like clouds in the blue, like the sheets of their hotel bed, with her hand all knotted up in them. He blinked once to put his thoughts straight. Looked at Alfie like he had been paying attention, very close attention to the droning. Pretended his head wasn’t thumping, fizzing, wasted. ‘You’ve named it?’ he asked, catching only the last half of the sentence.

‘We fucking did, yeah.’

He looked to Billy. Billyboy, Billy with his hair like fire. Billy who was still fucking bricking it. ‘They named the fucking goat,’ he lowed. Pay attention, son, act like you care. This was important to them, to Solomons, this was the chain between the anchor and the hull.

Alfie continued, ‘The evil fucking Egyptian pharaoh—‘

‘The fucking enemy,’ Arthur added.

‘That’s right,’ he agreed.

They were singing, going hand in hand, running in sync like clockwork. This is how you do business, Billyboy, this is why Tommy sent him. Arthur, with all his roughness, still had the fucking mouth, the right good brain on him to partake, to converse intellectually, like. To sit amongst kings as an equal. He had Alfie with him now, on his shoulder. Parroted words off each other like chums, like longtime friends. Relations, you see, Billy, they’re a craft. An art. He had sculpted this exactly as he should have. Sit there and watch.

‘You know what we called it?’ Alfie asked, eyebrows lifting.

Arthur leant back, puffed his chest, sang like the crow at dawn. ‘Yeah, what did ya call him?’

‘Tommy Shelby.’

It happened at once. So quick, Arthur was acting on instinct and nothing else. He burst forward and the bullet came across the table, shot out from Alfie’s hip, right into Billy’s chin, the soft underneath, the money shot, the dead fucking ringer, and rope went around Arthur’s neck; held him back, pulled him tight. Choking, choked. The spit balled on his lip. He tried to swear, but it cut through as a gasp, a wheeze. He stuttered like a pig in the slaughterhouse, thrashing before they hung him up to bleed. The bastard had been lying, tricking, planning it from the start. It wasn’t business, it was a trap. A fucking trap. He’d walked right into it, sole after bloody sole, led by his hand into the belly of the beast. He went to curse him again but the words broke apart, shredded into a roar.

If he had to go, it wouldn’t be in the basement of a bakery. Not at the hands of men without respect.

He was reaching for Alfie, clawing at him, knees pushing the table and rattling the silverware. They had to use two men to get him back, to drag him to the nearest support pole. They wrangled him, rope cutting, twisting and burning at the base of his throat, until he was rod-straight against it. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t fucking breathe. His fingertips were trapped between the threads and his neck, helpless, unable to pull a gap big enough to let air through. He’d felt it before, he didn’t want it again.

Fuck you. Fuck you, Solomons, fuck you, Tommy. Fuck the rope. Fuck the goat spilling blood over the floor. Fuck the lot of it, and then some. He would kick his way through the dirt before they put him down like this.  

‘Yeah?’ Alfie taunted, only approaching now Arthur was contained, strung up like meat. He dipped his head. ‘What was that?’

‘Fuck you,’ he snarled back.

Alfie’s knee went into his gut, hard into the tissue, the pool of rum; Arthur would’ve collapsed if he could’ve. The pain was bad enough. He groaned, whined, dripped spit and blood down his chin. His hands went forward, grasping at Alfie’s coat for some relief, some purchase.

‘That’s right, let’s take a load off,’ he said, lifting Arthur by his ears. Up as if he was nothing.

And then the air came back, pouring down his throat like liquor, blood going up and into his head in the same rush of feeling. He could think again, he could, his brain was pounding, pulsing against the skull. It was there. Kicking still. Angry noise replaced with a word, with one image, one light beneath the dark. Her. Her, he would live for her. His feet would touch the fucking ground again and take him back.

‘So,’ Alfie drawled by his ear, talking though he wasn’t listening, didn’t care, ‘the evil, Egyptian scum, was finally cleansed.’ He brought a rag to Arthur’s forehead, stained red, and dabbed it onto the skin between his brows. ‘With the blood of the Passover goat, mate.’

It was put to his mouth, wiped through his lips. He tasted the sourness, the copper, but he still didn’t care. He was thinking of her, clutching to the idea of it. The golden sun on her arms, the lift of her cheeks, the pull of her smile, the sound, the words she said, the soft, oh, the soft. Keep that, Arthur, hold that. One breath forced after the other. They couldn’t hurt you if you weren’t there, not in your head. He put himself into her hold and stayed close to her heart. Heard the drum of it between the chaos.  

Alfie was kissing each of his cheeks like it was a greeting, and not a seal of death. Not an X on the line.

‘That’s from Sabini,’ he said and, after that, there was nothing.  

Read part eleven >>

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[siriuslyshewrote]

Way Down We Go - J.S

John Shelby x Reader

Warnings - Miscarriage

In which Y/N loses her baby, only a few months after John gets back from the war.

Can’t tell if I hate this or not, but I’m posting it anyway ✨

Oh, Father tell me, do we get what we deserve?

Every man was different after the war, but ,at least to you, none so much as John. War had taken his spirit, Polly had told you over a cup of tea a few months ago, and you couldn't disagree. Sometimes, you saw the same, comedic, lighthearted eighteen year old that had left you, when he played with your two young children, or when you were together in bed, but now, it felt forced. The glimmer in his eyes was dull, and you could do nothing, except be there and hold him tightly when the night terrors made him come alive with yells and screams in the night. It had put a strain between you - between every relationship in Britain, really - but the love you had for him hadn't faded, not over those four years apart with only letters every few weeks, nor when he would lose his temper like he never had before, or when he would stay out all night, high or drunk, desperately searching for some relief from his now miserable life. You didn't think he loved you any less either. When he held you at night, when you kissed, or had sex, it felt the same as it always had, at least for a little while, like you had your old John back. It just grew harder for him to show his love, sometimes.

You would never complain , of course - what did you have to complain about? You got your husband back, when so many women didn't. You did the same as you always did - adapt to this new lifestyle that you faced - the you both faced together , you reminded him frequently.

Whoa, we get what we deserve

However, your already muddled life became even more daunting, the day you found out you were pregnant with your third child, at only 22, only months after he had come back. Katie and George were still practically toddlers - only five and three, and when you had found out, you had fled to Polly's in a state, sobbing and stating that there was no way you could do this, not right now, not so soon. It already half felt like you had a new born child again, you had guiltily wept to Polly - you were up all night most days with John, after his nightmares when he refused to go back to sleep, making cups of tea, curling up together with the curtains wide open, to let him remember he was no longer in the dark trenches, but in your tiny town house in the centre of Birmingham, hands gripping the others tiredly, repeating varying mantras of you're okay, you're home, you're here, I'm here for you, I'll never leave.

The fear of telling John about the pregnancy was worse than when you had sobbed to him on the sofa about Katie, when you were both only sixteen. He could barely keep up the pretence of the dad he had once been to his two children now, though he tried to so desperately. But, surprisingly to you, and everyone else around you, he was overjoyed. Every night, before the bump even began to form, he would kiss your stomach, murmuring sweet words to the baby inside. You both felt like this baby would perhaps be the new start that John so desperately needed.

And way down we go

And all of that hope, that love, that excitement, had been dashed on one single morning, four months to the day since John had got back.

He had left early, that morning, to go to work, to the betting shop only several homes down the street on Watery Lane. He had, for the first time in months, done what he always used to - run his fingers through your tangled bed hair, placed a kiss on your lips, with a whisper of “I love you.” That had left you with a wide smile, and for a few minutes, perhaps an hour, that warmth from that kiss filled you with a new hope.

It had only been when Katie and George had woke up, and began jumping up and down on your bed, when you had gotten up, going to grab them with a laugh, that you started to feel the back pain you had been feeling for hours worsen. You had just assumed you’d pulled your back chasing the children around the house, yesterday. It was only when you went to make the bed - when you saw the blood, only a small patch of it, that everything really clicked together in your mind.

It felt like everything slowed down for a moment - Katie and George were still rolling around giggling, the birds were still crowing outside, and the sheets were still clutched in your hands. You knew then, of course, that it was gone - that everything was gone. John’s happiness, that new, beautiful chance that you felt like you had earned, that all of the hardship would finally been worth it.

“Katie, darling?” Your voice was croaking, and you coughed, to clear it, to not alarm the little girl in front of you, who was so goddamn excited for her new sibling. “Run and go get your Aunt Polly for me, won’t you? Just down the street?”

Way down we go

She nodded, a beam on her little cheeks at this new sudden trust and independence, dashing out of the room, George rushing after her quickly, on his chubby little toddler legs. Katie waited for a second, grabbing his hand, half dragging him along behind her.

Your hands still clutched the sheets, as you sunk back onto the bed, a half scream building up in your throat. Not this, not this, not this. God, please, not this.

Say way down we go

It was hours later, night time just beginning to fall, and Polly was bustling around the kitchen, after murmuring something about making a cup of tea. You’d only just both got back from the doctors, and you’d barely spoken a word on the journey back on the tram, Polly’s hand clutched in yours - the only semblance of comfort you would allow her to give. She didn’t even try to put into words what she wanted to say, and for that you were grateful, because if she even said it, the word that the doctor had spoken with a pat on the shoulder, you would surely cry how you had in the doctors office, and on the tram, and on the walk home. You hadn’t stopped crying, all day, though your sobs were now occasional sniffles, as you lay buried under a pile of blankets, curled up, in both physical and emotional pain that was almost worse than anything you had ever experienced.

The front door opened, the distinct creak rippling through the silent house, almost like a warning. You froze, squeezing your eyes shut, for the first time wishing that this would be the night that John stayed out at the Garrison.

It wasn’t. You heard his voice bounce off the walls, higher pitched, afraid in a tone you’d only heard him speak whilst encapsulated in dreams.

“Y/N?”

You thanked god the kitchen was before the sitting room you lay in, that Polly could intercept him before he had to see you, and you him, because how could you face him? This baby was your fresh chance. And you had fucking lost it.

You let your feet run wild

“John.” Her voice was so gentle, as if she was afraid he would break with a single wrong word. Perhaps he would. Perhaps you would too, now.

“Pol? I’ve just - I’ve just fuckin’ got back, and Katie and George are at yours talking about how their ‘mummy is bleeding’? What the fuck does that mean? Where the hell-“

You squeezed your eyes tightly closed, hands tightly gripping onto the cushion you had wrapped yourself around. Perhaps if you thought hard enough, you could imagine yourself away, anywhere away from here.

“John. Come and sit down.” Polly’s voice was calm but firm, and though you heard several more questions from John, the kitchen door shut, and you were left with the silence, that was almost worse than the words.

The only words you had spoke to Polly when you left that doctors office was that you couldn’t possibly tell John. It was selfish, you knew, but the thought of his face crumpling, the thought of him no longer kissing your forehead in the morning, or sleeping with one hand on your stomach, was enough to make you want to hide away for ever.

Their conversation felt like it took a long time, though really, it could have only been an hour or so. You couldn’t hear much, but the sound of a crashing chair, of the shattering of some porcelain, the one singular almost roar of pain, was enough for you to cover your ears with your palms, squeezing close your teary eyes. After that, everything became quiet again, and you stayed as you were, staring up at the ceiling, eyes following the pattern of the plaster.

Time has come as we all, oh, go down

Polly left the kitchen before John, with her eyes suspiciously red, for such an astute woman. She wrapped her arms around you, supporting you, helping you get to bed, insisting on that, before she left. You didn’t really need the physical support, of course, but the feeling of the mother-like figure holding you close was comforting.

Polly left you soon after, tucked into bed, with a stroke of your hair, and a promise of visiting tomorrow, and of looking after Katie and George for as long as you needed, until you were ready.

Yeah but for the fall, ooh, my

You didn’t know how long you lay there, waiting for the door to slam shut again, waiting for him to leave, to never come back, but it never came. Instead, you heard the creaking of the stairs that so desperately needed fixing, if you ever got round to doing so.

John stood in the doorway for a while, a long look exchanged between you. His eyes were bloodshot, with alcohol and tears, and he only wore his white vest and his suit trousers, his hair messy.

Do you dare to look him right in the eyes?

“I’m sorry.” You spoke first, the meaning in your words thick.

He didn’t speak, just kicking off his shoes, laying down in the bed next to you, wrapping his arms around you tightly, so your head rested upon his chest, as your legs went to wrap around his in the way they always did. You cried in his arms for a time, and you knew he was crying too, felt the damp spot in your hair where he had buried his head.

“Don’t ever fucking say sorry for this, okay?” His voice was a mixture of anger and grief and love and it made you cry even more. “This isn’t your fault.”

“This was supposed to be our fresh start.” You pulled back a little, looked into his eyes. “Our blessing, after everything...”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, trying to hold in his emotions, to be strong for you, like he had always vowed to do.

“I know, love. I know.”

“You were so happy.” You said quietly. “And now...”

He was quiet for a few minutes.

Oh, 'cause they will run you down, down 'til the dark

“Of course I was happy to have a ... have a baby with you. But that wasn’t the only reason I was happy. It was because for the first time since I got back, you seemed genuinely excited, and.. god, I don’t know - full of life. I took that from you by coming back.”

“How can you say that?” Your eyes were full of tears again as you looked up at him. “You didn’t take anything from me by coming back. You fucking gave me back the love of my life by coming back. Polly won’t have ever told you what I was like when you were gone, but I was a mess, John. I’d be a mess every day without you. Don’t you ever say that again.” Your voice rose to almost anger.

“Do you not think I see how tired you always are? How you don’t have energy anymore because I keep you awake all fucking night? How you smile less than you ever have before.”

“I don’t care about being tired John. I got you back. I got you back, and I won’t care about being tired ever again if I can hear your heartbeat every night like I can. Because I spent four years wondering if that heart was even still beating.”

His lip wobbled.

“I don’t want you to have to sacrifice for the rest of your life-“

“This is not sacrifice. This is love, okay?”

“I’m going to be like this for the rest of my life. I know it.”

“And I will be there for every night. I will hold your hand and help you through it all, okay?” Your voice quietened, hand cradling his cheek.

“I-“

“Whether you like it or not.” You continued firmly.

“I love you.” He spoke, holding you tighter. “We’ll... we’ll get through this together won’t we?”

“We’ll get through it all together.” Your voice was still croaky, still in pain, but those blue eyes of his filled you with some form of strength, as always.

One of his hands pressed onto your stomach.

“I love you.” He murmured quietly, and you knew it was to your unborn baby, the one that you would never get to name, or know the gender of, or watch grow up.

“I love you.” You repeated, one of your hands going over his, fingers interlocking.

Yes and they will run you down, down 'til you fall

And they will run you down, down 'til you go

Yeah, so you can't crawl no more

[shinymooncolor]

I love your sw chats! If you need prompts: something centered around Remus!

Thank you - I’m sorry in advance. This turned a little angsty. But we get happy again. Remus to the rescue - this team would not survive without him.

Characters and universe by @lumosinlove ❤️

My ever shining and supportive ra(e)s of sunshine @wxlfstxrx and @siriuslyqueer. This one is for you guysss.

Sweater weather chat #6

Kuny is hurt. Nado is scared. Kasey and Sergei plans a murder. Sirius is angry. Walker makes a burrito blanket. Remus is the best. Kris is a mom. Remus calls Nado Jackie. He’s the only one allowed to do that. Crouch Jr. is Russian (sue me). We all hate the 🐍

Wednesday 1.22 pm

Eliascookie: why are Nado and Kuny yelling again? They’ve been fighting all day.

Timmyforrealz: they’ve been arguing for TWO days about who’d be the wife in their weird bromance. Also - They’re both totally the wife. It’s weird.. 🤨🤨

Ollibear: well apparently some shop clerk thought they were a couple and nado is mortally offended that Kuny said they weren’t

Nadotheman: IT WAS THE WAY HE SAID IT. Like he wouldn’t be the luckiest fucker alive to land me.

KrisVolley: but you are both into women?

Nadotheman: I know. Still offensive to know you’re not your best mates first pick.

Blizzard: Well we all know that eventually, Kuny is going to marry some Russian model and nado is their live-in, grown-ass man child 😏

Prongstar: He’s probably going on the honeymoon too. It’s weird

Siriusly: are you ladies reaDy to get back home and have your pre game naps... We have a game tonight and I want to beat those snakes

Sergei_81: 💪🏻🤛🏼🦷😡

Blizzard: aye aye captain 😴🥱

RussianGod: hehe we kick ass today!!!

Prongstar: whoooop!!! Let’s end the snakes 🐍

Dumodad: go sleep my babies. We need to be on tonight.

—

Wednesday 8.33 pm

7 missed calls from Nado

Nado: Remus where are you? Can I come to the hospital

Nado: Remus please can I talk to him?

Nado: Remussss

Nado: Is he ok?

Nado: He was down re, for a long time.

Wednesday 9.02 pm

Remus: hey Jackie, he’s okay. It’s not a concussion. Please stop calling - I promise to keep you updated. They might let him come home tonight. He’ll be okay. Are you home? Is someone with you?

Nado: remus he was on the ice for a long time. Are you sure he’s okey? Why can’t I see him he needs me. He’s scared of needles and I know his ab negative!! Do they even have the right blood? I’m ab too I can help! Is someone talking to him? When they do the needle stuff just rub between his shoulders that calms him down and if he’s scared call him zhenya. That’s his Russian baby name!! It calms him. Remus please fix him.

Remus: these are some of the best sports doctors in the world, they know what they’re doing and they’re taking good care of Evgeni. Sergei is here, and he’s explaining everything to him in Russian ok? I’ll keep you updated! But I need to know if you’re alone? I think you should not be. Please take care of yourself ok?

——

Wednesday 9.13 pm

Kris: hey remus, I’m here. Nado is really freaking out. I drove him home but Olli and walker had to help me wrestle him into the car and into his house. Timmy is making us some food and Olli and Cap are trying to keep him from pulling out his hair. Is Kuny alright?

Remus: keep an eye on his hands, one of his ticks is scratching at his palms. They’ve scanned twice and it’s not a concussion. He’s got stitches both on his eyebrow and on his neck and he’s got to be out for a few days. I still don’t understand how he skated off. Tell Sirius to use his captain voice if needed.

Kris: yeah I’ve wrapped his hand up, they froze his knuckles at the rink but he’s kept fiddling with it. Walker rolled him into a burrito blanket and he’s quieted down a bit. But he’s not okay. Do you think Kuny can come home tonight?

Remus: I have to wait and hear, they said it’s depending on his x-ray - if it’s just a sprain in his hand he can come home so we’re just waiting. I’m glad no one here but Sergei understands Russian. I don’t think it’s very nice what he’s sayin.

Kris: fuck man. It was a bad hit. We’re rewatching. He was nowhere near the puck. Crouch and Nott fucking just came at him on purpose and if they don’t get a disciplinary I’m quitting the league. Cap crushed the remote... dirty snakes

Remus: I saw. It was a bad hit. I tried to get him on a stretcher but he insisted.

Wednesday 9.20 pm

Nado: he didn’t recognize me re... after he went down. He just looked at me and didn’t recognize me and I heard his head connect. His helmet was off before Nott threw him. How is he supposed to fight back when crouch swiped his leg?

Remus: I know. But even “just” hitting your head can cause some confusion and I promise you they scanned three times and he’s not got any concussion or bleeding. He’s tough ok? He’s asking if he can go home. Not very nicely might I add. And he flirted with a nurse. He’ll be ok.

Nado: but I heard it crunch. He was bleeding a lot. Is she cute?

Remus: I know, face cuts bleed a lot but he’s got quite a few stitches and he did well. He even got a lollipop and I’m pretty sure at least one phone number. Also Tall blonde with a nice smile.

Nado: is he coming home? Leave the nurse

Remus: I’ll let you know ok? Try and sleep! You’ll need it.

Wednesday 9.25 pm

Remus: hey kris. It sounds like they’re letting him come home. Sergei is going to drive us. Did you get Nado to go to bed? Also, I can stay over night. I think they both need a babysitter

Kris: I think we’re staying. Ava is with Anya and the kids and Olli is already crashed on the couch. Walker actually had to threaten Nado to stay in bed and he’s camped up next to him now. He’s not going anywhere. Timmy and I will crash in the guest room. Can Kuny sleep alone?

Remus: he’s on a lot of painkillers and he’s not entirely coherent. Sergei offered to stay with him to translate but I honestly think his English will come back once he’s slept and recovered a bit

Kris: their beds are like extra king size anyways. We can just make a sleep over in nado’s room. He’s gone and pulled down every blind and the house is dark. I’ve never seen him this stressed out.

Remus: yeha that might be best. Sergei says Kuny is asking for his brother. So I think it’s best for everyone. We’re leaving once Kuny gets his stuff back.

Wednesday 9.55 pm

Sirius <3: is he okay love? I drove here / do you need to stay or come home?

Remus ❤️: hey! He’ll be fine, not a concussion but he still hit his head prettt bad. I think they’ve set up a sleepover and he’s in good hands. I’ll be okay to go home.

Sirius <3: it was such a dirty hit. He was down for a long time. And that Pussy ref didn’t even call a major.

Remus ❤️: coach said he’s contesting it and demanding an inquiry. But it was bad. I wanted to punch his face in. Did you see crouch after? He was laughing.

Sirius <3: I know. I’ve never seen blizzard react like that. He actually tore Nott’s Jersey with his hands.

Remus ❤️: I know, let’s get Kuny to bed and we can go home. I need cuddles.

Sirius <3: me too. Re. Me too. It hurts every time. We would not function without you. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wednesday 10.33 pm

Siriusly: boys, Kuny is home. It’s not a concussion. He’s got a bad hit and stitches and he’s out for three days and a new scan. But he’s back home and sleeping now. I’m not sure how Walker or Nado can sleep with his snores. But he’s ok.

Prongstar: they made a sandwich?

Siriusly: I think kris called it a sleepover but yeah. I don’t think Nado would able to sleep otherwise and Kuny kept trashing until someone was on either side of him. It’s cute. I’ve got pictures.

Blizzard: open fucking season on Nott. Why the fuck did you pull me off @eliascookie? I wanted to punch his fucking disgusting face in. He deserved it!!! Kuny’s helmet was offf before they swiped his legs

DumoDad: kasey, you were right to fight him and he was over the line. But getting you suspended won’t help. We need to beat them through our game

Timmyforrealz: but it was a bullshit call?! I agree to open season on Nott and crouch. Fuck it all of those creeps. They could’ve ended his career ffs

Sunnysideup: I haven’t had a line brawl like that in years. Broke carrow’s nose. Felt good. I’m glad Kuny is ok.

Prongstar: I heard his head hit the ice. It was terrifying.

Bradygunz: how’s Nado handling this? I had to sit on him to hold him back from going after the ref.

KrisVolley: he’s asleep, I think. But it was a long evening. I know they’re not actually related but I swear they’re brothers somehow still.

Sergei_81: I want to kill crouch. He’s hurting on purpose

Sunnysideup: @sergei_81 did he actually say that or did I hear it wrong?

Sergei_81: he did. It was revenge

Siriusly: what??

Sergei_81: crouch was take off Olympic team for too much fight. Kuny got his a and this was revenge. He said so. He want Kuny out on purpose. He not like younger player get a.

Wednesday 10.55 pm

Remus: hi sergei, did you call Kuny’s parents? Did you get home okay?

Sergei: yes I call them. Tell what happneed. And I stay at house. Kuny needs me if he speak. I’m worried about Nado. He thinks his fault. He only pretend to sleep. Can u talk to him?

Remus: I’ll try. Thanks Sergei!

Wednesday 11.33 pm

Remus: hey Jackie, I know you’re not sleeping. I don’t want to call and disturb you but you can always talk to me, ok? It’s confidential as always and I’ve got your back alright. What happened today was not your fault.

Nado: I should’ve been out there with him. I could’ve helped him. Instead I was off somewhere in the other end he’s my line buddy and i failed him.

Remus: Nado you didn’t fail him. Did you see what sergei said? It was a planned hit. They wanted to take him out. It’s not your fault. Please promise me that you understand it’s not your fault.

Nado: he just looked at me. What if he doesn’t recognize me when he wakes up. Re he’s my best friend and I watched his head get smashed on the ice.

Remus: I know it’s hard. And it’s heartbreaking. But the doctor’s checked him ok? He asked for you - or well according to sergei he demanded to be sent home to his brother and cat. Alright, he knows you. Just let his head rest and recover and then you’ll be back to your antics in no time.

Nado: he’s snoring now. Guess something never changes.

Remus: get some sleep and tomorrow I’m gonna have a look at your hands ok?

Nado: thanks rem. Not sure what we’d do without you. ❤️

Remus: always, Jackie. You guys are my family as much as my actual family!

Nado: still gonna kill crouch and Nott. Not care about getting suspension.

Remus: I get it. I think you should see heather tomorrow.

Nado: can I just talk to you?

Remus: yeah, call me when you wake up ok? I don’t care how early. I’m not a professional though, Jackie.

—-

Thursday 8.22 am

Nado; he’s awake. Re. He remembers me. Thanks for fixing my best friend.

Remus: I’m glad to hear it, I’m coming over to check him ok? I’ll bring breakfast.

———-

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Four

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Hey there my broskis! I figured I would start backing this up over here as well, cross-posting from my AO3. The chapters got somewhat restructured, so there may be some retreaded ground. Hopefully this will also give me a bit of incentive to actually finish this tale ;-;

Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Paladin Danse, pride of the Brotherhood of Steel, found himself incredibly nervous as he watched Backhand suit up for the first time. She gave him no real reason to be, of course, climbing into her power armor with veteran grace. She had forgone their jumpsuit in favor of her Vault suit so she was short a few of the securing clips, but it was her call. She did put on a hood though, stating that she wasn’t a fan of getting chunks of her hair ripped out by the helmet.

  Danse barely hid his grin at the way she shook herself all over once she was in the suit, metal clanking loudly as pieces fell into place. “What do you think, Knight Vega?” He asked cautiously.

  “I think I’m gonna’ have a lot of fun with this.” Backhand sounded like she was smiling.

  Proctor Ingram sighed. “Yeah yeah, just try not to fuck up your actuators. Damn kids and your Prydwen jumps.”

  Danse flipped his helmet and smoothly clicked it into place in his suit’s gorget, then blinked in confusion at the HUD. “Proctor, did you change the-”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry Danse. The yellow HUD makes me queasy.” Ingram apologized. Danse sighed, bringing up the internal options screen and readjusting the HUD color back to the warm amber he preferred. “Don’t be that way, Paladin, I have to look at a million of these helmets every day.”

  “What? How do you change the…oh, I got it.” Backhand paused, obviously fiddling with the HUD in her own suit. “ Purple .” She said firmly.

  Danse tried to mask his chuckle by clearing his throat, but the look Ingram shot him told him the attempt was unsuccessful. “Well, uh, I think it’s about time we begin our maneuvers.” He said hurriedly.

  “You two take as long as you need. Bring Brandis back safe. Backhand, remember what I told you.” Ingram said sternly, saluting the two of them.

  Backhand nodded solemnly, returning the salute. “Ad Victoriam, Proctor Ingram.” Danse saluted as well, curious about Ingram's mysterious statement.

  Maxson hadn’t cleared them for vertibird transport to a general location. Danse could see why to an extent, the elder probably needed all the aerial support he could get while they sent out scouts to find more clues about the Institute. The reason Maxson had given was...still logical, but a little different.

  “ With you on foot, there will be less warning for Brandis. ” Arthur had said in his briefing, arms behind his back as always. “ If he is alive, we don’t know what shape he’ll be in mentally. Use extreme caution. If you fear for your lives, do not hesitate to kill him .” He glared at Danse when he said that and Danse had swallowed hard.

  Do not hesitate. Do not hesitate like you did with Cutler, Paladin.

  Danse let Backhand set a pace she was comfortable with once they were on the ground and he followed her lead, the paladin silent as they marched. His thoughts churned and roiled, scratching to escape his head in a frenzy of uncertainty. He almost didn’t notice Backhand skipping , aside from how ridiculously loud her sabatons were on the remains of the road. “Knight Vega, what on earth .”

  “ Finally! I’ve been trying to ask you something for five minutes. Figured I would opt for a different approach.” She laughed, knuckling his shoulder with her gauntlet. “After we find Paladin Brandis, I have-”

  “ If we find Paladin Brandis.” Danse corrected her grimly.

  Backhand paused, tilting her head to the side. “Sir?”

  “I said, if we find Brandis. There’s no guarantee that he’s alive after all this time. It’s entirely possible that we’re simply on a remains retrieval detail.” Danse warned her.

  Backhand shook her head after a moment. “Paladin, you really think I don’t know that? Damn.” She grumbled. “You’d rather find him alive, right? That’s the hope?” Danse nodded reluctantly. Brandis was an incredibly skilled survivalist, a respected squadron leader and free thinker of the highest caliber. He would be a phenomenal asset to the Brotherhood if…

  If he was still alive.

  “I apologize for my pessimistic outlook.” Danse said after a moment. “I have not had…exceptional luck when it comes to search and rescue details.”

  “Hey, first time for everything.” He was almost positive that she was grinning at him under her helmet. “You’ve got me here. You can't say the homeland doesn't take care of their own; I’m practically the embodiment of a four-leaf clover.”

  “We can hope.” Danse murmured, half to himself. “You certainly came through previously.”

  “Maybe I’m your good luck charm.”

  The notion that he had outlived his men because of luck left a bitter taste in Danse’s mouth and he fell silent once more. She at least seemed to understand not to poke him and simply carried on down the road at an easily-managed pace.

  Danse couldn’t decide whether he personally wanted to find Brandis or not. On the one hand, of course he was a valuable asset. But on the other, Brandis had a penchant for… noticing things. Arthur had butted heads with the older man numerous times, usually over what Maxson labeled ‘ trivial issues ’.

  And Danse still hadn’t forgotten the nasty rumors he’d heard about the real reason for Recon Squadron Artemis being sent to scout the Commonwealth…

  “ Brandis overreaches, connects well with young recruits. The elder fears his influence. ”

  “ Brandis was sent to die and you know it! ”

  The atmosphere in the barracks had turned ugly fast when Arthur had dropped the tidbit that the Brotherhood lost contact with Squadron Artemis almost immediately upon their arrival in the Commonwealth.

  Aspirants got into shouting matches; several scuffles broke out. Danse ended up wading through the midst of a pitched fistfight, throwing one knight over his shoulder and pinning the other beneath his arm momentarily.

  “ This is behavior unbecoming of a soldier, knights! ” He had shouted over the ruckus. “ Stop the childish antics, use your brains and think! ” His voice carried in the cramped bunk room, and due to his massive height he was easily visible through the swirling hurricane of young men and women. “ Paladin Brandis would be ashamed of every one of you for losing sight of what is truly important in the Brotherhood! Your brothers and sisters are all you have in the world, you cannot set into them at the first sign of trouble! ”

  “ Elder Maxson wanted Paladin Brandis to die! ” One brave scribe cried. “ That’s why he sent him! ”

  “ He is the elder and you will show him the respect he deserves! ” Danse admonished the young man. “ I will not tolerate this insubordination! ”

  “ You’re only on his side because you’re fucking him! ” The knight over his shoulder yelled furiously, beating his fists against Danse’s shoulder blade.

  The entirety of the barracks went dead quiet and Danse was certain his face must have been an ungodly shade of purple from his insinuation. “ What did you just say, Knight? ”

  The young man slowed to a stop, and then suddenly burst into tears. Danse set him down on his feet and the knight stood in front of him, his shoulders hunched. “ I ap-pologize, Palad-d-din Danse sir. ” He had hiccupped, saluting him without looking up.

  “ Knight, you cannot lash out with harsh words or actions just because something isn’t going your way. ” Danse had known he was letting him off too easy, but the young knight was still weeping. “ You will go to Knight-Captain Cade in the morning. He is…far better at managing situations like these than I am. I fear I will do nothing but cause more damage. ”

  “ Paladin Danse, have they told you anything about Paladin Brandis? Anything at all? ” A tiny squire had piped up from the door, her hair already braided for sleep.

  Danse shook his head regretfully. “ All I know is what you’ve already been told. I have no other information at this time .”

  “ Will…will you tell us if you learn anything new? ” She had continued hesitantly, glancing up at the aspirant holding her hand for confirmation. Murmuring rippled through the crowd, all eyes on Danse as he stood there silent, stoic. The knight's words echoed in his mind over and over, on his side, on his side...

  “ You have my word as a Brotherhood paladin, Squire .”

  It had been a simple thing to promise then. Almost negligibly simple. Danse shook his head, trying to disperse the memories. This rumination would get him nowhere. Thank goodness he had Knight Vega with him, at least she could keep an eye out for threats while he wandered down his proverbial Memory Lane.

  Speaking of Knight Vega…

  Danse swung his head around, perplexed. She had just been here, it wasn’t exactly like she could sneak in all that plating. He spotted her finally as he came over the next rise in the road. She appeared to be speaking to a civilian, the ragged-looking man gesturing wildly off to the side.

  “…idea how many of them there are in the facility?” Backhand was asking.

  “Usually we only see three to five, b-but sometimes there’s loads more! Hounds too! Please, General, if you can spare the men, we really need your help.” The man begged.

  General? Danse thought with confusion. Why is he calling her General?

  “Currently, we’re focusing our efforts on rebuilding Fort Independence…er, I mean, the Castle. We have mobile cells but they are few and far between. I will send word that-” Backhand was cut off by the man shaking his head rapidly.

  “I knew it, I knew you would refuse! That’s how it always is! Say anything about super mutants and everyone pusses out!” The man shook his fist in Backhand’s impassive face. “I had hoped that you of all people would be able to help us, but I guess I was wrong.” He spat, “should have known better than to trust things would be alright with your group back on the playing field.”

  Danse had heard enough, practically stomping down the road towards the man yelling at his charge. “Civilian, I suggest you watch your tone.” He uttered the words curtly, his eyes narrowed behind his visor.

  The man huffed out a breath at him, obviously unimpressed. “So you have a bodyguard now, General?”

  “Hardly.” Backhand replied dryly.

  Danse got the feeling he had just been insulted, but he brushed it off. “Where is the nest of vermin?” He queried instead, making a considerable effort to try and keep his tone neutral. “You mentioned super mutants.”

  “They’re in Weston. The pre-war water treatment plant. Are… you’re going to help?” The man asked uncertainly.

  “There are other, more important matters that currently take priority, civilian. When we have the time, we will investigate. Now I would advise you to be on your way before I have to assist you in making the choice of departure.” Danse ordered, his laser rifle not quite at the ready, but high enough that to the untrained eye it would look like he was poised to strike.

  The man grumbled something under his breath and then announced, “I'd better see you later, General. Oberland would be a good spot to spiff up, y'know, but it's so close to Weston no one will touch it.”

  “Thank you, Rob. Hey, tell your wife I said hello. I hope your little one is doing well.” Backhand's face had gone strangely soft.

  For some reason, the man's shoulders relaxed. “She is, she's doing really good. Her mom is teachin' her everything that she knows. She's wicked smart for her age.” He bragged.

  “No doubt there. Take care of yourself, and tell people to steer clear until we can get to Weston.” Backhand gave the man a nod in reply to the tip of his hat. “Thanks for helping.” She said out of the corner of her mouth to Danse, who straightened up.

  “I don’t recall doing anything helpful, Knight Vega.” He was startled when she knocked her pauldron against his own in a playful gesture.

  “Rob loves to puff himself up and talk about how no one’s ever done anything for him ever. It’s harmless, but he’ll drag on for ages unless you nip it in the bud.” She grinned at him. “Thanks for going on the offensive and heading him off at the pass. Lots of people are like him out here. When the Minutemen disbanded, it meant that the simple people had to take the full load of raider assaults and super mutant attacks. Still plenty of distrust for me and my crew.”

  “Your ‘crew’?” Danse echoed, thoroughly confused. Why did he call her General? What is she talking about?

  Backhand just nodded, putting her helmet back on. “You want to take point? You were kind of spacing out back there, Paladin. Might help you get centered. Run down the list of objectives?” She suggested.

  “I must be worse than I thought if you noticed my thousand-yard stare.” Danse realized it was a sarcastic quip the second after the words left his mouth, and he felt horribly awkward.

  That is, until there was an undignified guffaw from the knight. She clunked her whole forearm against his own in a makeshift nudge, still snickering. “How incredibly rude of you, Paladin! I’ve got bad eyesight, but it’s still there. Kinda’. Didn’t need twenty-twenty to see that you were deep in thought.”

  “Knight Vega, I appreciate your attention to detail. And…” Danse hesitated, biting his lip. “And thank you for… humoring my wandering mind.”

  “I’m not humoring anything. You’ve been through a lot recently and you’ve had no breathing room at all. You’re allowed to have time to process.” When she put it like that ...

  Danse made a noise of acknowledgement. Backhand cleared her throat, stepping aside and letting him go ahead of her.

  …

  Do me a favor and try to limit his time on board this rustbucket, okay? I don't know what's going on and it's not my place to ask. But Danse is a good man and he shouldn't be getting jerked around, Elder or no.

  Ingram's words spurred Backhand to speak up. “Paladin Danse, sir?” When he turned to face her, she wished that he wasn’t wearing his helmet. “Sir, I meant what I said before.”

  “What?”

  “When I said I was available if you needed someone to talk to. I’m serious. It’ll all be off the record, just between us. The only person I report to is you.” Backhand said firmly.

  “And the elder.” Danse reminded her, his voice soft.

  “Nope.” Backhand grinned, trying to lighten his obviously bleak mood. “Just you. You might answer to the elder, but I don’t.”

  “That’s tantamount to treason, Knight.”

  “He’s not a sovereign , for--”

  “Elder Maxson’s orders are law in this chapter of the Brotherhood, Knight Vega.” Danse sounded like he was repeating the words from memory, clearly used to defending the young elder. “I suggest you cease your needlessly-flippant flouting of Brotherhood practices.”

  Backhand knew she was on thin ice. “Of course, sir. I apologize. Forgive me my misstep.” She saluted loosely. “My previous military experiences were a little more lax. When out on patrol we spoke to each other and our superiors as equals. It was common to poke fun at the higher-ups, as well.”

  “I wouldn’t begrudge you a joke or two, but not at the expense of the elder.” Danse replied tersely. “He works exceptionally hard to keep everything in line and running smoothly. I will not tolerate any disrespect towards him.”

  “Understood, Paladin.” Her suspicion only thickened at Danse’s rebuke. What is Maxson doing to him? Normally, soldiers gleefully took the opportunity to joke about their superiors. But Danse was acting like it was a cardinal sin to so much as tease about the young elder. No wonder Ingram had told her to take her time. Danse was obviously kept on an incredibly short leash. The longer he was away from Maxson, the better.

  They continued down the road in silence for nearly an hour before Danse finally sighed heavily. “Knight Vega, I must apologize again. You were not raised in the Brotherhood, it’s not as if you would know any better. My shortness of temper is unrelated to you.”

  “It’s okay. You’re worried about Brandis, right?” Backhand asked. “A little scared, a little hopeful?”

  “For being a relic of a bygone age, you are remarkably perceptive.” Backhand sputtered a little at being called a relic but Danse carried on gravely, “I am concerned about the state Brandis may be in when we reach him. If he is mentally compromised…dealing with a man who was Brotherhood but has lost his senses is not a task I take lightly.” He turned to her. “The younger recruits love Brandis. He was a father figure to a multitude of them.”

  “You promised them you would bring him back.” She realized. Danse didn’t reply immediately, instead focusing his attention to the road in front of them.

  “I could not feasibly promise anything.” He muttered, quiet enough that she was unsure if she was supposed to hear him. “It was not within my power to promise.”

  “But you did anyway. On that slim hope that Brandis was alive and in one piece.” Backhand’s heart ached as she thought of the paladin trying to decide what to tell a group of young recruits, a group of kids .

  “…Yes, Knight. I did.” Danse admitted after a long pause. “My motivations are irrelevant. I lied to children, because I…I cannot see the little ones as soldiers. They begged for news of Brandis and I had nothing to offer them except my word as a paladin.”

  “That’s okay.” Backhand said simply. “We’re going to find him.”

  “I suppose we are.” Danse sounded a little surprised. His shoulders straightened up. “One way or another.”

  The asphalt had dissolved into nothing a mile back, leaving the two of them to continue trekking through the wilderness on the remains of the flattened earth that was once a road. Backhand was used to the booby-trapped state of everything at this point, so she didn’t even bat an eyelash when she heard the warning beep of a landmine.

  Danse on the other hand stopped dead, helmet swinging rapidly back and forth as he tried to locate the mine before it went off. “Wait, Knight Vega-!” He began as she knelt, trailing off when he realized that she had deactivated the landmine. “Oh.”

  “Impromptu bomb squad.” Backhand replied by way of explanation, tucking the salvaged mine into her satchel. “I got pretty good at working in gauntlets.”

  His worry was touching all the same, the paladin letting out an awkward chuckle. “Hell, maybe you are lucky.” He shifted his weight nervously, pauldrons clattering in the relative stillness. “I should have known better than to think Brandis would make it easy. There’s a reason that old codger lived through everything.”

  “You can either think I'm lucky, or you can just attribute it to the Sarge's bandanna like I usually do.” Backhand grinned, flexing her fingers experimentally. “Keep your eyes open for more and point them out if you see ‘em. These gauntlets are way better than the ones in my old suit. The mines won’t know what hit them.” 

  “Affirmative, Knight Vega.”

  With both of them on guard, their progress was slowed somewhat. But they found three more mines thanks to their diligence, and Backhand carefully deactivated every one before the timer ran out. She was so focused on scanning the ground that she almost walked into Danse’s back when the paladin stopped in the middle of the path. “Danse?” Inwardly, she cursed herself for not addressing him properly.

  Danse didn’t even seem to notice though, his attention fixed on a bunker built into the side of the shallow valley they were in. “Recon bunker Theta…of course .” He hissed like he was talking to himself. “How could I have forgotten?”

  “Is this the place?” Backhand asked, peering over his shoulder warily. The armored man nodded, already striding towards the door of the bunker.

  “It must be.”

  …

  There was a terminal affixed to the outer concrete of the building and the paladin wasted little time painstakingly manipulating his huge gauntlets to press the correct keys on the keyboard. There was a loud clunk! when the lock on the door disengaged, but the door itself remained shut tight. Danse swore under his breath, firmly rapping his knuckles on the metal door. “Paladin Brandis!” He called. “Can you hear me, sir?”

  “Paladin Danse? Are you sure you should-” Backhand started to ask, sounding nervous.

  “ Quiet , Vega.” Danse ordered brusquely. To her credit, she immediately fell silent. He could still hear her shifting back and forth behind him though, and he wondered what on earth could have her so antsy. Surely it couldn’t be that she was worried about what Brandis might do? “ Paladin Brandis! If you’re in there-”

  “Uh, D-Danse, I don’t think you should be so loud.”

  “Vega, he will not hear me otherwise.” Danse, losing his limited patience, hammered his fist on the door. “ Brandis! ”

  He heard a flurry of motion behind the door. “Who’s out there? How did you get that keycode? Never mind, never mind, just go away! I’m not letting you in here!”

  Danse’s throat tightened at the elderly officer’s voice. “Paladin Brandis, sir! It’s me, Pal--"

  In his distress over finding Brandis, Danse had forgotten to be wary of his surroundings. Heavy footsteps shook the ground and Backhand’s cry of surprise was the only warning he had, the paladin halfway through turning around when he was thrown against the door of the bunker by a thunderous blow from a behemoth’s improvised club. His shoulder protested violently at the rough treatment but Danse shrugged off the pain. He was so used to getting pummeled by the inside of his armor, he practically anticipated the bruises. He raised his head and got a good eyeful of the ugly brute inches from his face.

  Suddenly he couldn’t breathe. There was a dull roaring in his ears, static pounding at his temples like a hammer while he stared at the creature and it stared right through him. Bloody spittle foamed around its mouth, eyes wide and pupils nothing but pinpricks. Nostrils flared to take in his scent.

  This thing was once human . Danse felt sick to his stomach.

  “ Paladin! ” Backhand yelled, firing a glancing shot off the beast’s shoulder that made it rear back. She was giving him time again, Danse realized dimly, his body refusing to cooperate as he remembered Dawes’ horrific death at the hands of a super mutant, remembered Cutler, Cutler like a punch to the face. And this mutant was a behemoth .

  His laser rifle, unnamed as of yet, shook in one slack, trembling hand.

  Backhand flanked the massive creature to end up back at his side, her pauldron clanking into his own. “Paladin!” She barked and Danse instantly straightened up, his grip snapping tight on his gun.

  “Ma’am!”

  “Attack the enemy, soldier!” She sounded almost like Krieg, all righteous authority and fury inches from detonation.

  An order, an order. Danse felt his body refocus on the here and now, banishing the horrific images of Dawes’ demise for later contemplation. “Yes ma’am!” He replied automatically, pulling the trigger and spraying laser shots into the behemoth’s massive chest. Backhand slung Righteous Authority back out of the way to dangle from its strap, her shotgun in her hands now. Danse was so used to the comparatively quiet report of laser weaponry that he actually flinched when she fired the shotgun. The drum-fed gun bolted to life at her touch, heavy slugs making the behemoth pause.

  “ Eat hot lead, freak! ” Backhand shouted over the weapon, her words punctuating her shots. Danse got the feeling that pairing her with a Fat Man would make her nigh unstoppable.

  Behind him, he heard something swing open. The door to the bunker! Brandis! “Knight Vega, maintain this position!” He demanded, not bothering to look back.

  “A paladin…?” Brandis’ voice had an unfamiliar tremor in it.

  “ Now , Vega!” Danse snapped.

  “Sir, yes sir!” Backhand replied quickly, sliding into place where he had been a second ago. Her power armor frame filled the doorway as well as his had, and Danse brandished his rifle. The behemoth brayed deafeningly loud, seeming perturbed that its prey refused to cooperate.

  “Not today, you giant freak!” Danse announced firmly.

  …

  Backhand had barely caught a glimpse of a worn face with an unkempt beard peering around the side of the doorway before she moved herself in front of the opening. She braced her shotgun against her plating and continued to hammer away at the behemoth, shell after shell ripping the creature’s thick hide.

  Danse kept up his own attack, a seemingly endless stream of mutant-related verbal abuse pouring from him in time with his laser shots. Backhand almost wished she could hear him clearer, certain that he was swearing a blue streak that could put Sergeant Cathan to shame.

  That club swept low, knocked Danse’s legs out from beneath him. The paladin landed on his back with a grunt of pain and the behemoth (in a surprising show of intelligence) picked up one of the nearby boulders and dropped it onto Danse’s chest. Danse gritted out an infuriated curse and started struggling to lift the boulder, actuators in his armor shrieking under the strain when the behemoth started pushing down on the rock. Clearly it was either trying to crack Danse’s armor or crush the paladin inside it.

  “Shut the door.” Backhand said calmly. There was the sound of fidgeting behind her. “It’s going to be alright. Just shut the door.”

  At the loud clunk! of the door closing, the behemoth looked up from Danse. Backhand barely had a moment to inhale before she was snatched up by a massive hand, the creature roaring triumphantly.

  “Knight Vega!” Danse shouted, the paladin still trying to shift the massive rock enough to get free.

  Backhand squirmed desperately in the beast’s grip, arms pinned to her sides and her shotgun pointed towards the ground. Well kid, you gave it a good try . She pumped her trigger out of desperation, not sure if she even had any shells left, and blew a hole through the behemoth’s foot. The gargantuan mutant howled in pain, flinging her through the air when it toppled over. She hit the ground hard enough to lose consciousness briefly, her head slamming against the inside of the helmet.

  When she blinked her eyes open again, all she could see was a power armor sabaton inches from her face. There was a muffled report to her right and super mutant skull fragments and brain tissue abruptly sprayed across her helmet visor. “ Tango down .” Danse snarled.

  “Jesus.” Backhand muttered, her gauntlet clanking loudly against her helmet. “What a hit.”

  “Are you injured, Knight?” Danse sounded like his teeth were clenched.

  “Blacked out for a second is all. You alright?”

  “That’s irrelevant. We need to see to Paladin Brandis.” Danse said sharply.

  “It’s been so long since I’ve heard my name.” Said a quivering voice. “I imagine I’m hallucinating at this point. Going mad from seclusion.”

  “It’s Danse, sir, Paladin Danse. Don’t you recognize me?” Danse asked, and Backhand was sure she wasn’t supposed to hear the uncertainty in his tone.

  Danse pulled her to her feet and she took in the sight of the elderly man in badly-worn combat armor across from them. He was studying Danse hard, his eyes widening when Danse unfastened his helmet and took it off. “ Danse? You…is it really you?” Brandis asked, his voice still shaking. “Oh my God, is it true?”

  “It’s me, sir.” Danse replied stiffly. “Knight Vega and I were tasked with reacquiring you. Elder Maxson-”

  “Maxson? It’s his fault that I’m even…my squadron…” Brandis’ words grew disjointed, choked with emotion.

  “ The elder believes that you are still a valuable asset to the war effort, Paladin Brandis.” If Danse had been stiff before, he was outright stony now.

  Brandis, entertainingly, waved off Danse’s chastising attitude. “Yes yes, praise be to the elder. I suppose it’s you two that I ought to be thanking, though. After all, you’re the ones who risked life and limb to come find me.”

  “It was Knight Vega’s first assignment as a member of the Brotherhood. She was honored beyond measure.”

  “I don’t suppose she can talk , can she?” Brandis asked dryly. Backhand decided that she liked Brandis. “Why all this trouble for me, though? And so suddenly? I’ve been sending distress signals for years , Danse.”

  “It was only through sheer luck and our acquisition of Knight Vega’s skillset that we even managed to signal the Brotherhood for support.” Danse replied curtly. “Over half of Recon Squad Gladius is dead, their lives claimed in the line of duty. Much like your own squadron.”

  “Oh, Danse.” Brandis said helplessly. “It’s such a heavy burden to carry. Their lives…and Astlin , I know you were so fond of her.”

  “She was a good soldier. Best marksman I ever knew.” Danse gritted out.

  “I’ll bet she was an even better friend.” Backhand said tentatively.

  “She died with honor.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” What the hell was going on? Danse sounded livid , the set of his shoulders visibly tense even through the power armor. A muscle ticked in his jaw.

  “Danse, what does the Brotherhood even expect to get out of me? I’m too old, I’ve…I’ve been away for too long.” Brandis floundered.

  “Elder Max-”

  “ Fuck Arthur, Danse!” Brandis exploded. “I’m asking you . What do you believe that the Brotherhood can get out of me?”

  “Intimate knowledge of the Commonwealth.” Danse snapped. “You’re a survivor, Brandis, and your skills could be indispensable to our troops.”

  “There’s nothing I could teach that the locals couldn’t Danse, you and Maxson know that.”

  “Yes, and you’re not a filthy local. You’re Brotherhood.”

  “Am I?” Brandis mused, glancing towards Backhand. “And I’ll assume that Knight Vega is one of the so-called ‘ filthy locals ’?”

  Danse paused, his hand still up in the air in the beginning of an irritated gesture. Backhand barely kept her snort in check. “Knight Vega is a…special case.” He said finally.

  “Typical Brotherhood. You’re filthy, you’re garbage, you’re nothing . And then, you’re a special case if you’re useful. Sound familiar, Danse?” Brandis grumbled. “Sleep with one eye open, Vega. Maxson is a little boy in a much larger man’s battle coat.”

  “Paladin!” Danse barked. “There is no need for this insubordinate behavior in front of my ward!”

  Brandis drew himself up to his full height (which, next to Danse in full armor, wasn’t exactly intimidating ) and jabbed his index finger into the larger paladin’s breastplate. “Don’t you dare speak to me about insubordination, Danse.” He hissed, his green eyes snapping with fury. “My squadron is dead because of Arthur and you still want to play Lancelot?”

  “The Brotherhood will honor their memory.” Danse intoned dully.

  “I’ll honor your memory if you keep this up, you damn fool.” Brandis growled. “No, no , I won’t go back to that madman. Better that I stay in isolation.”

  “I’m relatively certain that you staying here isn’t an option.” Backhand interjected. “Look, if the elder is as tricky as you say, he’s not going to let you live out your days in peace. You’re Brotherhood, or you were once, and you know too much. It was the same with the army.” Danse looked horrified and Backhand hurried to finish, sure that her opening wouldn’t last. “You should be as close to him as possible, if anything. Make it more difficult for him to do something shady by keeping an eye on him.”

  “Knight Vega! ” Danse sputtered indignantly.

  But Brandis was nodding his head, looking intently at her. “Take that helmet off, Vega. I make it a point to know my allies.”

  “Yes sir.” Backhand undid the helm and pulled it over her head, tucking it under her arm as an afterthought. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

  “You’re bleeding, Knight Vega.” Brandis pointed out after she saluted him and Danse fairly pounced on her, a huge finger looped through the pauldron on her shoulder jerking her around to face him. His gauntlet grazed her temple and she winced, grimacing when the metal returned brick-red.

  “Just a scrape. I’ll be fine.” She insisted.

  “I’m certain you will, Knight. How long have you been in Danse’s care?” Brandis asked genteelly.

  “Ah, about t…two, three days?” Backhand answered cautiously.

  “But Danse said that-”

  “Knight Vega did not immediately accept the offer. I imagine that our ranks did not strike her as particularly impressive.” Danse cut Brandis off, his tone incredibly bitter.

  “It wasn’t that. I had other obligations to deal with.” Backhand corrected him, trying to be gentle. “You guys were in a worse situation than most, but my responsibilities took me elsewhere.”

  “True, I did not…I apologize, Knight Vega. That was unnecessarily harsh of me.” Danse admitted after a second.

  “Be still my heart. You got him to apologize! Never thought I’d see the day.” Brandis said with a hint of faked bewilderment. Backhand decided to keep the fact that Danse had apologized to her three times in the same day to herself. “Alright Danse, I’ll return to that rustbucket . But only because Knight Vega makes an excellent point.”

  “Shall I signal us a vertibird?” Danse asked, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.

  “ Ha! And let Maxson get the drop on me? No, no, it’ll be better for me to show up on foot, alone. Provided you two have been discreet, this place will still serve its purpose as a fallback point. I’ll meander for a few days and then make my way…hmm.” Brandis’ eyes rested on Backhand.

  “Can I loan you my suit for your journey if you won’t accept an escort?” Backhand offered, following his train of thought. “My combat armor is functional and on standby. May I loan him my power armor, Paladin Danse sir?” She knew she was spreading it on thick, but Danse was obviously a stickler for protocol. “He is a senior ranking officer, and I…I mean if I’m with you, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” It couldn’t hurt to flatter him a bit.

  Danse’s face pinked up endearingly and he cleared his throat. “I don’t see why not. If you hope to arrive safely Brandis, this is the least we can do. I would prefer, of course, to accompany you sir. But it’s your decision.”

  “How gracious of you to permit an old man his preferences.” Brandis replied dryly. Backhand couldn’t stifle her hiccup of laughter and Danse ‘ harrumph ’ed, obviously embarrassed by her behavior.

  “Knight Vega and I will busy ourselves with other tasks in the Commonwealth until you make your return to the Brotherhood, Paladin.” Danse said sternly. “You realize that my knight cannot return without her armor and empty-handed.”

  “Understood, Danse.”

  Backhand fought the excited leap in her chest at the way Danse referred to her as ‘his’ knight, choosing instead to extract herself from her power armor and start strapping on her heavy combat gear. It’s only because he’s sponsoring you. Don’t be ridiculous , she scolded herself while she donned her breastplate and greaves.

  “My thanks, Knight Vega. When you return, I’ll see that your armor is waiting in the bay for you.” Paladin Brandis promised, a heavy hand landing on her shoulder. “As well as a frazzled Maxson, if I play my cards right.” The old man grinned, his eyes still sad. “You two can help yourselves to anything in the bunker. I’ve collected some odds and ends over the years, so if you see something you need it’s yours.”

  “Much obliged, sir.” Backhand said gratefully, struggling to recall what Preston had asked her to pick up in her travels. Well, we can always use more aluminum ...

Part Five

[the-hopeless-haze]

Someone to Know You Too Well (Being Alive Chapter 5)

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CONTENT WARNING: Mentions of domestic violence & homophobia

It’s easy again between the two of you when you come back from Massachusetts, but it isn’t the same. You’re in a much better mood, and Rafael’s glad you went, especially because you come back with good news about your brother - he should be finishing his GED in the fall.

But just because things are good - it doesn't mean Rafael is calm. On the contrary, that makes him even more nervous. Good things don't have the habit of sticking around.

But for whatever reason, you are.

Spring turns into summer - where did the time go? - and you’re always dragging him to the beach when your schedules permit. You seem to be more in your element there than anywhere else he’s ever seen you, what with the sun causing your skin to glisten with sweat and saltwater, the hot wind blowing your hair, the permanent smile on your face. He learns that your father used to have a summer house in the Cape where you spent your summers until he sold it after the divorce, but your love for the water never faded. And apparently your father’s never did, either, as his new house with his new wife resides on a lake. But the ocean is much more turmoiled than a lake is, and if Rafael were more of a poet, maybe he’d draw some resemblances between you and the ocean, but that’s overwrought. The world didn’t need another hackneyed poem about why his troubled object of affection reminded him of the waves. Clichéd comparisons aside, he can see why you love it so much.

Rafael isn’t as opposed to these dates as one might assume. Maybe it’s his Cuban heritage; in his blood after his ancestors spent so long working and living by the sea on that godforsaken island that betrayed them, but he feels a sort of kinship with the ocean, too. You tease him the first time you see him in shorts and sandals, saying you half-expected him to show up in his three-piece. He didn’t tell you, but he comes to the beach alone quite often, or there’s always yacht parties where he can nurse a glass of scotch, just keeping score between all the married couples there; who cheated on who, what wife wanted nothing more than to divorce her husband, what husband was calling their wife a bitch... Most days, he prefers the precinct for company over the stuffy culture law school brought him into...he swears marriage makes people crazy. It made his mother miserable, his father wrathful.

And maybe one could argue that his mother had an inclination for melancholy or that his father was just a mean-spirited man regardless. But the marriage vows certainly brought out the worst in both of them. An ill-fit, sure, but they’d thought it would work out when they met each other, didn’t they?

Another reason he’s anxious is that the squad is getting closer to figuring it out by the day. Rafael is good at concealing his emotions, he thinks, but it’s difficult to hide anything in a room full of some of the best detectives in New York City. Sometimes he even catches Olivia looking at him differently when he glances discreetly at you - and he’s dreading the day he gets the chewing out he deserves.

And third - you start remembering things he says. It’s almost frightening. Of course.... you had to have a good memory for the spoken word - you couldn’t take notes on everything a witness said. But still.

You remember dishes he orders in restaurants and attempt to recreate them in his kitchen. You bring him coffee, just the way he likes it, on your days off that he’s on, or sometimes you manage to sneak away to bring it to him during your breaks. You know he likes you in red and green and blue, bright, vivid colors that bring out the colors of your eyes and hair, and you make sure to wear them. Sometimes he thinks you’re psychic, or you have some kind of womanly sixth sense; because oftentimes you’ll wear the same color of his tie. One time Carisi even made a comment that the two of you were going to prom together, and you’d swatted him on the arm but smirked at Rafael the way you did; when you knew you had him down cold.

And maybe you did.

But you didn’t know everything about him, yet, how could you? It’d only been four months.

Rafael's hands tremble at the thought of telling you what was on his mind. He needs some liquid courage if he's going to tell you anything. He's had awful conversations with women concerning this topic, and he's prepared for tonight to go wrong, too, you screaming at him with tears running down your cheeks, and then work, oh, work would be a living hell. Maybe he'd transfer to another district. Jesus Christ, he couldn't handle that again, so soon. Maybe it was best to keep quiet. Maybe this is why he shouldn't have been so stupid to date a detective in his district, in a unit he worked closely with. What if this did go wrong? It was hard, being able to see each other outside of work sometimes, and it was hell trying to hide it from the SVU, but god, he'd miss you if you left even if he wasn't entirely ready to commit to you.

But you deserved to know, didn't you?

"Hey, Rafi? You doing alright there?" Your voice cuts in, clear as a bell, the way it always did when he lost himself in thought.

"Yeah, uh, I'm fine," he says, loosening his tie and taking it off. You were cooking again, fish, and it smelled heavenly, and god, he didn't want to lose this but he didn't want to tell you either and by not telling you, he could lose you. Weren't you supposed to know your partner? Did you really know him if you didn't know these things?

"You sure? You look like you're nervous," you say, an edge in your voice. God, did you think... maybe you thought he was going to break up with you. Fuck.

"Yeah. I'm nervous. Okay?" he snaps, but he doesn't mean to. He takes another sip of his scotch.

"Why the hell are you nervous? Afraid of some broccoli?" you joke, but your smile doesn't meet your eyes. He'd scared you. Fuck, he was such an idiot.

"I need to talk to you. Okay?" God, why couldn't he be normal like you and just spit it out?

"Okay. Then talk. But if you want me to leave I'll just get out. I don't need to hear the reasons why," you say, turning back to the food.

"No!" Rafael gets up quickly, hugging you from behind. "No. I don't... that's not what I want to talk about. No. This is going good, better than I thought it would."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Fuck me. I keep talking myself in circles," he mutters under his breath.

You turn around, but he keeps his hands around your waist. You're close, and he pecks your lips. You chuckle. "You're a dork. Just spit it out, Rafi."

"I don't want... I don't want this to turn into a fight."

"I don't either, whatever it is. But I need to turn the fish over or your smoke alarm's gonna go off," you say. “Hang on a minute.”

He grips the counter for support and he hates you so much, it’s rage he’s feeling now, and he has to swallow it down, tell himself this was good for him, this was happening for a reason, and that you were different the men and women that had walked out on him before. Or what about those he’d never felt close enough to tell? That was a longer list.

You finish the fish in a few minutes, tell him the potatoes are going to be a few more in the oven, and you start the broccoli on the stove.

“Okay. Talk to me. I’m listening,” you say, smiling at him, but he can tell you’re still scared, still wondering what he’s going to say.

“I’m bisexual,” he blurts out, and he doesn’t know if it would’ve been better if he beat around the bush.

You’re silent for a few seconds, then you smile at him. “Oh, honey, that was it? I thought it was something bad. Jesus, you scared the hell out of me, Rafi,” you say and hug him tight. He hugs you back, somewhat in awe of your reaction.

“You... you... don't care?"

“Rafael, I'm honestly offended that you think I'd be that prejudiced. Of course it doesn't bother me.” You pull away, still holding onto his arms, looking at him that way you did now, that look that doesn’t feel too different from a punch in the gut. "Why did you think I would be upset?"

Rafael shrugs, still at a loss for words.

“Well... for the record, I’ve hooked up with a woman, you know,” you say, turning back to the broccoli.

“Y-you have?” Well, that was a surprise.

“Yeah. I don’t know if I’d ever date a woman, but... I gave it the college try, had experiences. It was fun. It was a coping mechanism if you think about it too much, but it helped me, I think,” you say, and shrug, turning to your side to better face him as you sauté the broccoli. “I mean...we were friends in college. And she took her time with me, you know...in ways college boys wouldn’t.”

“Mm,” Rafael says, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Bet she did.”

You blush beet red, laughing nervously. “That’s not what I meant... although, yes... she was thorough. But no. I meant she respected me and didn’t get upset when I wasn't ready to put out, you know? She let me set the pace and she was the first person I’d been with that gave me that. But... anyway... enough about that. I really appreciate that you trust me enough to tell me. Do you feel better?” you ask, looking up at him.

He nods. “Believe it or not, you’re the only woman that hasn’t flipped out on me when I said this.”

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. No one should feel that way about that.” You lean up, kissing his cheek.

Yelina was the first woman he told, and she didn’t take it well. Immediately, she flew off the handle, accusing him of wanting to leave her for a man - but there was no man. It was just something he'd come to terms with after fighting with himself for so long, and he wanted her to know because he thought he loved her. But he backtracked for her, he pled with her, they both cried, and their hour-long phone conversation ended with Rafael saying that he was just confused, and wasn't really bisexual. He’d never felt more lost in his entire life than when he hung up the phone that night, and it took him a long time to be assured of his sexuality in the same way as he was before he called her.

Some of the women were better than others, but he hadn’t told all of them and he’d never been met with outright acceptance...until you. And maybe it’s a byproduct of the politics of your generation or your own dalliances in same-sex affairs... but whatever it is... you’re still taking him in with open arms, and he feels like he doesn't deserve that.

“You hungry? It’s all set.”

“Yeah. It smells great, (y/n),” he says, his mouth watering at the potatoes you pull out of his oven. God, who knew how good an apartment could smell when you used it to cook?

He has memories of his abuelita cooking, of his mother, but he never stayed in the room and watched them work. His father always said it was a woman’s job, and it went on the long list of things he could never forgive him for. Watching you cook, he realizes it’s an expression of caring and that his father had ignored the league of male chefs there were in the world in support of a chauvinist ideology. Rafael wishes he could cook more than his embarrassing repertoire of eggs, grilled cheese, and boxed macaroni; he wishes he could do something for you.

He swallows it down. This was too much too soon, wasn’t it? What was he doing?

He doesn't have any idea. A relationship should tie you down to the earth, make you remember you inhabit it, but he's been in his head far too much lately. So dinner is quiet, almost painfully so, because he can't stop the thoughts racing through his head and manage to make conversation with you.

Evidently, you realize that too, kissing him deeply after you both cleaned up the kitchen. "Are you okay, honey? You still seem stressed."

"I'm fine." God, you calling him “honey” went right through him. No one really ever used pet names on him before, probably because he was too stiff. How did you know the simple use of that melted him to the core, made him momentarily forget his reservations?

"You certainly don't seem fine. Did something happen at work?"

"Just stop," he murmurs, avoiding your gaze. Why did you care? Why should you care? You were starting to get too close for comfort - but god forbid you start pulling away.

But you do, physically, at least. You let go of his hand, and hurt flashes through your eyes. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No. But I don't want to talk, either."

"Rafael--"

"Don't."

"Okay," you nod, pursing your lips, and you take his hand back in yours. "Do you want me to just sit with you?"

He nods wordlessly, topping off your scotch glasses and meeting you on the couch. You don't touch him at first, but then you take his right hand back in both of yours, massaging through the cramps in his palm from writing scrawled notes on his legal pad. "You don't have to," he says quietly.

"I want to," you respond, pressing your lips to his cheek. "Let me take care of you. Turn around so I can massage your shoulders."

"(Y/n)..." he protests, but he has a feeling you know what he needs better than he does, so he doesn't argue with your firm glance.

You're tentative at first, but you find a rhythm, and he feels the tension dissipate as you work your hands across his shoulders and upper back, and all he can think is that he never did one thing in his life that would warrant this tenderness.

And then.... you run your hand across his side, featherlight, until he's chuckling in spite of himself. "Jesus, (y/n), stop it," he says through laughter as you tickle him with more intensity, your fingers skittering across his stomach.

"I think you should make me," you challenge.

And he's breathless, trying to catch your hands in his own, but he can't stop laughing, either, as he tries and fails to gain leverage against you. You dodge him every chance you get, but at this point, you can't tickle him as much you jab at his sides and stomach. Eventually, his fingers dig deep into the flesh of your waist, and you let out a shriek - and it's then that he enacts his revenge, his long fingers dancing across your thighs and up your stomach until he looks up at you. You're giggling and blushing, your hair splayed out across his couch... and you look back, your laughter slowing as he leans down to kiss you. All he intended was to brush his lips against yours, but your hand comes to the nape of his neck, and your tongue slips past his lips, and you're seemingly still intent on leaving him gasping for air. "Trying to kill me?" he pants, smirking against your lips as he pulls away.

"No. I just know you needed the laugh," you say. "I know you said you don't want to talk, Rafi, but I... I think you should. I want to listen."

Rafael sighs heavily, gently moving off you and helping you sit back up. "I lied to you,” he says softly, not meeting your eyes. “I lied. SVU is difficult at times... for more personal reasons. I didn't go through anything like what you had gone through and believe me... I'm not trying to draw comparisons. But..."

“It was your father, wasn’t it?” you ask softly.

Ah. You know. You read him like a book. He nods. “Yes. He wasn’t a good man.”

“I didn’t... I just, you rarely talk about him, and I just assumed there was a reason why.”

“There was.”

“Do you want to talk about it?"

Rafael nods, finding the strength to meet your eyes again. “He... he would hurt my mother. I didn’t face the brunt of the abuse, she did, for me. But he... if I... he’d hurt me, sometimes, too, hit me if I talked back. He’d never hurt me the way he hurt Mami, but he was abusive toward me as well. I spent a lot of time at my abuelita’s apartment because of this, and she is...she’s the best woman I know. She did all she could to keep me safe. Ultimately, though, in high school... I came out to my mother and her. They didn’t understand it, really, and gave me some good old Catholic shaming. I still loved them, even if it was hard at the time. They didn’t dare out me to my father. They didn’t know what he would do. Well... I had a boyfriend that last year of high school, and my father saw us... and... you can guess what happened.”

“I’m so sorry, Rafi,” you whisper, scooting closer to him.

“I had to go to the hospital,” he whispers, unable to fight the tears. It feels like something’s closing in on his throat. He takes your hand for support, running his thumb over your fingers. “He somehow managed to break one of my ribs. I... he kept saying, ‘I pay for Catholic school for you to end up being a faggot?’ And I... kept thinking, kept saying, ‘no, Padre, you don’t understand,’ kept begging him to stop. He didn’t until he heard my rib crack and... I think he understood, then, that he’d crossed a boundary. It was one thing to him to hurt his wife, he hated women, but his child, his only son? I never told my mother what happened, because it would’ve just worried her and I was terrified. I just... I just said someone at school beat me up. My father... he was never good to me or my mother, let that be clear, but after that, it was almost like he was ashamed, I guess, because I had something over his head that he knew my mother would leave him for. Anyway... he died about 15 years ago.”

You tuck your legs underneath you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” you say softly, kissing his cheek. “No one should have to go through that. Your mother is a strong woman, you know that right? Didn’t you tell me she runs a charter school now?”

“Yes. She does. Single-handedly, really. I owed it to her to make something of myself.”

“You did, Rafi, you did. I know she’s proud.”

“I hope so,” he mutters.

“You’re a better man than your father,” you murmur, rubbing his back. How did you know that was what he needed to hear? Even still, it didn’t feel real. What basis did you have for that?

“The jury is out on that one,” he mutters. “I haven’t had a child to destroy.”

You pull away from him, sit back on your side of the couch. “Rafael. Look at me.”

He exhales slowly, and does, meeting your concerned eyes, the ones all the victims that have come through your precinct have seen, and he hates that.

“Did it hold you back? Is that why you haven’t had children?”

Your voice is small like you almost don’t want to say it, don’t want to put a voice to it, and he wishes you didn’t, he wishes you stayed quiet. He leans back against the couch, a few silent tears leaving his eyes of their own volition.

But you knew him. You knew why. You’d hit the nail on the head once again.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, Rafael. Please,” you say, and he looks over at you to see your eyes welling up too. “It’s not my business. I’m sorry. D-don’t be mad at me.”

He doesn’t say anything, just leans over and grasps you in a hug. You start crying, murmuring your apology over and over again. Your whimpers in his ear could kill him if he let them. You pull away from him with shaky hands on his shoulders, gripping on his suspenders for support. “I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have—“

But he kisses you and he can feel your shock as your body tenses up against him. “Don’t you ever fucking say you’re stupid again,” he murmurs against your mouth. “You’re too smart for your own good.”

“Rafael, I overstepped.” You move your hands back to your lap.

“Maybe you did,” he shrugs, wiping his eyes with his shirtsleeves. “But you were right.”

You’re silent. He can tell you feel guilty; you’re wringing your hands and only looking at him when he’s not looking at you.

“I’m not mad at you,” he says, and you visibly relax, leaning over to hug his waist. “I never realized it... until... this woman I dated, her name was Yelina. She wanted a whole white picket fence deal, lawyer husband, three kids, money. And I... I couldn’t give any of that to her at the time. I didn’t want to get married, I was terrified of having a wife. I didn’t want to have children... I was afraid I’d turn into my father and hurt them the way he hurt me. So she left me for my best friend at the time.”

“Oh, honey. You’ve had bad luck,” you say, your voice slightly muffled against the fabric of his shirt. You rub his back comfortingly. “She wasn’t a smart woman. Couldn’t she see you were in pain?”

“I...guess not. Maybe I didn’t even really know I was then. She wanted kids, marriage, all of that, right away, and we were young, then, younger than you. But she didn’t want to wait for me to work out my issues. I can't really blame her. I still haven’t now, so maybe she was right to leave me. Who she left me for... well, that didn’t exactly work out in her favor. I prosecuted him for child pornography about a year ago.”

“Ah. Perhaps she should have learned about delayed gratification before leaving you.”

Rafael chuckles at that. “Why are you saying that?”

“Look who you turned out to be. She knows she made the wrong choice now.”

“I don’t know about that. Maybe neither of us were the right one for her. I’m still my father’s son. I could still turn out...how I feared.”

“I don’t see that in you, Rafael,” you say softly.

“My mother didn’t see it in my father, either,” he says, rubbing his face with his hand. “Part of it is genetic. It has to be.”

“People throw down the deck that they’re dealt and demand a new one all the time,” you tell him. He wraps his arm around you.

“But do they get one?”

“I think so,” you say. “If they fight hard enough and they have the resources. Some of it is luck, no doubt... But you can.”

He feels guilty, because he knows you’re thinking of your brother, who can never outplay the cards he was dealt.

“Well, I guess I never wanted to play the game and risk it," he says bitterly.

“Well, what about now?”

“Who’s going to marry me now, have kids with me? I’m an old man. That ship has sailed,” he says, hating himself and you, a little. Maybe you’d leave now like Yelina did. You were young and pretty, and you could find a man closer to your age that would father your children if that’s what you wanted.

“Do you really believe that?” Your voice is small again, treading lightly. Maybe you were scared for your own future if you stayed with him. Maybe you should be.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” he murmurs. He knows what he can’t believe: the fact that you’re still here, still holding onto him like your life depended on it. And you knew him, now, you knew what kept him up at night... and you were still here, acting like he was all you wanted.

“I just want you to know that I’ve been held back, too, Rafael. Abuse does that. I couldn’t have meaningful relationships with anyone for a while, and sex scared me. It still does, sometimes. You’re...you’re one of the few who’s waited this long for me to be ready and not gotten upset. I just want to thank you for that. And that’s how I know you’re not your father because from what you’ve told me, I don’t think he would’ve been as forgiving toward me. You can break the cycle, Rafi. You can if you want to.”

“You shouldn’t be thanking me for that. I’m not going to force you into doing something you’re not ready for.”

“Proving my point, Rafael,” you say, squeezing his arm. “Would your father have that same mindset?”

“Well...no. Probably not.”

“Would your father go to law school with the intent of helping the helpless?”

He shakes his head. His father didn’t do anything to help anyone. "That's not why I went to law school, either. I went to get the hell out of that barrio."

"Why'd you choose SVU then? There are much more lucrative paths you could've taken with a law degree. Why is it every time I try to show you that you're a good man you insist on fighting with me?"

"Because I don't deserve to be put up on a pedestal, (y/n). I'm just trying to survive," Rafael says, shrugging. "I'm not some martyr for a cause, or a Christ figure or--"

"I didn't say that you were. But you’re also not your father, Rafael, and I don’t see any danger of you turning into him, either,” you say and he hopes you’re right, he hopes you know him better than he knows himself, and that you see something in him he’s never seen, something all the men and women before you never saw either. “You still have time.”

“Not as much as I used to,” he says, but that’s the thing, isn’t it? Rafael sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Look at the two of you, both damaged, both broken by what the world threw at you, but here you were, together. Were you healing each other or hurting each other? He can’t tell, at the end of the day.

You sit up a little, and he loosens his grip around your shoulders. You kiss him softly, comfortingly.

All his anxiety about this night is gone, but it isn’t replaced with relief like he’d hoped. Instead, there’s this gnawing ache, this need to tell you to leave, that he was bad news and was going to break your heart, that he was over 40 and didn’t know how to love anyone that wasn’t his family. Why couldn’t anything scare you away?

Part of him knows he doesn’t want you to leave despite all this, even if he’s terrified. You must know, too, because you stayed.

Tags: @caked-crusader​ @thatesqcrush​ @law-nerd105​

Want to be added to my tags? Let me know!

[one-shot-plus-size]

From Sons of Anarchy to Mayans MC

Jax's sister must hide from the revenge of SAMCRO enemies, goes to Mayans MC Santo Padre. And he catches the eye of a la presidente.

Chapters 10/20

Sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language. They will accept any attention and criticism :)

Part 9

Pov Bishop

I looked at her from the angle of my eye, she ate quietly staring at her plate.

- Everything ok ?

- Sure - she was nodding her head.

- You are quiet lately.

- I have a lot of work and I am just tired.

- You are clearly working too much - I twisted my head - I talked to the guys, we want to go out of town for a few days. Taza has a house by the lake, we want to rest.

- Sure, go. I'll take care of this brothel here - she smiled from ear to ear - you're probably tired after running.

- You didn't understand - I laughed.

- Apparently not - she wrinkled her eyebrows.

- She wants you to come with us, to rest. She left the whole damn drawing and reset her brain. She promises you a separate room with her own bed, we'll cover some fire and so on.

I saw her biting her lower lip, fighting an internal fight.

- Don't let me ask you - I approached her - if you don't agree, I will ask Angela to force you into the car.

- I beat him once and I can do it again - she threatened me with a finger.

- But Gilli can do it - I'm up.

- Fact - she murmured under my nose.

- I understand that it was decided - I smiled - I am very happy that it went so easily and that you agreed. We are leaving on Thursday evening.

- Bish - she moaned.

- I can't hear - I yelled out and went to the boys.

Pov Olivia

- I fucking growled under my nose.

Everything was going wrong, I came back with a look at the door behind which Bish disappeared. After a few moments Ezekiel stood in the door.

- I still clearly missed you here.

- Bish convinced you? - He leaned against the frame.

- Yeah - I purrred.

- Will you tell him ? - he smiled from ear to ear.

- What should I tell him ?

- Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about - he went inside and closed the door behind him - remember that I am the smartest here. So when you're going to confess that you've felt something for Bishop.

- I don't know what you're talking about - I turned my back on him.

- Oh, come on - he came up to me and sat on my desk - and I see what's going on, those stolen looks, those fleeting smiles. And of course your expression on the face when you see him with some girl, Vicki.

- Stop making up stories about Ezekiel - I looked into his eyes - apparently you are not as smart as they think you are.

He laughed and patted me on the shoulder.

- I love your defensive reflex, but I know what I see.

- Ez not a word to anyone, if anything slips out of your mind. It promises you that I will skin you alive and you will suffer.

- So you admit it?

- No, I purr.

He laughed loudly and left my room closing the door behind him. I laid down in an armchair and breathed deeply. I was at least hoping to get my room. As Bish said on Thursday evening we were on our way to a place to rest. The boys left their jacket at home, it was a weekend of rest, not club business. I was one of the two women among 11 boys, apart from Bishop's club, Marcus and Nathaniel were also coming with us. Fortunately, Coco's daughter Leticia decided to join us. She is much younger than me but somehow she gets along with her. I had a seat between Angel and Hank. Bishop was driving and Taza was sitting on the passenger seat. The second car was driven by Gilli, Riz, Creeper and Ezekiel and the last one by Coco, Leticia, Marcus and Nathaniel. I leaned my head on Angel's shoulder, he covered my shoulder.

- Sleep - he whispered.

- This is my plan.

Pov Bishop

From time to time I peeked at Olivia cuddling up to Reyes. I knew it didn't mean anything between them but I felt a sting of jealousy. I opened the window, lit a cigarette and stared at the road. I looked at Taza sitting next to me and smiled under his nose. I wrinkled my eyebrows when he looked at me.

- I am not saying anything - he raised his hands in a defensive gesture.

- But you think something - I purr.

- This is my right - he laughed.

I threw the cigarette out the window and looked at it. He was smiling under his nose all the time, shaking his head slightly and not looking at me. He knew, he guessed.

- Not a word to anyone - I whispered.

- A bright present - he laughed.

Around 5 pm we parked our cars in the driveway of Tazy's house.

- I have already wondered a few times where did you get the money for the second cottage? I can barely grasp one - I dragged myself.

- This is the house that I inherited from my grandparents and the ranch is my mother's, so I didn't get to anything myself.

I looked around, nature and silence that prevailed here soothed my nerves.

- The hell Reyes - Olivia jumped out of the car - nobody taught you manners.

Hank looked at her and smiled slightly.

- Something we missed? - Leticia was looking at them.

- Angel decided to wake up Olivia, well, she didn't necessarily like it - Hank spoke through tears.

- Something feels that the way was interesting.

- He put his saliva finger in my ear - she rudged up - I will take revenge for it.

- I can't wait - he looked at her.

I laughed under my nose and twisted my head. They were like children, children who got some free time.

Pov Olivia

I was glowing around, breathing deeply. Fresh air hit my lungs, I smiled wide. The surrounding area was really beautiful and calm, I moved my gaze away from the guys. They laughed, they looked really relaxed. I went up to the trunk and grabbed my backpack.

- Let me help you - Bish came to me with his arm outstretched.

- I can handle it, I can deal with it - I patted him on the shoulder.

He turned his head and laughed, grabbed his bag and we all went to a beautiful house. The two-storey wooden house looked beautiful in this scenery and the lake added charm to this place. We went inside, the whole house was kept in a rural style. We went upstairs, Taza showed each of the boys a room.

- This one is yours - Taza smiled wide.

- Wait what? - I stopped in half a step.

- There was a small change, Coco wants to keep an eye on Leticia, so we had to change the layout. I hope this is ok?

I looked at Bishop and he rubbed my neck nervously.

- I don't care - I tried to sound as nonchalantly as possible.

- There is one big bed in the room - Taza was smiling from ear to ear.

- Taza, are you insinuating something? - I supported myself with my waist.

- I'm just saying - he raised his hands in a defensive gesture.

- We will manage, right ? - I looked at Bishop.

- Sure - he nodded his head.

- So show me where our nest is - I breathed.

I followed Tasha, and the moose followed me. We got a bedroom with a terrace that looked out onto the lake.

- But chad - I went out to the terrace - a beautiful view, I can already imagine it. Coffee in the morning, admiring the beautiful lake with the silence around. I hope Bish that you do not snore? Because it could spoil this vision.

- I happen to snore sometimes - he smiled from ear to ear.

- Don't believe him - Taza twisted his head - he snores like an old tractor.

- I don't think he wants to know how you know it - I laughed and looked at the bridge - can you take a bath in this lake?

- Sure - the older one nodded his head.

- That's good, because I have an opportunity for revenge.

- What are you talking about?

Pov Bishop

She did not manage to answer me because she rushed to the first floor and the court. I went out with Taza to the terrace, Angel was standing on the edge of the pier over the water.

- He will be angry - Taza looked at me.

- I know - I nodded my head - but I don't want to spoil her fun. Sometimes it is good to see someone rubbing his nose.

I leaned against the railing and watched him walk over the bridge towards him. Angel didn't completely expect this, she stood behind him and hit him hard in the back. Reyes got wobbly and fell into the water with a splash. Taza laughed loudly, just like Coco who was standing by.

- What the fuck? - Angel emerged from the water.

- I told you that I would get revenge - she was standing on the platform and laughed loudly.

- That means war - he growled and climbed back on the platform - I feel like a hug.

- Don't even try - she started walking in the opposite direction.

- Come on - he spread his arms wide.

- Angel did not - she started running home.

- Like children - I twisted my head.

- Let them play - Taza patted me on the shoulder.

- Bish - she fell into the room - your man went crazy.

She stood behind me, and in fact, she hid.

- I wonder why what? - I looked over my shoulder.

- I have no idea - she was smiling all the time.

A few moments later a wet Angel fell in, stopped a few steps before me.

- Pres - nodded his head.

- What would you like what ? - I rest my hands on my hips.

- It is not over yet - Angel threatened her with a finger - be careful.

- Go change - Taza approached him - you leave wet marks.

I turned to her when they left our room. She was smiling from ear to ear looking into my eyes.

- I am sorry.

- All right - I twisted my head - it was funny.

- He deserved it after the wet square in my ear - she entered the room.

- Something feels that these few days will be funny - I followed her.

- Of course she did - she sat on the bed - that's what these days are about. To laugh, have fun and rest. With things going on in the club you need it.

- You too - I pointed my finger at her.

- Bright me too - she nodded her head.

Part 11

[forestdivinity]

there’s nothing for me but the dying

You make mountains from molehills, Reginald had always been fond of telling him, you let your fear control you, instead of controlling it. You crave attention; you leave yourself deranged for want of it- The thing was, he wasn’t exactly wrong. Something inside of him was an ache, a great yawning mouth that throbbed like it was teething at all times. It was hungry and all it wanted was to feed, to consume, to fill that emptiness with the tender meat of the world around him. Maybe it was the death of small things inside of him, he was rotting in all the places people couldn’t see. All his life, Klaus had flirted with dangerous situations in an attempt to fill that void. Around him was reality, always twisting. It was a volatile thing, split across two realms. Or he was the distortion, body snapped around an emptiness, trying to exist in life and death at once. Humans weren’t meant for such things, and it terrified him. He had to choose one or the other.

And so the danger-

It was fights with his father that would end with a crack around the ear that always left his head spinning. There wasn’t pain, or there was pain, but it simply melded with the ache of his being, that rot beneath his skin. More impactful than the pain was the touch, the blood beneath Reginald’s fingers, the heat of his hand. Life. And then it was the mausoleum, the cold that seeped into his bones, the hollowness of his body mirroring the emptiness of the room; at least until it was full of spectres, visages of the undead, drawn like moths to a flame. Or one of those sparkling, electric lights, the same blue as the glow of his powers, the cracked lava lamp of his body. Some metaphor, some dream. They flocked to him, all ice and incorporeality. That was Death.

Somewhere between the two, Klaus began to know other dangers. The heat of MDMA and the cold of a comedown (life, death, repeat, start again. It was all cyclical; he was the cycle, something never ending) the touch of a body, the concrete of an alley. He flirted with men and women alike, anyone who caught his eye. Anyone who offered a bump or a hit. 

Danger successfully courted and all that.

-

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Ben moaned at him. It was a familiar complaint, barely a question at the point they were at now. 

“Don’t kid yourself into thinking I have an answer.” Klaus told him, waving his GOODBYE hand in his brother’s direction. Something in his soul ached. Maybe not his soul - did he even have one of those? Was he alive enough? Was he human enough? Maybe it was just his body that ached, that old familiar thing. Rot split open his veins, it flooded through him with every beat of his heart.

What was even the point of that thing? It worked overtime and Klaus didn’t even want it.

“You must have a reason-”

“Oh, you know darling Benny. Benerino. Ghost of my life-” people were looking at him funny now, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, “I’m here for a good time, not a long time and all that.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Klaus.” 

“Drop dead, Benzo. Oh, wait-” He was tetchy, somewhere between the high and the comedown. Ben had been tetchy since he’d died and realised he was stuck with the one brother he’d never been closest to.

Screw him. Screw all the ghosts. Klaus had better things to focus on, even if Ben was the only thing haunting him now, it didn’t mean he wanted to stay sober. Addictive personality, he’d been told once, no drive to help himself. Then again, that doctor had also thought him schizophrenic.

Klaus couldn’t really prove him wrong. Maybe his father had listened to the ramblings of a psychotic child and decided he must be seeing ghosts. Who knew what he should believe anymore, all Klaus wanted was the high. It was the floating that he craved, that heat that flooded his body, the freedom from the expectations of his own mind. Maybe he’d been fucked up since birth, always pushing for more, always looking for danger.

Trauma response, CPTSD, suicidal ideation, another rehab center had written on a chart after three mandatory weeks of group therapy. His fingers had itched then, even though it had been a relatively nice place. Clean, smelling faintly of antiseptic - one Allison had clearly paid for.

He’d only seen two ghosts in his time there, neither one of them screamers. They terrified him nonetheless. Klaus was always terrified: of himself, of the world, of the living and the dead. When sober he remembered his father’s hand, the sound of it cracking against his head. Ouch, what a bastard he’d been. Thinking about Reginald always made his cravings worse.  It was hard not to think about Reginald when he was sober. The man lingered in his mind like a bad smell. Klaus wanted to claw at the soft underside of his belly, imagined opening up the fragile skin there and letting all his rotten organs spill out onto the dirt. The thought gave him nightmares for weeks.  You’re making a mountain out of a molehill again, a voice echoed in his mind., somehow he couldn’t tell if it was his father’s or his own.  “I really think you can do it this time.” Ben told him on the day before they were let out of rehab. His support was nice, if obviously fake, they’d been through this dance enough times. They both knew Klaus wasn’t the type to get better.

Addictive personality. Attention seeker.

“Nah.” He said. Ben sighed, a low, haunted sound. Like a ghost! 

-

“You’re gonna kill yourself one of these days!” Diego seethes from across the hospital room, it’s a wonder the nice nurse from before hadn’t kicked him out yet. She’d been blonde, like their mother, and brought him jello with a wink like she wasn’t meant to be spoiling him.

Klaus had liked her.  

“Pish.” He waved his hands at his brother - brothers, Ben was standing there too with a frown. “Lighten up, it was only one measly overdose.” 

“Fuck you, Klaus! Your h-heart stopped, it took two minutes to revive you-” 

“Impressive timing. Down to the wire there. Gotta admire our healthcare system- oh wait.” Klaus rolled his eyes. Diego’s teeth were grit, above his scar Klaus could see the little vein on his forehead threatening to pop like bubblegum. Inside of him, something ached and snapped. The emptiness was brittle, stale, like it had been left for too long.

“I can’t keep fucking doing this.” Diego sounded angry, but that wasn’t unusual. Strangely, there was a pleading to his face, like if he gave Klaus big enough puppy dog eyes then Klaus would get down on his knees and promise to never do drugs again.

Yeah, right. 

“Then don’t, I’m not keeping you here Diego-” 

“You’re such an ass! You really don’t care about anything other than your habit-” Also untrue. Harder to say though, Klaus thought of street corners and vomit and club lights. Danger, flirted with. 

Couldn’t Diego see he was already dead, dying, dried out in the worst of ways? Existing in two places was exhausting. Sometimes all he wanted to do was sleep. 

Klaus closed his eyes. 

Danger, danger, danger, it rang like a klaxon in his head. His ears rang like someone had smacked him. He could practically hear his father’s disappointment - or maybe that was just Diego scoffing.

“Don’t contact me again unless you’re clean, Klaus. I’m not gonna sit here and watch you die.”

“Sure, whatever. I’ll see you at the funeral then, hm?” There was a crash and a stomp and a few hissed swear words. Klaus didn’t bother to open his eyes - it was easier to hide his tears that way. Not to mention he didn’t have to see Ben’s disappointed look or the otherwise empty room. 

-

Another month of rehab was ordered by the court, probably only because his daddy was rich and Klaus was still somewhat famous, despite the homelessness and the drug addiction. Childhood fame had its perks, as did the lawyer kept on standby for their family. Reginald wouldn’t rent him an apartment, but so far he’d kept Klaus out of jail - he wasn’t sure whether to be happy about that or not.

Eventually he settled on not.

It wasn’t as nice as his last one. Klaus saw a ghost with her wrists split, thought of the danger of a knife, and then thought of his brother. 

His stay got extended another month. The lack of drugs was disappointing, but the attention was fun - in the same way that bee stings and casts were fun for about five minutes until the novelty wore off. God, was he bored. 

-drive yourself deranged for want of it, echoes, echoes. Klaus thought of his father often and wished he had a drink or a pill to drown them out. At night they locked him into his room, restraints and all due to the word suicidal in his file, and he had screaming nightmares of the mausoleum, that cool, deadly place.

He needed to get out; he realised. Before, rehab had just been a pain. Something to endure between bouts of danger and death. Klaus bounced between his highs and lows and occasionally thought of killing himself in how most people thought of buying coffee when they were broke. It was hard to take the impulse seriously when he knew (had always known) that he was born halfway to his grave already.

You couldn’t kill something that was already alive.

Now, though, something had snapped. Maybe it was the loss of his brother. Maybe it was the soft leather restraints that they’d clasped around his wrists (as if he hadn’t been trained to escape cuffs when he was eight, as if he wasn’t a child soldier superhero).

“You’re okay, Klaus. You’re not there, you need to calm down-” Ben was telling him. Klaus realised he was crying - screaming again, maybe. Something was cracking, and the sound echoed around the room, like it wasn’t just inside him this time. And then he had a dull realisation that it might be his wrist. That was fine, fun even.

More danger. More pain. God, was he acquainted with it by now, the rot inside of him was going to slip out if he wasn’t careful. Klaus was going to slip out too, right out of this godawful place and out of reality too if he was lucky. He needed a hit.

He’d do just about anything for it.

Surprisingly, no-one had noticed his yelling. Then again, this rehab facility wasn’t as nice as the last one. The one before that? They had all begun to blur together, Klaus didn’t remember what number he was on now. Addictive personality, he remembered, letting your fear control you.

Fuck it, maybe they were right about him - who even cared any longer.

“Klaus, come on, don’t do this- at least get some shoes, Klaus-” Ben was talking, his voice felt very far away. Klaus removed the bars on his window without really knowing how - training had made escaping places instinctive at this point. Klaus hadn’t used the skills since he was fourteen and had gotten kidnapped on a mission but, well, it was like riding a bike! That was how the saying went, wasn’t it?

He didn’t know. He’d never leant to ride a bike.

And then he was outside in the snow, and it was still so, so cold. He realised he wasn’t wearing shoes, socks. Not even a coat. Still, he’d gotten by on worse before, hadn’t he? Another danger to dance around. Only. this time, there was no Diego to fetch him. Fine. It was fine.

-

The ghosts were somewhat easier to deal with for once, while he slowly froze under the foundations of some cracking bridge. It was winter again, like it was every year. Weirdly, Klaus always felt more alive as everything around him rotten and died. 

Well, usually he did. Now he just felt cold and exhausted and on the brink of death. Ben had convinced him to find clothes. He had a pair of boots two sizes too big and a thick fur coat on over his blue gown. Inside of his shoes, his toes curled and went numb - Klaus hoped they didn’t fall off. Sure, he was rotten inside, but he’d rather not be rotting outside too.

If he went to the hospital, they’d just send him back to rehab (or worse). 

Everything hurt from the inside out. The cold made his vision swim. Around him was the familiar stench of mildew and wet earth, like he’d been born and crafted from mud. Sure, it was probably the sludge that had once been a river, but that didn’t mean he liked it. 

Maybe it was Christmas already? Klaus hoped it was, he hadn’t been very good but hopefully Santa didn’t mind - the bastard had a few decades worth of presents to make up.

“I’ll take a bottle of vodka and a bag of cocaine, if you’re out there fat man.” He muttered, hands shoved up under his armpits. It did little to warm them up - for as long as he could remember his hands had been cold.

Poor circulation, dear, don’t forget your gloves, his mother had told him, but Klaus knew better. He was dead and rotten on the inside, and corpses didn’t get to be warm.

“I can’t believe you’re still thinking about drugs-” Ben hissed, as if he had to be quiet. It was ridiculous, Ben was a ghost, and he still insisted on whispering at times, as if anyone but Klaus could hear him.

“Drowns out the ghosties, Benny boy!” Usually, Klaus would throw his arms out to emphasise his point, but he’s a little focused on making sure his fingers don’t fall off.

Useful things, fingers.

“I’m the only one here!” Ben huffs and looks around pointedly.

“Exactly.” 

“God, you need serious help. The drugs aren’t some magic medicine, Klaus, you’re just an addict.” Ben’s voice was a sneer. It’s funny, they’d had never gotten along in life and they’re only doing a fraction better in death. 

Death, because they’re both dead. Klaus is just a bit alive too. Maybe. Some days it’s hard to tell.

He shoots a glare at Ben. It does very little. Inside him the void aches, it wants to take and take and fill itself up on anything it can get. Ben should understand that better than anyone else but Ben is dead and Ben was always too similar to him and Klaus understands, he’s always been too much-

-mountain out of a molehill the voice inside of him reminds and Klaus snaps again. 

He’s lost count of how many times he’s snapped in his life. Sometimes it feels like all he ever does is break.

“An addict who’s tired of hearing your voice!” He hisses. Ben recoils back and stomps off to the other side of the river where he sits and ignores Klaus for the rest of the night.

Well, Klaus assumes it’s the rest of the night.

He passes out after their fight and can’t remember if it was minutes or hours between the silence and the darkness. There’s a blissfulness to being unconscious, but when he wakes up the void is hungry as ever.

-

That’s the cycle, after all. He fucks up; he does something dangerous, skirts between life and death, has a fun time of it all and then fucks up again. Life, death. Living, dying. 

Klaus is an addictive personality stuck somewhere between worlds. Sometimes he wants to blame the cycle for his problems, but he thinks the addiction is just what he’s like on the inside. Nature versus nurture and all that shit.

Maybe its nature versus nature. Himself against his powers. Life against death. God, he hates the contrariness of it all; it makes him want to vomit. Klaus picks himself up, wraps his coat around himself, and wanders towards a shelter he knows gives out free clothes. 

In his body there is a beat playing out, it sings drugs drugs drugs, it sings attention seeker, it sings addict, it sings deranged with want, it sings complex post traumatic stress disorder, it sings mountains and molehills and suicidal tendencies. 

Through it all there is the ringing of a hand against his ear and the chill of old stones against his back. Klaus whistles a tune as he goes. 

Everything is absolutely fine.

[wordsfromthesol]

Out of Place (6/6)

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary: Meeting Dick, and the rest of the batboys.  You’re confused, since you are nowhere near Bludhaven or Gotham. Some tragedies, some battles, etc. Happy ending because I’m a sap. Warnings: Language, blood and torture and other injuries, light smut but not really. Word Count: 2.7k A/N: First full story is officially complete. I may have gone slightly overboard, but oh well.

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5

“Zatanna! A light!” M’gann gasped as two figures came out of the darkness. Dick was carrying Y/N. She looked so broken. “Dick…I don’t know. I don’t know that I can get her out in that state.”

“M’gann. Trust me. She can handle it.” Dick turned to Zatanna, “She’s got the necklace, right? I’ve seen what that thing can do. I’ve also seen what’s it done. It needs to come off. Without all this happening.”

“Dick, if it comes off…all those wounds you saw. They become unhealed. She will die.”

“But those memories, they were, they were terrible.” Dick shuttered thinking back.

“Those memories are only the tip of iceberg. That’s what came through while the necklace was off. Tim said it had been a few hours. Look at her Dick, do you think she could survive the rest of them? Even the ones that have been hidden and locked away. We will talk with the group, but I think they…and she will agree. It must remain on.”

And with those words M’gann and Zatanna began the spell to throw them back into their own bodies.

Apparently, it had been days, all four of them were in the med bay hooked up to life support machines. Zatanna and M’gann went to find the others. Dick ran immediately to your side.

“I was so worried, Y/N/N.”

“What…what happened? Were you…were you in my head? Or was I dreaming? I hate that feeling after someone has been rooting around in there. Wait…why do I remember that feeling?” You paused and looked up at Dick, tears pooling at your eyes. “Dick, what happened?”

He wasn’t sure if he should tell you at all. But your stubbornness got the best of him. He recalled the memories, though he left out several details on the most painful ones. Not that you needed the details. As soon as the doors to the memories were unlocked, it all came flooding back, even the ones you didn’t want back. Dick explained what Zatanna told him. Finally, he let out a long sigh, “I think I agree with her, but we need a way to make people think it’s gone. I can’t loose you again. To the league, to Eshu, to anyone.”

Jason slowly walked into the room. “You guys need more time? I can totally occupy myself in this corner over here” he winked at you.

“Oh, just get over here Jay.” You smiled and hugged him tight. “Alright, I got my boys. Now, we need a plan. Where’s that mastermind brother of yours…” Both of the boys shot death glares at you. “Only kidding! Man, someone woke up on the wrong side of my mind. In all seriousness, my loves, I need my father and I need Nabu…Dr. Fate…now.”

They walked out and left you in peace, to rest before the oncoming storm.

“My loves…don’t get any ideas Todd.”

“Calm your precious little wings Dickiebird. I wouldn’t dare…to not dream about it” Jason gave a sly wink and raced up the stairs.

It seemed like hardly any time had passed, but you were being gently shaken awake by Tim.

“Look, your dad, and Fate have arrived. Some people don’t think you should be in on this decision. I say, fuck that. It’s your life. I’ll take you to them, if you want.”

No words were said, you slowly slung you legs over the side of the bed and grasped on to Tim’s shoulder. You stumbled as Tim grabbed you firmly around the waist. “I think Dick would kill me if I let you fall. Then Jason would resurrect me…just to kill me himself.”

“Tim, I think that’s the first joke I’ve heard you make.” You chuckled out.

“Oh, believe me…that was not a joke.”

The two of you made your way up the stairs. The voices were coming from the living room. Yet, all those voices immediately ceased when you entered.

“What, you thought you could all sit around and discuss my fate, without me?” Dick quickly rose to help, but you held up your hand. “I think Tim’s got it. He actually wanted me to have a say in my own life.” Tim slowly helped you over to the chair, and then ran to grab a blanket to cover the lovely, but cold hospital gown you donned. “Thanks Timmy,” you mumbled.

“Yeah, well I know what it’s like to not have a say in your own life. I thought something this important warranted your opinions, and you to hear all the options.” Tim took the seat next to Y/N and gently squeezed your knee.

Everyone was still silent. “OKAY. Well, I guess I’ll go first then.” You have to admit, you wanted Nabu and you father to feel guilty for what had happened. You wanted them all to feel guilty for not including you in the discussion about you. So, you went on in great detail about your torture at the hands of Ra’s al Ghul. How, the first thing he tried was to delve into your mind, yet something or someone forced him out. That actually bought you a few precious hours of reprieve, as the Demon needed time to heal his own mind. It didn’t last as he soon turned to more archaic means of torture. You described the different blades you felt pierce your body, the needles, the burning hot metal, all of it. Satisfied with everyone’s horrified faces, you also described what he told you.  

“He claimed I knew of the information, but the more hours I endured, his confidence began to falter. He began to tell me stories, old stories. Maybe to jog my memory. Though this Eshu character was not in them, they were stories of men and women. Boys and girls, that throughout generations could not be killed. The pain, yes, they felt that, they must endure it…so they know what it is to be alive. When the time came, at a ripe old age, the gift was passed to the next in line. Though Ra’s al Ghul could never tell me what this gift was, I see now, he himself did not know. It’s my necklace, isn’t it father.” You spat the word out, cold, but you didn’t wait for an answer. You already knew. “Though what I can’t figure out, is why it was given to you. You clearly never wore it or your mind would either be lost on the pathways to the underworld or Eshu would have been released when you inevitably lost this impossible challenge he poises. Though, Nabu, I suppose that’s where you come in.”

Everyone, still in shock from your recounts of previous events, turned towards Fate. “Yes. I played my hand. The amulet had gone far too long without being worn. The wearer is bestowed with the gift of life, so they can fight Eshu at every turn. The wearer must endure more trials than most, as the amulet attracts chaos, misfortune, trickery, and death. Your father’s great-grandmother sacrificed herself to an eternity of wandering so no other would have to bear the amulet. I came to your father, at your young age, and required him to bestow the gift to you. That way Eshu can be held at bay.”

Your father looked sheepishly away, but soon began to speak. “I was too old, Y/N. To take on the necklace. I would have perished almost immediately. The necklace takes hold better on a new mind, one that can be molded to fit its power. Once the necklace is passed, the new recipient spends weeks within the previous holder’s mind. They lead them safely to the underworld. This journey cements the powers of the necklace with your own mind. Though you do not remember, you spent months in darkness. Traveling through the pathways searching for…for my great-grandmother. Once you led her to salvation, you came back to the mortal world. I had Nabu alter your memory. It was far too dangerous a power for such a young mind to hold. I then learned of the Demon searching for the power, based upon his silly fairytales. So, I once again had Nabu scrub your memory of the trials you faced. This was the only way to keep you safe.”

“Well, I’m not safe anymore am I? Ra’s al Ghul will never stop hunting me. Hunting this.” You looked at Tim, “I don’t think I have anything else to say.” He gently helped you up, he could feel you falter behind your own weight. The conversation had surely taken its toll on you. One step and you nearly collapsed. Before Tim could swat his brother away, Dick had swooped you up and began to carry you back to the med bay. “No…Dick” your words came out soft and breathy. The next took all you had left, “I can’t go back down there. Please.” Dick gazed into your eyes and turned to go up the stairs instead of down. You smiled up at him and buried your head into his chest.

You woke in a bed that was not yours, and definitely not in the med bay. You glanced down at the arm that was securely around your stomach. Craning your neck, the best you could, you saw Dick. You tried to squirm out, but simply did not have enough energy.

“Stop moving, I am trying to sleep.”

“Dickkk…I have to pee.”

“Ugh, fine.” He released you, but before you could get out of the bed, you found yourself once again in his arms.

“I can walk, it’s like 10 feet away”

“Well, you couldn’t last night.” You huffed at him but couldn’t disagree. You honestly didn’t know if you could walk. He didn’t even let you try, as he sat you down right on top of the toilet.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

“Yep, because if I leave you are going to try and walk again.” Once again, you couldn’t disagree.

He sat you back down on the bed and crawled in beside you. You turned to face him.

“Dick”

“Hmmm”

“We need to talk”

“Y/N, I wasn’t trying to not include you. We were gathering the facts first while you rested. I have been completely open with you about this, so I definitely don’t deserve the third degree.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You know?” His eyes finally opened to look at you.

“Well yeah, and I know if you even tried to do that, Jay would’ve slapped you into tomorrow. He’s my best friend.” Well that was the wrong comment. Dick scowled and shot upright.

“Right, fine. Let me just go get him then.”

“Dick,” you said softly as you grabbed his wrist, “this was never just a friendship. Don’t you know that?” Laying back down, he turned to face you.

“What if it all goes wrong? You know how much danger I’m in regularly. You don’t deserve that.” You couldn’t help yourself, you began laughing. You clutched your side, as you felt one of the wounds reopen.

“You…you heard that conversation earlier right? I literally attract chaos, misfortune, trickery, and death. Isn’t it only fitting that the love of my life, and his entire family, are vigilantes? If anything, I put you more in danger. You deserve the world, which apparently hinges on me and this stupid necklace.” He has to believe I died, at least for the moment. The reaction has to be authentic, or the plan. It won’t work. Dick gently squeezed you close and brushed a kiss your lips. You deepened it, ignoring the pain, knowing that he may hate you forever after this.

“Hey hey, I’m all for this. But you’ve already pulled some stitches sweetheart.” He looked down at your blood-soaked gown.

“I’m so sorry Dick” You began to cry, not because of the blood…you knew he didn’t care. You were apologizing for what’s to come.

“No need to apologize Y/N/N. Lay down, let me fix you up.”

Morning came, and you were gone. Dick frantically ran down the hall to Jason’s room.

“Jay, she’s gone.” Jay just solemnly looked up.

“Yeah, she came by this morning. Nabu and her dad took her.”

Dick looked defeated. Your love had just been made clear, and now, now you were gone. Little did he know, you and Tim hatched a plan before convening with the group last night. In fact, in all the commotion, no one realized Tim was also missing.

“We are going after her, right Jay? She’s your best friend.”

“Yeah, I know. What are we going to do Dick?”

“I don’t know, but I put a tracker on that stupid necklace last night. Suit up, we are going to get our girl.” With that, Jason didn’t question. Dick and Jason met downstairs and headed out.

Just as you planned, the boys found you just in time. I mean really Dick, a tracker, on the necklace. You thought I wouldn’t see that coming? And now, sulking in the shadows. I mean, Jay’s “mask” is a bright red helmet. You chuckled to yourself as you saw Ra’s al Ghul step out from the shadows.

The boys looked frantically at each other. There was no way Nabu and her dad would give her up to the Demon. Where the hell were they?

*Back at Wayne Manor*

Nabu and Y/N’s dad walked into the living room, expecting to meet Y/N. Instead, they were met with Damian.

“Wow, you really though Y/L/N would come with you two crazies that easily. Damn. How easy is it to trick adults?”

“Child, where is the keeper of the amulet of Eshu?”

“So sorry Fate, didn’t mean to get you all riled up. She left, with Todd and Grayson. About hmm, 8 hours ago.” Damian laughed and he sauntered into the kitchen.

*Back to Ra’s al Ghul

“Well Demon, good to see you again. I found what you are looking for! Isn’t that just great. See that gift, well it’s this necklace here. If you take it off, I die though. So your choice”

“What a foolish child, you really think that would matter to me? What kind of trick are you playing?”

“Honestly, bud, listen. I’m tired. I’ve died countless times, just to not actually be dead. I’m ready to end this miserable thing called life.”

“Well, that. I can help with.” Ra’s al Ghul walked over and yanked the necklace off of you and fastened it around himself. “Just for good measure,” he dug his knife deep into your stomach.

“NO!” Both of the boys screamed from their hiding place. Dick ran towards you, as Jason headed straight for Ra’s al Ghul.

“Foolish child. Even if you could best me, I have the necklace now. I cannot be killed.”

“Yeah, well let’s test that theory!” Jason lunged at him.

“Dick…I’m so sorry.” You managed as blood poured from your mouth. “Remember I love you. Tell Jay…” and your vision went black again.

Dick pushed up and ran to help his brother, when Tim jumped from the rafters.

“This is a fight we cannot win. We need to regroup. Grab her!” He pointed towards me and ushered his brothers to retreat.

Dick rested your head in his lap, as Jason took the front seat. Tim took over the driver’s seat and began to explain that you weren’t dead. This was all part of the plan. They couldn’t believe you, you no longer had the amulet. Even if the wound did not kill you, your mind would be lost. Tim drove the car around aimlessly, hoping that you would stir. He too, was starting to question if everything went to plan. Suddenly Dick gasped in the backseat.

“She moved, I swear. She fucking moved.” Tim immediately pulled over, and both him and Jason stared at you in the backseat. You rolled over until you were flat on your back again.

“Alright, this is not comfortable. Where did you guys take me?” You began to mumble.

Dick bent down and kissed you hard and deep, despite the dried blood that caked your face.

[marvelmadam08]

Girls Night In

Part of 100 Days of Marvel

Prompt 23: Chocolate and alcohol are a girl’s best friends, fuck diamonds.

Summary: What happens when the ladies of The Avengers get together and kick the boys out of the common room for the night? (Featuring Jennifer Fury from Uncle Fury)

Warnings: swearing, mature content (i.e. grown women conversation), mentions of sex, death, anger and grief.

A/N: I do not recognize the events of Endgame. 

~~~~~~

“Out!” Everyone in the room commanded

“But-” Bucky starts to protest

“You can’t just-” Scott argued

“Begone!” Hope cut him off

“This is my building!” Tony argues, Pepper cleared her throat “Our building, but you can’t just kick us all out.”

The guys started talking over each other, agreeing with Tony.

“Yeah, we can. The first rule of girls’ night is: no guys allowed.” Natasha threw an arm around your shoulder “Right (Y/N)?”

“Right.” you smirked

The elevator dings, drawing everyone’s attention. Gamora, Nebula, and Shuri strut into the room, Nebula thanking Shuri for her repairs and the upgrades. Behind them a slim black cat zoomed through the room before its mystifying green eyes land on you. It hopped in your lap, purring.

“The cat gets an invite?” Tony asked, offended 

“Relax Metal Mouth, Sir is my emotional support cat.” you cooed and scooped the cat into your arms “Aren’t you, silly kitty.”

“But he’s a boy cat.”

Jennifer fell back onto the couch with a large bowl of pretzel sticks in one hand, and a margarita secured in her other.

"Face it boys, you aren't gonna win this fight." She smiled "And don't you have like ninety-nine more floors to run around on?"

"But this floor has everything on it." Scott pouts, eyeing the pool table in front of the fully stocked bar. Thor's drinking buddy, and newly appointed Queen of Asgard, Brunnhilde, was already on her sixth drink, and showing no signs of slowing down.

"Which is exactly why, we're taking over for the night." Carol said from Tony's designated armchair

Tony opened his mouth to speak again when he was cut off by the super solider formerly known as Nomad.

"Guys, I say we let the ladies have the space for the night. Like Jen said we can use a different floor." The look he gave to his best friend didn't go unnoticed "Besides I think I'm gonna turn in a bit early tonight."

The dark haired soldier locked eyes with Steve for a brief moment on his way to the elevator. You looked to Natasha, wiggling your eyebrows.

"Fine, I'll let you ladies have your fun tonight." Tony gave in "Besides it's no fun if we can't poke fun at Steve. Let's go gents, there's a bar on twenty-fifth with my name on it."

Accepting defeat, the guys filed into the elevator, Bucky volunteering to take the stairs.

Shuri, Mantis, and Jennifer took over the TV, surprisingly agreeing on RuPaul’s Drag Race. Brunnhilde (a.k.a Valkyrie), Carol, Gamora and Nebula had all started a drinking game, and honestly you didn’t think the bar would have anything left after they got through with it. Nat, Hope, and Pepper drifted over to the pool table, Okoyke standing not too far away, mainly for Shuri’s protection, but still involving herself in light conversation. You caught Wanda up on everything that happened in the last five years, Sir curled up on your lap.

“So do you think Steve will finally come clean to Bucky tonight?” You asked her

“Fifty bucks says he’ll chicken out- again.” Natasha called out from across the room “It’s Steve, even with the beard and that ‘Your daughter calls me Daddy’ attitude, he’s still the king of waiting too long.”

“But he was gonna tell him before the snap.” Wanda pointed out “Fifty says he will.”

“Please, if anything Barnes will make the first move.” Pepper chuckled “Hundred says he does.”

“Do I hear a betting poll happening?” Jennifer turned her attention away from the TV “If so I’m in. A hundred on Barnes making the first move. It’s always the quiet ones you have to keep any eye out for.”

“She makes a good point.” Wanda agreed “It’s the quiet ones that always surprise you.”

“Which is exactly why my next boyfriend will be a mime.” Jennifer declared

“A mime?” several voices asked

“Yup, bright side he won’t mansplain everything. Downside is he won’t be able to say those four little words I long to hear.”

“Aw, is it will ‘you marry me’?” Mantis chewed on a pretzel stick

“No, it’s ‘Can I cum, Mistress’?”

Pepper nearly spit out her drink laughing, Wanda was red in the face but still smiling behind her own drink.

Sir purred approvingly.

The later it got, and the more everyone drank, the funnier and raunchier the conversations got. Okoyke eventually escorted Shuri out and up to her own room, even though Shuri assured her that there were worse things on the internet. Everyone gathered back towards the couch, having one conversation with five sidebars.

“Is it just pineapple that makes it taste good or is it fruit in general?” Hope asked the others

“It’s pineapple, papayas, citrus fruits, surprisingly bananas.” You listed the foods, Sir mewled “Yeah, you like bananas, don’t you Sir.”

“Why did you name him Sir?” Wanda reached over to pet him and he flinched away

“I dunno, I just called him that one day and it stuck.”

“Peppermint also helps.” Hope added to the previous topic “Scott swears by it.”

“Really?” Pepper raised an eyebrow

“I’m confused, why would you want it to taste better?” Nebula’s nose scrunched

“For the same reason you wait for the yaro root to ripen.” Gamora explained “But it’s the juice you get from it instead.”

“I see. Is that why you told Quill to drink the yaro root shake?”

“I love yaro root.” Carol drizzled chocolate sauce onto a marshmallow before shoving it in her mouth “And chocolate!”

She received several cheers in agreement.

“I don’t care what anyone says, chocolate and alcohol are a girl’s best friend, fuck diamonds.” Jennifer drank the last of her fourth margarita “Nat, is there more?”

“We’re not gonna have a repeat of Halloween are we?” Nat brushed Jennifer’s hair back

“No, I’m still co...here...clog.... I can still talk.”

“Water it is.” Nat stood to go grab a few water bottles

“So, Pepper, I heard that Tony is finally retiring.” Wanda spoke up

“Yeah, well sort of, he’s still gonna be around the tower. Possibly help rebuild the compound, but as for fighting.” she shook her head “I know he’s gonna miss it though, especially the post-battle sex.”

“The what?” Mantis gasped softly

“Post-battle sex, it’s basically when you’re adrenaline is still high, or you get closer to death than normal.” Hope explained “You come home and celebrate that you aren’t permanently, severely injured or dead.”

“Oh, and is this a normal human custom?”

“No, I think we’re the only nut jobs that get close to dying on a regular basis.” Natasha forced Jennifer to drink her water

“I remember, I had some amazing post-fight sex with Loki.” You admitted, you half notice when Sir’s ears twitch.

“You and Loki?” Brunnhilde nearly gagged “What the hell would possess you to do that?”

“Emotions run high, thoughts get thrown out the window. And you jump in bed with the closest demigod.” you shrug “I just can’t believe he’s been gone for five years.”

Wanda wrapped a reassuring arm around your shoulders.

“You haven’t been with anybody in five years?” Gamora asked

“I didn’t say that. Don’t get me wrong, Loki was great in bed, but an actual relationship was never the plan. He was too...”

“Sneaky? Underhanded? Murderous?” Pepper listed 

“And emotionally constipated, besides I actually met someone a few months ago.” you state proudly, Sir was now on his hind legs and pressing his paws to your face. “Stop that.”

 You moved Sir to the floor, and he did not like that. He clawed at your legs, begging for your attention. “Ow, what has gotten into you?”

“You might to get him spayed.” Carol suggested, Sir hissed before he ran behind the couch “And you never told us that you met someone.”

“I didn’t take it seriously at first, he doesn’t even know I’m and Avenger, but now that everything is back to normal I might go for it.” 

A green light emits from behind you. Mantis screams, several people scream actually. Natasha swore in Russian, and backed away from you. The vengeful voice that followed sent a chill down your spine.

“Over my dead body.” Loki seethed

“Loki? What the hell?” you jumped up from your seat “You’re alive?”

“You know what, I’ve fucking had it with cats!” Jennifer cried “It’s always something with them. Throwing up tesseracts, being aliens, changing into once dead demigods. I’m fucking over it.”

“But you died on the ship.” Brunnhilde stated

“Clearly I didn’t.” Loki looked to you “How could you say that stuff about me? What do you mean I’m not meant for a relationship?”

“You pretend to be dead for five years, and I’m the one in the wrong for calling you sneaky?” you jabbed an accusing finger at him “I can’t believe you were sitting here, listening to our private conversations and letting me go on about-”

“How fantastic I am in bed?” he smirked “I’m flattered, and no mortal will be able to replace me.”

“You jealous prick, I’m gonna kill you myself.”

“You’ve got help.” Natasha stood to her feet

The others followed and marched towards the retreating trickster.

“I’m sure we can come to some type of agreement here, ladies.”

“Get him.”