#That probably is a lot of trauma in nightmares and such that he wakes up crying about and the kids need comfort from too

[softtdaisy]

in the meantime / Aaron Hotchner

summary. when hotch gets hurt, you're called as his emergency contact. thing is, nobody knows you're not together anymore.

words count. 2 336

what to expect. a little angst I guess but fluff too, Jack is mentioned but he's a teen

a/n. I first imagined this very funny and light and I ended up adding more angst??? but it's still sweet and cute and hotch is a lover boy

F1 masterlist | general masterlist| request

When you got called at school, at first, you didn’t think it could be that moment you’ve been scared of for months finally happening.

Being a kindergarten teacher, it was easy to leave your class and ask for a colleague to take care of your children. They were all occupied with creating a new poster with their names and wouldn't even notice your absence. Well, you imagine they wouldn’t because you weren’t supposed to leave for too long.

“Do you know who’s asking for me?” you asked the principal’s assistant who came for you. He was one of your friends here, so you knew how to analyze his gesture. And from how fast he was walking right now, you could tell this was more serious than you first thought.

“Well, she’s a brunette, dressed in black.” He stopped in the middle of the hallway to think for a second. Trying hard to remember what her name could be. Thing was, you didn’t know that many brunettes, dressed in black that could authorize herself to come here. “I think her name is Emily or something like that.”

You stopped in the middle of the hallway, freezing. 

You appreciated Emily. You would even call her a friend, even if you only knew her through Hotch. But you barely talked outside of the moment you spent together. 

Getting a call from her would have been weird. Having her come to your school wasn’t normal at all.

Yet, here she was. Waiting in the principal’s office. Indeed, she was wearing an all-black outfit but mostly wearing a concerned expression on her face.

When you opened the door, she rushed to you, interrupting her conversation. Her hand was soon on your shoulder and her eyes were locked on yours. You found some comfort in it. The problem was, you had no idea why you needed it.

“What are you doing here, Emily?” you asked, whispering like it was some secret the rest of your colleagues or your superior didn’t need to know. Which was true, somehow. “Is everything alright?” 

But you knew it wasn’t. And the three words that followed were the proof. “It’s Hotch.”

Your heart dropped, and the whole world went silent. 

You’ve spent months afraid of hearing these words one day. Checking your phone multiple times a day, waiting for his text to make sure he was doing fine. There were moments when you would have the same nightmares of coming home to an empty house, sometimes with more graphic images you wished you could forget.

When Emily noticed you seemed to disconnect from reality, she put her other hand on your shoulder. “He’s ok,” she added. 

“I don’t know how, but the unsub managed to stab him in the stomach. He lost a lot of blood and went to surgery, but he should be fine. Spencer told me he was waking up when he arrived here, you heard Emily explain, but her voice seemed like a distant melody.

You tried to focus on the good news, that Hotch was fine. As fine as he can be after an attack that probably woke up some trauma, but fine. Not dead. Not in danger. Fine. 

You took a breath and nodded to accept the information you just got. And showing Emily that you listened, that you understood what she said. 

It wasn’t until you managed to keep your stress as low as possible that the question popped up in your head. “You came all the way here to tell me?”

Emily looked at you with confusion. 

“Well, you’re his girlfriend and his emergency contact. And you weren’t answering your phone. I thought it would be better to bring you to the hospital myself than let you learn about that later by yourself.”

That was the moment you understood why Emily chose to drive all the way here.

Hotch didn’t tell anyone you weren’t together anymore.

Dating Hotch was easy, more than people thought it was.

He was a great listener. He loved to hear you speak about everything in your life just as much as he loved paying attention to small details. Offering your favorite flowers, having your favorite artist in his car, and sending a text about important events at your job even when he was miles and miles away. 

You could tell Hotch was working on the experience he got from his past relationship and all that he still had to learn to be a good partner for you. And he was doing a wonderful job on it.

This relationship did a lot of good for him too. With Jack being a teen and less with his dad, he finally felt like he had a new purpose to come back home. Hotch learned to love opening his door again. This time not being met by the silence. But by you, with some kind of reality TV on, reading a book on a sofa he almost forgot about before seeing you on it—not to mention the memories the both of you created on it. You made him feel loved. At his place but at every place in his life too.

For a year, you two have been the happiest and did everything to make this relationship work. Even the team noticed the change in Hotch’s personality. And after multiple drinks together, you started to call them friends too. You both loved the routine you created together. 

But even with the brightest sun shining on your relationship, the truth was the stress was still there. His job was anxious, to you, but to him too. Having someone to care about in his life once again made Hotch concerned about losing you. He tended to be more protective after rough cases, sometimes leaning to some controlling behavior he hated as much as you did.

The disputes became more and more recurrent. And after another fight, you both decided that maybe you needed a moment away from each other to wonder if this was really worth it. You wanted Aaron Hotchner to be the love of your life; you really did. Just as he wanted to. But was it really the life you both wanted?

It was a hard month away from him; you won’t lie.

And knowing you almost lost him was even hard.

“Let’s go,” you finally replied. And the ride to the hospital was surprisingly calm.

The few times you saw Emily, you both kept chatting for hours to the point Hotch even laughed one day about fearing she might steal you from him. But this time, there were no words. Not only because of the stress, but also because you realized you were lying to your friend because of Hotch. You haven’t seen him in a month, having no idea about what his life might have been these past thirty days. And she was great at worming information out of you. So you would rather not say a thing instead of spilling a secret.

The whole drive to the hospital felt like a fever dream. And nothing could have prepared you for the overwhelming feeling you got when you opened the door. A mix of relief and stress.

Hotch was there, indeed. Underneath a white sheet that made his skin look even paler, with dark circles bigger than the last time you saw him and a tired expression that made you wish you could do anything to let him relax and rest for at least a month.

He was facing the window and only turned his head when he heard you coming in. And the confusion replaced the tiredness on his face. Yet, you still noticed the short smile that drew on his lips when he saw you. “What are you doing here?”

His tone was sweet. Sweeter than usual. No matter how down he was, Hotch took everything in him to make you feel welcome. He didn’t want you to question your presence here or to think he was questioning it. He was glad to see your face after the awful day he had. Yet, he was still wondering why you came. After a month apart, he thought you put him aside. 

Deep down, Hotch had the feeling he was easy to forget. But you weren’t. You never felt his head or his heart.

You didn’t answer his question. You couldn’t even talk. You were just focused on the silhouette of the man that shared your life these past months, lying on this hospital bed, looking so fragile.

You walked to him, as close as you could. So close that your knees bumped in the bed without you realizing it. You couldn’t resist the need to brush his hair, putting away some strands that were on his forehead. His confused and drained eyes follow each one of your moves.

“Honey?” he asked again, reaching for your hand. 

When you were together, not a day went by—except for those when he was away—where you wouldn’t hold hands. In the morning, when he was getting up, you tried to keep him with you a little longer. During breakfast, while he was drinking his coffee. When he said goodbye, kissing you before putting a kiss on your entangled hands. Or when you went to sleep, cuddling, with your hands on your stomach—or his, when he needed it after a rough day.

“You didn’t tell them we broke up,” you said in a low voice. It was the first time you said it out loud but also realized what it meant. And having Hotch in front of you, calling you by the nickname that followed you your whole relationship and caressing your hand with his thumb softly, helped see the truth behind that. “Emily came and picked me up because I’m your emergency contact, and I wasn’t answering my phone, and as your girlfriend, she assumed I needed to know. Because you didn’t tell anyone we weren’t together anymore.”

You finally landed your eyes on his, losing yourself in his baffled puppy look. “You’re right, I didn’t.” Hotch said. It was the first time since you came in that you noticed his voice was a little raspy. “And I’m glad it led you here.” 

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, not that you doubted he meant it. Over a year, you’ve learned to recognize Hotch’s expression. Especially the way his face was always softer when he was with you. Or how his very stoic and linear mouth always curled up in a smile around you.

Still, you had one question on your tongue. “Why?”

“Why am I glad?” he replied with a giggle. One that was sadly followed by a grimace. You watched as Hotch brought his other hand to his stomach to ease the pain. The doctor told him that even with the medicine, it would take him multiple days to get better. And until the stitches were gone, he wasn’t allowed to go back on the field.

But suddenly, the idea of being stuck at his office or at home wasn’t as awful as it was when he first thought about it. 

You sighed, focusing on his face rather than the wound he was clearly keeping hidden from you. “Why haven’t you told them?” 

Hotch took a second to look at you. The answer was obvious to him, to the point that there wasn’t a question to begin with. Over this past month, there was not a moment where he thought he had to make things clearer about your situation. Sure, he was a very private man, yet he never lied about you. He just kept things as they were. “Because I didn’t want it to be over.”

Hotch sat up against the headboard and motioned to you to sit on the bed with him. He moved his legs to give you space. And the heat you felt when he held your hand tighter to help you reminded you of the obvious attraction you had for him. Even after he had a terrible day. 

“Listen,” he started again with a tone that imposed on listening to him. That's not to say you weren't paying attention in the first place. “I know we made this decision together, and I respect it. And this month apart gave me the time to think about us.”

The first night coming home to an empty and silent house wasn’t easy for Hotch. He felt like he had failed again at keeping someone in his life. He hated that he lied to Jack, saying you had family obligations to explain your absence. He didn’t want his son to be disappointed about his dad's inability to maintain a great relationship.

And one day, Jack told him about a girl at school he had a crush on and everything he did to prove to her it was worth trying rather than giving up.

“I want to make things right with you.” Hotch pursued, bringing your hands to his chest. “Maybe I need to work on my perception of danger when it comes to you. And if so, I will do it. Because I want you.”

You always found it fascinating how his eyes often spoke louder than his words. And the look he was giving you right now was the best argument he could have found to prove you he meant it. Hotch loved you. And so did you. 

When a smile started to grow on your lips, also a silent answer to his silent confession, you noticed his lips curved too. Hotch let go of your hand to bring his own to your neck and move your face closer to him. But you stopped right before your lips touched.

“Maybe you should just consider not getting hurt the next time we argue.” You whispered, which made him laugh.

“Right, I’ll think about that.” He replied before finally guiding you to his lips.

Hotch never stopped believing he would get you back. So maybe he was right about not telling anyone about the breakup. 

[babyimyurs]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞, 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

~

Hwang in-ho ( the frontman ) x reader.

A/N: this will be a multi series. haven’t proof read

Warnings: nothing. I’m sure if you watched squid game you’ll be fine with this.

opening: you have been working alongside gi-hun for years after he came out of the games, after hearing his story it connected a few dots from your older brothers disappearance. After arriving at the games you found out that both of yours and gi-hun’s tracker implants have gone missing, you came face to face with your biggest nightmare… playing the game.

-

After playing red light, green light you hoped that you didn’t have to wake up the next day, you had no clue that a simple children’s game could have that amount of blood and death in it. After agreeing that you would join gi-hun’s plan, he told you all about the rule that ‘when your eliminated, your gone for good’ you didn’t really believe him but now you definitely do.

a part of you also wondered how long your brother survived.. a day? two? three? you wish you could of just slapped him silly and got him a job in your coffee shop. But- here you was awakening by the sound of classical music playing out of a speaker and metal squeaking as all the players started to move around in their bed.

you woke feeling not tired at all, not even doing the usual ‘rubbing your eyes and yawning’. Probably due to your lack of sleep or the amount of trauma you got from the day previous.

“y/n.. hey.. y/n” you heard a voice, a familiar one.. a frantic gi-hun was standing next to your bed, tapping your arm. “gi-hun, you okay?” you said which gi-hun replied with a shrug as he looked around at the players. “your telling me that everytime we wake up we’re going to hear that music?” you huffed, looking up at the speakers. “trust me, that should be the least of your worry.. I still can’t figure out how they managed to get our tracking chips” gi-hun said, now looking at you with a face of absolute confusion.

“players please line up in two cues to get breakfast” a woman’s voice from a speaker said in her usual happy tone. “come on, maybe a bite to eat will make us think” gi-hun proposed hitting the metal post of your bed, waiting for you to get up and join a line.

upon waiting in the cue, you and gi-hun got a load of looks and whispers.. few that said “look there’s the mad man” , “do you think they are a couple?” , “a nearly died because of that punk shouting”. you both ignored them and soon enough you received a bread roll and a carton of milk.

“hey y/n.. take my milk, you know my stomach doesn’t take it well” gi hun said, handing over his carton as you both took a seat on some steps next to jungbae and dae ho. you got to know the guys after red light, green light, gi-hun introduced jungbae to you saying that they were friends outside the game and well dae ho.. introduced himself to group after hearing over the discussion on what the next game could be which will now happen after the big vote that went on. That’s right. The vote. most of the players after red light, green light started begging to let them go and it ended with a massive vote to either stay or go and of course majority said stay.

“excuse me..” a voice approached the group, your wasn’t very familiar with it but after looking up it was the guy that came over to gi-hun after the vote, young-ill his name was.

“you all wouldn’t mind if I joined this group? a lot of players are talking about the next game being a team game. most of the groups formed already are teams of five and there are only four of y-“ young-ill said before getting dramatically cut off by dae ho “yes! you look very strong and have good thinking! reminds me of a pal i had when i was in the marines!” he said, putting his arm around his shoulder and patting his head.

you laughed, finding the situation of how dae ho was younger than young-ill and still acting like the oldest funny. “of course, take a seat” gi-hun said, his tone not one hundred percent certain on this guy as he gave you a look of ‘keep a eye on him’.

“I say why not! what about you y/n can 001 join us?” Jungbae asked to which you just shrugged and looked over at the group “I don’t mind..” you said which got a kind smile off young-ill.

“Well welcome welcome double one!” dae ho said, looking over at young-ill as he took a bite out of his bread roll. “ah.. Thank you” young-ill replied, taking a look at everyone but lingering on you suspiciously long. “I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation before.. wanna take my milk too? I’m in the same situation as 456” young-hill said, looking over at you.. passing his carton of milk over to you.

You looked at him for a moment before shaking your head with a smile “thank you, but I think dae ho wants it more than me” you replied, pointing over to dae ho who was staring at the milk carton like he was an lion eyeing up its prey. Young- ill understood and nodded passing it over to dae ho instead.. his smile dropping almost like he was planning to give you the milk from the start.

“All players please make your way to the game hall.. the next game will be starting shortly” an announcement called out from the speaker which gave you a fright, spilling the milk that you was drinking on yourself. “fuck!” You groaned out of annoyance, taking your zip up jumper off and throwing it besides you as you and your team stood up.

you started to walk to the game hall before young-ill couldn’t help himself but approach you “you’ve got some- may I?” He said, pointing to your chin which had a white stripe of milk running down it. how embarrassing. Before you could answer young-ill had already brought his jumpers wrist and wipe it off for you.

“there you go..” he said, looking at you with a kind smile. “thank you, I didn’t realise- that could of been embarrassing” you said getting a little too flustered in the moment, you couldn’t lie to yourself he was attractive. “ah.. it was nothing, don’t thank me.. okay?” he said, looking up at your eyes before glancing down to your lips in a quick motion. you nodded, noticing the look and shaking the intimate motion off completely by hitting his shoulder and walking ahead “we’re going to be late! come on!”.

young-ill watched you walk off out of the door, now being left in the holding room with a bunch of guards. “whatever you do, keep that one safe..” he said, which in return got a bunch of nods and with that he walked out the door too.

Part two

// ahhh! okay this was my first ever fic on here and why not make it a inho x reader because that man is the death of me at the moment. hopefully part two won’t take long to come out since I do have coursework to do and all but also let me know if you guys have any squidgame one shot ideas you’d want to request me to write :)

[estrellami-1]

A Special Feeling

Ao3 Link

Robin has never been happier, she thinks.

She has a platonic soulmate, his… well, whatever-the-hell Eddie is to him, and a girlfriend.

And really, Chrissy is amazing. Obviously, it sucks that she went through what she did, but then again it sucks that any of them went through what they did. Robin thinks they probably all need a butt-ton of therapy.

Especially, though, her dingus. Her Steve. She knows he hasn’t been sleeping as well, knows he’s thinner than he was even when he was on the swim team.

He’s really needed a whatever-the-hell Eddie is to him. Robin’s got Chrissy, which is amazing, and the nightmares… well, they don’t go away, but they’re a lot easier to ignore when you’ve got your sweet, beautiful girlfriend in bed next to you, sleepily stroking your hair and telling the bad thoughts to leave you alone.

God, Robin loves Chrissy.

But Steve. He really needs whatever-the-hell Eddie is to him. He needs someone he can lean on, who can hold him up, who won’t crumble at the first sight of weakness from him.

And somehow, against all odds, the self-proclaimed runner is that man.

The four of them are on their way home from Indianapolis after Robin’s license celebration, in which Robin drove everyone in her new-to-her car to Indianapolis to get shitfaced.

Except no one really got shitfaced. Because of the aforementioned trauma.

Still, the drinks must’ve done something, because as Robin checks the rearview mirror, she notices Steve is slumped over onto Eddie.

Eddie notices, he has to, even if he’s content with the soft music and the view out the window. Surely he knows Steve is using his shoulder as a pillow.

“Eddie,” she calls softly, not willing risk waking Steve. Chrissy turns to look at him and coos at the sight. “How long’s he been asleep?”

Eddie smiles back. It’s a slow, small thing, but real. Content. “‘Bout half an hour now,” he murmurs. “Maybe a little less.”

Just then the car hits a patch of uneven road. Robin grips the wheel and glances in the rearview mirror again. The movement had woken Steve, who was sitting up and rubbing his eye, murmuring something to Eddie.

Eddie shakes his head, murmurs something back. Gestures to Steve, then to himself.

Steve blushes, nods, says something too low for her to catch, and lays his head back on Eddie’s shoulder.

This time, Eddie wraps an arm around Steve’s shoulders, murmuring something down to him. Steve nods, gets comfortable, and falls asleep again.

Eddie watches Steve for long enough that Robin can tell how he feels.

Robin grabs for Chrissy’s hand, smiles at her. “Are your parents expecting you back tonight?”

Chrissy grins, shakes her head.

“You know of a good place to watch the sunrise?”

Chrissy hums, searches her memory. “There’s one place,” she admits. “Y’know that road to the Quarry, how it branches off to the left?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Once we’re there I’ll guide you.”

She glances in the mirror again. “Hopefully Steve stays asleep. Gravel isn’t exactly the comfiest ride.”

Chrissy smiles at her, strokes her thumb over Robin’s knuckles. “We‘ll take it slow. Nowhere we’ve gotta be ‘til morning.” She leans her head back against the headrest, gazes at Robin in a way she’s not quite sure she deserves. “Maybe Eddie’ll fall asleep too, give them both some much-needed rest.”

“I’m hoping so,” Robin agrees. “You gonna fall asleep?”

“Nah,” Chrissy says, still smiling at Robin. “I’ll stay up with you.”

Robin grins back, and that’s all they say until Chrissy directs Robin to the lookout.

When she parks it’s still a few hours to sunrise. She glances in the rearview once more, then squeezes Chrissy’s hand and jerks her head back.

Chrissy turns to look. Eddie had fallen asleep during the drive, laying his head on Steve’s. They both look as peaceful as they’ve ever been before, and the girls agree with a glance to let them sleep.

Robin leaves the car idling. She doesn’t like wasting gas, but it’s a small price to pay for her boys to be able to sleep.

Eddie’s the first to wake. He shifts around, lifts his head with a grimace that smoothes out when he looks down at Steve, still asleep on his shoulder.

Eddie looks around. Robin looks away before their eyes can meet, and when Robin looks back, Eddie’s pressing a kiss to the top of Steve’s head.

He leaves his lips there, tilting just enough to be able to speak without getting a mouthful of hair.

Steve wakes slower than Eddie did, and he stays silent, but he’s smiling as he looks out the window at the sunrise, head still on Eddie’s shoulder.

Robin smiles, watching the sunrise, reaching to grab Chrissy’s hand again.

He took his sweet time, but Robin knows her dingus has found the person for him, who will love him through anything, who makes him feel safe.

It’s a special feeling indeed. Robin’s known it for a while now. And she’s so glad he’s finally found it, too.

[untangling-my-headphones]

A lot of people aren't vibing with Charles and Crystal's romance and honestly i think it's because it's not necessarily supposed to be a full-fledged, endgame romance.

I think it's written to be a fling.

Charles is a flirt; one of the first things he thinks about when Edwin tells him ghosts can't feel is that he would miss kissing, he says himself it's nice to be seen by someone his own age, he calls Crystal fit, etc. Assumably between cases he has a very small social circle of literally just Edwin so it makes sense that this girl who he gets on with and finds attractive immediately becomes a bit of a crush for him.

Then Crystal picks up on his flirting almost immediately, again they get on, etc. She says if he wasn't dead and she wasn't dealing with the aftermath of her toxic relationship with David he would be a good addition to her body count, i.e. just a fling. She doesn't say they'd date or she could fall for him just that they'd probably hook up.

Their first kiss happens when they're both dealing with some heavy stuff, Charles is angry, continuing to push down his trauma with his father and his past, Crystal is annoyed about not being any closer to getting her memories back whilst trying to deal with the trauma her last relationship caused her. They find comfort in each other in that moment. Crystal says she wants something real and the care they have for each other is real, there's no manipulation, no secrets. It's honest and it's innocent.

The song that plays in that scene is called Young Blood (White Sea Remix) by The Naked and Famous and has lyrics such as 'we're only young and naive still' and 'can't help myself but count the flaws, claw my way out of these walls, one temporary escape' and 'we lie beneath the stars at night, our hands gripping each other tight, you keep my secrets hope to die' - It does align with the idea that they're what each other wants in the moment, a distraction, to be able to pretend everything is normal and ok (keep each others secrets)

Crystal in the next episode, the next morning after their kiss, literally calls Charles a 'cute distraction' and says they should be friends. This time both of their issues and trauma are the reason for them not continuing the relationship. Blatantly, Crystal isn't ready for another relationship so soon after David, she wakes up with a nightmare about him and Charles. They bring up Charles fighting the Night Nurse and Charles says that he thought they were on the same page about it and 'at least that's how it seemed last night' which again leans into the fact they were both looking for comfort. Charles and Crystal kissing had nothing explicitly to do with her supporting his actions fighting the Night Nurse and yet that's how he took it because that's what he was searching for comfort from and acceptance on. Which is most likely why he seems to take the rejection harder than Crystal, seemingly agreeing to be friends more out of respect for her choice than the want to call it quits himself.

Charles tells Edwin later on about the kiss (right after Edwin is complaining about having to cancel plans with Monty) and says though he didn't physically feel it, he did feel it 'up here' and points to his head. The mind is generally not the place you feel love, I feel that's a given. (reminds me of the starfish on the beach that Niko says are in love, Edwin points out starfish have no brain and Niko says love doesn't require logic, meaning: love is not stored in the mind.) Charles and Edwin's conversation veers off to being about there own relationship, with Charles saying he wouldn't want to be dead with anyone else - not even the girl you just kissed? No? Ok.

The way that episode goes (The case of the two dead dragons) Crystal and Charles end up arguing about the very reasons they decided to not continue their relationship. Crystal likens Hunter and Brad to David, and Charles defends them saying not everyone is her demon ex-boyfriend which seems like he's projecting and really defending himself. Then Crystal calls him out on his 'rage problem' and what happened with the Night Nurse. So though they comforted each other the night before, their real feelings for each others issues are surfacing and they're not so on the same page. Of course they get over this and apologise soon enough. Though in the end, it's Edwin Charles opens up to and actually talks to about how he's feeling rather than pushing it aside and looking for a distraction. And after that, Charles gives Crystal genuine comfort not just a distraction by listening to her talk about her nightmares/visions about David. (immediately followed by the scene of Edwin and Monty on the swings in which Edwin suggests they don't see each other anymore, then back tracks, they kiss followed by rejection which definitely has... parallels)

After that, Crystal and Charles are still an obvious source of comfort for one another, they talk to each other about their stresses, they stick close together a lot of the time but there's nothing inherently romantic to their actions aside from the fact we know they have kissed which gives their actions a depth that, for example Edwin and Niko's don't, despite them also being affectionate and spending time together alone.

Then in the last episode as Crystal is attempting to leave for London, her and Charles share another kiss. When she tries to say bye to Charles, he says it feels like a 'good-bye good-bye' rather than a 'see you back in London good-bye' and Crystal doesn't correct him, essentially confirming it was supposed to be a forever goodbye. She instead kisses him. It's a good-bye kiss. A (supposed to be) final kiss. A 'we had a good run' type of kiss. Crystal kisses him because she thinks she'll never see him again. It's similar to the first in which the kiss itself is the beginning and end, and it doesn't mean much past that. It's a kiss as a secret again, like their first kiss. A kiss to fill the space left by things they don't want to talk about. She doesn't want to admit she's planning on leaving for good so she kisses him instead, it's a comfort and it's a distraction. (and its consistent)

When Crystal decides to stay in the end, Charles says it'll be great, then specifies that 'solving cases together' will be great, not anything else that could of implied. Which could either be them just being awkward, or a flip in their dynamic that now Crystal is the one more involved in their relationship and Charles is the one setting boundaries.

Overall I think they have a really interesting dynamic. They are exactly what each other needs in moments and then the opposite in the next, they care about each other so much yet are possibly the people that unearth each others insecurities and traumas the most. They're both looking for a new, different kind of relationship and find it within the other but inherently once the novelty fades they fall more into being friends than anything more. I think like most of the relationships in this show, they're supposed to be complicated, they're supposed to be more of a journey than a destination. They learn and grow from their interactions together and I think that's something really beautiful.

[hispg]

Comfort

Pairings: R4! Leon x Fem! Reader

Summary: Your husband is glad that he has you, just like he's glad to have his little family.

Wc:4.8k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v, mentions of ptsd, mentions of birth and pregnancy, soft sex(nothing too kinky), oral sex(f receiving), just Leon being a sweetheart.

An:So, this week has been very busy for me. As I've been saying in my last few posts, university has been taking up a lot of my time, as well as my mental health being pretty messed up. I didn't manage to finish the chapter of 'Between Love and Vows' so I probably won't post anything new until next week. In compensation, I'll post another one of my drafts (smut), I'll make a poll so you guys can choose. And next week I'll post two new chapters of the series! Thanks for your love and understanding <3 If I haven't answered your comment, ask or request, don't worry, I will eventually🫶🫶

MDNI

Sleepless nights, the nightmares that kept tormenting him, his mind that was in turmoil all the time. Leon was used to all this, he had already realized that these were sensations he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

His trauma, ptsd that haunted him every day. Things he had seen and heard, all so fresh in his memory, so vivid. Things that no matter how hard he tried to forget, he couldn't. As if it were a mark stamped on his soul.

But he coped, as he always does with everything in life. Little by little, he understood how to deal with panic attacks, how to calm down even when he was about to collapse. He learned all this, but that didn't make things any less worse than they were.

Although he thought he had everything under control, that it wouldn't affect him as much as before, he was wrong.

His last mission in Spain proved it, he went from hell to heaven to save the president's daughter. Everything worked out in the end, but that doesn't erase what he experienced or saw.

Many times he could have sworn that if it hadn't been for you, he would have gone mad a long time ago. Even if you weren't able to end the pain he felt, you were there to be the light at the end of the tunnel for him, the clarity to his own insanity.

All this because every time he returned from a mission, he came home first, not caring if he was all dirty with mud and dirt, even blood. His safe haven was here, with you.

That was the only reason he always came home, no matter how difficult things might be for him. You were what he needed, you were the person who healed all his wounds, and he couldn't be more grateful.

If it had been anyone else, he would have left you by now, but you understood him. You listened to him even if he didn't make any sense, you were still there.

Your love was the remedy for all his problems.

And if he was being honest, it was the reason he woke up every day, the only reason he had a place to call home. You, simply you.

And that night, he found himself on another one of those nights when he couldn't sleep, and there he was, pacing around the house, finding something to occupy his mind.

It had been two weeks since he had returned from his mission in Spain, and he was still terrified by everything that had happened, even though he was safe and sound in the comfort of his own home.

He woke up from a nightmare, yet another one. And in order not to wake you too, he preferred to get out of bed. You were already tired enough to have to deal with him in the wee hours of the morning.

He was so careful with you, even though you had told him several times that it was okay for him to wake you up if he needed to. But he was stubborn enough to say no.

As he made some tea, just to see if it would calm his nerves, he watched the rain falling outside, the gentle drips hitting the window.

In that silence he began to have some sweet memories, it always helped to calm him down a little. One of those memories was when he asked you to marry him, God, he still remembers the nervousness that ran through his whole body. The trembling hands that held the box with the ring, the words that he had rehearsed so much and still came out messy. He was so afraid of being told no, but his heart calmed down when you smiled and threw yourself into his arms, saying yes again and again, making his heart melt each time.

That night he fell even more in love with you, if that were possible.

When you started living together, every time he came home he was greeted with a hug, you welcomed him with love and affection. He felt his cold exterior crumble at the same moment, words couldn't describe how much he liked it. Every little gesture that came from you, no matter what, he always took it to heart and considered it with all his soul.

He still vividly remembered a conversation he had with you as soon as you moved in together. It never failed to crack a smile.

"Darling, did you let something burn?" Leon asks as he feeds himself, looking around the kitchen.

You look at him with a laugh, seeing that he arrived so tired that he didn't even realize he was still in his work clothes. And then you answer, "No, why do you ask?"

"Nothing, it's just that something stinks." He says quietly, focused on finishing his food.

You can't help yourself and a giggle escapes your lips, "You haven't showered yet, sweetheart."

"Oh..." He mumbles, looking down at his state.

He was so entertained that he only noticed a baby crying from one of the bedrooms, it was you guys son.

He didn't hesitate to go into the baby's room, watching the little one whimpering in his crib, even though he was warm and comfortable in his blankets, the little boy was still bothered by something.

Leon imagined that he wasn't hungry, since you had fed him not long ago. Then he thought it might be his diaper that was dirty, which he soon confirmed.

So the baby was in his arms the next second, he put the little boy on the changing table and changed him properly, not forgetting a single detail, from carefully wiping him down with a wet wipe, to the ointment he had to apply to prevent diaper rash.

He checked the diaper to make sure it was fastened properly. Once he'd checked everything, he rocked the baby in his arms until the little one fell asleep again.

He even sang a lullaby, one of the little boy's favorites. He still thought it sounded ridiculous, but he didn't care as long as it soothed the baby.

Every time he looked at the little one's face, he couldn't hold back the loving smile that always appeared on his lips. It was still hard to believe that he had his own little family.

It's still clear in his memory when you announced that you were pregnant, the uncertainty and fear that consumed him. The anguish he felt, the apprehension of being a bad father. As well as the shock he felt when he received the news, since it wasn't something either of you were expecting. Not least because you had just started living together, so it was a lot all at once. But nothing that shook the relationship, quite the opposite.

But every time he saw you laugh, every time you came home with a little baby thing, whether it was clothes, shoes or even a toy. He couldn't contain his joy at the thought that he was going to be a father, that he was going to have a child.

It wasn't long before he started buying lots and lots of things for the baby, rattles, diapers, baby cloths, various types of educational toys, plush toys and everything else.

In a matter of weeks, the spare room in the house was full and ready to receive the baby, even if you weren't that far along in your pregnancy.

Not only did he become even more protective, the kind that wouldn't even let you lift a thing, but he accompanied you throughout your pregnancy. From start to finish. Even though he sometimes had to leave for work, he never failed to call you, even if it was late at night.

He always made video calls to see how you were doing, even talking to the baby in your belly on the phone. Even if they were quick calls, he still made sure they happened.

It was obvious that he wanted to be there for you, and he made it clear whenever he could, because he did everything for you, simply everything. Craves? He'd arrange anything you wanted. Going out late at night to buy a slice of cake in a particular flavor? Well, he was there. He would go to the end of the earth to find whatever you wanted.

When you were uncomfortable he was there, always whispering kind things to you, always trying to calm you down and relax in his embrace, trying to give you all the security you could have. He still remembers when your water broke, you were so calm, and he was about to have a heart attack.

Yet he was with you the whole way, holding your hand as you went into labor.

But all his worry went away as soon as he heard the baby's cry, the little being that had just come out of you. He still remembers the unconditional love he felt as soon as he laid eyes on the little one, as soon as he saw you cradling the boy in your arms, crying with exhaustion and joy. Just as he was crying as much as the baby, he felt so happy that he couldn't imagine being anywhere else but there with you and your bundle of joy.

"What are we going to call him?" Leon asked through tears, wiping away his own with the back of his hand.

"I don't know, sweetheart, we agreed that if it was a boy you'd choose." You say in a whisper, giving him a small smile. Rocking the newborn in your arms.

"No, I'd rather you chose." He says softly, running his fingers through the baby's thin golden strands, which by the way had the same hair as his father.

"Leon-," he doesn't let you finish, giving you a kiss on the lips. Letting his forehead rest on yours, looking at you with tear-filled eyes and a sweet smile.

"You've already given me one of the greatest joys of my life. Nothing could be fairer than for you to choose any name you like." Kind words that made your heart melt, and you just nodded.

At that moment he realized that there was no better place in the world. That there was nowhere else he wanted to be, all he needed was you.

While he was lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice that the little one had already fallen asleep, making cooing noises, his mouth hanging open while he slept peacefully. Even the way he slept was like Leon's, it was funny to see how similar the two of them were.

Then he slowly placed the little one in his crib, tucking him into the covers and making sure he was warm and comfortable for the rest of the night.

He stayed for a few more minutes, humming some more until he was sure the boy wouldn't wake up too soon.

After that he moved into the kitchen, where he found you awake, which was enough to make him wrinkle his eyebrows.

"Love?" He asks softly, moving towards you.

You answer him with a smile, giving him a hug, "You should have called me."

He shakes his head, kissing the top of your head, "I didn't have to."

You pout, giving him a playful pat on the shoulder.

"Here, I've made your tea. I've also put out a slice of cake for you." You murmur with a smile, pointing to the plate on the table.

He chuckles, holding your face and kissing the tip of your nose.

"You're amazing." He whispers before walking over to the table and sitting down, taking a sip of tea and eating the cake, which, by the way, was his favorite flavor.

So you sat next to him, waiting for him to finish eating silently.

"Your food is fucking good." Leon says, taking a bite of his cake and smiling at you.

You couldn't help but giggle, knowing that even if you burned the food, he'd eat it and say it was good.

"No, you're just being nice." You say softly, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

He laughed genuinely, entwining his fingers with yours. Then he lifted your hand and kissed the back of it.

You were always amazed by his loving gestures, which he always made towards you. And so the two of you remained until he had finished eating, rubbing his thumb against your hand to give it a gentle caress.

When he had finished, he leaned back in his chair and sighed, looking at you with a smile. But you couldn't help noticing the dark circles under his eyes, just as he still had a few scratches and bruises all over his body. As well as the scars, some new, some old. All a mark of his profession.

"Did you have another nightmare?" you ask, running your fingers along his cheekbones, smiling softly.

He nodded with a tired sigh, leaning into your touch, "No big deal."

You knew that he always hid these things from you, not least because it took time for him to feel comfortable sharing the events of his mission with you.

"You can tell me, smartass." You said smiling, rubbing your nose against his, letting his hand rest on the small of your back.

His lips curved into a small smile, just as his eyes met yours. And that was enough to make you blush slightly, no matter how long you'd been together, he always had that effect on you.

The rain began to fall harder outside, enough to make you both look out of the window. The rain left a comfortable atmosphere in the kitchen, just the two of you sharing the warmth of your bodies, making that cold night a little warmer.

You picked up the dishes and took them to the sink, taking the opportunity to wash them right away. And it wasn't long before you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, just as he rested his chin on your shoulder, his warm breath beating against you.

"I swear to God I love the smell of your lotion." He purrs, rubbing his nose against your neck, hugging you tightly.

You smiled, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. Even if it was late at night, those moments were so precious to you both. A little intimacy was always nice.

But even with all the affection coming from him, you could feel how tense his muscles were, how his breathing wasn't very regulated. Every time he had these nightmares, they took a while to wear off, and he was still scared for a good few hours.

You then turned to him, held his face in your hands and looked at him seriously, "You should have called me."

He knew how this conversation would go. But to be honest, he wasn't paying attention to your speech, only to the way your lips moved as you spoke, your sweet voice entering his ears. Even if it was you scolding him.

All he could do was give you a silly little smile, stroking your cheeks with his thumb. No matter how much you talked, he would forget the next day. He just didn't want to worry you with his work matters.

Gently he put his index finger to your lips, whispering, "Why don't you hush, darling?"

You widened your eyes, preparing to protest, but he interrupted you, giving you a loving kiss. The kiss was full of affection and tenderness, just as he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around your waist once again, gluing your body to his.

Without giving you time to say another word, he carried you in his arms, taking you to your room like a princess, as if you weighed nothing, he did it with the purest ease.

His grip was firm, as if he didn't want to let you go, he wanted to have you there, in his arms.

Your room was dark, lit only by the faint light of the moon, while the rain continued to fall outside. It wasn't long before he laid you down on the mattress, letting you sink into the soft surface.

The door locked, the baby asleep, just the two of you in that room. The perfect moment for what was about to happen.

No matter how many times Leon looked at you, he always lost his breath, his breath caught in his throat.

You were so beautiful, so perfect, he didn't know how he had been so lucky to have found someone like you, and he couldn't thank you enough for that.

His hands began to move slowly up your thigh, callused fingers caressing the soft skin, letting his hand wander over the flesh, touching you with all the passion he had to offer. And he would do this for the rest of your life.

His mouth finding your neck, his hot breath making you gasp, letting him do whatever he wanted with you.

Soon the wet kisses began, leaving his lips hovering over the weak spots that he knew, he knew exactly where to touch, because he knew well that every touch of his made your body shiver with desire.

"You're beautiful." He whispers, giving your thigh a light squeeze, feeling the soft fabric of your nightgown on the back of his hand.

You give a sly smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close.

He soon understands what you want, and he gives it to you right away. A tender, passionate kiss, gently capturing your lips.

You don't know how, but he always manages to show his devotion to you with every kiss, every touch, every night of love. He makes it seem like the first time, always showing you how much he loves you.

His fingers keep tracing your thigh, feeling how warm your body gets from his touch. Your body reacting under his, squirming and shivering, an incentive for him.

When he pulls away from you a little, just to stop the kiss. He nibbles your lip, lifts your leg and grabs the back of your thigh.

Making a point of giving you wet kisses all over your neck, shoulders, collar bone, all to hear the sweet sounds that escaped your lips every time, the way you begged softly for him to continue.

"Oh, fuck Leon..." You whimpered, watching his fingers purposely wrap around the strap of your panties, he was taking his time.

As he always did, because he wanted to make sure he gave you all the affection he could give.

As soon as their trail of kisses went down to your chest, he spared no effort in giving little kisses to your nipples, which were already hard, crying out for any kind of touch and attention.

It was more than enough for you to let out several moans and low squeaks, letting your hands nestle in his golden strands, feeling the softness they contained.

Both his hands slid under your nightgown, and before long his fingers were playing with the waist line of your panties, fingering and stretching, all the while keeping an eye on your every reaction.

The look he had in store for you was yours alone, he had never looked at anyone else like that. Nor would he ever, you were the only one capable of bringing it out of him. The only one.

Just as you never tired of looking into those gentle blue eyes, similar to the color of the sky, or even the ocean. You lost your breath every time.

And there he went, slowly dropping wet kisses over the thin fabric of your nightgown, feeling your body tremble beneath his, just as he made a point of running his fingers over the wet surface of your panties, only to give a smug smile, knowing that he could get you soaking wet for so little.

As soon as he reached your navel, he lifted your nightgown completely, exposing your lower body, which was enough for him to let out a low noise, excited by the image in front of him. Which only fueled his cock to throb even more under his pants.

"I wonder what I did to make you like this." Leon said with a sly, mischievous smile, sliding his index finger down your slit.

Did he know the answer? Of course he did. But it was nicer to hear it from your mouth, your sweet voice echoing through the room.

"You know, you just need to touch me..." You said with a pout, looking at him with piteous eyes, a look he already knew well. And yet it broke his smile every time.

"Because of me?" He purrs, pushing his fingertips against your covered pussy, teasing you as far as he can.

You whimper, spreading your legs as if it were an automatic reaction from your body. Understanding the signal, he pulls you a little closer to the edge of the bed, taking off your panties and sliding them down your legs, soon the garment was lying in a corner of the room.

You were there, completely exposed to him, legs dangling from his shoulders, clit throbbing and begging him to do something.

It felt like magic, every time he touched you he was able to drive you crazy with the smallest things. You often got wet just watching him, seeing the way the muscles in his arms flexed every time he held your legs tighter.

Or the way he always looked at you throughout the process, as he positioned his face close to your center, biting and licking your inner thigh, making sure to leave soft marks all over the area. He loved looking at the love bites the next day, not least because you looked beautiful with each one.

"You're all mine, aren't you?" He asked in a whisper, which sounded more like a question to himself. Especially because he didn't even need to hear the answer.

You were about to answer, but your mind turned to crumbs as soon as he started planting wet, caressing kisses in your folds, letting his tongue linger in certain spots.

His wet muscle slid into your wet pussy, making you arch your body and tremble under him. The tip of his tongue brushed against your clit, swirling around your sensitive part, enough for you to roll your eyes and moan a little louder.

"That's so good, so good..." You mumble, biting your lower lip to hold back your moans.

Every time he eat you out, he didn't hold back with the noises he made, he didn't even care about the slurping noises he made, or the way he did it in a completely sloppy way.

Not least because he never wasted any time, it wasn't long before he was fucking you with his tongue. Moving in and out, hitting all your sweet spots.

It didn't take long for you to be a mess, moaning and whimpering, your sounds echoing around the room. Your hands nestled in his hair, pushing his head against you, letting him get buried in your thighs.

Despite this, you couldn't help but crave his cock, a need to have it inside you, you needed him fucking you.

"Leon..." You called out, rolling your hips against his mouth, you could already feel your orgasm approaching.

He smiled sideways, kissing all over your intimate area, making a point of running his tongue over it in the process. The way he did this so masterfully left no doubt that he knew exactly what to do to bring you to the edge, he knew exactly.

As soon as he started tongue-fucking you one more time, it was enough for you to come apart in his mouth, gushing out all your climax. You could feel your body hot and bothered, your mind confused and without any other thoughts. It was surreal the way your orgasms with him were always that intense.

Just as he spared no expense in giving you sloppy, wet kisses on your wet folds, as if he were smoothing the area, taking the opportunity to clean up the mess that was between your legs. Even though he was about to make another one.

"It tastes fucking good, love." He purrs, licking his lips and lifting his head.

Having the beautiful image of you, with your legs spread, sweaty body, chest rising and falling. The way your eyelids were closed and your lips were open was more than enough to send a wave of electricity to his cock. Which, by the way, was already leaking pre-cum, the wet spot on his sweatpants was already clearly visible.

He wasted no time in removing his pants and underwear, letting his cock pop out. Which was a divine sign for you, seeing every inch of his shapely body, the way he was hard as a rock.

His cock resting in his palm, as he gave it a few small pumps, watching the precum drip down a little. Despite this, his eyes were focused on you, the way you bit your lip and stared at him.

"Please?" You ask in a whisper, spreading your legs even wider for him.

In response, he gives you a puffy smile, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, his sticky liquid pooling with your own juices.

You whimper and pout to get him in at once. As if on command, he obeyed, lifting your legs over his shoulder and fitting himself into you. Hissing once he was all the way in, the way your walls clenched around him was enough to elicit a grunt from him.

"So fucking eager..." He whispers in your ear, taking the opportunity to nibble on it. Making you gasp easily.

"Oh-Oh, so deep!" You moan, your nails sinking into the muscles of his back, a reaction he loved every time.

You can't say how, but he thrust into you in such a sensual way, his hips rolling with a dexterity you couldn't even describe in words. It was calm, sexy, who knows how you could describe it.

His eyes never left yours, he could reach all your weak points, all the places where he made you roll your eyes and curl your toes.

At that point, he didn't even try to understand you. Not least because you could only mumble half-words, whimpers or moans, and he couldn't have been prouder to leave you in that state. Your mind so foolish as he fucked you numb.

"Are you going to come already, love?" He asks softly, kissing your cheeks and pulling you even closer.

"Mhmhm." You hum and nod, feeling your walls tighten around him. Just like the feeling of butterflies in your stomach that you were beginning to feel.

He chuckled, speeding up his thrusts, making an even louder sound of skin hitting skin. He wouldn't be long either, he'd probably come right after you.

And there you went the moment he started making circles with his thumb on your clit, you're sure you went to heaven at the same moment.

Your lips parted only for you to let out a silent scream, a noise that came from deep in your throat. He was quick to pull you into a hot, thirsty kiss, moving at a much faster speed than before.

He wanted to get there now.

In and out he went, feeling his cock throb with each jerk of his hips. On the last thrust he came, thrusting deep, spilling all his seed into you, as deep as he could.

He let out a grunt through your lips, holding your sides tightly.

By the end you were panting, covered in a thin layer of sweat. When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead on yours, giving a silly, tired smile.

"Sore?" He murmurs under his breath, trailing kisses down your cheek.

"Maybe a little." You whisper, closing your eyes and sinking into the mattress.

He then gets off you and places you properly on the bed, rolling you under the covers, and then doing the same. He hugs you from behind and cuddles you, giving you massages in the places he knew would be sore. He loved worshiping your body, and you couldn't complain.

"I love you." He says, full of love and tenderness.

"I love you too." You return, kissing his hand.

You fell asleep a few minutes later, and he watched you sleep as always, giving you kisses and caresses from time to time.

He loved you so much he couldn't explain it, you were his comfort. Everything he needed most. You and your son were his adored little family.

And the way he loved you, he knew that you would be the death of him.

Oh God, how he loves you.

[eldritch-spouse]

Can we get Santi making his match ~Properly~ apologize after they gave in and resummoned him after banishing him?

[Ohhh I'm gonna hurt you good. Fem reader.]

TW: Manipulation; Brief but descriptive past gore; Struggling with trauma; Angst and abuse.

Ironic, isn't it?

You did it. You successfully banished a high-ranking demon from your life. Not just any high-ranker, one that claimed to be your "match". You had assumed that was just another appeal to emotions back then, a trick to wrap your around his pinkie further, but you've done a lot of research in order to successfully pull off what you did, and there's no lie to be found in those words.

Few humans can drive their matches away for good, very few. You have the scars to show for it, certainly. The ragged rifts on your limbs from when Santi had sunk his claws so very deep into your flesh, raking them down and tearing your muscles apart in the process. You have a bad eye. It's not blind, but it's definitely not as good as its twin. Lastly, of course, there's the dead and withered mark on your mons... Faded, but still there, still visible, still mocking you every single time you look at yourself in the mirror.

It's been years.

Yet you still scrub at it ruthlessly, hoping that it'll disappear little by little, like a grease stain. The nightmares remain, feeling it throb through your entire organism, glowing that hellish magenta, signaling the nearness of your personal castigator. Your unrequited pest that, much like a cockroach, refuses to die.

It's been years...

And he's still haunting you.

He's in Hell, probably in Lust if you had to guess, where he belongs- And he's still fucking up your life. Poetic, a true demon.

The exhaustion you felt the moment Santi successfully got phased back into the fires has stayed since. It dug roots into your soul, hugging it possessively, his parting gift to you- Numbness.

You reinvented your life.

New hairstyle, new fashion, new place to live, new interests, new friends. It felt like the only way to be free of the incubus was to become anyone but the person he claimed to have fallen in love with.

No matter what you did, what new hobby you took on or what personal goal you achieved, you never felt accomplished, never felt good. Psychologists treated your supposed chronic depression with every tactic they had, only succeeding in making you feel even more pathetic when every single one of them failed.

It was clear you were not in the mindset to begin any type of relationship, but... Your libido demanded it of you. It's unclear what changed your appetite. Was it the mark? Was it the constant sexual contact you had before? Or is it just that you can't satisfy yourself anymore? Maybe all.

You tried sex again once.

It was... A monumental disappointment.

Enough to make you swear it off, and live in a gross state of constant frustration, unsolvable no matter how much you pushed yourself into new spaces to attain new sensual experiences. Maybe, maybe you just had to try something different, right? Try a few kinks.

No, not even the almost shameful collection of toys you've amassed since Santi's been gone have done a single thing to relieve you properly. Every orgasm feels dull and requires too much effort.

You started hating yourself when the only thing that seemed to make you cum faster was thinking of him.

The image of your very own abuser above you, whispering sweet encouragements in your ear and moaning as he sunk his cock into you. The thought of his skin on yours was enough, it was effective- And the wave of pure self-hatred that rolled over you when you orgasmed crying his name was strong enough to make you break down into screaming tears, naked and soaked and humiliated.

You'd wake up in fetal position, throat hoarse, the crust of your own pleasure sticking to your thighs, numb as per usual.

It's been years, of this.

And today, you've given up.

It wasn't a spur of the moment decision, of course not. It was more of a slow spiral into hopelessness.

Is this misery going to be the rest of your life? This insupportable existence.

You'd rather never live another day than allow it to continue. And if, to fix it, you need Santi again... Then you need him again.

Is it weak of you, to do this? Maybe a stronger, more dignified person would choose death. But you've been worn down, you've never recovered, you're still on his fucking palm!

Were you ever truly free of Santi?

What does it matter, right? If you're still going back to him after all this.

Making a summoning circle is easier, certainly more so than cleverly hiding a banishment circle. Droplets of shame drip down your cheeks as you arrange it, as you come to terms with your defeat.

In spite of his rank, there's no need for a big offering. Santi will know it is you who's calling him, because of your blood. You're letting him know preemptively. An orgasm should suffice.

There's no need to think about his sigil, the very shape of it is embedded on your frontal lobe, a pesky cattle tag clipped onto your body. It's on your fucking cunt, the blasted thing.

There's a long moment of contemplation where you stare at the spacious circle in your living room. A brief streak of resilience has you wanting to put everything away, except your legs don't budge, stone-like.

Once more, your mind says no, but your body says yes.

Bile rises in your throat, yet if there's anything you've learned to do by now, it's swallowing.

There's an exhausted grimace in your complexion as you sink to your knees before the circle, pushing panties aside, and fall into your guiltiest pleasure. People use the term very loosely these days, you've noticed.

It should disgust you how easy it is, how quick you approached a peak, how the anticipation of feeling his hellishly delightful touch brought you that much closer, that much faster, that much wetter- You're a loser.

And maybe you deserve this. Whatever comes of this.

As soon as you orgasm, the circle pulses, your blood seems to sink into the demonic sigil, and a stillness follows, lulled by the hum of a portal waiting to manifest.

Torpid hues study it. Seconds pass. A minute maybe.

A hysteric little giggle escapes as you wonder if he'll deny you now. Reject you.

No. No, he wouldn't- That filthy piece of scum would suck the grime off your shoes sooner than reject you. Because that's all he is, a worthless fucking worm who should be grateful you're letting him see your face again.

Eventually, a rift cracks through the floor, widening, the symphony of Hell echoing out in a scream of triumph. A hand pushes through, as dark and large as you remember it, sinking into the first anchor it finds. Soon, a great body is pushed through.

Santi.

... Santi?

Your breath catches in your throat.

He looks... Off. Turned away from you, crouched in the circle, it's hard to put your finger on what's changed, but he feels different. His horns have grown bigger, sharper.

Motionless, you watch a thick tail twitch. He rises to a stand carefully, joints cracking when he rolls his neck. God, that's not his usual posture at all. And then, you get to see his face. Gaunt cheeks, a larger, darker mouth with unnatural teeth. Santi's charm had been, in large part, his ability to toe the line between handsome and monstrous, taking advantage of his inhuman abilities to impose and using his sightly features to cause a "scared but horny" effect. That line has been long eroded, if you had to guess.

What strikes you the most are the eyes.

His stare has changed completely. The demon looks... Horrifying. Where once there had been something sharp and seductively warm to hide the evil beneath, there's now a corrosive transparency oozing off him, an animal carelessness. The left eye is particularly dulled, having lost pigment, the pupil won't move, lodged in an upwards position as if midway through rolling back into his skull. The whisker on that eye is also damaged, it looks to have been cut.

Certainly, it wasn't just you that changed.

You both look like complete shit. Well, he looks like shit as much as a concubus can...

Still, once he's fully turned towards his summoner, Santi attempts to put on a familiar mask.

The result is a far cry from the past.

" Minx. "

The incubus nods, his gaze blazing into you, unreadable.

Your mind wars between fear and irritation. The nerve of this motherfucker, to immediately address you the same way he did when you were but his mindless cur! When he did unspeakable things to you in the name of love. This anger is tempered by the shock of his rougher tenor, by the simple fact that you hadn't heard Santi's voice in so long- It feels too real, it feels like he can hurt you just with it.

Returning the favor, you call him by something that'll make him feel vulnerable.

" Noph'ae. "

A slight wrinkle.

Success.

His chest inflates. You think Santi's about to start shouting at you, but he just exhales afterwards. This happens a few times before you realize he's smelling something.

" It's been a while since I've been to the surface. The smells are so different, the lights, you take it for granted until it's stolen from you. "

He stole a lot of things from you that you took for granted too.

When Santi's tongue snakes out, it becomes clear he's now just trying to catch whiff of your recent arousal. Whatever trace of it still wanders.

Surprisingly, all the incubus does afterwards is just... Sit down, in the middle of the circle, continuing to look you up and down, as placid as can be.

You hadn't expect this, needless to say. You assumed there would be anger, indignation, a vicious desire to maul you or demands to let him free. Mockery even. Not this. Not nothing.

Your attempts to stare him down and coax some kind of response -Not that you even know what you want to hear from him. An apology? A justification?- Are fruitless. He just stares back, and speaks when he pleases.

" I see life has treated you harshly. Pity. "

" Shut- " The anger lodged in your throat like a knot makes you choke. " Shut the fuck up. "

He does, waiting. A few seconds pass before you can gather enough calm to say anything.

" I hate you. "

Santi blinks slowly, the words having no effect on him. God knows you've screamed them a hundred times and they never amounted to anything. Why would they now?

Still, the fact that he seemingly won't react to them drives you mad enough to pull at your own hair in a small tantrum.

He smiles faintly at the show.

" Would it please you to hear me say the same? " Santi interrupts the pain, making you all but glare venomously at him.

" It would make you happier if I said I hate you too, right? After you banished me. That I only exist to make you hurt. That I answered your call just so I could wait for a moment to kill you. " He sighs. " That's what you want. "

" But that's not the truth. "

When Santi's expression softens, and he spends several moments openly observing you in an almost nostalgic manner, a pit of dread forms in your stomach.

You start shaking your head. " No. No, don't you fucking dare- "

" I love you. "

A shriek bursts out of you. " You piece of shit! You don't know what love is, you know fuck all about love, all you know is how to break someone down to nothing! "

New tears follow tracks already left behind. " You can't even apologize to me. You're just soulless, aren't you? "

" If ever there was someone I loved, it was you. " He taps the floor with his clawtips as he speaks. " I only wanted us to be. You felt it too, but you kept fighting it. I would never willingly let you take away the best feeling I had ever felt. It was my paradise. "

" It was my Hell. "

He frowns.

" Don't lie to yourself. "

Before you can bark anything else at the demon, he continues.

" It was 'your Hell', but here you are, calling for me again. " Silence. " Doesn't add up. "

There's so much you want to say. So much you want to shout at him. Too many ways to contest his arrogance, his shamelessness, too many ways you'd like to torture him. The rage fueling you, generating those fantasies, dies when you realize it's all pointless.

Santi won't ever believe he's wrong. He won't ever say what he did to you wasn't justified. You could probably kill him, he'd still think he was right all along.

It rips the small, sick joy you could attain from picturing him groveling for all his mistakes. Talking to Santi about this is like debating a brick wall. It's time to move on.

He reads the defeat on your face plainly, wisely deciding not to poke further.

" What happened to your eye? "

The incubus tilts his head. " Concerned for me, love? " Again, he hardly allows you to inhale. " I felt that we should match. "

Confusion and anger is a very bad mix. " Is that your idea of a joke?! "

" No I... " Santi has the decency to look away, if even for a second. " I wanted to punish myself. It was never my intent to blind you. "

You huff, then make a broad gesture over your face. " And the rest? "

He lets the question hang for a while, then shrugs. " I've changed. Didn't you? "

As much as you want to deny it, squish it like a bug, reality is that he's been miserable too. It shows. This should make you happy, but all you can feel is a mysterious frustration.

Only in the ensuing silence do you begin to hear the gentle pitter patters of raindrops on the windows. A soothing sound, hushing the turmoil in your racing mind for a fraction of a heavenly beat.

" Will you break the circle, love? " Santi eventually concedes, leaning the least bit forward.

The fact that he's the first to address the matter of his summoning is a small victory for you, one that doesn't please you that much, though you still eat it up. It must be hard for him, seeing you after so long, yet not being able to touch. Must be torture. Good.

There's an avenue of power you'll always have over Santi, a double-edged sword actually, but he's more affected by this than you are. As his match, you are the incubus' most favored meal, and just being in front of him in nothing but your panties is likely chipping at his composure in fast swings.

Not that you are faring that much better, your current arousal may be buried under the scent of your orgasm, but it will fade soon, there'll be nothing to mask the want then. Even if he's endured some changes, the demon before you is still the one that made you reach platforms of pleasure previously unfathomable to you. Even when you didn't want it, even when... The mark...

How can you still want him, even after all this time?

" No. "

The answer comes easily.

" How am I to offer my services then? "

" You're not touching me! " Of course he will, who are you even lying to anymore?

Santi rolls his neck, tail thumping idly while confusion writes itself on his complexion.

Wordlessly, you reach for the waistband of your underwear, removing it slowly. The cloth is aimlessly twirled around your index, then thrown half-heartedly into the circle.

Predictably, pathetically, Santi swipes it before the thing can even make contact with the ground, bringing it to his face instantly. The sound he emits is like a sobbed groan, he rubs himself on it like a house cat, breathing it in, drooling on the fucking thing as he appears to damn near drug himself on the scent of your pussy.

It's satisfying.

It feels powerful, in a depraved and unhealthy way.

Which is why you never expected him to turn to you with a look that gushed utter vitriol.

" Break this circle. " He demands, finally using a voice befitting of his rank and infernal authority.

It's always a shock when Santi does this. The demon so deliberately maintains his tone to a seductive lulling purr, that when his patience chips just enough to let the real beast slip, it thunders through your composure.

" N- No! Be silent! "

Even to yourself, you sound like a frightened bleating animal.

" Pathetic! " The incubus laughs, straightening, leaning those great horns forward just to have you watch when he hooks your panties in the left one. Like a prize. " You summon me out of desperation, then play footsie and cocktease like a coward- "

" Desperation?! " Your own anger rises like burning bile. " Typical of a fucking demon to think so highly of yourself! "

Santi pauses to look at you quietly, wordlessly and petulantly asking you if you're sure that's your answer. A challenge.

" I don't need you for anything! "

" Are you hearing yourself, Minx? Why am I here, then? " A dark finger wags. " Better yet, why did you summon me and not another concubus, hm? "

Wracking your brain for answers that are anything but the truth takes time, time Santi won't offer you.

" I'll tell you why. Because you made a hotheaded decision and you've been living with the consequences of it for all this time. And you can't take it anymore. "

White knuckled fists begin to quake.

" So you banished a high-ranker, ooh la la, quite the feat! " Sardonic clapping rings across the room. " But you don't know how to get that out, do you? "

When Santi points at the mark previously hidden by your panties, goosebumps cover you from head to toe.

" You don't know how to make your mind forget me, much less your needy, luscious little body. " That pointed index moves from your pelvis to your chest. " I rocked you to the very core! The same way you took me by the neck, woman. "

All you can do is gulp, and all he can do is watch the motion of your throat.

" And it's not so easy, shattering our bond, love. We have a beautiful thing, that you've tried to ruin. I still don't know why... But what I do know, is that you've put us both through torture, isn't that right? Or do you think you were the only one miserable all this time? "

For some reason, no matter how angry you are and how much you want to say, the words won't leave your mouth.

" Was it fun? Tell me, did you have a good time? " He's already laughing. " Was it nice to never feel relief, to crave pleasure you could never achieve on your own again? This isn't like smoker's withdrawal, it doesn't go away. Did any body you ever sampled after mine offer even a tenth of what you had? "

It feels like your airway is tightening.

" No. Of course not. You never got it through your skull that neither of us had a choice in this. There are some things in life we don't get to choose, right Minx? We're each other's matches, and we have real chemistry together. That scares the living soul out of you, doesn't it? That you'll always want me. "

A choked cough makes it past your lips. He's as close to you as he can get from within the carved, advanced circle. No salt here, Santi would bulldoze through it immediately.

" As much as I love you, my sweetest delight, you are selfish. More than me. Because you never stopped to put yourself in my shoes. I am just as much of a slave to you as you are to me, there's no denying that. "

The next words he throws at you lash welts into the very fabric of your being.

" Even worlds apart, with all the wards and circles and magical aid, you will still be mine. And I will still be yours. "

Hearing him say what you had recently come to realize makes you deflate in a way you can't even describe. It's the final nail on the coffin you had no idea you were inside of. The last embers of a flame before wind blows it away. He's silent while the waves of defeat wash over your figure.

Several seconds later, Santi resumes with a somewhat calmer lilt.

" We'll never be free of each other, not without the type of pain that would make you rather die than keep breathing. That's what I've been trying to tell you from the very start... So, why don't we start over? "

You hadn't realized that you had begun glaring at the floorboards in the middle of his speech, only now cautiously rising your gaze to the agitated demon trying to gather his own calm.

" After you apologize to me, naturally. "

Finally, your mouth opens. " A- Apologize? "

Santi huffs. " Well yes, love. None of this would have transpired if you had just listened to me all those years back. I rather think I deserve this much, don't you? "

You hate him. You hate him so much. But, most of all, you hate that he's right.

Your fate had already been decided long before you could begin to make a choice. You won't get rid of him, because just like Santi says, even when he's away, your body will torture you to find him again. And it doesn't stop, because you don't have the means to make it stop. He said it perfectly, which might mean he's been mulling over this conversation as many times as you have mentally imagined it.

You're just so tired. Even if every ounce of rage in your heart demands that you send him back into the fire and tough it out, even if it kills you- Another part of you craves rest, comfort, calm. It wants the normalcy and modicum of well-being you'd sometimes feel before.

It wants this to end, at any cost.

Maybe you do have to learn to live with him.

Because it's not a choice for you. For your health or mental stability.

Maybe if things are done just right, you can mold him into a more tolerable person, you can teach him to be more than he once was. It's disgusting that you have to fix Santi, but it's the only way, isn't it? That's the only way to make it work and spare yourself unnecessary torment.

And, to fix him, you first need to make amends.

" I'm... " It's as if your tongue won't move to form the rest of the sentence. It has to be forced. " I'm sorry, Santi. "

Perhaps the only thing that makes it sound sincere is the fact that you're already emotionally exhausted.

The demon hums. " Very nice, that's a start. " You quirk a brow. " But for a proper apology, you should break this circle. "

A denial almost slips off your tongue without thinking, making the demon's gaze harden. Realistically, there's no escaping this. You're going to have to let him out one way or another, might as well have it be a gesture of cooperation. For a better future.

Sighing, you reach behind the slightly shifted couch, knocking three glowing crystals out of the specific order they were previously in. These same crystals were the ones you used to create a circle not even a high-ranker like Santi can break through- They were incredibly expensive, and acquiring them without raising his suspicion proved to be one of the most anxious episodes of your entire life.

Instantly, the glow that once contained Santi and limited the summoning rift's width fades away, leaving only hasty chicken scratch markings on the ground. He looks mildly bewildered that you actually followed through, but the expression wipes itself away quickly.

There's barely enough time for you to turn before Santi's all but prowling after you, a massive body colliding with yours while restless hands instantly dart everywhere.

He seems to want to do everything at once. In his desperate longing, the incubus crushes you against him, palms grabbing the globes of your ass then squishing the fat of your sides as he buries his face into your neck and snarls hard enough to make you quiver like a leaf in the wind. One second he's rubbing your legs luridly, the next he's rolling your tits and trying to lock his teeth around your neck. It's too much too fast, but exactly what your body had been craving for endless time. It wanted his attention, wanted his soothing- Your whines fall somewhere between frustrated and inconsolable, largely drowned out by his vaguely intimidating calls of delight.

Beastly in his want, Santi licks your jaw to a humid, tingling mess before forcibly crashing his lips unto yours, easily weaseling his tongue inside. Traces of your own arousal linger, but are otherwise negligible compared to the euphoria of his kiss. It's just as powerfully addictive as it was the very first time he selfishly stole the gesture.

And, if there's one good thing about Santi's irresistible nature, it's that his pheromones and fluids won't allow you to feel guilt for enjoying this. What a wonderful excuse, to let yourself sink into the experience bereft of all shame.

You can't hope to halt the noise of animal pleasure that rips itself out your throat, something he moans for, happily receiving and encouraging it. Santi's fevered hand eventually snakes downward and palms the faded mark still clinging to you, before reaching further and offering you just the briefest feathered brush against your clitoris. He soaks his digits in your generous wetness to make the motions even more fluid, the teasing very quickly has you shifting your hips in between heated kisses and breathless panting.

No matter how much you wordlessly beg him to indulge what you'd both been deprived of for far too long, Santi doesn't cave. In fact, he growls warningly whenever you try to buck, claws digging into your meat so you can't rock yourself on him.

" None will ever compare. " He finally parts, mouth as coated in your drool as yours is in his. There's a dreamy look in those tired eyes. " I wracked the Rings looking for someone that could satisfy me, and I went mad along the way Minx, but it was okay. "

A force on your shoulders takes you by surprise, the ensuing impact of bare knees on wooden tiles sobers you up gradually. Quiet clicks follow when Santi takes a few steps back.

" Because I knew you'd call for me again. "

What a nice way to say he knew you'd come crawling right back like a bitch in heat...

As you kneel there in disheveled confusion, Santi merely beckons you forward with a deceitfully warm smile.

It's obvious he wants you to crawl, but you still try to play dumb and raise a leg.

" Stand and I will be much meaner to that pretty face, love. "

A threat that instantly stills you.

" I'm not discouraging you, by all means, I miss those times where I could feel you try to breathe through your nose but you were so flush to me you couldn't... "

His words alone evoke a myriad of images, flashes of his teeth twisting into pleased grimaces and the oxygen-deprived skip of your heartbeat while spots danced around the edges of your sight. Memories that feel all too vivid now.

Crawling towards Santi is far from the most embarrassing thing you've done, so it's hardly worth antagonizing him about it.

The monster's own anticipation betrays him and he steps forward to close the last bit of distance between you, expression somewhere between manic and endlessly adoring when he whispers.

" Now, show me you're sorry. "

You know what to do to get the incubus revved up, not that he needs much assistance, seeing as he's practically bursting out his slit.

Keeping eye contact, a reverent kiss to that overheated sheath and a tongue flirting with the edge is all it takes for him to groan, holding your head to the side so you can watch his cock slide out, already throbbing from repressed arousal. Fortunately, nothing's changed on this end. He's still just as mouth-watering as you remember him from all those years ago.

Before you can wrap your lips around him, Santi grabs a soft hold of your hair.

" Tell me about the people you've bedded after me. "

You frown. " I only... Only had sex once. "

The demon tilts his head, mind seemingly shattered by that. " Once? "

After your nod, he nudges you slightly. You get the pleasure of seeing him inhale sharply at the first feel of your warmth around him, a shaky sigh following while he waits for you to worship him properly.

" You poor thing, was it truly that bad? "

There's no answer to be had aside from your slight gag when you attempt to take a little too much of him too soon. Santi pauses just to buck and make you gag again, the gross sound turning him on. He triggers the reflex until your face is flushed and there's strings of drool hitting the floor.

" Ssh sh, that's perfect, just the way I love it. " He murmurs praises when you pull away to cough hard.

" What did you do then, to make it bearable? " Santi appears to forge his own answer. " Did you spend your days fucking yourself to the thought of me? "

Instead of thinking about his words, you just focus on pleasuring the monster, bobbing on him effectively enough to disrupt his train of thought a few times. He makes a guttural sound when you audibly pop your lips and pulses madly.

" Hhn- Did you ever regret it then? In those moments where you were just so close but nothing would get you there... And you knew you banished the only one that could help. "

When you fail to pick up the pace accordingly, Santi rolls his own hips into your now stationary face, occasionally choking you deliberately, but also pausing to simply let himself rest on on your tongue. He intends to languish every moment of this.

" Because I thought of you when nothing and no one could make me cum. I thought of every sound you made and every inch of your stupidly gorgeous skin. " His tone intensifies with his speed, words chopped into tight breaths. " I hope. You crawled. The walls. "

Almost.

" I hope- You screamed. My name. "

You did.

" And I hope. " He pants. " In the end. You cried. "

You... did.

Santi's getting close, you already know all his tells, down to what muscles he twitches when he's nearing an orgasm. Part of being his match is knowing his body well, though not as well as a demon of carnality can read yours.

Instead of wanting to sink as far into your throat as he can, Santi offers mercy to your creaking jaw when he merely has you suck him hard around the most sensitive spot, curling forward slightly in his mounting pleasure.

" That means you learned something from this. So you won't have to cry anymore. "

When his jaw becomes slack, the first rush of sizzling ecstasy hits your tongue, a taste imprinted deep into your brain, like sweet liquor enabling a spiral into total debauchery. You know, somewhere in what's left of your rational mind, that ingesting his fluids will only make you more restless- But this is exactly what you wanted.

You want that hit. The high. The relief. Is it really a spiral when it feels so good?

The incubus refuses to indulge your greedy wish, pulling you off his length so he can make a mess of your already less than composed visage. You hardly have the mind to care about the flashes of warmth as he paints you all pretty, simply smiling contentedly. Santi finds it endearing enough to coo.

" There, my lovely little Minx, aren't things better already? " His claws swipe gently over your cheeks and chin, entering your mouth with another offer of poisonous sweetness you can't decline. He lets you clean him at your own sluggish pace, spare hand pumping a slick but by no means spent cock to the sight.

The rest of it is rubbed across your lips like some perverse gloss.

" I love you so much. " He swoons. " Say it back to me. "

You barely heard his request, too busy hypnotized by his eyes. Even damaged, they're still the eyes of the most captivating creature to ever exist, for your cum-drunk brain.

" I... Mm... " You swallow, every inch of your throat feels sticky. There's something dripping down your neck.

He leans down to mouth the words for guidance, but all you do is try to reach his lips for another kiss, causing the incubus to laugh and shake his head.

" Come one, darling. Three words, I want to hear them from my one and only. "

Although his tone is so sickly sweet it borders on sardonic, you're able to focus enough to at least heed the request.

" ... I love you. "

" I love you, Santi. " He corrects quietly, yet sternly.

" I- " The lustful fog only ever allows you seconds to think clearly. " I love you, Santi? " "

He makes a face that reads something among the lines of 'good enough', grinning in an all too familiar way.

" Then hold on. "

It's a while before you realize he's not telling you to wait. Santi has curved his head just enough that you have access to his horns, and though you give him a slightly puzzled look, all he does is chuff impatiently. Your panties still hang off his horn, you imagine he'd like to keep them on for as long as he can get away with it.

As soon as you have decent purchase on those thick handles, large hands swipe you up by the ass, making you clap onto his thighs. Santi bounces you a bit more until he can stand a little straighter, with you effectively anchored onto him by the horns. Instinct has you quickly crossing your legs around his midsection. He's holding you up as if you weigh less than feathers.

The demon rumbles from the depths of his chest, a feral and drooling Cheshire beam.

" First order of business, my love, is fixing the gift I so kindly offered. "

He uses one hand to smooth over the residual mark and tuts, the distaste written all over his face. Said hand helps him adjust and, in what felt like a blink, he's hilted inside you.

Both of you quiver and call out in tandem.

Your own orgasm is triggered immediately, the cry of an addict reaching delirious heights, your vision darkens for the briefest second as you can only groan senselessly and milk Santi with a grip that might have made him burst if he hadn't only moments ago. Instead, he merely huffs and rasps curses in a tongue you don't grasp.

He drags you off his length deliciously, every ridge bumping its way out, then shoves you back down with intentional force, cockhead kissing spots that have you nearly dizzy. Each disorienting thrust has you struggling to get enough air in your lungs, toes curling hard enough to tease a cramp while your arms fight to keep holding on and your legs don't know where to shift- Not that Santi allows you to squirm much.

" Lords- " He has to loll his tongue out for a second, teeth glistening and chest heaving. " I could die buried in you. Did you miss this, Minx? "

As if you had the wits to answer him right now, grinding your teeth from overstimulation. He laughs when your body freezes every now and then, unable to accompany so much mounted pleasure.

" Save your voice, and save your tears, because when I fuck you full of cum, you're going to feel every inch of that mark blaze to life again. "

And he's right, the sparks are already burning you...

After tonight, there's no going back.

[nikalaeva]

I just read a post where the author claims to be pro-Nesta, but at the same time justifies explains why the Inner Circle did everything right.

Here are some quotes for an aperitif.

"None of the IC are just disgusting that she’s drinking a lot or having sex or partying"

Really? Why then did infinitely rich Rhysand read out the list of her expenses? Nesta didn't buy unnecessary jewelry, a brothel or a piece of land. Was it necessary to bring your beloved wife to tears, to humiliate your brother by saying that his mate was a shameless spendthrift? This scene shows not the depth of Nesta's problems, but rather that Rhysand is a pathetic douchebag who is used to not paying his warriors (homeless Illyrians send their regards).

"Nesta was also given the choice of if she got help or not. Once again, something Feyre was not"

Mmm, our little star Feyre, my sweet fly in the ointment. I don't know in what parallel universe is it considered a "choice" between prison and a hunting ground where a fairy would be like game. Oh, sorry, the HoW is not a prison? But what do you call a place from which you physically cannot leave and are completely dependent on the guards? Prison is probably better, because the guard does not dream of fucking you every second.

Now to the point.

Feyre doesn't act like a sister. She clearly says that she's ashamed that Nesta is shaming them by not helping the Court after war. She decides that the best way to "help" Nesta is to shame her in front of everyone, and then complain that she's overreacting. Feyre could have gotten Nesta a job in a bar, a dance teacher, a library job with salary, and spend time with sisters on weekends - without Rhysand and his gang of cocksuckers. Feyre and Nesta could have tea in the garden or learn baking with Elain. Feyre could have invited Nesta and Elain to an art class with the kids. Of course, it's so useless compared to being able to swing a sword, and - oh my! - not cool compared to the scene in the swamp.

Well, this illustrates well how powerless Feyre as High Lady is when it comes to improving the citizens' living conditions, and how much Elain doesn't give a shit.

Cassian's "help" would only do a dead man no harm. He wanted to help Nesta so much that he brought her to train with the Illyrians. You know, the warriors who don't accept women or magic, and are cruel even to their own children.

And how thoughtful of the IC to entrust Nesta with the mission of finding the Dread Trove. Yeah, a minute ago she was just a traumatized girl in need of help, but now Feyre is pregnant, Elain has no one to trust to water her garden, and the IC has some other things to do (Rhysand, wake up, you're short-staffed), so Nesta is definitely the one who can be trusted with safety of all of Prythian. What about her bestie Amren? Nah, she's lost all her power and can only spew shit out of her dirty old-hag mouth.

Maybe we should enlist the help of the High Lords like Tarquin, Kallias, Helion? After all, the threat concerns not only the Night Court, and they supposedly forgave that mess at the meeting and are now friends... Haha, don't go crazy. Can "the most powerful High Lord" take such a risk? What if these spineless idiots tell Nesta that she will be better off in their Courts? What if they say that Rhysand has no right to wield the Troves only because Nesta is a citizen of the NC? (which, by the way, she didn't choose either) Sounds like the worst nightmare of his egocentrism and SJM Amren's wet dream of a High King.

I ask a lot of questions and drip with sarcasm bordering on passive aggression because it's as fun as arguing that ACOSF is a great book about healing, family love, power of friendship and redemption. Even if you poured colorful paint on a pile of shit, it would still stink and attract flies. And ignoring the message that in order to heal from psychological trauma you just have to do whatever people who only care about their own emotional comfort say is the same as secretly wrinkling your nose.

But I'm glad there are plenty of people who point their fingers and are not ashamed to say: "This is a pile of shit. Don't pretend it's okay in a public place." You are the best 🫂

[writingwisterias]

How would the different eras of leon comfort a reader who had a bad childhood/ still dealing with abusive parents? For material, theres lotta nightmares about parents, hallucinating, and anxiety symptoms

-🪻

Hi 🪻!

I would love to do this for you! I hope you enjoy and have a good day!! 💕 I rambled a lot with this one as well, just healing myself along the way

Warnings: Nightmares, Childhood Trauma, Comfort, Fluff, PTSD, Mentions of abuse

Gn!Reader

RE2:

He has the most experience with nightmares, he would have them to after everything

I'm thinking of a Leon between RE2 -RE4R

So because he has his own he would have a way to calm down quickly without waking you up. That is until he notices you suffer from them to.

His nightmares make him a light sleeper so I think he would notice something wrong very quickly and immediately pull you into his arms to wake you up.

Depending if it's a night terror or just a nightmare he would wake you up slowly, kisses, soft talking etc

If it's a night terror he would want you to be awake as quickly as he can. So he's shaking you or whatever.

If he knows about what happened in your childhood say for example abuse from parents, he would keep his touch firm but caring if he's waking you up from a night terror.

He'd prefer if you would be open about what the dream was about and your history so he can help you in the best way he can without further causing issues.

Also wouldn't care if you need plushies to sleep, he'd rather have the whole bed covered in them if it would help you sleep. (Really like squishmellows or any Kenji plush)

RE4R:

I like to think this Leon is probably the quietest. Like he's a simple guy and would have music in the background of his apartment at low volumes etc

So you find a lot of comfort here, if you still lived at home with your parents he would let you use his apartment even if he was away on mission

He wouldn't even talk to you either if you didn't want it, he's happy to just have you in his space.

If he's not around and you use his place, he'll make sure to leave a hoodie/shirt for you to use and he doesn't care if you use his bed

He's also happy to do whatever you want to do, so if you do want to talk and chill then he's more than happy to do that.

His chilled out attitude is just great if your household is chaotic and loud, it's a mini escape.

Infinite Darkness:

With this era of Leon I think he would be really good at either preventing anxiety attacks or helping you out of them.

I mean look at how he comforts Patrick at the start of the show, it's such a small interaction but he stays for like an extra few seconds to ensure he's okay because he spots that he's not

He's like a quite observer

So if your anxiety is based on childhood issues like maybe expectations that your parents have placed on you whenever they mean to or not.

He would be very quick to spot any signs of you becoming uncomfortable

Let's face it he's probably already watching you anyway because he always does but he's the type of person to acknowledge the signs that you are doing to have a panic attack

Leon is also not the type of guy to make it a big deal either, like I said with Patrick is a small conversation that no one else really sees or pays attention to so hes not going to bring attention to you at all

It could be a small touch or hand hold. Maybe even creating an excuse to leave

If you are in private I think he would talk to you to distract you from it, or just sit there in silence if you wanted to walk through it alone.

Damnation:

I think he gives the best hugs and has a really protective nature

Again let's say it's something to do with passive aggressive parents I don't think he would hesitate to jump in and defend you

If he found out that it was perhaps more physical abuse than mental he's not letting you near them at all

He would understand if you didn't want to cut them off like he's not going to force you to do that

But he would be silently mad and very watchful when you do interact with them

He's also mindful of how he interacts around you.

Especially with his drinking habits if that's something that makes you feel uncomfortable

RE6:

Following along with the protective nature I think he would amplify this

Like he's not letting anyone near you during an anxiety/any type of episode

I also think he's a great listener so if you do need someone to talk to he's your man

He would offer advice if you need it, he has a lot on how he deals with things and will try his best to not let you follow in his footsteps.

Again with his home being a safe space I think he would actively make sure it is one for you instead of himself

Like say you go out shopping and spot a blanket or something you like he would buy it and keep it at his place

Your parents didn't let you have this toy dw he's got it

He has a lot of money that if you came from a poorer background and are conscious about your own money he will spend it for you

You cannot mention you want anything around him because he'll find it and get it

Vendetta:

Considering in the film Chris mentions that Leon is drinking early in the day I think he would drink that early to either forget a nightmare or get an early start to being able to sleep

So I would think him helping you through your own nightmares would draw him away from this behavior

Both of you working together to create an environment that helps you both sleep is how you would do it

By this I mean,maybe you need nightlights so you would find one that works for the both of you. Same with bedding or the general layout of the room

I think he would prefer to be the bigger spoon, since a lot of Leon's trauma comes from failure to protect people it would make him think he's doing a good job.

I would also say that he would prefer it if the bed was as far away from the door/window as possible and against a wall so you can be tucked away from danger behind him

But if you do have a nightmare and wake him up, he's not going to be mad. He'll talk to you about it if you need that and will help soothe you back to sleep

Not only because he knows you'll return the favor but because it actually helps him

Like maybe he runs his hands through your hair it's almost soothing for him doing the same motion over and over again

Death Island:

Much like infinite darkness I think he's going to be the quiet observing type so if you do space out or start of have anxiety he'll spot it

He's still wouldn't make a scene but would prefer to remove you from the situation entirely with or without an excuse

He doesn't care what your parents think they are assholes anyway for treating you like that

In the same scenario he has an idea of how he would be a parent so I don't think he would baby you but almost apply some of the methods to actually help you out in terms of feeling the right love

I also think he would just generally heal you in any toxic relationship you've had by just showing you the opposite whenever he's doing it on purpose or not

He would make sure he's not overstepping any lines in your healing journey and would want you to take the reigns but if you need to hand them over to him he's okay with that

He'll be your brick wall in whatever you need him

Can't sleep? He's staying up with you and even after you fall asleep don't worry

[gazstations]

Finally, we’re at Price. Gotta love random headcanons. I will probably do more on the future.

gaz nightmare headcanons

soap nightmare headcanons

ghost nightmare headcanons

I think Price holds a lotttt of trauma in his body. He has long given up on consistent sleep and stopped getting stressed when he is blinking up at the roof, body ridged with the last remnants of his nightmare. He doesn’t dream a lot, but when he does, his brain is cycling some bitter memory.

I think he deals with everything a lot more poorly than the other three. He never had healthy habits. He smokes like a chimney and is probably going to get throat or lung cancer because of it. His liver isn’t doing well either.

But you would never know.

As captain, he has to be on top of his game. And he still passes physicals and psyche evaluations (somehow). He’s very good at keeping his composure even when it’s obvious the man is a little more than tormented—physically and emotionally.

Holds the weight of carrying that dump tru—

Anyway.

When he wakes up, he smokes. Numb the thoughts, reap the consequences later.

He’s so good at keeping up his A-game, that by the time he slips out of his bed officially it’s just another day.

I think Price is always one step away from snapping. He already makes morally questionable decisions, it just takes that ONE thing that really just sends him over the edge (like Johnny dying, OOP, sorry).

He also never mentions any of his baggage to his men. He keeps it all inside. Though, Kate and her wife have gotten him to unload once or twice. Actually, maybe Nikolai knows the deep lore, which is why they’re so deep devoted to each other. They would do shit like ask to get buried together.

[colleybri]

A few thoughts on Bix’s arc so far in Andor season 2

(Spoilers up to Season 2 Ep 6)

Since her torture in Season 1 (and the attempted rape in S2 Ep 3) I knew that Bix would be carrying a lot of cumulative trauma in this season, but I was totally unprepared for how realistically this is being handled. The aspect that really shocked me is that the show unflinchingly shows the longer-term PTSD taking full effect many months later in the form of depression - and addiction.

Most obviously, Bix has terrible nightmares that reflect the different ways in which she is haunted. In the first arc nightmare, Gorst pulled the blanket off her as she lay alone in bed on Mina Rau - visually foreshadowing her vulnerability to the predatory Imperial Krole. It was implied then that the nightmares are worse when Cassian isn’t there, but in the first nightmare of the second arc he is literally right next to her and it makes no difference. He does say, on waking her from the sleep walking episode, that “It’s been a while” since she last had one, so the suggestion is that the nightmares are back because of their most recent mission. Bix struggling to process the death of this young soldier has clearly brought all her demons back in force, all symbolised by demonic Gorst. She has killed men herself by now, but says “I can’t stop seeing [the soldier’s] face”. According to the dialogue in the Gorst torture nightmare, an aspect that particularly haunts Bix is that the young man’s family will never know what happened to him. For a woman from such a tight-knit community as Ferrix this troubles her deeply. She is also, canonically, an orphan and presumably has had to mourn and process the death of each of her parents. Brasso is also a fresh bereavement. Family is important to her even though she has almost none left. …

She at least has Cassian, and their relationship - one that started as a childhood friendship over twenty years before and has had romantic interludes since - is probably the main thing sustaining her. “She’s the most Ferrixian woman there is and she can’t go home. But she and Cassian have made a home in each other” says Adria Arjona. The beautiful ‘hand dance’ scene in Ep 4 seems designed to re-centre her a little as he leaves her for the solo mission to Ghorman. A little shared moment of intimacy that takes them back and grounds them.

But it’s a realistically flawed relationship too. Trauma-bonding can lead to co-dependence but the other major contributing factor is the nature of their role as rebel operatives in the ‘insanity’ of the city. They can’t relax. They can’t shop without worrying about being recognised. In one really poignant little exchange Bix asks if they can go for a walk in the “big park” as she’s clearly yearning for some natural scenery. But Cassian says no, there are cameras.

This makes their safehouse, dingy and grey and overlooked by a never-ending rainy city, feel like a prison and the sense of smothering claustrophobia clearly haunts Bix while they’re here. She prefers activity, doing something, being on missions… it’s the sitting around waiting that allows the dark thoughts to come. Cassian and Luthen both acknowledge this too.

Socially, Bix is completely isolated. She has no friends; it’s not safe. There’s no sense of community here. Her world has shrunk to the ‘home’ she has with Cassian - their relationship is her home but she’s frustrated that she’s otherwise homeless. She hesitates to call the safe-house ‘home’…. “This place. Whatever it is.” She contemplates buying towels and decent plates, wants to clean the windows… if they are staying there longer term. She has an instinct to make a home but the place just doesn’t feel like one. She’s disturbed by the idea of other people using it while they’re not there. Since losing her home in Ferrix she has lived in a ‘Mobil-Haus’ on Mina Rau (even Krole pointed out that it didn’t look ‘permanent’) and now their base is this ‘safe house’ which might be safe but certainly isn’t somewhere she can feel is ‘permanent’ either.

She is also trying to be strong. She’s rightly resentful of Cassian’s desire to protect her. That in itself is complicated because he’s also a victim of trauma. Bix highlights this in that little flare-up argument in Ep 4 - “I’m not Maarva, I’m not your sister!!”. Cassian having what Tony Gilroy recently called ‘a problematic saviour complex’ derives from his very early guilt about not being there for his sister. He wants to save those he loves, he wants to go back for them - metaphorically or literally. But Bix tells him that ‘It’s not up to us, what we save or what we lose’. Cassian is really struggling with this concept at this point in his life when he’s torn between what Luthen sees as full commitment to the cause and his love for Bix. Bix herself wants an existence for herself outside of this perspective. She wants to fight. “If I’m giving up everything, I want to win. We have to.”

But the contributing factors to her state now are trapping her in a vicious circle of nightmares. She would be a danger to herself and others on a mission. The sleeping drug doesn’t seem to be working. She takes it regardless of whether Cassian is there or not. The depression is taking over; she’s trapped. Cassian asks her if she wants to talk about it but she doesn’t. He doesn’t want to push it. I think he absolutely knows that she is in a very bad way. He probably knows also, at least on some level, that she is self-medicating. There comes a point when an addict finds this extremely difficult to cover up - especially from someone who loves you and knows you extremely well. For these reasons he is not only hesitant to leave her to go to Ghorman at all but is also especially furious at Luthen.

Realistically, Bix isn’t observably in a bad way all time. She can still appear her old self sometimes, as glimpsed with the banter with the shop-keeper. Even after her worst episode, Bix eventually clears away the mess of takeaway cartons and cleans herself and the safehouse up a bit for Cassian’s return. She even buys flowers - an attempt to ‘make a home’ of the place. They express their love easily when he comes back; the gentle flirting about Varian Skye is particularly cute. But even there, in the suggestion that they might be into bedroom roleplay, there’s a sort of poignancy… it’s the kind of taste that might develop in a couple who are literally using different identities all the time as spies and who are also unable to bring any real people ‘home one time’.

The irony of all this is that it’s Luthen ‘not a friend to romantic relationships’ Rael who helps - ‘sending them on couples therapy to kill Gorst and blow stuff up’ as one meme put it. Bix gets the catharsis that she desperately needed. Realistically, it’s not going to be a cure-all and I think it’s a safe bet to say that any improvement in Bix is not going to be presented as something that happens overnight either. But I think there’s hope where there was none before. Her ongoing-therapy now? It’s just as Cassian told young mechanic Niya at the start of the season. “You’ll never feel right unless you’re doing what you can to stop them”. In having a new sense of purpose and working alongside the man she loves and trusts the most - a partner in both senses - there’s an indication that there is hope ahead for Bix.

Even if she dies after all this suffering … a ‘blaze of glory’ death feels a lot more likely and a lot more earned. Personally, I hope Bix lives. I feel a bit more confident in the writers finding a way to allow that. But either way, I’m sure her overall arc will be incredibly powerful.

[puppetmaster13u]

Oh my gosh what if the folder is what first gets him into investigating and figuring stuff out. Like that's what starts him solving crimes and such because like, even if people don't like xenomorphs, they still let all this happen?? Like innocents died from those hunts and experiments and that really distresses him.

What if, like when the Waynes first found him he looked almost entirely xenomorph but instincts plus the shapeshifting kicked in so over several weeks shifted to a more human looking form? Like his instincts are screaming to hide, which in most xenomorph's case would be literal but for something that can shapeshift is more time to try and mimic surrounding creatures.

I want to say Bruce is like, 95 to 98% xenomorph with a bit of other things taking up the rest of his DNA sequence including human and whatever his queen-mother happened to have. And/or he may have bitten his human parents for blood to copy in his human form.

I love the accidental mirroring of Bruce & Clark. The temptation to draw something for this is unreal lol

Love the idea of Bruce just being like, "Alfred where's the guns I need them, no one is going to care if the Joker dies tonight-" Probably has Clark help watch the kids so he can't stop him (Like Clark did in canon) Honestly yeah, no one would care if Wayne did, like the police probably straight up went, yep, the Joker slipped on a banana, that's how he died, definitely. If people send him flowers and gift baskets that's no one elses problems.

Gosh I love the idea of J'onn being so wary about Bruce and traumatized, but just, slowly learning to trust him and eventually managing to befriend each other. Oh my god one of the few things that can cause a xenomorph to back off is fire but martians can't use fire because they're terrified and weak to it as well. That was probably a massacre on both sides.

O h, no one besides Diana and Clark are probably aware of Bruce's kids for the longest time because the others are so untrusting of him. Several already say some rather... rude things about him and he doesn't want to expose his kids to that. Which probably isn't helping the suspicion from the others when he keeps leaving early to take care of said kids...

Slowly rotating xenomorph batfam, either full blown xenomorph or similar to several experiments are some sort of xeno hybrids- probably with human but there's also been other types too.

[spoiledblogif]

What would the ROs (and Carter's) reactions be to MC saying they had a nightmare where they abandoned them?

As someone brought up before, it's very probable that the MC has abandonment issues, so this isn't a farfetched question.

Given their abilities, R would probably be very well aware when MC's having a nightmare. MC already doesn't know how to control their powers, so they probably "project" a lot. R waking up in a cold sweat because they're experiencing "sympathy pains" might be entirely possible. In which case, R would just do whatever MC felt comfortable with. Talk all night until they both pass out? Let R try to dispel the lingering anxiety? Pretend it never happened? It's up to MC.

The fortunate thing about Z is that the aura of calm they project would probably have the side effect of keeping a lot of nightmares at bay. MC's also got some empathic abilities (not as finely tuned as R's, but there certainly) and they might be affected on some subconscious level by Z's presence. But in the case of MC having a dream, Z would encourage them to go back to sleep and promise to be there when they wake up. And Z is very, very good at keeping promises.

But it's the Kestrel who is the most uniquely equipped to deal with this. Whether that means that the Kestrel can manipulate MC's dreams to steer them away from being nightmares altogether or offering to 'make' a dream for MC when they go back to sleep. There's a short vaguely based on this premise, except it's when MC has a migraine due to their powers and the Kestrel admits that they can't stop the pain, but they can temporarily take the MC away from it in a dream.

But those are all theories. Carter probably has actually had to deal with this. Probably when MC was younger, maybe when he first adopted them. MC probably had a lot of nightmares for a while, between the fresh trauma and dealing with their own abilities (until they learned coping mechanisms). And I imagine MC not waking him up the first time and instead he finds them sleeping on the couch in the living room, or wide awake at 5am mindlessly watching tv because they don't want to go back to sleep.

Carter's smart, he'd figure out what's happening (I mean he's probably also the king of sleepless nights himself), and he's the one who agreed to take the MC in, emotional trauma and all. So, whether he was good at it or not, he'd be dedicated to TRYING to help. So I can see him spending a lot of sleepless nights staying up until MC finally fall back to sleep. This could even be how MC first started focusing on him to self-soothe.

[batsycline69]

Chapter Two: Night & Day

Summary: Jason's night doesn't go as planned. As a result, neither does yours.

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Words: 4,365

Content/warnings: profanity, canon-typical violence, mentions of blood

SERIES MASTERPOST

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Jason wakes in a sweat.

He’s had this dream before; his body throbs, slick and sticky with blood. Each hit of the crowbar jerks his body.

He pushes himself up from the bed, his feet meeting the cold wood floors beneath him. He huffs, his head falling in his hands as he slumps towards his knees.

There’s no blood. Hell, there aren’t even the scars to prove what he went through anymore. It’s just Jason trapped in his own mind. The laughter echoes in his ears long after he wakes up, but the pain eventually fades into the back of his mind, a lingering nagging as he tries to grip onto reality and find something to distract himself.

Lines of light fall across the floor from the streetlamps pouring in through the venetian blinds. He’s been meaning to get curtains. He feels too exposed, even if the blinds are always shut.

When he was first resurrected, there were only so many memories he had to comfort himself with. Anything from his life with Bruce was immediately off limits, so he usually sought out Talia. The comfort she’d managed to offer him after all of that just by showing a little kindness.

A few days ago, he met you. You’d been kind to him too.

He told you to just call a ride instead of taking the train. He knew what happened in this neighborhood at that time of night. But you didn’t listen.

Jason knew you weren’t going to get onto that train without a hitch. He chose following you over the stupid drug bust. He figured there’d be time to take care of them later. He’d been right, of course, but after that, he froze.

You hadn’t been intimidated by him at the shop. But you’d seen him—the real him—and flinched. Not that he can blame you. It was a hell of an introduction on his part, barrel of his gun up against some guy’s head. In a city like Gotham? God, he could have been any creep.

But he’s him. He’s the same he’d been at the shop, but you don’t know that. And you can’t.

That doesn’t stop him from thinking of you. As he wakes from his nightmare, you’re there, and he’s not entirely sure why. Maybe because your kindness is so straightforward. It’s not shrouded by trauma and odd gestures meant to translate to kindness. You talked with him, laughed with him. You got him food that you insisted he eat.

You’re better off without him. There’s a natural path for the two of you to never see each other again. It’s more work to not lose contact with you. Even with every part of him saying no, Jason makes the effort.

How’s your tattoo healing?

It’s still dark out, but it’s nearing 6 am now. As he sends the email, he hopes you get the idea he’s some sort of early riser. Maybe you think he’s less of a mess than he is. He’d let you think that, if you wanted to.

Part of him also worries about you. Not in some wild way, but after your close call with the guys at the train station, he doesn’t want you to be scarred for life. That may be overdramatic, but the point remains. That’s normal shit for him, but that’s not something you signed up for. That’s just the bi-product of living in Gotham.

His body collapses back into bed in a heap, his breath finally evening out. He’ll try to fall back asleep for at least an hour before he realizes it’s probably hopeless and gets up.

Mornings like this, he cooks. It passes the time. Dealers aren’t making deals this early. The shop doesn’t open until ten, but he sure as shit doesn’t want to be sitting around dwelling in his thoughts for longer than necessary.

So when Jason finally rises out of bed, he goes to the kitchen. He pulls out eggs and bread. Bacon, tomatoes, and cheese. Good salt, the salt that costs extra. He doesn’t have a lot of good these days, so he takes it where he can.

The Gotham underworld is lucrative, no surprise there. Jason has access to things he never would have as a kid. The sort of stuff he was introduced to at Wayne Manor. Except now Jason has them on his own terms. He didn’t need Bruce for it.

Bacon is on the stove sizzling as Jason’s old coffee machine gurgles. He’ll drink most of the pot by the time the sun rises. By now, there’s enough for him to focus on that he can push the dream to the back of his mind. He doesn’t need to think about the past. That’s why he has his plans. He has a future to look forward to. And if he has to be alive again, he’s going to make something of it.

Just the light above the stove is on. Jason likes the dark. Old habits and all that.

He fries up an egg until the ends get crispy. Toast, egg, sharp cheddar, bacon, and hot sauce. He takes a mug of coffee and his sandwich over to the small table up against the window and watches as the city wakes up.

It’s the most normal his day is going to look. These moments where his brain isn’t completely fixed on the job. He’s not trying to parse through whatever lying scumbag is coming into the shop. There’s no blood. It’s quiet.

The quiet is nice until it isn’t. Until it’s too quiet, and there’s nothing besides the quiet.

When he woke up, buried six feet under, it had been quiet. Except for his breathing. The claustrophobic weight. The crushing weight of the dirt as it pressed against him, as he fought to the surface.

You reply while he’s out taking his smoke break.

The tattoo itches, but it looks good, you say. I’ll send a picture once it’s healed.

His second appointment of the day, the one he goes to after he sees your email, is the type he usually sees. Some asshole that wants a skull on his arm to prove he’s tough. Someone who definitely isn’t you. But it’s not his place to wish it was. He feels ridiculous being so attached to you like a lost little puppy.

He wants to think of an excuse to see you again, but his mind is blank. Can’t just lure you to a dark alley for a chat like the people he’s normally trying to get in touch with. Yet again, just trying to be a regular person, he falls short. He doesn’t know how to navigate this. He spent the years he was supposed to figure this shit out in a box beneath the earth. As much as Talia taught him when he came back, he didn’t get flirting lessons.

There’s so much he doesn’t know about you. Sure, he could dig around and fight out a thing or two. That’s what Bruce would do, but he’s not Bruce. He doesn’t want to do that with you. He wants to just be Jason in your eyes, so that means keeping Red Hood as far away from you as possible.

Are you taking care of it?

It’s not flirting. It’s not smooth, either, but it does keep the conversation going.

During his next appointment, he has to push you to the back of his mind. The guy ends up being a small-time dealer. A guy who works for a guy who works for a guy sort of dealer. His license was scanned when he came in for the tattoo, and that means Jason has his address. There’s a lot he can learn from a license, assuming it’s real. Lucky for Jason, the dealer wasn’t smart enough to use a fake. Now he’s got a new lead, more heads to bust.

After the shop closes, he goes home. As he’s researching, he gets another response.

Yeah, I’ve been going swimming every day and using dish soap to keep it clean just like you said.

He smirks. You’re a smart-ass. That’s part of what he likes about you.

As he eats the leftover fried rice he heated up to the light of his laptop, he thinks about your appointment. The way you’d laughed over your dinner. The mischievous look in your eye as you teased him. He wished he had paid closer attention to that look because when he thought of you now, he saw that look of fear. That look directed at him. Guilt sat heavy in his chest because of it. You couldn’t trust him when he said he wasn’t going to hurt you. It was a good instinct. As much as it hurt, he wasn’t going to blame you for it.

Tonight, he’s going to kill. Becoming a crime lord isn’t pretty work, but he’s not about to shy away from it. If he has to spill blood, that’s what he’ll do. But he isn’t willing to risk that colliding into his memories of you either.

You’re separate from all of this.

Jason doesn’t regret being there for you at the train station. How could he? But at the same time, now you know, and that’s a liability. He doesn’t think you’d go around asking everyone, but he also doesn’t know you, and that fact remains even when his mind runs away from him to focus on your skin. Sure, Jason’s got the training to be able to read someone, but he’s not one to get too comfortable about such things.

This whole thing is still new. It’s precarious. Jason’s been back in Gotham weeks. There’s still plenty to be done, and he doesn’t need to be distracted.

Jason’s night doesn’t go as planned.

The dealers he’d been meeting with had gotten sloppy. A crew that got way too comfortable talking about sales in public. Batman got wind of it, but Jason was one step ahead. He got out minutes before Bruce arrived, and he didn’t leave anyone left alive to talk to. It’s messier than he’d like, but he doesn’t leave evidence. Whatever trail Bruce has picked up through them will run cold.

Just when he thinks he gets away without a hitch, he runs into the boss of the men unlucky enough to cross his path. He gets a shot in, but not before the boss grazed his thigh with a bullet. It bleeds, but it doesn’t go deep. Still, he can’t ignore it. He takes shelter in a residential area. He can keep a lower profile here if Batman is in the neighborhood, so he finds a dark alley to lick his wounds. He steams over how much carelessness has set him back, when a door slamming breaks his concentration.

And there you are.

You don’t see him in the darkness. You’ve got a bag of garbage in your hand heading towards the dumpster just a few feet away from where his back is pressed against the wall. It’s only a matter of time you see the faint glow from his mask, and he’ll see that same startled look on your face. He doesn’t want you to look at him in fear again.

The bag of trash clamors into the dumpster as you toss it in. You turn over your shoulder and freeze at the sight of someone standing just out of sight. And there’s that look. That same startled, caught in headlights look that’s been haunting him since he left you at the train station. He can’t stand it. So he raises his free hand and gives a small wave.

“Just me,” he says.

Recognition crosses your eyes as you fully find him in the shadows. “Oh,” you say, the sound getting drowned out by the light rain falling. Unconsciously—at least, he hopes—you take a half step away from him.

Yeah, maybe Jason should have thought this through a little more. So careful when he’s making his big plans, but all of the sudden, with you, he’s got his foot in his mouth and his brain where it shouldn’t be. Last you ran into him, he had been hidden out of sight, appearing suddenly to come to your rescue. And maybe doing the same thing outside where you presumably live isn’t a good look.

He should have gone on a rooftop somewhere.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he says.

It’s not a lie, but it’s not like the full version of the truth would offer you any comfort. I don’t think you’d like to hear that he’s on the run from Batman for killing a few guys. But is you potentially thinking he’s stalking you any better?

Your body is still rigid, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of your coat. “What are you doing down there?”

He wonders if you’ve got your pepper spray on him. You’d know better than to use it against him from your first run-in, but maybe you’re holding it now as a comfort. He’s not going to humor himself by believing you trust him. Even if he knows you’re safe with him, you don’t.

“Seemed like a good spot for a rest,” he replies.

The shadows across your face make it hard for him to really see where you’re looking, but he sees your back stiffen.

“Is that blood?” you ask, and now he’s sure your eyes are on his leg, fixed to the spot he was grazed. The concern is evident in your voice. Your eyes grow wide, and Jason all but sees the internal spiral happening on your face.

“Don’t worry, it’s mine,” he replies.

You stand, open-mouthed for a moment, the features of your face twisting further into confusion and worry. “Don’t worry?” you ask in disbelief. Your voice pitches slightly.

“Relax, it’s just a bullet graze. I’m fine.”

A moment of silence passes. Jason waits for the bleeding to slow a little. But once time passes without any sort of response from you, he looks up to catch your eyes wide in disbelief. Which is probably fair. At best, he sounds like an asshole being so casual about something like that. Sure, it’s Gotham, but even that’s a little much. Your obviously freaked out, and here he is acting cavalier.

Jason nods once. “Sorry. The people I’m usually around don’t get bothered about that sort of thing.”

You nod once, your arms crossing over your chest. “I bet.”

God, this is such a mess.

Your eyes flicker up from his wounded leg to the glowing white space where his eyes are beneath his helmet. Jason wishes so desperately to know what’s going on in your head. Do you see him as some sort of monster? Is there any bit of Jason you see beneath the helmet, even if you can’t actually know it’s him? Or has he blown all of this?

“Are you...okay?” you ask.

“I’ll be fine,” he says. “You don’t have to worry about me.” He thinks it’s silly you would in the first place. People have never worried about Jason; he’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself. You shouldn’t be the first one to take on the hopeless task of worrying for him, especially not over some graze. Especially not some graze relative to all of the other things that’s happened to him.

If this is what happens when he a bullet grazes his leg, he can’t imagine what you’d think of everything else.

“So...what’s your deal?” you ask cautiously.

“My deal?” Jason replies, even though he knows exactly what you’re asking.

“Yeah. I mean...what kind of guy in a mask are you?”

There’s a rough, modulated laugh from behind the helmet. “Well, I scared off those guys the other night, didn’t I? What kind of guy does that make me?”

“You scared them off with a gun.”

“And? They didn’t hurt you either way, right?” Maybe there was no room for you to see anything in Red Hood, and maybe he was foolish to think otherwise. He wonders if that still leaves any hope for you and Jason.

“And you conveniently are in the same place as me at the same time. I’m not sure what to make of that.”

“So you think I’m stalking you, huh?” he asks with a light laugh.

“I don’t see how that’s funny,” you reply.

You don’t trust him. There’s no hesitancy to voice your skepticism. He has to admire you just a little bit, even if it is a stupid idea to be arguing with the guy you know is carrying a gun. Now he’s the one who’s going to start worrying about you, as if that wasn’t already the case.

“You live in a shitty neighborhood. You’re gonna see guys in masks around here.”

“It’s Gotham. Most of the neighborhoods are shitty. Are you always this evasive?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

There’s a pause as you look him over carefully. Even if you don’t trust him, Jason doesn’t want that to be the case. He wants you to believe that he’s not a threat to you. Not on purpose, at least. He showed up at the train station because the thought of those guys laying a single hand on you made his stomach roll.

He wants you to trust him now like you had trusted him with your skin.

“Listen, I was working in the area. Swear to god, it was a coincidence. I needed someplace quiet to patch up. I didn’t know you were here.”

You don’t seem totally pleased with the answer, but he can tell you could maybe eventually buy it. Again, you watch him carefully for a minute. Gotham is singing her usual song around you, sirens and rain hitting the rooftops. Somewhere a few blocks away, Jason swears he can make out a fight.

“Are you blinking under there?” you ask, sounding a little unnerved by the constant glowing where he can see what’s going on.

He laughs lightly. “Yeah, I’m blinking under here.”

“I tried to thank you the other day, but you were gone already,” you finally say. “So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Jason replies, even though he had heard it. When you were focused on the train rolling in, he’d slipped back into the shadows, waiting until the sounds of the train had long died down just to be sure there wasn’t anything else that was going to interrupt your trip home.

There’s another beat before he speaks again. “So are you okay?”

You look at him, slightly surprised. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you say. “Just glad you were there when you were.”

Jason nods. “Yeah, me too.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, your eye darting nervously back to his leg.

“I already told you, I’m fine.”

Your weight shifts. You’re hesitating, still not ready to accept his answer. “Do you...need anything?”

He wants to tell you not to offer help to guys like him. You’re being too nice, and not every guy is going to be like him. Maybe he’s just flattering himself, but he gets the idea this isn’t a universal openness. You’re testing the waters, weighing everything he says and does. He thinks about how you must be putting together one hell of a pros and cons list in your head right now.

Jason imagines what would happen if he said yes; maybe you would scurry up to your apartment. You would come back with three towels even if you thought he only needed one. You’d get him water or some food to keep his energy up. What would you bring out to share with the stranger who has a gun?

But Jason shakes his head. “I’m all set,” he replies. “Jacket’s got a lot of pockets.”

Thunder cracks overhead. You startle from the sound, gaze turning towards the sky as rain starts falling down harder around you both. With Jason’s helmet on, he’s not much bothered beyond the drops blurring his vision slightly, but you’re exposed.

“You should get inside,” Jason says, nudging his head back towards the door you came out of.

And, of course, you pause. He sees the way your eyes flicker nervously to his wound.

Jason shakes his head. “Don’t do it,” he says.

“Don’t do what?” you ask indigently.

“Invite me in to be polite and all that.”

You scoff. “Invite you in? Are you kidding me? You’ve given me next to no information about yourself. You’ve openly admitted you hang out with people who aren’t phased by getting shot--”

“’Hang out’ is an overstatement--”

“I am not inviting you up to my apartment. I’m sure you have dangerous friends you can stay with.”

With the helmet, you can’t see, but Jason smirks. You are warming up to him. The you from the shop is getting pulled out little by little. He’s glad to see you again.

When he doesn’t respond, you turn towards the door a little. “Well...good luck with your leg,” you say, fishing through your coat pockets. The movement picks up a little more, followed by a soft curse under your breath.

“Locked out?” Jason asks. He doesn’t bother to hide the pleased tone in his voice.

“I left my keys inside,” you grumble.

Jason rises to his feet, careful to stay off his wounded leg as much as possible. “Bummer,” he says. “Want me to pick the lock?”

You turn back over your shoulder, looking like you’re trying to suss out whether he’s joking or not. With the helmet on, he’s sure it’s hard to tell.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he reminds you. “Just gonna get the door open for you, and then I’m out of here. Promise.”

A bright flash of lightning illuminates your face, and you nod. “Okay.”

You take a step back from the door, letting him at the lock, gnawing on your lips nervously. “What if someone catches you?”

“I’m not worried about it,” he replies.

“And if someone catches me with you and I get evicted? I’m a little worried about that.”

“I get I’m not exactly at the top of the list of trustworthy individuals, but I’m going to need a little more confidence from you.”

There’s a crash of thunder. The rain gets even just a little bit heavier as Jason fiddles with the lock until it opens. It only takes him a few seconds, but you don’t comment on it. He’s not sure if it’s because you’re not surprised he can do it that quickly or because you’re exhausted with everything you’ve learned about him in the past few minutes.

You look at the open door, then back at him. “Thank you,” you say. It’s a little reserved, but he sees the echoes of you sitting in his station at the shop. A hint that maybe his chances aren’t so doomed as he worried.

“You’re welcome. Stay out of trouble.”

One last time, your gaze drops down to his thigh before looking back up. “You too,” you reply, letting the door slam shut behind you.

He should take this as his sign to leave, but he lingers a minute. It’s long enough for him to just barely hear a window slide open overhead.

Above him, he sees your head peek out over the ledge of your fire escape. Your building has the old kind, the wooden ones that are without a doubt a safety hazard. When you see him looking up at you, you quickly disappear out of sight again. The shyness is a little endearing, he has to admit. Not that he’s been doing a great job fighting it to begin with.

He can’t tell what you’re doing, but he knows you’re still out there. The top level is about as tall as the tracks above him. You live close to the station. That makes him feel a little bit better about your trip home after your tattoo. At least the time you were exposed to more trouble was cut down because of that.

There’s a little movement up on the fire escape. You hang something off the edge, but he can’t quite make out what. He sees the top of your head as you climb back through your window, and then the faint glow coming from your window goes dark.

Jason waits one second longer, trying to decide whether he’s meant to see what you’ve left him or not. He decides he is, and makes the trek up the rickety ladder. Some steps give a little from rot. Even if his leg isn’t wounded too badly, he does feel it each of the steps up. He wonders if you left everything up on the fourth floor where you live to spite him for being so nonchalant about getting hit.

When he finally makes it up to where you’ve left him a surprise, he sees your curtains are drawn shut. There’s no sliver of light peeking through. He wonders if you turned the lights off so he couldn’t see you trying to stay hidden while getting a look at him.

Hung over the railing is an umbrella. One he knows you didn’t have with you when you were out with him. You put it out here for him, even with his helmet on. Maybe as a thank you for helping you inside. Maybe as a way of toeing the line of you saying you won’t invite him in.

He could be anyone, but you gave away where you lived. He’d done enough for you to trust he wasn’t going to take advantage of this knowledge. But as the rain starts to get a little harder, he leans up against the brick of your building and opens up the umbrella. He can keep his leg dry until the rain lets up, at least.

Sitting out of the rain in the safety of your rickety fire escape, Jason makes the decision he’s going to ask you out for a drink tomorrow morning. Not him, Red Hood, but the tattoo artist. He knows for certain he’s not going to be able to keep you off his mind now.

He hopes tonight, he dreams of you.

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Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider giving this a reblog 💛

[shall-we-die]

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{Nightmares}

How often do they have them? || What are they about? How do they deal with it?

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↬[Fandom]•⊰ {Bungo Stray Dogs}࿐

↬[Warnings]•⊰ {Angst}࿐

☰[Main list]•⊰ ────┈┈{0063}┈─╮

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╰┈➤Likes/Reblogs are appreciated࿐

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↬|Atsushi|

Atsushi is plagued by frequent nightmares and occasional flashbacks related to his traumatic past in the orphanage, particularly about the cruel headmaster. He struggles to deal with these nightmares and the memories, often waking up in a cold sweat and feeling shaken. As a way to cope, Atsushi turns to writing in his journal as a way to process his emotions and experiences. Additionally, he finds solace in talking to his friends, and specially you. He can talk about anything when you're by his side.

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↬|Dazai|

Dazai has nightmares all the time, sometimes more severe, sometimes less. He is traumatized by his past, which causes him to have frequent nightmares. He copes with it by listening to classical music to calm his heart and soul. He also takes relaxing baths and drinks some tea. Or he goes for a walk at night. Sometimes, he can't handle it all alone, and he came to you in the middle of the night to comfort him.

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↬|Akutagawa|

Akutagawa suffers from nightmares and night terrors. Despite his usual cold demeanor, he is often kept awakened at night from the painful memories of his past. His usual method of calming himself down after waking up from a nightmare is to make a cup of tea or read a book, anything for him to forget his past traumas...

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↬|Chuuya|

Chuuya doesn't have nightmares often, perhaps a few times every few weeks or so. He tries to ignore them. When he's having nightmares, he will take a bottle of wine and get drunk until sunrise. He's too stubborn to ask other people for help, so he will probably try to deal with it by himself. (It's a lie, he likes it when you hug him and comfort him.) Also he rarely sleeps, which further contributes to why he doesn't have nightmares as often as other people might.

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↬|Tetchou|

Tetchou sometimes experiences nightmares related to his past traumas and regrets, especially concerning the death of a fellow Hunting Dog. Tetchou often wakes up in a sweat, breathing heavily, from these nightmares. To deal with the nightmares, Tetchou will often try his best to wake up and distract himself from the traumatic memories by taking a walk, training, or just simply trying to clear his mind.

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↬|Jouno|

At least two times or so a week. Sometimes, they'll occur more often depending on how much stress he goes through throughout the day. I mean... They're not scary just, annoying. He just hear annoying sounds all the time. Jouno will often wake up in a cold sweat, jolting himself awake at the annoying sound that played in his subconscious. While he remains mostly unfazed, he is aware it's taking a toll on his mental health and his sleeping schedule. The only way to get past it is to try to fall back asleep.

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↬|Fyodor|

Fyodor has nightmares quite often. They're usually always regarding his childhood, past traumas, him doing a sin, getting his revenge and similar. To deal with his nightmares, Fyodor usually locks himself in his room and quietly plays his cello to calm himself down. When his nightmares get too bad he usually turns to drinking and drinking until he's drunk enough to forget what he saw in his dreams.

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↬|Nikolai|

Nikolai has nightmares quite often, as he is the type of person to overthink and has a lot of issues about things. So he often experiences a lot of nightmares about past incidents. Nikolai does not like to talk about his feelings, so he deals with his nightmares by laughing it off. Whenever he has nightmares, he'll get out of his bed and will perform a small dance or juggle knives to try and calm himself down.

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↬|Sigma|

Has nightmares every couple of weeks. Usually sits up, awake in bed while clutching a pillow as hard as he can while waiting for the nightmare to pass. Sometimes goes to his s/o's room to seek comfort after waking up from a particularly bad nightmare. The next day, always has black circles under his eyes, and is grumpy and more quiet than usual.

||[🄽ightmares]||

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     ⇆ㅤㅤ◁🄼ㅤㅤ❚❚ㅤㅤ🄾▷ㅤㅤ↻

[leascorner]

j.b.b. | First Christmases

Summary: A series of firsts for Bucky around Christmas time.

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x coffeeshop owner!f!reader

Warnings: Use of Y/N and feminine pronoums, a few mentions of trauma and food, probably inacurate facts about NYC as I've never been but who cares

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This is the first Xmas OS of the series. I've been wanted to do this series for a couple of years now, so excited. Please do share and like if you enjoyed it, it means a lot!

2024 Christmas Masterlist | Main Masterlist

As friends

“Here,” Y/N hand appeared in front of Bucky’s face.

His sleep-deprived eyes looked away from the windows to discover the cup of tea Y/N was handing him. A smell of orange and cinnamon immediately tickled Bucky's nostrils. It smelt exactly like he remembered Christmas to smell like. One of the few memories he was sure it hadn’t been corrupted by Hydra and that morning he was grateful for it.

Bucky nodded to thank her and watched silently as she took place on the stool next to him. It was one of the few slow mornings the coffeeshop had during the year. With the holidays coming up, busy New Yorkers had slowly started to leave and were replaced by tourists. Those ones seemed to live on a totally different schedule and during those times, the busiest time of the shop was usually around ten a.m. instead of seven.

He quickly detailed her figure. She was wearing her usual green apron on top of a thick sweater. This winter, the weather had been dry, but freezing. Even with a lot of clothes on, a beanie and gloves, it had been pure torture for Bucky to walk the two blocks between the Avengers Tower and the shop that morning. He couldn’t even feel the hot cup in his hands as his fingers were still so cold.

Looking back through the store front, Bucky continued to do what he was doing before Y/N joined him: watching the streets slowly waking up. In the dark, all he could see was the lights of New York. The city was brighter than the Christmas Tree in the Avengers Tower’s lobby. For anyone having seen it, it wouldn’t be possible (yes, it was this bright!); yet, from where he was sitting, Bucky found the sight breath taking.

It looked nothing like the New York he had known. Of course, they already had electricity back then. However, those lights they had given the streets a much more muted ambiance. He had never taken the time back then to study the city – too busy living his life like any young adult; yet he was sure if he did, he would have found the same comfort he felt today.

This was home. His home. And even after all those years, he had finally come back. Damned the guilt or the nightmares that kept him awake so late at night or made it difficult for him to sleep at all. Damned the probation the judge had felt was necessary when Steve brought him back and the fact that he, for now, had to live in a narrow perimeter. He was right where he belonged.

Suddenly, Y/N trembled with joy on his left. Bucky furrowed his brows, and she pointed out to the portion of sky they could see from here. She showed him a small white object in movement that was so small Bucky had to squint his eyes before he finally saw it too.

It was snowing.

“It’s not really a Christmas in New York without snow,” Y/N softly spoke. From the sound of her voice, Bucky could hear the smile imprinted on her lips.

This sentence, he had heard it before. It was exactly what Rebecca – his sister – would say on the few years snow had taken its sweet time to lay a thin white layer on the streets of Brooklyn. Y/N and her were more alike than he had originally thought. Of course, he had thought of his sister when he first met her. Y/N like Rebecca was always content, eager to live and to share with others. One of the few that had kept her innocence even going in adult age.

Y/N had been one of the first person he met in New York after Steve brought him back. He needed a place to escape the tower’s agitation, and he found this coffee shop with a door open and a nice smell he couldn’t quite tell what it was. He had bought a tea, and she had offered him a part of the pie of the day; it was the most delicious plum pie he had ever eaten. He came back every week for six months straight – officially, to try on more pies; unofficially, he just liked being here. He always sat on the same chair, near the window, watching the business of New York while he tried to calm the storm in his chest. Somehow, it was relaxing. He felt like he was in a bubble out of time while the rest of the world continued to run its course. She had been let him be, always welcoming him with a warm smile and she waited for him to accustom before starting to exchange more than a few trivialities.

Y/N was a good friend. Not forcing him to speak when he didn’t want to. Being here in silence to keep him company - they didn’t need many words; silence would speak for themselves. Accompanying him as he worked out his trauma and guilt. She truly was a light full of life, and she was as bright as New York.

Bucky nursed the drink in his hand, watching as the snow seemed to fall in slow motion. As it snowed and it snowed some more, and with every snowflake, the weight on his chest lifted. His thoughts only focus on the present. It was so appeasing that he could feel his eyelids become heavy. At his side, he could feel Y/N’s body heat irradiating and warming him up. He felt so relaxed that he decreed that if he could, he would stay like this forever.

Somewhere in the distance, a church bell rang and suddenly, he remembered what day it was. It was Christmas. A holiday he just knew he would love from now on. Especially if he spent it with her.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

She turned to him and smiled sweetly. One of her smiles that made his heart flutter for some reason.

“Merry Christmas, Bucky.”

As a couple

“What was it like?”

Bucky, to whom Y/N was sitting back against his belly, inhaled, eyes slowly closing. They had stayed in the Avengers Tower today while the first snow covered New York City of its famous white coat. Y/N had watched a couple of Christmas TV show and Bucky stayed cuddled at her side, feeling absolutely content of his situation. She was now reading, and Bucky was slowly falling asleep.

“What was it like Christmas before-”, she carefully chose her words, “before the war?”

Y/N sat up between Bucky’s leg to be able to look at him and his sleepy figure.

“Well, it was much simpler I feel like.”

Y/N looked at him silently. It wasn’t frequent Bucky would discuss his life before Steve got him back to America. While he never discussed his time with Hydra, he also discussed very little of the war and even less of his life before the war. She knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime occasion and that she had to listen up.

“We would have Christmas dinner. Really simple. Tomato Soup. Turkey. Mashed potatoes,” he enumerated. “A bit of pudding- and that was it.”

Y/N nodded. Bucky reached out to bring a string of hair behind her ears. Slowly, she cupped his hand in her own and brought it to her lips to kiss his knuckles. Smiling, he brought her closer, her side now lying on him.

Stroking her hair, he continued: “It was a small dinner, just the four of us. Father, Mother, Rebecca and me.”

One of his hands had started to roll a string of her hair around one of his fingers. It was something Y/N would sometimes catch him doing, mindlessly.

“Would Steve celebrate with you sometimes?”

 “Yes, his mom and him did a few times. On Christmas day, we would all go to church.”

Looking up to him, Y/N noticed how his eyes had become clouded suddenly. It looked like ache; ache of not being able to live more moments with his family ever again. He was still grieving his past life and his family; it would always be a part of him missing.

“You know, we would wrap present in newspapers.”

“Really?” she raised an eyebrow. “So Tony wasn’t so much of a pioneer as he thought he was.”

“No, I just think he was just lazy.”

Y/N laughed softly, and Bucky brought her closer to him. In the few months they had officially been together, Y/N had brought him so much. If he did have a lot of regrets about his life, he would never trade what he had now for what he had back then. He wouldn’t even trade watching silly Christmas TV movies with a Y/N snuggled with him on a cold winter day for all the gold in the world.

“We could bring tomato soup and turkey to Rebecca next weekend. What do you think?”

Bucky’s eyes shinned of a special spark; he swore she couldn’t make his heart fuller. “Yes, I’m sure she would like it.”

It was moments like this he would treasure forever.

In their first shared appartement

“That’s way too big!”

Bucky, a few steps away, turned around a smirk on his face, eyes laughing. Y/N rolled her eyes and while he got closer, nudged his shoulder though a smile also drew on her lips. She turned to the pine tree that he had previously shown her. It was enormously large and probably as high as the ceiling in their apartment in Brooklyn. From where she was standing, she could smell its perfume, just like one of the candles she loved.

“I think it would look great in our living room.”

“We don’t even have furniture yet!”

They had both just signed the lease of the first flat that they would live together in. They had gotten the keys when on their way back to the Avengers Tower, Bucky had insisted to stop to the Christmas Tree Shop a few blocks down.

“I have everything I need.”

“But a Christmas tree,” Y/N argued.

He laughed.

Looking around, Y/N reviewed the other trees. Too small. Too few thorns. Not enough dense. Nothing quite comparable to the specimen in front of them.

“Alright, alright.” Y/N consented. “But I am the one to put the star at the top.”

Bucky hugged her, kissing the top of her head before searching for the owner of the farm shop to buy the tree.

A few hours later, Bucky had already picked up the tree and put it up in their living room. It was now the dreadful part – unfolding the Christmas lights they had just bought. They did so as Bucky told her the story of when his parents had brought his first Christmas tree home, when he was not even ten years old. He had stars in his eyes and Y/N was glad to see him this happy. It made her heart swell with happiness and pride to have him opening up to her, trusting her.

It took them a good hour to decorate it properly and after Y/N had put the star at the top – just like Bucky had promised, they took a few steps back in the middle of their empty living room to stare at it.

“It’s beautiful,” Y/N muttered, wrapping one arm around Bucky’s waist.

“It’s ours”, Bucky smiled down at her, “forever.”

Y/N snuggled closer against Bucky, and she tried to memorize the sight in front of them. The sight of their first Christmas tree in their first home. It was like all the pieces of a puzzle finally coming together. It felt like everything at that moment had meant for her to be right here, right then with him.

“I love you.”

On their honeymoon

“This is so odd,” Y/N mumbled as she sat down at the breakfast table.

Bucky was sat in front of her, sunglasses on his nose, forehead sun kissed by the last few days he had spent in the sun. He watched as the fabric of her white beach dress hugged her features and left little to his imagination.

Drinking a cup of black coffee, he eyed her greedily. Though he knew what she was referring to – as any New Yorkers used to white Christmas Days, the sand under their feet and the salty air were definitively disconcerting – he couldn’t help saying: “I could get used to it.”

“Stop it,” she hid her face in her hands. Her left ring finger caught his eyes again. There sat a small diamond and another golden ring holding it into place. It still made his heart flutter to see them, as if he hadn’t realized just yet.

Even after all this time together, her cheeks still got hot when he would praise her. And praised her, he did. Ever since they had arrived in the Bahamas for some well-deserved time off after the crazy year that they had had, they had not left their room a lot. Their time had been dedicated to reminding themselves of how much they loved each other. It was as if they had to prove each other that getting married did not change anything to their love, if anything it had made their love stronger…

Bucky laughed sweetly at how cute Y/N looked when she was embarrassed. And God, did she love his laugh. She could hear it all day long and she would never get bored of it. She was lucky she would be the one to be able to hear it for the rest of her life.

“I’ve got something for you,” she said suddenly, reaching for her beach bag.

“I thought we said we would open the present when we got home?”

“I’ve never said that.”

“Pretty sure we agreed on it.”

“Don’t only say this because you didn’t bring anything,” she teased.

Bucky arched an eyebrow, eyeing her through his sunglasses. She looked pleased with herself, her lips set in a grin. He would normally be the one to smother her with gifts. Always bringing flowers home unexpectedly. Waking her on a Sunday morning with a breakfast in bed. Buying her those lovely earrings just because he had seen them in the window display and had thought of her. He spoke the five love languages, but gifts were definitively his strongest asset.

“Alright,” he gave in, holding his hand out, “give it to me.”

She handed him a small envelope with only his name written on it. He took all the precaution in the world opening it and his eyes nearly teared up as discovered the Polaroid pictures inside of it. Y/N had made a booklet of their couple over the years. It was a book so small he could fit it in his wallet, next to the photo booth pictures they had taken on their third date at the funfair.

The first picture was probably the first picture they had together, on a snowy Christmas, after Y/N had closed her coffee shop to go and have a walk together in Central Park. Little did she know it was at that exact moment he knew she would have his heart forever. It did take Bucky a couple more months afterwards to finally ask her on a date.

The next couple of pictures were a compilation of their best memories together. Y/N posing next to their first snowman in Central Park. Them and their gelatos in Italy. The two of them when they had played the tourists in their own city. Bucky in his Christmas pyjamas all snuggled up with Alpine.

Obviously, the last picture was from only a couple of weeks ago, the two of them walking down the altar. As husband and wife.

“That way you won’t forget about me when I’m not with you,” Y/N smiled softly. It wasn’t a reminder because he needed to be reminded, but more because she wanted to be with him through everything. That was the kind of promise she had made to him that day at the altar.

Bucky sniffled softly, trying to get rid of the frog he had in his throat. Those pictures made him emotional. It wasn’t nostalgia – even if all those years had flown in the blink of an eye and he wished to relive them over and over. Seeing the pictures of them both, smiling from ear to ear, he felt so loved. Loved of a different love he had never felt before. He who had struggle to find his place, it made him feel so complete and exactly where he was supposed to be.

He would cherish these moments forever while continuing to create new memories. He would cherish the person in front of him for making all his secret dreams come true, to have taking him all – even the darkest parts of him – and to love him endlessly.

“It’s perfect,” he kissed her knuckles.

“You are truly an amazing person, Bucky,” she leaned in to kiss him, “I am so grateful for this life with you and all the rest to come.”

Bucky had promised to give her the world and he would. Starting today, on their first sunny Christmas, on which he would take her snorkelling as one of the first Christmas gift for the day – the other ones patiently waiting for her in his suitcase.

With their kid

“You know they won’t even remember it?” Y/N said to Bucky, who was currently tirelessly wrapping up presents on the living room floor.

It was only a couple of minutes past midnight, and they had only managed to put their little one to sleep in their crib. Both of them were wearing dark eyes circles from the lack of sleep, yet Bucky was insisting on wrapping up the presents he had bought a couple of days ago.

“Go to bed, I’ll be right there.”

“No, I am fine. I’ll help you with the sticky tape.”

Sitting up next to him on the floor, Y/N winced when the scar of her c-section was pulled under her downward movement and Bucky was on his feet in an instant, holding her elbow to help her sit up as if she was an elderly person. She thanked him with a kiss, and he sat cross-legged next to her again.

She took the first present on the pile and handed it to her husband. It was a pyjama so soft it made her think of Alpine. The cat that Bucky rescued a couple of years ago. The cat that shown them both that they were indeed ready to have kids. The cat who was currently performing its duty of watching after their newborn – a mission that since they had gotten home from the hospital, she was taking very seriously.

“Can you believe they won’t be this small forever?” Y/N asked, showing the very little pyjama in her hands to her husband.

“I know,” Bucky sighed, looking up from the wrapping paper he was cutting.

“Is it selfish that I want to keep them with us forever?”

“That’s why we are going to celebrate this Christmas like crazy. They won’t remember, but we will. And we’ll cherish that forever.”

Nodding, Y/N started to cut little pieces of sticky tape and handed them to Bucky. They worked together to wrap up all the rest of the presents - a tissue book about vegetables, a rattle for their teething, a cute fairy light… Once they finished, she watched Bucky arranging all the presents under their Christmas tree.

There lied an enormous number of presents – what they had wrapped up that night was only a couple of them, but there was easily a dozen only for the baby. And this was only their presents. Y/N knew more were to be expected as they would gather later that day for lunch with the rest of the Avengers.

It made her emotional to know how much such a little person could be loved so much. When Bucky looked back to her after having put the final touch on the presents next to the food they had left earlier for Santa Claus, she couldn’t help but wipe the few tears that had fallen down her cheeks. He must have known what she was thinking as he only got back to her and kissed her forehead.

“Come Mama, time to sleep.”

Scooping her gently from the floor, Bucky started to leaving the room. In his arms, looking back at the Christmas tree, the room bathing in the Christmas lights light, Y/N realized how lucky she was. To have met this man. To be loved by him. To have him as the father of her child. She had never loved anyone like she loved them.

However, they were half the way to their bedroom when she realized the only last piece of her ultimate happiness had been left under the Christmas tree.

“Wait Bucky, we forgot the cookies!”

[mybworlds]

Chapter 8

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: Javier Peña and his partner can't stand each other, but to take down an old enemy they are forced to work together and pretend to be a complacent married couple.

Series warnings: language , violence, alcohol use, slow burn, angst, mutual pining, smut (18+ MDNI), creampie, oral sex (m and f), fingering, masturbation (m and f), trauma and SA referencing.

Masterlist

Before to start… First let me thank you so much for your likes and reblogs, I really appreciate it ☺️ Second, sorry guys, but it took me a while to write, I had neither the calm nor the time, but now here it is. I hope it's decent. If you want let me know. ❤️

Taglist: @love-affair-with-fandoms; @pedr0swh0r3; @angel98624; @missladym1981; @harriedandharassed if you want to be added let me know.

Thanks @saradika for the divider. Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

The next day you wake up with a pounding headache. You've slept for maybe a couple of hours, your head full of thoughts jumbled together. You did nothing but think about your brother, then about Javier, about the outing he told you about... who knows if he'll talk about it today too!

You get up and immediately jump into the shower, the hot water hits you immediately pleasantly making you moan and soothe your nerves after almost a completely sleepless night.

The coffee at least helps you not to stagger to the bus stop, where you are allowed to sit in one of the last seats on a half-broken and discolored seat at least until your stop.

When you reach the offices you immediately notice two strange things, Javi who looks up as if worried in seeing you already there and closes a file putting it in a drawer of the desk and the other is the evidence board. Why is that name and face there again?

The hard, sharp features of El Diablo are there again. You frown in perplexity and, without taking your eyes off that face that has given you more than a few nightmares, you approach Javier with a perplexed and suspicious expression.

“What’s going on? Why is that photo there again?” you ask him when you’re already in front of his workstation.

Javier turns towards the board and then slowly back towards you almost as if he had forgotten that object behind him.

“Diáz asked me for a new report on… him and… to do so I once again brought out the evidence we had at the time.”

You nod, “Why did you hide a file then?” you ask him, crossing your arms.

“I didn’t need it anymore,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders in a casual gesture.

You look down, “Is that the truth?”

You see him lower his gaze for a second and then bite the inside of his cheek as if he were looking for the right words to answer you with because at this point it is highly probable that he didn't tell you the truth.

“Yes.” is the only response he gives you before he gets up and walks away. You mutter a fuck you before sighing sadly and walking to your workspace.

You settle in as best you can, tucking your hair behind your ear before turning on your old computer which makes a loud noise as soon as it turns on that makes you snort every time. If you could, you would throw it away, but it's not yours and there's nothing you can do other than report it.

“Coffee?” Mark asks, handing you a plastic cup of coffee.

“Yes, please.” You reply with a half smile, grabbing the glass that he offers you, smiling back.

“It’s definitely none of my business, but what is it?” he asks, looking at your frowning face.

Javier...

“This computer! I mean, it makes a lot of noise,” you blurt out, telling him the first thing that comes to mind.

Mark smiles, “Well you have some company!” you roll your eyes “Jokes aside, it’s definitely the fan!”

“Are you handy?” you ask him, hoping to at least find a solution to this.

“I’m a computer enthusiast, but I definitely still have a lot to learn.” He answers, leaning on the desk. “Do you want me to take a look?”

“Maybe during lunchtime, now despite the noise I have to transcribe this other report.” you answer him taking another packet to type on the computer.

“Okay, then I’ll let you work.” he says, turning his back to you as you sit behind the desk. “Oh, um, do you mind if I ask you another question?”

You look up, “Tell me.”

“Diáz, he described you as a great agent. He said that you and Agent Peña managed to capture El Diablo.” you let your gaze wander from the computer screen to the young man's face. “How did you end up there?”

You take a deep breath, the violent images of that man touching you and tearing your skirt, the image of the microphone slipping out of your pocket and the slaps you received appear before your eyes.

“It was my choice,” you answer him using a vague tone.

He nods, his lips tightening as if he doesn't quite believe what you're saying, but luckily he doesn't probe further. So, he leaves the room leaving you alone with your less than rosy thoughts.

You swivel your chair around with your back to the desk, fiddling with a faded bracelet, but it's the only thing you have of your brother and when you feel really, really down it's the only thing that makes you feel less alone or sad. And right now you don't know if you're sadder or feel more alone because of the thousand regrets that grip your heart and head.

Someone knocks on your door, “Knock, knock,” you hear someone calling your attention, you turn your chair, it's Javier who looks at you with his eyebrows raised and a questioning expression on his face “are you already on break?”

You shake your head slowly, “No, I… um, nothing, forget it. Tell me.”

He lingers for a long moment on what he has to tell you, you see him clutching yet another folder in his hands, it has a teal cover and on it there’s the name of one of the last victims of that monster.

“Diáz, he asked me if you can start digitizing our old cases like that of Garcia, Lopez and Sanchez.” you're about to reply that you don't feel like looking through old cases from more than ten years ago, but then you remember that you were the one who chose all of this and it would be foolish to refuse.

You sigh then nod, “Okay.”

Peña lingers for a moment in the doorway, “You look tired.”

You roll your eyes, “I preferred when you couldn’t stand me or when you made jokes.” you say, opening yet another file to copy and looking at the dusty papers inside.

“We are still ex-husband and wife!” he exclaims making you look up at him again “I'm worried, though.” he adds in a bitter tone of voice. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes, mind your own business!” you blurt out, only to regret saying it immediately after using that tone of voice. You don't want his understanding, you don't want anyone's understanding, you just want to be left alone. Maybe just by staying like this you can feel better, you don't want to involve anyone in your personal hell.

Javier lowers his gaze for a moment and then puts on an expression of indifference again, “As you wish, good luck,” he says before closing the door behind him and leaving you alone with that infernal contraption.

You were rude and inappropriate, you huff, holding your head in your hands, your eyes almost stinging with tears.

You feel like a mess and a failure. Again.

You work, you work, you don't stop for a second. You do everything you can to keep your mind busy and your guilt at bay.

You regret having answered him that way, but your nerves are on edge. You know you'll have to look for him to apologize.

You never thought you'd feel guilty one day for treating Javier badly. You, who have never tolerated him because of his tombeur de femme ways, feel bad for him. Before you and him left for France, your relationship was clear and precise: you couldn't stand each other. You and him never missed an opportunity to back down and even call each other unpleasant names, but today?

Now you no longer know what nature your relationship is, you only know that you can no longer be rude to him without regretting it.

Maybe because you fucked him, now you're no longer objective. Maybe because you were very close and that barrier that once divided you is no longer there.

When you get up from that uncomfortable chair, you open the door and look towards his workstation, but he's not there. Lunch time is almost always deserted, today is no exception.

You look around furtively and seeing or hearing no one, you approach Javier's desk. You look for the same folder you had previously seen in his hands. You know what you're doing isn't right, but you need to know.

You open all the drawers of the desk until you find it hidden under other folders. You take it in shaking hands, you feel that what you are doing is wrong and incorrect, but you want to see what Javier is doing so secretly.

When you open it, you realize that Javier wasn't reporting on El Diablo, but on you. You frown as you read what he wrote about you. You can't believe it, but why?

You feel dazed and confused. It takes you a while to regain control of yourself, the first thing you do is put things back in order and walk away from there.

You promised Mark that you would have lunch together, but you're no longer hungry.

You reach the terrace certain of finding him there smoking, you want to ask him why he was making that report, but he's not there.

The air is cold and so you shrug your shoulders, chilled. You reach the railing and at that moment you see him in the company of Andrea. She smiles. She has a beautiful smile, teased hair and he smiles too. You wonder what they are saying to each other!

They are about to approach the building, when Andrea takes his hand and he stops as if surprised, then she kisses him.

You find yourself resting your hands on the railing, your head spinning, time almost standing still. You know you have no right to feel this way, and yet...

He doesn't stop her. In fact, he brings her even closer to him, he holds her tight. You think about when he held you so tightly, how he made you feel protected and wanted in those moments. But now it's all over. All of this is in the past. There's no room for you anymore.

“Here you are!” you hear a voice behind you, it’s Mark. He’s holding two sandwiches, “I didn’t know if you liked ham, so I got one with and one without.”

“Anything’s fine, thanks,” you reply, grabbing the toast.

“Is everything okay?” he asks you.

You quickly look into his eyes and then turn them towards Javier and Andrea who puts both arms around his neck. You find yourself swallowing and then smiling bitterly, “Yeah, it’s okay. I just needed a break for a bit.”

He nods smiling at you, “If you still need help with the computer, let me know and I’ll bring all the supplies!” he exclaims, winking at you.

You grimace a little, “Maybe tomorrow, what do you think?” you suggest and he gently caresses your cheek with the back of his hand.

He stops his hand in midair and then withdraws it with an embarrassed expression, “Sorry, that was too intimate and confidential.”

“A little.” You admit, lowering your eyes for just a moment before raising them to his face, taking a moment to observe his soft, sweet features. “It's okay, don't think about it. Um, then enjoy your meal!” you try to ease the embarrassment that has arisen after his gesture.

Mark tries to step back as your relationship is still extremely formal and limited to the workplace. He tells you about his work shift, asks you for some advice and clarifications and you are more than happy to let him know about your experience, then he looks for a confrontation with you.

“I know you had some intense field experience a few months ago,” he begins, wiping his lips and tossing the paper in the trash “it must have been great and exciting to hunt down a real criminal!” he exclaims ecstatically “I wonder if I’ll ever have this opportunity!”

You smile, but it only lasts a few moments “Yes, erm.. it's definitely an opportunity to show who you are!” you wrap up the last piece of bread and squeeze it tightly in your fist, you think back to how self-satisfied you were, how stupid you were to think you could face a monster like that, how superficial you were in your relationship with Javier “Surely your opportunity will come!” you add.

“Can I ask you one more question?” he asks, drumming his fingers on his knees. “Maybe it’s a little personal...”

You frown, “Tell me.” You hope what he’s about to ask you isn’t anything illicit.

“What is it like working with Agent Peña?” he asks you “He's a bit of an eccentric guy, sometimes he looks down on you, think that a couple of days ago he called me with a snap of his fingers and he also called me with a name... let's say, not very nice,” you frown “My question is, is it always like this? I mean, when you and him left for France, wasn't it easy for you either?”

The image of you and Javier in that warm, intimate embrace, one moaning in the other's ear and whispering sweet words makes you press your lips together and to look down for a moment. For a while your words struggle to come out, you force yourself to regain a modicum of control so you don't look weird around Mark too.

“Not at first. We could barely stand each other. We called each other not very nice names,” a bitter smile curves your lips upwards “one never missed an opportunity to annoy the other.” you look down remembering those days “Then Diáz entrusted us with that mission and, you know, going on a dangerous mission like that… even the people you can’t stand become precious.” you sigh, you look at Mark “Peña has a particular character and until you get to know him and he gets to know you, it will be like this.”

Mark sighs discouraged, "Let's hope! You did it..." he doesn't finish the sentence, thankfully. You don't really know if the change between you is because you did what you did or if he really saw something in you and you in him.

“Shall we go back?” you suggest, rubbing your arms. “It’s a little cold. And then I still have two reports to digitize.” you add, rolling your eyes with a sigh.

When you come back, as if it were a cruel twist of fate, the first eyes you meet are Javier's who almost seem to want to scan you from head to toe and at that moment the words he wrote in that report come to mind with such violence that you almost feel angry towards him, then you see him scrutinizing the poor guy behind you too.

You should be superior and completely ignore that tight feeling in your stomach that gnaws at the sight of him. As you almost pass him, you half-shake your head and whisper a barely audible Peña before walking straight toward your office. You wave absentmindedly at Mike and then resume your work until your eyes are almost watering and your fingers are hurting.

When you open the door, the office lights are on dimly and make an annoying buzzing sound, you are about to go out and close it when you hear a faint whistle coming from the open terrace, a light breeze makes you shiver and so you move closer to close it, when Javier emerges from the darkness.

You jump, “Fuck, Javi!” you exclaim, taking a step back and putting a hand on your chest. Your heart is beating furiously.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” He says, reaching you and placing his cold hands on your forearms as if to support you and help you recover from the fright he’s caused you. “Are you okay?”

You look at him and his huge brown eyes are watching you as if wanting to check on your condition.

Think, damn, think. Think of his cold hands on your skin, think of what he wrote about you!

No, you are not okay. But not because of the fright you suffered.

“Totally fine,” you reply, stepping back and then walking past Javier to close the French window. You lean against it, “What the hell are you still doing here?”

He looks down, “Um, I... um, I was finishing a report on the computer and... well, I saw that you're still here too so I thought I'd walk you home." he replies leaning on the desk with the tone of someone who is used to giving lifts left and right. Which might even be true!

You want, you really do. But there's more than one thing holding you back.

Andrea, first.

How can he behave like this with you and at the same time kiss her? You have your own dignity and you don't want to be treated like that. At the same time, you tell yourself that after all, you were the first to treat him badly. Is it his revenge?

You're sorry, you're so sorry. A part of you was starting to care about him, despite everything. But now it's too late. You don't want to be the backup girlfriend, the fuck buddy, the person he secretly sees while he's with someone else. You could never stand that.

The report, second.

Diáz asked for a report on you and what happened in France as if you had done something serious and he was trying to understand the reasons. What's worse is that Peña also wrote it down. He told what happened in detail. Well, apart of course from what happened between you or the intense intimacy that was created.

It wasn't so much that he wrote about you that bothered you, but that he kept it from you. Is that why he brought out those folders? Or is there more to it? Or are you being paranoid?

Javier himself, third.

Javier is one of the strangest creatures you've ever had to deal with. You can never quite figure him out and just when it seems like it's clear who he is, he muddies the waters again and he escapes you.

You couldn't stand him and did everything to avoid him, now it seems like you can't help but cross paths with him.

“So?" Javier gets your attention.

"Uh? Um... um, no. I dunno.” You respond by avoiding his gaze and moving to walk past him, but he brushes your hand and that's enough to make you shiver. You find yourself swallowing and feeling your heart pounding in your rib cage. You would like to be indifferent to him, but your heart prevails over your reason. And you make the mistake of looking him in the eye.

His hazel eyes seem to want to swallow you and envelop you. You feel as if kidnapped by his sweet and intense gaze. This time his hand intentionally seeks yours and the distance between you is completely eliminated.

You’d have so much to say to him, so much to complain about, but your mind struggles to connect with all the reasons that keep you away from him, including your personal reason.

His arms surround you in an iron grip that makes you feel totally safe and, even if it hurts to admit it, in the right place at the right time. You missed him. You almost needed him. His lips are demanding and yet the sweetest.

“No.” this small but powerful word emerges from your mind clouded by him and the magnetism that only Javier Peña knows how to emanate.

“Why?” Javier asks you, moving away from your face just a little. He moves your hair with absolute sweetness, yet your questions break the moment.

“Is it because of that Marley guy?”

“What about Andrea?” you ask him at the same time.