#and I can't help but feeling horribly shattered

[earanie]

first post high-fever clear thought: im still so fucking in love and still so fucking heartbroken about it

[morningmask27]

I do sometimes find it really annoying that most of the things I do right now are At Least tangentially related to a trauma I lived through.

I am living in a university dorm right now, it's a very typical thing to do, but most people return to their family home during the weekends and only really stay in the dorms because they have classes in the week and having to go from their home to the classes, especially the 9 am classes, can be heavy if they live somewhat further away. I stay in my dorm the entire week. For Reasons I don't want to go back to my old home for longer than half a day to drop my laundry and leave with clean clothes, some food and a chat with my mother. I wouldn't feel good doing so anymore, but mentioning that is weird because most people (except internationals because going to a full on other country just for the weekend, every weekend, would be a bit dumb) return to their home (My dorm feels more like home to me right now than my old house did btw).

When I say I stay in my dorm people are somewhat confused, as it on its own already implies that something must not be that good at the familial home for me to not go there for the weekends. By the simple fact I don't go back it's already implied there is something wrong, and it's true, there Is something wrong, but I can't just start explaining the whole thing, it's not really appropriate for most conversations, and I simply don't want to open up about this part of my traumas. So I just have to quickly and very blatantly brush off that fact and the unpleasant implications to continue the conversation without making it awkward and it's so annoying.

Most of my weird trauma responses at least have the added thing that if I don't verbalize them nobody will really notice. I am good at hiding them, I kinda had to, but this dorm situation is such a blatant sign of something Weird (and not the good kind) that I cannot hide since my actions on their own imply a situation already.

I am somewhat good at dealing with all of these issues, brushing off The Problems is a typical part of normal conversations, but it does get frustrating sometimes when I get severely affected by something traumatic, and it's The Only reason that my problem happened, but I cannot talk about it in casual conversations because of how heavy and intense it is. I have to vaguely mention The Horrors (They Are Complex) and move on before I make my conversation partner uncomfortable. It happened when I had to miss a class because of a severe relapse in my mental health, it happens every time I mention I stay in my dorm the weekends, it happens whenever I get too jittery and weird because of stress (I don't even always know Why I am stressed) and I just cannot explain anything about the cause because it's too heavy for most people to hear. (I do understand that fact, it makes sense you're not going to tell classmates casually about the horrific stuff you went through in your personal life, but it fucking gets annoying when it is fully related to a situation and I have to Shut The Fuck Up anyway.)

It's just frustrating to me that I have to deal with all these Weird Things because of trauma, and everyone sees them, but I cannot explain where they come from truthfully because of how much they are. It's in this weird middle state where people See I am weird hurt, but they don't Know why. I do things differently for reasons they can assume are unpleasant, but I cannot ever truly explain everything to them.

[merthosus]

The Deli

Summary: You saw Five and Lila cheating and end up in a random train station. As a Diner caught your eye you couldn't believe what or rather who was waiting for you inside. Summary: You saw Five and Lila cheating and end up in a random train station. As a Diner caught your eye you couldn't believe what or rather who was waiting for you inside.

Here a sexy poster from Five I fell in love with! With every purchase you automatically support me :) https://amzn.to/3yGK6Fm

"You have no idea what most of the Fives in here would do for you"

I stumble out of the train, almost tripping over the edge. This can't be, he would never. I hate him, I never thought that I could do this but I do. My heart was shattered, it felt like it was being torn out of my torso and ripped in thousand parts. How could he do this to me? How could he do this to Diego? I have no idea where I am, or rather when I am. But I didn't care I just walked along the train station. My heels clicked with every step they took. The sound echoed with every thud on the white tiles.

I caught them. Five was missing and in my head there where millions of horrible ideas what could be happened to him. I can't believe I worried. We gone through so much shit and he shattered everything just like it was nothing. I traveled so far with these damn trains, no idea how I could possible come home again, just to caught them kissing each other. These assholes! Slowly the sadness turned into anger and every step I take gets louder.

In the distance I see red light reflecting on the floor. I swear to god if this is a trainstation-stripclub I trow myself on the rails. Seeing so much today what I couldn't believe makes me getting the wildest ideas, expecting anything but normal. I step closer and what I see is a Diner. Without hesitation I enter. I would kill for a chocolate croissant and a nice cup of coffee right now. But as soon as I entered everything went silent. Even a fly could be heard.

As shocked as they were as shocked I was. "This can't be", I mumble to myself. Every pair of eyes, which stared me down, were his. The Five which was now coming out of the back, let his tablet fall onto the ground. The sudden loud noise made the other ones fall out of their trance. "Y/n?", a few said, but others were just looking. "She's mine!", one of the Five's screams. Others were already talking him down. Another was punching a different Five and two got them apart. Without hesitation one five stood up and walked towards me. "I am sorry it's been a long time since they seen you", he says confusing me even more. "i...I what the hell is going on?", I ask, not believing what I saw standing infont of me.

"You just kissed Lila and now you are talking with me as nothing has happened? And what is this here? A stupid joke?", I ask him outraged. "Oh no darling I am not the five you know. I am coming out of a different timeline, but wouldn't you like to sit as I explain?", he asks politely. Like it was the most normal thing I go to sit with him at one of the diner tables, ignoring the fact that at least twenty versions of my boyfriend were looking down at me. As we sit down the Five on the counter rushed to our table.

"The black coffee, cappuccino and the chocolate croissant will be on your table soon", he stumbles, while looking at me. "How...?", I begin to ask but he was faster gone than I could blink. I feel more comfortable now as I saw how the attention was no longer drawn to me. "Explain, now", I demand as I was staring the Five before me down. "Feisty, as I remembered you", he says. I can't help myself but smile a little bit. "Why are there so many of you? And why was the one so obsessed", I ask. He crocked his neck. "We are all different Fives, out of different timelines. Most of them lost their Y/n, that's why things got out of hand", he explained. "So your five cheated on you? That's new, none of us did that, guess a new timeline has formed. Why would he do that...?", he asks himself.

I was shocked, overdosed with unimaginable information. "So what happened to your Y/n?", I ask him, just releasing I went to far. "She died in a fight, Hazel shot her", he says. "Five over there, who said you were his. She killed herself", he explains some more. I can't believe what he was just saying. "I would never do such a thing", I say. "No. Yourself in this timeline wouldn't but the on in his did. It's the same with us, we are all the same but different at the same time. I would never cheat on you and that's the point", he looks down on the floor. "I will find him don‘t worry, he will pay for what he did", he says while my eyes get big. "No... no he's still my Five I...", I try to bring the words out of me.

"Darling...", he leans over the table looking me staring into the eyes. "You have no idea what most of the Fives in here would do for you. Every single one of us is better as this little small cocked asshole", he says. I get nervous and have trouble looking him into the eyes. "He doesn't have a small...", I try to say. "I know I know...", he interrupts me.

Let me know what you think in the comments!

[kihyunsflavor]

Cold shoulder

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x f!reader

Summary: You are married to Feyd-Rautha, but on his birthday Margot Fenring follows him in the hallways to lure him into her chambers.

Warnings: smut, heartbreak, angst, pet names, breeding kink, manipulation (not reader)

word count: 4.6k

Author's note: English is not my first language. Feedback is very much appreciated <3

A cold breeze grazes your skin as the door to your shared chambers opens, sending a shiver down your spine. He enters with heavy steps and your breath stops for a moment when you catch a foreign feminine scent in the air. You immediately know.

"I'm back, wife," Feyd Rautha says, slowly approaching where you stand. You don't respond. A painful lump forms in your throat as your emotions are all over the place. Big hands gently grab your waist from behind. The scent of the woman still lingers on his skin. It tightens your chest and turns your stomach. You have never felt so sick before. She had her hands on him and he allowed it.

You don't want to believe your own thoughts, wishing this reality wasn't true. She had taken him from you. Your beloved husband, the person you love more than anyone else, with whom you share everything. He is the center of your world.

You turn to face him. "You're back late..." you say, your voice steady but your lower lip quivering.

For a split second, his expression wavers, confirming your suspicions. Feyd starts to speak, but you cut him off. "Don't bother lying. I can smell her on you."

His eyes widen, a hint of guilt flickering across his face, an emotion you've never seen from him before.

"I didn't want to. The witch invaded my mind," he attempts to explain. But you can't believe him. Not after this. He humiliated you, made you feel worthless.

His hand reaches for your cheek but you push it way. „Don‘t touch me.“

Oh how could he betray you like this? How could he share such an intimate moment with another woman?

„I can't believe you did this," you sway, your voice trembling with dissapointment. Tears well up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. He's not worth your tears. Not a single one.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. His words pierce your heart, shattering it into pieces.

It kills you.

The room falls into a heavy silence. His eyes plead with you, his hands twitching as if wanting to pull you close. The very thought makes you cringe.

"I never want to see you again," you say as you move past him. He reaches out for you, but you're too quick. Just before disappearing into the dark corridor, you look back at him. "It hurts - so much."

With that, you're gone.

Feyd doesn't follow. He knows he destroyed everything.

You move into a new section of the Harkonnen residence, consisting of a bedroom and a study, far away from your husband. All your belongings and clothes are brought in by your servants to help you settle into your new quarters. You hear whispers among the servants about Feyd's initial anger, refusing to let them move your belongings. Eventually, he seemed to give in and just let them continue, which was unusual for someone like him who rarely yielded so easily. But you pay it no mind, trying to forget about him. He did this to himself.

The first few nights are horrible. You struggle to sleep, feeling alone and haunted by nightmares of him. Each time you see a black veiled woman, luring him into her chambers. When you wake up, your clothes cling to your sweaty skin. You brush your hair back from your face and scan the dimly lit room. It is pretty similar to your old chambers but you've tried to make it feel different with some interior changes.

You hadn't yet discovered who the Bene Gesserit was that had been with your husband, but you were determined to find out.

With your family's influential name, you planned to write to your sister, hoping she could uncover the truth for you.

The days go by slowly, and to your relief you don't see Feyd at all. The pain of looking into his eyes would be too much to bear. Your heart was broken and would take a long time to heal.

You'd never known love before, never had any real crushes growing up. But then, you were sent to marry the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. You hadn't objected, obediently following your father's wishes. Meeting Feyd changed everything. He ignited a passion within you, made you feel enchanted and yearning for him.

Even if he was cold at first, Feyd proved to be a devoted husband. Drawn to your beautiful appearance and your kind but brave soul, it didn't take him long to warm up to you. You could tell he had fallen for you too.

The wedding night marked the peak of your feelings for him, deepening your love. You were nervous he might handle you roughly, especially since it was your first time, so you had asked him not to hurt you. „That‘s what concubines are for. I'd never hurt my wife,“ Feyd had assured you then, having already dismissed his concubines prior to the wedding.

But in the end, his words proved to be a lie. He had kept his promise until now, when he let the Bene Gesserit woman touch him.

It was hard to believe Feyd had done something like this. Loyalty and trust were values he held in high regard. He always looked down on those who lacked loyalty; it was a matter of honor to him.

And now here you are, sitting alone at the table to eat your dinner. You had instructed your servants to bring your meals to your chambers from now on, because there was no chance you'd dine with your husband. Even if he came to fetch you himself, you wouldn't budge an inch. But Feyd hasn't come. Days have passed since you left him, and he still hasn't shown his face, which you're really relieved about.

He knew you well, knew that you needed space, but this time it was different. He couldn't just apologize and gift you something to make amends. This time, there was nothing for you to forgive him for. And if the Bene Gesserit were to get pregnant before you, his actual wife, it would be unbearable.

The thought fills you with anger and jealousy. You wouldn't allow this to happen. You should be the only one to give him an heir.

As you return to your room after a brief stroll through your section, you're surprised to find several packages awaiting you. Despite your reservations, Feyd has still chosen to send gifts. Walking over to inspect them, a servant appears at your side, bowing slightly.

"Na-Baroness, the na-Baron has sent some gifts for you. He hopes you will accept them," the servant explains. Your gaze drifts over the variously sized boxes, and a sigh escapes your lips. "We will send them back. All of them," you declare after a moment. "But let me have a look first." Kneeling down, you carefully open each package, mindful not to damage anything.

Among them are dresses, exquisitely crafted and likely from your home planet. Another holds a perfume you adore, also from your planet. Then there are the traditional Harkonnen jewelry, reserved only for the Baron and his family. You can't help but chuckle at Feyd's selection.

Once you've examined everything, the servants gather the gifts along with your message: Don't ever insult me like this again

Even if this was just the beginning of his attempts to seek forgiveness, Feyd's gesture of sending mere gifts felt somewhat childish.

Days later, you decide to attend the fight held in the Harkonnen arena, knowing full well that Feyd would be present. However, you choose to sit in a secluded area, far removed from his presence.

Your attire consists of a dark red silk dress, a change from your usual colors as the na-Baroness, which typically align with the Harkonnen house's black with silver or red accents. Your jewelry, crafted from rare opal from your home planet, catches the light, accentuating your eyes and lending a radiant glow to your appearance.

Accompanied by two of your favorite servants, you make your way to a seating area. As you settle in, a pair of glasses are provided, allowing you a clearer view of the participants in the fighting circle below.

Slowly, you navigate through the crowd, observing the excitement of the people of Giedi Prime for the fight. Your gaze shifts upward, focusing on the Baron seated high above the arena, his imposing presence making you feel unease. He emanates a terrifying and volatile energy that unsettles you every time.

Continuing on, you reach the spot where the na-Baron and you usually sit. Feyd stands alone in his black suit, his gaze fixed on you. He had waited until you noticed him.

Feeling a twinge in your stomach, you deliberately drop your glasses with controlled movements, concealing the effect his presence has on you. Redirecting your attention to the fighters entering the arena, you're grateful for something to distract you.

Yet, his image replays in your mind. His eyes betray a hint of sadness, dark circles evident beneath his pale complexion. But he had brought this upon himself.

If he hadn't allowed the Bene Gesserit to touch him, you would have been there beside him as always, watching the fight unfold, with his hand possessively resting on your thigh.

Even after a week apart, the pain remains just the same.

The fight was not big spectacle, but it was enough for the crowd. You swiftly retreat to your chambers, after receiving the sign from a servant that the Baron had left. Casting one last glance at Feyd's area, you see his back turned to you. He's likely leaving as well, and you really have no desire to encounter him in the hallways

When you wake up two days later, you notice a basket of fresh fruits sitting on your table. Approaching the gift, you find a small card attached to the handle. Opening it slowly, you read Feyd's handwriting: Please accept these valuable fruits. Feyd.

You stare at the words for a moment, then shift your gaze to the basket. Inside, you see a variety of fruits, many of which are from your own planet and are your favorites —a fact Feyd surely knew. Yet, despite the apparent gesture, you still feel slighted by the simplicity of the gift.

With a dismissive gesture, you instruct the servants to take the basket away. "Share it among the others and send the same message to the na-Baron as before," you command, retreating to your bedroom.

An upcoming event required your presence as husband and wife, na-Baron and na-Baroness. Three days beforehand, you already felt nauseous and contemplated skipping it altogether. However, the Baron's potential anger left you with no choice but to attend.

As the special day approaches, you pace nervously around the room. The prospect of having to play the role of Feyd's wife again fills you with dread. Despite the difficulty, you resign yourself to the task, knowing you must suppress your true emotions and maintain a facade of affection, hiding behind a gentle smile.

In the morning, you receive a package from Feyd, containing a dress intended for the upcoming gathering. The garment, adorned in Harkonnen colors, is tailored to complement his own attire, ensuring a flawless appearance as a couple.

As the servants begin to prepare you for the event, they dress you, adorn you with jewelry, and style your hair elegantly. Avoiding the mirror as much as possible, you can't help but feel a bit of discomfort at the sight of the dress, which reminds you too much of him. The idea that it signifies your connection to him is unsettling, especially since his betrayal with another woman. Prior to that, you had cherished moments when he selected dresses for you or had jewelry crafted from your birthstone.

Once you're ready, you steal a quick glance at your reflection, observing how the dress accentuates your figure. Despite looking beautiful, the nausea persists. You so badly wish to just remain secluded in your chambers, away from him.

Two servants accompany you as you make your way to the grand halls where your husband awaits in front of the towering doors. You catch a glimpse of him, dressed in all black and feel the familiar pain in your chest. It's as if your lungs are pulling themselves together, stealing the air from you.

His gaze is sweeping over you and a faint grin tugs at his lips, but he stops himself quickly. "Good morning, wife," Feyd says, with his deep raspy voice and offers his arm to you. He seems content to see your face up close after two weeks. You halt before him, meeting his towering figure with a glare that could pierce steel. He recognizes the expression, but doesn't show any reaction. You hook your arm into his, taking a deep breath before walking into the grand hall together.

As the event unfolds, nobels from across the galaxy mingle, their voices a symphony of polite conversation. Among them stands the imposing figure of the Baron, his presence commanding attention.

You stand next to Feyd, occasionally engaging in some small talk with others. Despite the pain and betrayal that lingers in between you, you play the roles with practiced ease, upholding the appearance of a happy couple. Yet inside, you feel dull.

In a moment alone, Feyd wraps his arm around your waist. "Let's talk later, wife." He says and gazes into your eyes. You lower your head, staring at his chest and offering no response until he pulls you closer to his body. Slowly, you raise your head and to meet his gaze.

"No, I don't think so," You reply, placing a hand on his chest in an attempt to push him away. But he holds firm, studying your eyes in an attempt to understand your emotions.

"There's nothing to explain, na-Baron," you hiss, putting some distance between the two of you. "I don't want to hear anything. And stop sending me gifts!"

Feyd blinks at your response and takes a step forward. "Just let me finish my sentence. Things have happened that I regret deeply, but I need you to understand why," he begins to explain, but you shake your head. Tears well up in your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a whimper. "No, no…" Your lips quiver as you respond with a weak voice. "Even just thinking about it hurts me too much." With those final words, you turn on your heel and walk away. Glancing briefly at the Baron to ensure he's occupied, you slip out of the grand hall and return to your chambers.

Your heart races, nearly pounding out of your chest. Feyd's scent made you dizzy, made you longing for him, but you refuse to succumb. You were not one to give in quickly, not even to his beautiful blue eyes. His lips had twitched, after you had raised your head to look at him - his love always displayed so openly for you, unlike his usual expressionless demeanor. And despite everything, you still love him too, but the thought of going back to him, fills you with disgust and pain. He's the one who made you feel this way.

It was not a good night, and the days that followed were just as bleak. The dull ache persisted, and you drift through each day like a ghost. Emptiness pervades every moment, blurring the world around you into a haze. And despite showing not a single emotion to the world, you feel the pain, longing for the warmth of connection that is lost.

After a week had passed since the event, the reply from your older sister finally arrived. You hastily open it, eager to learn whether the Bene Gesserit woman was pregnant. You understood the ways of the Bene Gesserit and didn't object to them, except in this case, where one woman dared to interfere in your marriage. It was all about control.

Since you weren't part of the sisterhood, they needed to ensure a child was born from Feyd that they could raise according to their teachings. However, if they had approached you with a deal for your own child to become a Bene Gesserit, you might not have disagreed.

But this time, you were determined to stand in their way. She wasn't worthy enough to bear your husband's child, especially considering you weren't even pregnant yourself yet.

With trembling hands, you open the scroll and begin to read the message.

Dear sister,

I am deeply troubled by the news you've shared with me. I did not expect this from the na-Baron. But don't worry too much, as I have located the Bene Gesserit. Her name is Margot Fenring, the wife of Count Fenring, the Emperor's advisor. Unfortunately, I couldn't find out why the sisterhood chose her, and I haven't received any updates on a possible pregnancy. Rest assured, I will inform you immediately once I learn more.

With all my love,

Your sister

You stare at the message, sighing heavily. Margot Fenring was a well-known figure in the galaxy, particularly admired for her beauty. Her hair was of a golden blonde with grey-green eyes and attractive figure. However, you weren't concerned about feeling inferior to her; you knew your own beauty had captivated Feyd from the moment he had laid his eyes on you.

The burning question on your mind wasn't why the revered mother had chosen her to seduce Feyd, but rather why she had to intervene at all, and whether she was now carrying his child.

The waiting was unbearable in a situation like this.

A knock sounds on your door, as you put the roll in the drawer of your desk. Curious, you turn around, wondering who could be seeking your attention. Apart from your husband and his two family members, you didn't know anyone else.

With caution, you open the door, only to be met with the sight of Feyd-Rautha. Disappointment flashes across your face, and you sigh, almost closing the door on him again. But Feyd has other plans, his hand holding the door open and making his way into your chambers. Surprised, you walk back a few steps and stare at him. "What are you doing?" you ask, confusion evident in your tone. He doesn't respond, maintaining a cold stare that sends a shiver down your spine. He appears angry or, at the very least, annoyed by your behavior.

As the back of your knees touch your bed, he stops in front of you. "This time, you will listen, wife, or I will tie you to the bed. You can't run away from me every time," Feyd says with a deep, raspy voice. You blink up at him, uncertain of what to do. Part of you wants to escape the uncomfortable situation and to avoid listening to him. But in this moment, he holds full control over you.

A cold finger grazes your jawline softly, lifting your head up. He comes closer, his breath tingling on your skin. "You better listen carefully now. I will explain everything that has happened. Alright?" he tells you, and all you can do is nod your head obediently.

"On this day while I was on my way back to you, I noticed a woman following me. I questioned her about her presence in the area, and she began to manipulate my mind. With a mere blink, I found myself in the witch's room, unable to recall anything except for her whispers in my head," Feyd explains seriously, maintaining eye contact with you.

"She then used the voice on me and forced me to place my hand in a box while holding a sharp object coated with poison to my neck. After passing her test, she continued to use the voice on me throughout the whole time. I couldn't do anything else than listen to her. I tried to break free many times and every time a picture of you flashed in my mind, she redirected my attention back to her," he continues, his eyes darkening as he recounts the experience. You can see the distress he's in as he speaks.

Slowly, your hand raises to cup his cheek, offering comfort. He leans into your touch, visibly relaxing. "Do you know why she came to you?" you inquire, once his nerves are calmed. He nods vaguely. "I am the one who will inherit the title as Baron next, and since you are not a Bene Gesserit, they sent one of them to find out my weakness."

His answer sinks in, and you agree. "That's what I was thinking as well."

Feyd's hands gently cup your face as he leans closer. "I missed you so much, little mouse," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You close your eyes, relishing the sensation of his touch, which you've missed dearly.

"What if she is pregnant?" concern creeps into your voice. Feyd meets your gaze, his eyes filled with determination. "Don't worry, my dear. She won't live to give birth to it, if we receive word that she's carrying a baby," he assures you. "You are the only woman who will give me an heir," he adds with a smirk.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "I should have listened earlier. I just couldn't bear it. Nothing made sense anymore," you whisper, your lips brushing against his cheek. He hums in reply, pressing his lips to yours in a long-awaited kiss.

It turns into a heavy makeout session. With tender care, he guides you onto the bed, slowly undressing you as if savoring every moment of intimacy. As he moistens his fingers with his tongue and begins to pump them inside of you, a soft moan escapes your lips, reveling in the sensation of his touch.

Your body arches with pleasure as he prepares you for him, each movement sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you. "Feels so good," you murmur, lost in the sensation. Feyd's grin widens as he leans over you, his touch both tender and tantalizing.

When he decides you're ready, he withdraws his fingers, eliciting a soft whine of longing from you. "It's alright, my little mouse. I will give you what you want," he shushes. As he frees himself from his pants, your hand instinctively reaches for him, eager to feel his hardness in your grasp.

A low groan escapes him at your touch, but he gently removes your hand, his own need evident in his impatient tone. "Not now," He says, his voice thick with lust. "I can't wait any longer to be inside you." With a sense of urgency, he positions himself between your legs, ready to claim you completely.

He gazes down at you with love and care. "You won’t be able to walk tomorrow," he warns with a sly grin, teasing as he lets the tip of his arousal slide between your heated folds before thrusting inside you.

Once fully sheathed within your tight walls, he leans over you, his arms caging your head to support his weight. In this position, he is able to see your face much better. "I will make you forget everything that pained you these past weeks. You are mine," he growls possessively with his lips attached to the sensitive skin of your neck as his hips begin to move in a rhythmic thrust.

At first, his movements are slow and deliberate, punctuated by tender kisses, until you relax completely under his touch and he increases the pace. Your legs are lifted up over his shoulders, allowing him to penetrate even deeper, luring whimpers of pleasure from you as your nails dig into the porcelain skin of his back.

"So tight. Taking me so well, little mouse," he praises softly near your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Your walls contract around him, gripping him tighter, causing him to groan in pleasure. "Stop it, I'm not going to last if you keep tightening up like this," he warns you, his head falling back in pleasure.

But the sensation feels too good to stop, and you beg him to just come inside you with your voice hazy with desire. Feyd's eyes sparkle at your pleads. "Touch yourself," He orders, encouraging you.

It doens't take long for you to reach your climax, gripping his shoulders for support and screaming his name. He watches your face intently, praising you. "Yes that's it, good girl. Come on my cock."

Without letting you fully come down from your high, he starts to thrust deeper. “Going to fill you up now, you want that?” You whine at his words, nodding impatiently. “You'll look beautiful with my baby inside of you, all big and swollen.” His words drive you insane and with each thrust, he pushes you both closer.

With a final thrust, he releases himself inside you, bringing you to another climax as the room fills with both of your cries of pleasure.

"Afterwards, he takes good care of you, cleaning your sensitive skin with a wet cloth and ensuring you're comfortable in bed. His arms find their way around your body, pulling you closer.

"I haven't slept well since you left," he admits, nuzzling his face into your neck. You chuckle at the sensation because it tickles.

"I also slept horribly," you respond, your hand caressing the back of his neck. But tonight, you sleep better than you have in weeks, knowing your husband is right there beside you, and you never want to let go again.

Fortunately, it's only a week later when another message from your sister reaches you. As you read through it with full concentration, a lump forms in your throat due to the wave of emotions that washes over you.

"She's not pregnant," you inform Feyd, who stands before you. His eyes visibly brighten with relief and he moves closer to embrace you tightly. No words are needed, you can feel each other's emotions clearly.

"Don't worry, my dear. I'll deal with the punishment for the Bene Gesserit," Feyd assures you after a while of holding each other. His anger still simmers, just as intense as the night Margot Fenring used the voice on him. He won't let it slide easily.

You find comfort in knowing that Feyd will handle the situation, likely with the help of his uncle, the Baron. But for now, you push aside all thoughts of pain, focusing on the relief of the moment.

On the same day, after rearranging the last few items in your shared chamber, which you hastily moved back into, a gleaming blade catches your eye. Your husband possesses a collection of blades in various sizes and styles, but you recognize this one as his favorite - the one he always carries with him. You approach the desk and study the blade intently.

Suddenly, strong arms wrap around your body, and you gasp quietly in surprise. "This one is for you," Feyd whispers behind you. Your eyes remain fixed on the knife, his words sinking in.

This blade holds significant importance to him, having accompanied your husband since his childhood when he first learned to fight. It's a profound gesture of trust and affection that he would gift it to you now. Despite the Harkonnen's reputation for brutality and coldness, they occasionally reveal their emotions to those they love. This blade serves as a metaphor, symbolizing Feyd's gift of his heart to you forever.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Proud VII

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Summary: Your biological parents want a meeting

*TW: discussions of past child abuse*

Pernille can still remember the pictures from the police.

Nestled in with other pictures of your childhood, you were just a baby. A baby sitting on a big hospital bed in just her nappy and mottle of bruises around her skin, wrapped around you like a vine.

It was sickening and Pernille can remember dropping your foster file in shock.

She hadn't been able to equate the twelve year old moving into her house with the baby that had been so horribly abused.

According to the police report, they'd been called after a disturbance in the house. Bottles shattering. People shouting. A sound violation more than anything else.

But no one had answered the door when the police knocked.

They had been planning to leave if it wasn't for the wailing of the baby, the wailing of you.

They'd forced their way in after that, finding you laying on the floor, covered in your own sick and with way too high a fever for a baby.

What was standard child neglect turned into a child abuse charge at the hospital when your dirty onesie had been taken off to reveal all the bruises down your skin and the dilation of your pupils showing the concussion you'd received.

Rights were terminated by a judge and into the system you went.

The picture is etched into Pernille's mind though, something that appears to her any time you get injured, any time you go down in a match.

The picture appears to her now as she sits in a mediation meeting with your biological parents.

These are the people that did that to you.

The people that had bruised you and caused you a concussion.

The people that had their rights terminated because of their treatment of you.

The same people that sit in front of Pernille and Magda in ill-fitting clothes and unkempt hair. They're smiling a bit too widely, mismatched on their sagging faces.

"So," The lawyer that they've clearly paid an extortionate amount for says," We're here to discuss Miss Y/n L/n-"

"Harder," Magda says at Pernille's side," That's her name. Y/n Harder."

The lawyer flashes her a saccharine smile. "Of course. We're here to discuss visitation with my clients."

"Their rights were terminated." The same lawyer that helped finalise your adoption is the same one in the meeting with Magda and Pernille now. "Years ago. They have no leg to stand on. Visitation isn't something they can have."

"I have reason to believe that the judge that terminated their rights made a hasty decision," The slimy lawyer says back," My clients have put their lives back together and are ready to see their daughter again."

"I can't help but think this timing is a bit coincidental," Their lawyer returns," My client's child has had a breakout year as a footballer, joining the senior Sweden team so her face has been plastered on the tv everywhere. A bit coincidental that this is the time that your clients decide to reach out."

"Well, she was taken out of the country."

"When she was sixteen," Magda puts in bluntly," They had sixteen years before that. We live in Germany now."

"We were looking for her!" Your biological mother says," It's all just one big conspiracy against us!"

This is the woman who left you in a pile of your own sick, crying and sobbing and covered in bruises, suffering from a concussion that could have killed you.

Pernille feels sick, rage bubbling in her stomach.

"Oh, grow up! You're not nearly important enough to have a conspiracy around you!" She slams her hands onto the table. "You are nothing to her! She doesn't even know your names!"

Magda pulls at Pernille's hand, weakly at first and then a little harder when it doesn't look like Pernille wants to sit down again.

"Let me put it plainly," Pernille and Magda's lawyer says," My clients and their daughter have a packed schedule in Germany playing football for club and then football internationally. Their daughter is sixteen years old and is capable of making decisions by herself. Your clients have no parental rights and will not be getting them back."

"How dare-"

"I believe this meeting is finished."

You weren't in the dark about this meeting. You'd been told the moment the Magda and Pernille were sent the letter about it.

You just hadn't wanted to attend, sitting in the nearby café with your schoolwork spread out in front of you.

You expected it to take longer than it did so you'd brought a lot of your science homework.

You check your watch as Pernille and Magda slump down into the seats in front of you.

"Half an hour. I thought it would take at least an hour."

"Pernille went off on them. It was kind of hot."

You wrinkle your nose. "Gross."

Pernille huffs in her seat, arms crossed. "The gall of them! The audacity! You're not going anywhere near them, do you understand me? They don't even deserve to breathe the same air as you!"

A grin quirks your lips upward. "It's nice you hold me in such high regard."

"You're my daughter. They're nothing."

"I'm not all that much."

"You are to me."

You hold her gaze for a moment.

There's something immovable in her eyes, staring at you like she's daring you to challenge her.

You drop your eyes with a smile.

"Do either of you know anything about nuclear fission? I'm drawing a blank."

[coquettejunnie]

[안톤] Drive By ── L.A

"I can't get you off of my, out of my mind. I'm saying stop playing girl you out of line. Couldn't erase these feelings even if I tried. You stay on my mind. Thinking about you. Thinking about you. You stay on my mind. In the morning (Thinking about you, thinking about you). Late at night (Thinking about you, thinking about you). On the job (Thinking about you, thinking about you). Baby you stay on my mind."

୨୧ Pairing: Lee Anton x Fem!Reader・Wc: 1.5k/ fluff, slight angst, language (swearing/curing), mutual pining, skinship, a kiss scene ! ♡ type: oneshot

In which. . . Anton takes you home from one of the most horrible days you had ever experienced. But, he tries to be there to cheer you up.

Playlist: Drive By by Eric Bellinger and OTW by Khalid (ft.6LACK and Ty Dolla $ign)

Rose's Note: Literally I just saw the one recent Anton live and I'm going fucking crazy man it's unbelievable. GFEHGHEF YOU MAKING ME BIAS YOU EVEN MORE DUDE.

When you left the movie theater, all you could feel was your tears falling down your cheek making your eyes puffy. Before you could take a step further, you stopped yourself from walking towards your friend, Anton's car. You can see from a distance in the parking lot that he is on his phone while fidgeting his legs waiting for you to come out the theater.

Before you went to the movies, Anton had offered - as in forcing you to agree to basically be the carriage in Cinderella for any emergencies like if the shoe didn't fit or you didn't find the prince or even if the clock strikes midnight. But in this case, he was all you needed right now. He was the emergency carriage to help you escape from your own prince.

As Anton was tapping his finger against the armrest while being bored, he left his gaze as he noticed that you were outside by yourself without your own date. He furrowed his eyebrows as he was trying to take a closer look but he sees that your face is red and you kept on wiping your nose with the back of your hand. He rushed out of his car and ran towards you.

"Y/n! What the hell happened?! Why are you crying?" he questioned as he examined around you with his hands on your shoulders firmly.

"I don't want to talk about it right now." you stammered with your words, making it hard for you to finish your sentence. He looked at you worriedly but then pulled you closer into an embrace.

You rested your head on his chest as you just let out your tears, he was comforting you with sweet but yet comforting words like, "It's okay, I am here. It's going to be okay." His own heart felt like it was going to shatter from seeing you cry.

After he made you follow him towards his car, he opened the car door letting you inside then closed the door and went inside as well. Throughout the whole drive, he knew that you would be silent - which he didn't mind since he was giving you space. The only sound being perceived from the car was the radio's intensity being low and your sniffling that you were trying to hide away from him.

"Do you want some air?" his finger was rested on the window switch while waiting for a response. As you nodded slowly, he only rolled it down only a little bit until it was enough for you to feel a little better.

As Anton was driving, his grip on the string wheel became tighter from what he was thinking about. Your eyes drifted towards his hand then his face.

"You alright?" your question made him flinched.

His grip on the steering wheel became slightly loose as he adjusted himself comfortably. "Yeah, i'm good."

Questions kept coming back to him like a train in his head but he doesn't want to force it out on you to answer him. He shook his head at the thought and continued driving.

While you were silent, everything was replaying in your head as if it were a movie. You hated to keep seeing that moment replay and you really didn't want to relive it. You felt like you just wanted to lay on your bed and cry a river - like even now you feel like you just want the tears to come down but you didn't want Anton to see the state you're in.

A while later, you came back to your conscience when you realized that Anton had stopped driving. You looked around to see that you were already back at your house by your garage.

"Do you need anything from the store or something?" he murmured.

"No, i'm fine." you replied which made him nod at your response.

"Just remember, i'm always here if you ever need anything." he gave a light smile.

Anton started to turn on the AC in the car while waiting for you to leave. But as soon as you hold onto the door handle, you release your grip from it. He looked at you confused.

"I will just tell you what happened." you let out a sigh before you continued. "Basically he was never interested in me from the start. It was only something between him and his friends doing something like a bet to just basically see which girl is more interesting in the school. And as you can see, they wanted to play around with me." Anton's eyes widen from being shocked.

"Do you want me to beat him up?" you couldn't help but giggle at his response.

"No, please don't cause a scene."

"No, i'm being serious. I can come over and give him a piece of my mind." he demonstrated with his rolled up fist.

"Don't because he's not worth it-"

"But he literally hurt you emotionally. So he deserved to be mistreated badly - as in being hurt physically." he interrupted you.

"Anton, I don't want you to get suspended because of a useless situation. I can probably do something about it-"

"Y/n, I really like you and I don't want to see the person I care about most in this world be mistreated horribly. This was technically your first ever date and he went and fucked it up for you." you were just dumbfounded by his response. Were you hearing things or was it actually real? By the look of your face, Anton realized he blurted out too much information.

"You like me?" you stared at him in confusion while just being jaw dropped.

"That's beside the point. I would actually just do anything for you to feel happy everyday. Even if I am not enough for you, I will try my best every day-"

"Anton, do you like me?" you repeated your question which had made him freeze in place.

"Yes. Yes I really like you, Y/n." he responded after a few seconds. You couldn't believe your ears.

You guys were in silence with only both of your guys eyes lingering onto each other. You could see that his adam's apple was moving from him swallowing the lump in his throat. His eyes traveled to your lips as he licked his own anxiously. You were a blushing mess from the tension that you guys are building.

Anton backed away after a few seconds of feeling nervous while at the same time you were looking around awkwardly.

"I think I will get inside." you said without making eye contact with him.

"Alright." he quickly responded.

You opened the car door and got your purse but before you could leave fully, he grabbed your hand. You started at him in confusion while waiting for his next move.

"Y/n, can I kiss you?" those words had just silenced you. You did not predict that. Your face started heating up from blushing even more from how he asked for consent.

"Can you what?" those were the only words that came out of your mouth.

"Oh, uhm, nothing. It's nothing" he went on the other side of him - which was towards the window so he would get the seatbelt.

You tugged his jacket to get his attention. When he turned to face you, he saw that you gave him a light smile.

"You can kiss me." he searched for any lie from you before he gulped. In a blink of an eye, you felt a soft pressure on your lips. You realized that he quickly leaned in and locked his lips with yours. You closed your eyes as you melted into the soft kiss - which had sent shivers down your spine from forming goosebumps. His hand had guided towards yours as he rested his fingers on yours while deepening the kiss.

As he was trying to lean in closer to be over you, he hit his head on the car roof. You guys chortled from it.

"I can wait till later or something if you ever want to do it again." you could still feel his breath against you as his hands were still lingering on with yours and was looking into each other's eyes in admiration.

"But then what does that make us?" you questioned him.

He acted like he was thinking really hard about it. "Maybe girlfriend and boyfriend? Or is it too fast to start off as that."

"Maybe we can be girlfriend and boyfriend." you said in the same tone as him. He started to give a cute smirk at the response.

He leaned over you to open the door then placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Goodnight." he beamed a smile. Man, it was a smile you couldn't resist.

"Goodnight." you said as you couldn't fight back the smile that kept growing. Then you got up and closed the door when you had left the car. You stood there just taking a few seconds to adore him before you disappeared into your house.

Anton gazed at the steering wheel just smiling to himself as he had the moment replayed in his head.

[anton-luvr]

Hi, how have you been? I love your blog and the way you write!💖 I have a request to make, if you're comfortable with that... How would Riize react when you think they are cheating on you, but in reality it's all a misunderstanding, and they're just too busy. (English is not my first language so I'm sorry if this is a little confusing!)

# WHEN YOU THINK THEY'RE CHEATING ON YOU ; 7riize.

⚝ bf!riize x gn!reader | angst | bf au ⚝ note ; im kinda busy, but im doing good!! thank you so much ily :( and don't worry abt it i understood your req perfectly!! thank u for requesting, i hope u like it <3

# SHOTARO. - for the first time ever, shotaro doesn't smile. he can only sit in silent shock while he processes your words, and the first thing he can think of to do is to hug you. holds you tight as he whispers apologies over and over again, feeling terrible that he made you think that he was cheating on you. reassures you gently that he would never, and promises that once he gets a rest day, he'll spend all his free time with you.

# EUNSEOK. - eunseok isn't one who usually shows his emotions, but pain and guilt is so evident on his face after hearing what you said. he had no idea that you were feeling this way from how busy he's been these days, and he feels awful about it. tells you that he's sorry while wiping your tears away, and he swears to himself to start treating you with more love and care from that day onwards, starting from right now.

# SUNGCHAN. - he hates himself for making you think that he was cheating on you. calls up his boss immediately with the fakest cough and sneezes, lying without batting an eye about how he was 'terribly sick' and needed 'at least two days off' to 'recover'. he spends those two days with you, never once leaving your side as he takes you out to all your favorite places and showers you with love and compliments.

# WONBIN. - even though he immediately reassures you that he's not cheating on you and spends the night with you in his arms, he still feels so bad. life still goes on as usual for the both of you the next day, him busy at work while you were busy with yours. but just to make it up to you, wonbin has a bouquet sent right up into your office - a bouquet of a hundred and one roses, reminding you that you're his one and only lover.

# SEUNGHAN. - he understands how you feel and why'd you think that way, so other than seunghan promising that he'll try to spend more time with you, he also lets you voice out your worries in detail. he listens with full attention, nodding when you mention how you didn't like one of his female coworkers because she seemed so close with your boyfriend. and right after the words have left your lips, seunghan slips out his phone and blocks her on everything, right in front of you. he wants you to rest assured knowing that he couldn't care less for anyone else in this world other than you.

# SOHEE. - sohee has not and would never cheat on you. he loves you too much for that. he tells you just that as he gently kisses away your tears, holding you tightly in his arms for the rest of the night. he feels horrible for making you feel insecure in your relationship, so he makes sure to shower you in extra affection for the next few days. breakfasts in bed, long kisses before he leaves for work, and constant updates with photos about his day to you.

# ANTON. - his heart literally shatters into pieces. he can't help but cry too, because how could he make the love of his life feel this way? he apologizes to you through sniffles and sobs, promising you that he'd never cheat on you. tries his best to finish up his work faster the next day so he can come straight home to you and into your arms.

© anton-luvr, 2023.

taglist : @wonbons @mxlly143 @keehobaldboy @shawyle @yenart @lycheecheeseyogurt

[titaniumions]

in my mind kakania would have little to no problem accepting the fact that she is into women. however the thought of her being into isolde is something that would absolutely vex her, i think. while they did start off as casual acquaintances and friends, isolde is still her patient, and to some level kakania winds up being responsible for isolde's wellbeing. with that in mind, kakania can hardly fathom the thought of burdening isolde with her feelings, which she feels absolutely selfish for even indulging in. even if those feelings were to be returned, it still wouldn't put kakania's mind at rest. it still wouldn't be enough to get kakania to convince herself that she's fine with feeling this way. ultimately it's not necessarily internalized homophobia nor societal pressure that troubles her, but rather her own ethical and psychological concerns

it'd be even worse for her if those feelings didn't exactly ... go away even after everything that happened in chapter 6. she'd be overwhelmed with guilt, and think to herself that the best course of action would be to distance herself from isolde, but the most painful part is that even after seeing isolde at her worst, she still can't help but want to love isolde. even after kakania herself had presumably tainted isolde's perception of her. so what if that's what was necessary at the moment. after leaving isolde broken and shattered, how could kakania even dare to think she deserves to love isolde? if it once felt horribly wrong for kakania to be in love with her, everything that has transpired between them only served to make it worse!

[spencersssockss]

Shaving

Summery: Spencer is exhausted after his first day back at work after being released from prison. You help him shave and comfort him.

Warnings: razor (being used to shave), post-prison Reid, nightmares, mention of bruises and cuts, fluff…

Word count: 700

Spencer was a mess when he came home from jail. Covered in cuts and bruises and heavy bags under his eyes. He was struggling, he was overjoyed to see you but so many things had changed about him.

Being in prison stripped him of his self, he couldn't function the way he could before. He had nightmares, he was paranoid, and he was overprotective of everything.

You understood him though, you knew it would take time, and you knew even with an eternity he wouldn't be the same. You just wanted him to be at peace again.

He was exhausted after his first day back at work, physically and mentally. He still had to shave as he still hadn't since he got home, but all he could do was sit in the corner of the bed in silence his head in his hands.

“I'm worried about you,” you say putting your book down and sitting beside him.

“I know,” he sighed placing his head on your shoulder.

“I know things are hard, but I can't help if you don't let me in,” you say grabbing his hand and holding it gently.

“I don't want you to know about the horrible things that happened, you wouldn't see me the same,” he mumbled turning his head from you.

Grabbing his chin and making him look into your eyes you say, “Nothing could change the way I feel about you, I love you, Spence, I just want you to be happy again.” His eyes threaten to spill tears making you hug him tightly.

“Here, I'll help you shave, just relax,” you say standing up from the bed taking his hand in yours, and walking to the bathroom.

“You don't have to,” Spencer frowned.

“I want to, I see you struggling to keep your eyes open, just let me,” you reply pushing some of his messy hair behind his ear.

“Okay,” he finally obliged sitting on the edge of the bathtub. You open a drawer, grab his razor and shaving cream, and sit in front of him on your knees.

“Ready?” you ask smiling at him.

“Yup,” he replied finally cracking a smile filling your heart with happiness. You squirted some of the shaving cream onto your hands and spread it across his face, grabbing the razor to begin.

The razor slid across his skin gently removing all his facial hairs from beneath it. “Am I doing okay?” you ask putting your hand on his thigh for balance.

“Yeah, it's perfect,” he smiled once again looking down at you. You finished shaving and pecked his lips gently, standing up rising out the razor, and putting it back in the drawer along with the shaving cream.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and turned off the bathroom light as the two of you walked back to the room to change and go to sleep.

You changed into your pajamas and so did he, the two of you climbing under the covers together as Spencer held you close in his arms.

“Do you wanna know the real reason I've been having trouble sleeping?” he asked making you turn around to look him in the eyes.

“If you’re ready to tell me,” you say smiling softly as he grabbed your hand.

“I was scared you were going to leave, you know?” “cause I've been so distant and weird lately, when I'm with you I feel safer than I have in a while,” he said a stray tear falling down his cheek. “I didn't want you to leave,” he repeated letting more tears fall.

Your arms wrapped around him as you held him close, he cried softly into your shoulder making your heart shatter.

“Spencer, I'm always going to be here for you, I wouldn't ever leave you,” you answered rubbing his back soothingly.

“Promise?” he asked looking up at you with his tear-stained cheeks.

“Promise,” you answered, wrapping your arms back around him as he tucked his face into the crook of your neck.

“I love you,” he spoke gently.

“I love you too,” you cooed holding him close as he fell asleep.

[thoughtsofedin]

Unravel Me

ᴅɪᴇɢᴏ ʜᴀʀɢʀᴇᴇᴠᴇꜱ/ʜᴀʀɢʀᴇᴇᴠᴇꜱ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡʜʏ, ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠ���, ɪꜱ ɪᴛ ꜱᴏ ᴇᴀꜱʏ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʙʀɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇᴀʀꜱ?

ᴛᴀɢꜱ: Angst, Smut, Open Ending, Emotional manipulation.

Minors do not interact.

There's a cut on Diego's lip when he sits down next to you and orders a drink. He's seething, anger radiating off of him in waves that you can physically feel. The bartender ignores him, paying more attention to the older blonde woman to your left and you can tell that it irritates him more. For a second, the world around you shifts and changes and you can see Diego reach over the bar and grab the bartender by the collar of his shirt, slamming his head into the wood.

"Don't," you say with a warning, blinking the future away and sliding your drink over to him. "It doesn't end well." you warn him, the sight of Diego with a bullet wound in his shoulder already fading away as he takes your drink- a sour cherry gin- and finishes it in one go.

"You gotta stop doing that shit, Eight." he sounds annoyed, the alcohol momentarily roughening his voice.

"I don't do it on purpose." you tell him for the millionth time. And its true. You've never really spent your time looking for the future, it just came to you whenever it wanted.

"Whatever."

You scoff at his attitude, growing annoyed that he was trying to take his anger out on you. "You and Lila fight again? Is that why you're here, pouting?"

"I'm not fucking pouting!" he hisses, and you shift in your seat, the glass he accidentally hit missing you as it tumbles to the ground and shatters by your feet, watered down vodka wetting your shoes.

"What did you do this time?" you ask, ignoring his outburst. "I thought things were getting better."

"I," he starts, his voice guttural "Didn't fucking do anything."

"Then why are you so mad?"

He takes a second to answer, running his hand through his hair and tugging at the short strands. He looked miserable. Like someone had stolen his favorite toy or something. "Diego...?" you press, annoyance shifting into worry.

"Stanley's not my kid." There's a pain to his voice that makes it sound as if he was trying to speak underwater or if he was holding back the need to cry. "Lila lied."

"Shit," you say, turning to look at him. "Diego, I'm so sorry." gently you reach for his hand, wrapping your fingers around his knuckles and giving them a squeeze. It might have taken him a minute to settle into his role as a father, but he had done so. Happily. With an excitement you had never seen in him before.

Lila was horrible for lying to him. For manipulating him like this. "Why the hell did she do that?" you ask, squeezing his hand once again.

Diego pulls his hand away from yours, once more tugging on his hair. "She's fucking crazy? I don't fucking know."

The man behind the bar finally slides his drinks towards him and Diego wastes no time in throwing them back, ordering more. You do the same, knowing that right now wasn't the time to tell him that maybe he shouldn't drink his problems away.

"Do you want me to go talk to her?" you ask and he scoffs.

"And say what?' he reaches across you, grabbing your drink as soon as its placed in front of you and tosses the straw aside. "I got it. I don't need your help."

As he brings the glass to his lips the world becomes a haze, your vision blurring and shifting until you see Diego passed out on the staircase. There's a bottle of tequila broken on the stairs, glass embedded in his hand. Lila finds him, and she's screaming at him. You can't really focus on what she's saying, the sound muffled. Diego startles awake, and he accidentally kicks Lila.

You close your eyes as her head hits a stair, flinching at the noise.

"Stop drinking." you groan out, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. It doesn't do anything to stop the vision from playing over and over in your mind. "Please." you add, hearing his voice in your head. You might not like the woman but you didn't want her dead. Most of all, you didn't want Diego to deal with that kind of pain.

"Stop looking into my future." Even though he sounds angry, he sets the glass down, listening to you.

"Trust me, I want to. You think I like seeing these things?" you bite back, the vision already fading. "Yours just happens to be so strong." You snatch the glass and take a sip, swishing the bitter alcohol around your tongue before you swallow.

"What did you see?" he asks.

"You being a fucking idiot."

"Jesus!" he shouts, slamming his hands on the table. "Don't I have enough going on already? Cut me a fucking break."

With a sigh you apologize. "You're right. I'm sorry... Are you doing okay?"

Diego shrugs, looking down at the glass. There's a moment of silence where you wonder if perhaps you should leave him alone and stop trying to look for answers when he clearly didn't want to talk about any of this, but he sighs, straightening up before taking your drink from your hand and nursing it in his own. His fingers had brushed against your knuckles, his skin rough, calloused and warm. He looks at the Cherry Sour, swirling it in the cup almost as if he's contemplating whether or not to heed your cryptic warning.

"No." he mumbles before bringing it to his lips.

That future with Lila dead on the stairs doesn't reappear so you don't snatch it back. He needed the drink more than you right now, anyways. "No?" you press for more.

"No. I'm not okay. I-I," he swallows his stutter, clenching his jaw before exhaling loudly. "Part of me wanted this to happen, you know? I can't be a fucking dad, just look at me." He motions to himself with his hand. "I'm not exactly cut out for it."

"That's not true." you say quietly. "I think you're a great dad."

Diego scoffs, sipping at the drink. "No I'm not."

You reach for his free hand, taking it in yours and making him look at you. "Lila might have lied about Stan, but Diego, you stepped up. You treated that kid like he was your own flesh and blood. Everyone else saw it. You were a good father and when we solve this whole Kugelblitz disaster you're going to have another chance to show that to yourself." You squeeze his hand, running your thumb across his knuckles. "You don't have to be so scared that you're going to turn out like dad. He didn't care about us... not like you cared about Stan."

You smile at Diego, once again squeezing his hand.

He looked like he was seconds away from crying, but he finishes the drink, blinking away all emotional distress from his face. "Thanks..." he says so quietly that you almost miss it. "I didn't think I needed to hear that."

You shrug, finally letting go of him. "You don't have to thank me."

Besides you, Diego sets the empty glass down and once again runs his hand through his hair. "I," he pauses, meeting your eyes. "I was so happy- having a kid, being with Lila... It was like all this time I was missing something I didn't know I wanted so badly. But she ripped it away from me and I don't know if I'm angry or relieved or-." he groans, shaking his head. "I think I probably would have done something stupid if you hadn't been here."

You smile at him, trying to lighten the mood "You still have time. Don't let me stop you from achieving all that you can."

His laugh is light as he shakes his head. "I think I'm good for now but thanks for the vote of confidence."

You try not to focus on the warmth that spreads through you at the sound of his laugh, your smile growing a bit. "Are you doing better?"

He lifts his shoulders, dropping them dramatically. "I'll be fine." He seems to have caught you looking at the glass in front of him that he played with, slowly running his index finger across the rim. Stopping and pulling his hand away, he makes a noise that has you looking back at his face. "You don't gotta worry. I'm not drinking anymore."

"You sure?"

"Look, whatever you saw definitely scared the shit out of you. I'll listen to you this time." As if to prove a point, he waved over the bartender and asked to close out your tab. "Anyways, I don't think alcohol is going to do anything to help."

You watch as he pulls out his wallet and nod. "Thanks, Diego."

"Whatever. It's not that expensive."

You roll your eyes, deciding not to tell him that you were thanking him for listening and preventing a horrible future from becoming a reality. "If you're all finished with me, I'm going to go find Five then. See what new idea he's come up with."

As you begin to stand up, you feel Diego's hand close around your wrist, holding you still. "Wait," he says as you freeze and look at his face. His brows are knitted together, something in his brown eyes that you can't exactly read.

"Wait?" you repeat, hoping to get more out of him.

"I won't drink... but can you stay with me? Just a little longer?" Diego's voice is unnaturally gentle, sad. "We don't have to stay in the bar. I just..." He doesn't finish.

But you don't need him to, you could see the fear in his eyes. The loneliness. He doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts, with his emotions. You wondered if he knew that the hand that held you was trembling.

Five could wait, you decided, smiling lightly at Diego. "Want to go up to the roof?"

Diego hadn't meant to sound so pathetic when he asked you to stay with him. But he did, and it aggravated him even more. He should have been relieved when Lila had told him the truth. He didn't want a damn kid, he never had and swore that he never would. So why was it that he felt so empty? The bond that he swore had been there between Stanley and him gone, a fragment of his imagination.

He had trusted Lila, even though from the first time they had met she had done nothing but lie to him. Of course she would have lied about this, he should have been smart enough to know that this was another one of her stupid games.

He lets go of your hand, wishing that he had finished that drink before the bartender had taken it away. Sure it tasted like shit, all watered down from the ice, but it was the easiest way to stop thinking. But he promised you that he was done, he wasn't about to go back on that.

"Come on," you say, keeping him grounded here, in the real world, instead of in his thoughts were no matter how hard he tried to stop, things just kept circling back to Lila and Stanley.

Diego stands and follows you to the elevator, where you're both quiet. Part of him wants to tell you that he's changed his mind, that he wants to be alone. But that part is a liar. He doesn't want you to leave. To leave him alone. He doesn't want you to be another person that leaves him.

"You do that a lot, why?" you ask, leaning against the wall of the elevator.

"Do what?" he asks, confused.

"The whole-" you lift your hand and run it through your hair, pushing it away from your face. "Running your hand through your hair thing."

He hadn't realize that he did that so often that it was noticeable. "It's a bad habit." he does it again, this time to make sure that his hair wasn't a mess. He didn't want to look like shit just because he was feeling it. "I don't really know why I do it."

"It's not good to mess with your hair like that. You're going to end up bald."

For a second, he panics, wondering if perhaps you had another of your visions. "Is that like a sure thing? Did you see it in the future?" He didn't want to be bald. He had shaved his head for the police academy and it did not look good at all.

There's a single pause where you look at him like you were going to tell him something bad but then you laugh, shaking your head. "You should see your face!" you curl into yourself, and he frowns, relieved but annoyed. "I didn't see anything, I was just messing with you."

He scoffs, but you only laugh harder and he finds that he can't stay mad. Not when its so contagious and he finds his lips curling upwards a bit. "Funny." he says sarcastically, pushing himself from the wall the moment the elevator slows to a stop on the last floor.

"You're not mad, are you?" you ask from behind him following him as he walks to the emergency staircase and pushes the door open.

"No. Come on, before the alarm goes off." he grabs you by upper arm and pulls you into the stairway, following you and pulling the door close behind him. He finds himself stuck between the door and you, his fingers still wrapped around your bicep, your face near his.

Maybe it's the alcohol, or the anger that still refuses to leave him, but for a split second he sees Lila in your place and all the progress he has done disappears down the drain. He lets go of you, bringing his hands to his head and running them down the shaved sides.

"Diego?" You speak his name so softly that he chuckles humorlessly. He wasn't used to soft. To the gentleness that you were offering him. He knew biting words and screaming fights that went unresolved until it got too heavy to bear and instead of fixing the issue, he left. Or they left.

"Can I ask you for a favor, Eight?" He opens his eyes, finding yours looking at him with worry. The handle of the door was biting into his lower back painfully but he didn't have the strength to move. To care, honestly. "Can you check and see what the future is like?"

Does he give Lila another chance only for it to bite him in the ass? Does he have kids of his own? Is he kind to them? Do they like him? Or is he a spitting image of Reginald Hargreeves, treating his children like commodities instead of people?

Your eyes soften, and he doesn't like how sad you suddenly look, your brows pushed together as the corner of your mouth twitches. He knows what you're going to say. That you couldn't do that. That the future was too finicky for you to get straight answers.

"Nothing good comes from chasing the future, Diego. Trust me."

"Please." he presses, even though he knows that you're right. "At least tell me there's going to be a day when I don't hurt so badly anymore." his voice cracks at the end, and he has to look away from you to keep from crying, his eyes trailing the textured off white ceiling.

He feels you wrap your arms around him, and instinctually he wants to push you away, stiffening as you hold him. Diego wants to yell and shout and tell you to get the fuck off him, but you squeeze him, arms around his in an awkward embrace, and his anger shatters. His breath comes out shaky, his vision blurs and his arms lift and push yours out of the way so that he could hug you back.

His tears fall silently as you hold him, his face finding the hollow of your neck as he pulls you closer to him. He doesn't say a word, holding you tightly as he lets himself cry. You stroke his back, the same way Grace used to do for him and he breaks again, his inhale loud and broken against your skin.

"It's okay, Diego." you whisper so close to his ear. "You're okay."

You don't seem to care that he's trembling, that your skin is wet with his tears, that he's dug his nails into your shirt so hard that he's afraid that he's ripped the fabric and broken your skin. You just hold him, soothing his back.

Did you know this was going to happen? Had you seen it already? Is that why you knew what to do, what to say? He wants to ask you but he can't find the will to come down, let alone his voice. He pulls you closer, his hand finding your lower back.

"It's okay," you repeat, your hand sliding from between his shoulder blades to the nape of his neck.

The pain inside of him, the one that he had been trying to deny existed from the moment Lila had told him the truth grows and grows until its all that he can feel, his knees bucking underneath him.

For a moment, even with the threat of doom hanging over his head, he had been happy. He had a son, a woman who loved him, a family he could take care of and protect and show that he was just as deserving as anyone else. Only for it all to be taken away from him.

You don't say anything as his breathing begins to even out and he finds that he can't cry anymore. He's thankful for that, partially horrified at not only having broken down so intensely but in front of you, no less. If you opened your mouth and said something he was worried that in his shame he'd snap and bite at you like a feral dog.

He loosens his hold on you, shifting his head so that his forehead rests against your shoulder, the familiar ache of a headache forming behind his eyes. You're still rubbing soothing circles on his neck, one hand planted firmly on his back. He doesn't want to pull back. Doesn't want to see the inevitable pity he's bound to find in your eyes.

He's nothing short of pathetic right now. But maybe he's always been pathetic. Look at him, crying over a something as mediocre as a lie.

"Sorry," he says against the tissue of your shirt. "Just..." he wants to warn you about what would happen if you tell another soul but he doesn't have the strength. "Just give me a moment."

Your fingers are light as they run along the length of his neck, your head brushing against his as you nod. "Let's sit down." you suggest quietly and pull away from him. At first he doesn't want you to move, his arms holding you still until he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, willing himself to let you go. His arms slowly move from around you and fall limp at his sides as he straightens up,.

He lets you lead him towards the stairs, sitting beside you when you pat the space. He can't look at your face, worried that he'll find something there he wont like. Instead he keeps his eyes on his hands, his shoes, the concrete of the stairs.

"I'm sorry." he repeats into the silence that's spread between them. Now that he has a clear mind, he's suddenly repulsed by his actions. Clinging and crying on you like that was embarrassing to say the least.

When your hand finds his, your fingers intertwining with his own before you pull it towards your lap, he almost pulls away reflexively. But you hold on tight and he doesn't have the strength to fight. "How are you feeling?" you ask, ignoring his apology and he's thankful for that.

"Like I've been split in half." he says honestly, his eyes moving from the stair to your intertwined hands. It felt nice, having you hold him, the warmth of your skin seeping into his. "It's a shit feeling."

You squeeze his hand. "Yeah," you whisper. "I know."

For a moment, the silence returns and it's not heavy and choking for once. It's pleasant, welcomed after everything. Diego doesn't find himself slipping into his thoughts in it, instead he focuses on the barely there sound of your breathing. His own slowly beginning to match yours.

Sitting here next to you, he felt as if the world around him began to crumble and end, he wouldn't have felt a single thing but relief, glad that it was you he spent his last moment's with.

Diego turns and looks at you and maybe its due to all his emotions running wild inside of him, or the fact that for some reason the world always looked clearer after crying, but he feels like he's looking at you for the very first time. His eyes linger on the curve of your nose, the slight downward curl your lips took on when you thought about something. He trails the curve of your neck, your collar still damp with his tears. He could still feel the warmth you had radiated there. Could still smell the almost floral, clean smell that perfumed your skin, that had filled his lungs.

You had your eyes closed, head tilted against the metal railing but he knew that you weren't asleep. Were you here with him in this very moment? Or had you slipped into the future once more, living something that he hadn't yet? He squeezes your hand, pulling it towards him and you blink and open your eyes, turning to look at him with that hazy look that came from being in two places at once.

"What did you see?" he asks, voice low. He wondered if what he wanted to do and what you saw were the same thing, or had the future already changed for you? For him?

"I..." you trail off as he leans in, his fingers softly tracing the curve of your cheek until he's cupping your face. He shifts his body towards you, the space between you both closing. He glances down at your lips and he felt himself lick his own.

He watches as you close your eyes and lean into his touch and that's all it takes for him to break what little distance there is between his mouth and yours, kissing you.

At first, its soft and gentle and he plans on pulling away but you let out a small whimper, lips parting just the slightest and he groans and deepens it, fingers digging into your scalp.

His lips guide yours, the kiss harsh as he buries himself in the sensation, in the warmth of your mouth, the softness of your lips. He can taste the salt of his tears in the kiss and it mingles with the sweetness of your mouth, his tongue tracing the length of your lower lip before it slipped inside of your mouth.

Your response is immediate, your lips parting to welcome him, inviting him into the depths of your being. His heart races at the intimacy of the gesture, at the way you respond to him with such fervor. It's a heady sensation, the feeling of being wanted and needed so desperately.

His hand wanders down the curve of your neck, over your shoulder, down your arm. He wants to feel you, to sink into you and forget the world around him. He finds himself tugging at the hem of your shirt, swallowing your moan.

Reluctantly, he pulls back, opening his eyes to find you flushed and panting, your lips dark and swollen. "Come here," he says, his voice guttural as he pats his lap, his cock swollen underneath his hand. He wanted you on top of him as he explored every inch of your body.

"Diego," the sound of your voice, choking around his name has his cock lurching in his jeans. "I can't." you say and suddenly he's brought back down to reality, the fog that had clouded his mind beginning to clear.

Maybe he should be disgusted with his actions, throwing himself at you because in his mind he'd twisted his sadness into arousal. But instead of feeling any sort or remorse or need to apologize, frustration bubbled up in his throat until he said the only thing that he could. "Why?" What was stopping you?

The question seemed to catch you off guard and you frown and open your mouth but struggle to find the words so Diego decides to help, moving until he's kneeling between your legs, his lips once more on yours. This time, the kiss is a plea, sweet and slow and eager.

He wants you, his lips trailing down to your neck and back up to your jaw, hungry and desperate for an answer. "Tell me." he groans against your skin, pulling you closer to him by your hips. Every touch he placed upon your skin made you shiver, he could feel it. You wanted this as much as he did so why were you so keen on pushing him away.

He nips at your neck and you let out a whine, squeezing him with your thighs.

"This means something different to me." you finally say, so quiet that he almost misses it, his mind focused on the taste of your skin. He pulls back slightly, looking at you through hooded eyes. You looked so torn, as if you were enjoying his ministrations while at the same time telling yourself that this wasn't right.

He feels his heart sink at the same time that his cock twitches and begs for you. He knew what you meant. He could see it in your eyes, could feel it under your skin, conflict raging hot under his touch. He knew that he had to stop, that he needed to stand up and leave but he didn't want to. You were so sweet, so kind, so soft.

Unlike Lila, unlike anything he had ever experienced. Where Lila bit and scratched until he was full of wounds and pain and anger, you soothed and kissed and filled him with an intoxication that he wanted to drown in. He brings your hand to his mouth, turning it until he's kissing your wrist, your heart beating against his lips. "Then show me, Eight." he begs, his voice a desperate plea. "Show me what it means to you."

It was selfish and wrong and maybe after it was all over, he'd come to regret it. But right now he wanted you. Wanted to sink into you, into your warmth. He needed to feel wanted. To feel anything but the anguish that had settled in his bones. He wanted to forget and you offered him the perfect opportunity to do so. "Please."

You kiss him and he stops thinking. Your lips are on his, your hands pushing his arms out of the way, struggling with the buttons on his shirt. Your breath comes out ragged against his lips as he helps you undo his holster, letting it drop to the ground as your mouth finds his neck. Your tongue is hot against his flesh, your teeth grazing the skin there before you lift your head and kiss him again.

You were so gentle even though he didn't deserve it.

His shirt falls to the ground, your hand tracing his chest, the scars that litter his body. It rests against his abdomen, slowly inching lower and lower until you're squeezing his cock through his jeans and he lets out a low moan.

Diego lets you tease him, tossing his head back as you stroke and squeeze him, your mouth on his Adam's apple. He groans, whispers your name and you undo his belt, his button, his zipper. He feels your hand slip inside his boxers, flesh against flesh, your thumb against the tip of his cock, wet with precum. You drag it down his length and he shivers, sinking his fingers into your waist when you close your fingers around the base and slowly begin to stroke him.

He wishes he had taken you to a room. He wanted to lay you down and taste your cunt. He wanted you to cum on his tongue, your hands in his hair, his name on your lips.

You twist your fist around the head of his cock and his thoughts shatter, his mouth once more on your neck, kissing and panting, laving at the skin there with his tongue.

"On top," he growls, pushing your hand from his cock and picking you up so that he can switch positions with you. He moves until he's the one sitting on a step and you're straddling his hips, fingers digging into his shoulders.

"You're so beautiful," he groans lifting his hips until his cock connects with your cunt, the fabric of your pants soft as he helps you roll your hips against him. You whimper and he wastes no time in kissing you, tasting your desire.

You moan his name against his lips and warmth pools in his belly, filling his veins. "Lean back, " he tells you and you obediently do as told.

He wanted to devour you whole, but settles on quickly pulling your shirt off of you, tossing it towards the door. His lips find your collarbone and he kisses and nips at the skin there, his cock running along the length of your clothed cunt.

His lips trail lower and lower, one arm keeping you from falling, the other one finds the clasp of your bra. Easily he undoes it and it joins your shirt on the floor.

His mouth is on your nipple, suckling and licking it until its hard and you're moaning his name, pulling him closer. Gently he bites down on it, the salty taste of your sweat making him groan and reach for his cock.

"Diego!" you shout, voice reverberating in the empty staircase. He's switched to your other nipple, stroking himself in tandem to your moans.

"Get up," he struggles to talk, letting your nipple slip from his mouth. "I want my cock in you."

You blink a few times, letting him help you to your feet, his hands wasting no time in pulling them down alongside your underwear. Sitting down, he's almost face level with your cunt and he's tempted to have you put a leg on his shoulder so he could taste you, his fingers stroking the neat patch of hair between your legs. He tells himself that next time, he will.

"Come here," he whispers, leaning back. He wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and holds it towards you. "Come ride me, baby girl." He squeezes, a drop of precum welling at the tip before it rolls down the underside of his cock, gathering between his fingers.

You place your hands on his shoulder, slowly kneeling on the step as you toss your other leg over his hips. You're flushed, panting, brows knitted together and before you can straddle him fully, his hand is on your face, holding your cheek.

He knows that its unfair to you. That this would hurt you more than him, but for once in a very long time, Diego felt at peace. The repercussions didn't matter. Not right now, at least.

He leans into you and kisses you. His lips soft, tender. This kiss is slower that the others, careful. He pulls back and looks at you, you're face twisted as if you were on the edge of crying.

"I love you," you finally admit out loud and his heart breaks and forms back together all at once, inhaling sharply from the pain. Your voice trembles as you reach for his cock and hold it against your cunt, slowly easing down on it. "I love you, Diego." you repeat, milking him as you take the first inch. His mouth falls slack, groaning from deep in his chest at the feeling of you around him, his eyes still on yours. He can't look away. He has to look. Has to remember everything about this moment.

You're hot and wet and so, so fucking tight around his cock, your walls clenching and unclenching as you take another inch, gasping for a breath.

"I love you." you keep saying, digging the knife deeper into his chest.

"I know." he finally answers, leaning his head on your shoulder as you bottom out, the tip of his cock tightly nuzzled in your cunt. It feels like heaven, like the last two pieces in a puzzle. His fingers dance along your curved spine, making you shiver and squeeze him even harder.

He wishes he could say it back, rocking his hips as he moves inside of you, pulling out and pushing back in. He wishes that it had been you, not Lila that he had fallen in love with as you wrap your arms around him and gasp as he keeps a steady, languid rhythm.

Diego kisses your shoulder as you match his pace with your hips, nails sinking into his back. He wishes that time would stop and it'd be you and him, trapped here forever.

"Perdoname," he whispers against your skin, pushing his cock deeper into you, knocking the breath from your lungs. He repeats his apology, picking up his pace and trailing kisses up your neck.

"I love you," you cry out, gently pushing him away as you bounce your hips, matching his pace. You take his hand and place it over your heart, riding him as he slows and feels how hard it beats under his palm. "I've always loved you, Diego. My heart has always been yours." you're breathless as you talk, taking every inch of him.

"I wish things were different," he whispers, voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breaths. And part of him truly, honestly wishes that it was.

He can almost feel your heart breaking, digging his fingers into your hips and holding you still as he begins to fuck you desperately, your name falling from his lips as you grow tighter, wetter.

Did you see this moment coming? Or in your eyes had the future been different? Was there a world out there, where he did not break your heart? Diego looks into your eyes, finds the pain and anguish there that he had selfishly caused and he cups your face in his hands. "En otra vida," he speaks quietly, too scared to say it in english. "Yo te prometo que soy tuyo."

You let out a muddled whimper, your rocking growing frantic as you get closer to your orgasm, tears welling in your eyes. "Do you promise?" you choke out and Diego nods, kissing you.

His lips ask you for forgiveness for hurting you just because he was hurting. They move in tandem with yours, sweet and painful at the same time, the pressure in his cock growing and growing as you bounce harder and harder, squeezing him until he lets out a growl and bites down on your lip.

You come first. His mouth is still on yours, the kiss turning into something sloppy and dirty as you moan his name and unravel on top of him, pussy tightening around his cock with such strength that for a moment he doesn't hear or see anything, the world around him turning into a white haze.

When his senses come back, you're chanting his name, twitching and rocking against him, coming down from your high.

"One more," he pleads, smoothing your hair away from your face. "Come around my cock one more time."

Maybe you're just as desperate as he is to make this moment last because you nod lazily and he smiles at you, the pressure at the base of his cock growing and growing as he begins to piston into you, lifting himself from the step. One hand caresses your head, the other one sinks into the flesh of your ass, holding you against him as he cums inside of you at the same time you clench down on him harder, mouth seeking his.

He knows that he's broken your heart. That even though you're panting and holding onto him, he's lost you forever. You lean against him, spent and broken, pussy still milking him for all he's got.

He kisses the side of your head gently, in no rush to move, to have this come to an end. Reality waited for him, for you at the edge of the staircase but he just wanted a second more.

He caresses your back, kissing your temple, your forehead, your shoulder. Where he found skin, he kissed. Silent apologies for what he's done to you, for what he could not offer. His fingers retrace the length of your spine, up and down, over and over again. You've laid your head on his chest, trying to catch your breath and he doesn't mind. Finds the way your chest rises and falls against him to be soothing.

He doesn't know how long both of you stayed there before he slides out of you with a groan, breaking the spell. You sit up, and already he misses your warmth, growing cold as he helps you to your feet, helps you gather your clothes and once more slip into them.

He makes you turn around to clasp your bra together, kissing your shoulder blade. He smooths down your hair when you pull your shirt on, kissing your forehead for the last time when you're both dressed and decent, the smell of sex clinging to you, to him, to the staircase.

He hopes that you find a future where you forget all about him. Where you find someone worthy of your kind heart, of your soft words, of your gentle nature.

"I'm sorry," he repeats for what seems like the hundredth time, taking your hand and kissing your fingertips. This apology is for using you, for taking advantage of the love in your heart. Whatever he had done in the past to make you fall in love with him, he's sorry.

You nod, pulling your hand away from his. "I know." you say gently, quietly, sadly. You don't look at him, and he doesn't reach for you.

Guilt settles into his heart, heavy and bothersome as he pushes open the door and leaves you alone in the staircase.

AN: Thank you for reading! Here are the translations of all the Spanish words:

Perdoname- forgive me

En otra vida- In another life

Yo te prometo que soy tuyo- I promise you that I am yours.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 95

Inspired by this not geraskier (merthur) fic In a world where your soulmate's greatest current fear is written on your arm, Geralt's arm fluctuates between saying "Dying alone" and "Being Forgotten", and though they do hurt him to see this is what his soulmate fears above all else, he's happy. Because just a few years ago, his arm would swap between "Mother" and "Father". Geralt is fine with it all. Until one day the words on his arm say his name. "Geralt of Rivia" Geralt deals with this as calmly and reasonably as anyone would. He has a fullblown breakdown in the middle of the woods and cries into his horse's side and digs a really big hole before just filling it back up because the digging a hole was for the therapeutic feeling and not for anything of substance. So later when he killed a horrible smelling corpse monster and had to dig a SECOND hole to bury the thing when he had a big already dug hole earlier if he just hadn't filled it fucking in-! He's having a tough week, is all. But thankfully, soon enough, he'll be meeting back up with Jaskier! The one person who's never been afraid of him, and Geralt is only just starting to feel like maybe Jaskier never will. Jaskier is terrified of Geralt. Not of him! Not of him, nonono.. Of Geralt.. finding out. If Geralt finds out Jaskier is falling in love with him, Geralt will surely throw him aside. I mean, it took him forever to say they were friends, if Jaskier tells Geralt he's in love with him, Geralt would probably do something ridiculous like... Scream at him on a mountain or something. Alright, sure, that sounds nothing like Geralt, but Jaskier's spiraling doesn't really care for what makes "sense" at the moment. He's fine. When he meets up with Geralt in a week, he'll just hide his feelings as per usual. He'll be fine.

♡!Optional addons!♡ • Jaskier has discovered that Geralt is his soulmate, because he's mended the wounds on Geralt's arm that clearly says "Geralt dying" or "Geralt bleeding out", or "Manticore Venom". Frankly, he's impressed at Geralt's lack of observational skills. Geralt's arm tends to have the name of whatever monster he's currently fighting on his arm.. But perhaps it's hard to notice that when you're currently engaged in life-or-death battle with aforementioned monster. • Jaskier isn't human. When Jaskier sees "Jaskier" on his arm one day, he feels as if his heart has shattered. Geralt must've found out what he is, and now he hates him. Jaskier can't help himself, when he next sees Geralt, he asks if Geralt would kill him, for he won't be able to keep sane by just separating. Geralt, whose biggest fear is Jaskier being hurt, being sad, dying because of him, dying of old age, loving him, not loving him, etc etc etc, is suddenly very confused over what the fuck they are talking about • Geralt knows Jaskier is his soulmate, and upon seeing Jaskier is terrified of him, Geralt begins acting and speaking completely different in order to "Fix it". Jaskier is confused when Geralt is suddenly hiding his fangs, and never touching his swords near him, and begins speaking exclusively in a soft slightly-higher voice, as if he's a scared animal.

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Smooth Operator

Pairing: Warriors x Reader

Warning(s): References to age-appropriate drinking and a few dirty jokes, but this is surprisingly tame compared to my other Warriors works

Notes: Ugh I love Wars so bad, writing him is such a treat.

Masterlist

The tavern was as crowded as it could be; a heavy throng of people milling about the small space, some in time to the cheery music and others to the swirling rhythm of their heart, swaying on their feet as bodies and inhibitions melded together. The atmosphere was darkly carefree, the air thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol. It wasn't an ideal meeting spot, but you needed information more than your dignity.

The candlelight flickered as you brought your glass up, wetting your lips with the gentlest sips of red wine, tongue flicking to carefully swipe over the painted curve of your bottom lip, not wanting to disturb Wild's handiwork. You had no idea where the champion had learned to apply lip stain like he had, but you weren't complaining when your eyes caught the rough silhouette of your target, a well-connected merchant rumored to possess knowledge on the whereabouts of a certain black lizalfos.

The music swelled and dipped, filling you with a sort of confidence as you pulled away from the side of the bar, smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles of your dress–a gift from Warriors–and stalking forward with the grace of a panther, the deep neckline accentuating the curve of your chest and the tasteful slit in the thigh revealing hints of flesh beneath, though not enough to label you as something... more than you were.

The crowd seemed to part as you made your way forward, the merchant's back to you until the very last second, when your shoulder brushed his and you squeaked in a tone borrowed from Wind himself. "My apologies, my lord–"

The man turned, his disgruntled expression quickly turning into something far more appreciative. "Why, my lady, no apologies necessary," his gaze swept down your body in a way that made you feel horribly exposed, but you covered it up by placing a hand over your mouth, batting your lashes softly. "I can't help as though I've seen you before."

You tensed when his unoccupied hand–the one not holding a massive mug of beer–swept down to rest on the curve of your waist, lightly covered by patterned mesh. His breath, hot and rank, washed over you, and you regretted not taking the fan Sky offered you. "Oh, my lord..." you cooed, putting as much simpering charm as you could manage into those three words.

"But how could I forget a face as delicate as yours," the merchant mused, brown eyes glinting like dried blood on cloth. "Especially not with a body so... enticing."

You were positive you could have thrown up in that moment, bile rising in your throat, bitter and burning. You needed to take control. Now. "You flatter me when I am but a humble traveler."

"A traveler? And where, pray tell, is your destination?"

"East, my lord."

"East," he hummed, and your skin crawled, hands gripping your glass hard enough to shatter it. "Pity, I am returning West myself."

"How coincidental, should we have both headed West," you said, keeping the conversation in motion until you were ready, putting on the best vexed face you could. "After the attacks, I fear..."

The merchant raised a brow. You smiled internally, knowing you had him hook, line, and sinker. "Attacks?"

"Yes," you glanced around the bar, and his gaze followed. "I have heard rumors... of a creature. A lizalfos, as dark as the night itself."

"Ah, and why would a delicate creature such as yourself be concerned with those matters?" The man pressed, eyes lighting up with hunger and lust as he considered his next words. "Unless, of course, you travel alone?"

"I'm afraid so," you confirmed, biting your tongue when his hand tightened around your waist. "If I knew the whereabouts, perhaps I would be more inclined to," you paused for effect, making sure your lips were as pouty as you could make them. "accept companions on my travels."

The merchant's eyes shone in a way that made you want to stab him with the dagger cleverly hidden in the folds of your dress. "Companions, my lady?"

You opened your mouth to respond, and that's when you saw him out of the corner of your eyes, a rogue flash of royal blue among the milling crowd. The hero. Your hero.

Warriors.

Warriors, who currently stalked forward like an apex predator. Warriors, dressed to the nines in his captain's uniform, scarf billowing behind him like the sail of a deadly ship. Warriors, whose gaze held nothing but broiling rage at the sight of you in the arms of someone other than him.

And you, the decoy, not quite able to remove him from the corners of your vision as you used the ticking seconds to simper about the whereabouts of the lizalfos, praying to whatever deity existed that you got your information before the hero got his penitence. Your wishes were granted when you caught sight of a tan scroll in the pocket of the merchant's coat, practically begging to be noticed by nimble minds and stolen by even nimbler fingers.

"Won't you tell me, my lord?" you simpered in one last ditch effort, trying to look as pathetic as possible to tempt him into submission. You didn't notice the way his gaze roved over every inch of your body, so focused on getting that map.

You didn't notice him look over, face falling slightly as he met the hero's glare.

You didn't notice the tension crackle between the two men.

But you did notice the shattering of glass and screams that filled the tavern as the merchant's grip tightened around your waist, turning into something painful and bruising as he drew himself up, attempting to intimidate Warriors with his height.

It didn't work.

You gasped when the Captain's fist collided with the merchant's cheek, sending the taller man staggering back into the wall, before seizing your wrist and pulling you against his side in a protective embrace. "Come on," he all but growled, though it wasn't directed at you, and you hardly had any time to react before he was tugging you in the direction of the exit, the sound of curses and breaking glass following you all the way out.

Warriors practically shoved the door open, gently pushing you into the alleyway before grabbing a stick from the ground and shoving it into the hinges, preventing anyone from coming through. You turned to face him, arms wrapped around yourself as the chill of the night began to take hold, hissing: "What the hell was that?!"

"You looked uncomfortable," the captain said, mirroring your stance with a stern, dangerous look, his tone devoid of its usually flirty cadence.

"I– that's the point!" You pinched your temples. "Or have you forgotten how these things work?"

Warriors' gaze darkened, and you knew you were pushing him. Too bad, because you were pissed, too. "He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat, (Y/n)– and don't get me started on how he was feeling you up. I'll be damned if I sit back and watch you get–"

You interrupted him with a scoff. "Thanks, but I don't need your help, Warriors. I can handle myself just fine."

"It's not about that," he pressed, looking more and more frustrated. "It's about the fact that he touched something that doesn't belong to him."

"And what's that?" You shot back, knowing full well what he was referring to. This wasn't the first time you and Warriors had been at odds like this before, but it was certainly the most spontaneous.

"You."

You made a face at the insinuation. "I never said I belonged to you–"

"Neither did I, but you sure as hell don't belong to him," the hero interrupted with a snarl, cerulean eyes flashing with something vaguely protective. He was pissed, but not at you.

"I don't belong to anyone," you said, willing yourself not to think of the kiss you shared with him under the moonlight a few weeks ago. It happened during one of the rare breaks, with the chain stopping at an inn for a few days to recuperate after a particularly tough series of events, and, being the consenting adult you were, you had taken advantage of the downtime and gone to buy a flask of wine, which led to you and the captain sharing it in the back of the inn like a pair of misbehaving teenagers. You could still remember the chill of the tree as he pressed you against it, kissing you until all you saw were stars.

Nothing had happened since then.

Until now, though you weren't quite sure if the look in his eyes meant he was going to kiss or kill you.

"You don't," Warriors agreed, though there was something in his tone that hinted to something more. "I could have killed him, (Y/n)."

"And ruin that stellar reputation of yours?" You snarked, glad that the mood was lightening slightly. "Besides, I've gotten what I wanted."

His eyebrows shot up. "You–"

"Of course," you reached into the front of your dress and pulled out the scroll. "What, did you think I was flirting with him for fun?"

Warriors gave a noncommittal grunt, arms crossed over his chest.

You clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your laugh. "Pfft– seriously? Besides, it was either me or Wild, take your pick."

"Wild could have–"

"Wild would have set him on fire within the first minute," you interrupted with a grimace.

"Good."

For a split second, you were silent, mostly because you agreed with him and partly because the satisfied grin on his face was a bit much for your poor, exhausted brain at this time, but you managed a disapproving tut. "Nope, gotta preserve your reputation, pretty boy."

"Pretty boy," he echoed, trying and failing to look offended. You shrugged, offering him the scroll, which he took with an expression of shock. "You really..."

"What can I say?" you grinned. "I'm a great actor."

"Among other things," said the hero, and you laughed softly, irritation melting away like snow on a summer's day. You had gotten the plans with minimal casualties, so why waste the evening on some smudged feelings? Cerulean eyes scanned the scroll with careful attention, and you had to force yourself not to preen when his gaze turned slightly awestruck. "This is... everything. I don't think you could have done better."

"You think?" You parroted, still wearing a wide grin. It wasn't that he never tossed compliments your way, but this went so much further than your daily encounters. The night hardly felt cold when he was so close, though you wouldn't mind wrapping yourself up in that scarf of his. "Is the night over or am I required to flirt with more merchants to earn my keep?"

Warriors regarded you with a flat expression, looking seconds away from rolling those beautiful eyes of his. "Tch. If you think I'm going to let anyone else disrespect you like that again, you've got another thing coming."

Your smile was good-natured, even as you leaned over to sling an arm across his upper back, nudging him to walk with you, which he did without complaint. "My hero. Let's head back, yeah? I'm starving."

"Starving?" for a moment, you swore there was a glimmer in his gaze. A arm settled around your own back, so light that you hardly felt it. "In that case, allow me to escort you back, fair maiden."

You smacked his shoulder with a snort. "Pfft, save it for the girls back home, flirt."

"What girls?" he joked, but there was something far less teasing in those eyes of his. You tried not to think of that night.

You tried.

And failed.

The feeling of his soft, wine-stained lips was still fresh in your mind, as were the gentle hands holding your cheeks and the warmth of his body pressing you to the tree. There was nothing remotely platonic about that night, and yet, you dared wonder if it was all a fluke, a drunken mishap that he hoped to erase from your minds. You didn't even remember being that buzzed, just hopefully tipsy in a way that made your toes tingle and your heart beat a bit harder in your chest.

There were lines, you knew, but the scariest part was that you had no idea how many either of you were willing to cross.

You were torn from your thoughts when the Captain called your name, soft enough for only your ears to register. His arm drew a bit closer, letting you feel the respectful press against the semi-exposed skin of your upper back. It was such a stark difference from your reaction to the merchant's touch that you would have fallen back into wondering had he not been staring directly at you with... what was that emotion. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," you said on reflex, only to freeze when he unlooped his scarf from his neck, setting the warm, soft fabric atop your own shoulders, deftly adjusting it so that it sat perfectly on your frame, not unlike a great billowing cloak. You were hit with the overwhelming urge to smell it, but held back at the last second, fingers fiddling with the embroidered end. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Warriors responded with a soft smile that you couldn't decide fit his face or not. His cheeks were flushed the softest pink, and you had a hard time believing it was from the cold. You turned a corner, joining a slightly busier street. "You look stunning, by the way... I don't think I ever told you."

He had, but you weren't about to tell him. "You don't look too bad yourself," you nodded to his outfit and grinned. "Do you wear it on all your espionage missions or am I just lucky?"

"Actually–"

"Hey! You!"

Your head whipped around as a shout tore through the street, stiffening when you recognized the merchant from earlier. "Shit," you hissed, a rush of adrenaline shooting through you. The man looked unfathomably angry, four lackeys at his heels, and you really didn't want to fight in a dress and heels. "Run?!"

Warriors' eyes met yours and he nodded. You yelped when the hand hovering over your shoulder clamped down, forcing you to pivot slightly as he scooped you into his arms and took off down the street like a keese out of hell. "Wars–!"

"Stay still," he huffed, turning a corner in a move that nearly gave you whiplash, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck for some semblance of stability. There were several gasps from the townspeople as the Captain barreled down a couple of alleys, holding you close as his scarf flapped in the wind like the tail of a bird. After what felt like an eternity, he slowed to a jog, head swiveling to gauge your surroundings. "Do you see them?"

"No," you whispered back, canvassing the street with keen eyes. "I think we lost them."

"Thank Hylia," he breathed. You did the same, too high on adrenaline to register the suggestiveness of the situation. "I think that's enough excitement for today."

"You think?" You asked, somewhat sarcastically before your tone grew serious. "No, seriously, if I don't get out of these heels soon, I might actually ruin both our reputations... and status as law-abiding citizens."

"You? Law-abiding?" he chuckled, eyes glinting with amusement. You wanted to kiss and kill whoever taught him to apply eyeliner like that. "Never heard that one before."

"Because it's implied, you wet rag," you smacked his shoulder, huffing as the breeze hit the bared skin of your arm. "Hylia, it's freezing. Maybe Wild would have been better for this."

The Captain arched a perfectly-manicured brow. "Didn't you say he would have set that merchant on fire?"

"Didn't you say he should have?" you countered without missing a beat.

Warriors grumbled, averting his eyes. He began to walk, and you could say with absolute certainty that you had no idea where you were going. "Are you going to put me down or...?"

"Or?"

"I can walk," you huffed.

"And I can carry you."

Your scowl deepened, eyes narrowing. You were upset, and neither was he, but it was more fun this way. "I will break your arms."

"Kinky."

A long-suffering sigh slipped past your lips as you briefly, seriously considered throttling him. However, he had technically saved you–twice, but you would rather die than let the little bastard know–and you would hate to get blood all over that scarf of his. "At least buy me a drink first, weirdo."

Warriors made a curious noise, not rising to the bait like you expected him to. His gaze flicked to the left, head tilting as a grin split his features. "There's a tavern," he told you; seriously, thoughtfully. "And I promise you won't have to flirt with any old rich merchants to have a good time."

"Oh, so now you're saying I can't have fun?" You joked, and he snorted good-naturedly.

"My deepest apologies, I assumed you were a person of high-standing–"

You smacked his shoulder. "Oh, I'll show you high-standing–!"

Warriors didn't flinch. In fact, he almost seemed to enjoy the banter, if his widening smile was of any indication. Weirdo. "I'll take that seriously when you find a way to be taller than me."

"That is not a problem, I promise you'll be just fine without your kneecaps–"

You cut yourself off when he began to laugh. It wasn't mocking; rather, the opposite, a sound of pure delight that had you blinking in surprise. His hold on you shook withe the force of his chortles, head tilted back, neck bared, adam's apple bobbing. You tried not to look. You really did, chewing your bottom lip in an attempt to remain unbothered.

"Yeah, laugh it up, you weirdo...."

It was a losing battle.

After a few minutes, the Captain seemed to regain control of himself, though it did nothing to quell the dumb grin spreading across his face. "Now, about that drink..."

You rolled your eyes. He was cute, but not that cute. "Don't push your luck, Captain."

"...I can't believe I let you drag me here."

"Hm?" Warriors' gaze, which had previously been focused on the grimy ceiling of the tavern. Cobalt eyes sparked with mirth, and you immediately regretted opening your mouth. "That's funny, because I could have sworn I carried you."

"Tomato tom-mat-o, Cap," you waved a hand and took a perfunctory sip of your drink as an excuse to not look at him. Until he did the same, and you got another eyeful of mug he had been nursing for a solid fifteen minutes. "You look like you're preparing to have your heart broken."

"I'll be fine so long as you're gentle with me," he winked, and while you knew it was suppose to be a joke, there was little you could do to stop the clenching sensation in your chest.

You gulped down the rest of your drink, placing the now empty mug onto the counter with a slightly violent thunk. "You're an idiot," you told him; matter-of-fact, testing. "Or is it the other way around?"

Warriors' gaze sharpened. Suddenly, the tavern didn't feel quite as bad. Suddenly, you were wishing there was a bit more noise to distract you. Suddenly, you wondered what this drink would taste like on his lips. "What do you mean by that?"

This was dangerous, you knew, yet you would be a fool to stop, when it felt as though the stars themselves had aligned to grant you this chance. "I mean," you paused, wishing you had a bit left in your mug to fill the silence. "Is it me or the alcohol, Link?"

His lips parted, then closed. The Captain's eyes narrowed as he leaned an inch forward, expression far too serious for what likely looked like the beginnings of a tavern hook-up to anyone who was watching. "You're not drunk," he said; too pointed to be a question, and too soft to be a statement.

"Not yet," you shrugged. Should you call for another round? Did you need another round?

"Then why," there was a pause; a long pause, one that had your hands fidgeting in your lap, head held high in a manner that felt more exposing than anything. "Did you think it was the alcohol?"

It was as if the scarf around your neck weighed a thousand pounds.

Your sigh was soft as you combed a bit of your hair back. Back-and-forth was exhausting. "I'm not in the mood for games, Link."

"Neither am I," he responded quickly, to-the-point. You readjusted your butt more firmly against the seat.

A beat passed. It was a long beat, one that made the silence only more profound. You were no longer sure if this was a good idea; you had never known time spent with him to be so loaded, so... uncomfortable. Why were you uncomfortable?

From across the counter, your eyes caught with the blonde barmaid. She was watching you, hands frozen on a spotless glass, eyes flicking to Warriors. An eyebrow arched. She waited.

All you had to do was scream–

With a sigh, you let your gaze fall back to Warriors. If he noticed your poignant eyeing with the barmaid, he said nothing. He didn't need to, because you knew he wasn't like the others. Captain Link of Her Majesty's army was a good man.

Cocky, but good.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, no less redder than when Wild sat you down to apply it. "Are you going to finish that?" you jerked your thumb to his mug.

"Depends."

He didn't elaborate.

You let yourself lean an inch forward, hands on the middle of your thighs. It was no one's goddamn business if the action caused your chest to plump under the fabric of your beautiful, terrible dress. "On what?"

There was a light stiffness in his tone. "Whether you'll stay here and enjoy it with me or not."

Ah.

"What?" you could believe yourself, though it remained to be seen whether it was for rising to the bait or how pathetically biting your response came out as. "Trees are too good for you now?"

Your attention was rapt when he took a long-awaited sip. The mug was placed on the counter with a heavy thud. Warriors folded his hands in his lap, somehow managing to look both regretful and pleased. "Everything's too good for me."

You couldn't resist. "Even me?"

Cobalt eyes pinned you where you sat. Was it hot in here or was it just you? "Especially you," said the Captain, and you remembered hands, tangled in the mesh of your hair, and lips, sealed over yours like they belonged. Maybe they did.

That was it. You were done. Warriors blinked, caught off guard, when you reached across the counter, grabbing his mug. You took a long, slow sip, letting the alcohol burn all the way to your heart, as if that would give you the bravado needed to conquer a man like him. "Uh–"

"Link."

He was a bit closer now. You could have kissed him if you tried.

"Yes?"

You swallowed. You licked the plump of your bottom lip. Now or never. "If you don't kiss me right now, I'll find someone who will."

It happened in an instant; a hand shot forward to cup the back of your neck through the scarf, coaxing you forward, as a pair of lips bridged the gap. You grabbed his shoulders, fingernails clinking on the polished metal of his left pauldron, and it was the most perfect sound in the world. Warriors was warm, and a bit wet, but he tasted sweet, a soft undertone of strawberries beneath the lull of mediocre alcohol. When he pulled back, your heart thumped at the rose imprint your lipstick skewed across the planes of his own lips.

He was beautiful.

But he wasn't yours.

"I think," you paused; for breath, for moral support. He was watching you, so carefully that not even a fall could break your heart. "We should get out of here."

Warriors reached into his pouch. Warriors plopped a fat red rupee onto the counter.

You caught the blonde barmaid's approving thumbs-up as you left.

A bit ambiguous, but I'm still proud of this!

[the-oblivious-writer]

Shatterpoint

Debra Morgan x Reader

Part One: Debra’s Perspective

Summary: You die doing what you always do, putting other lives before your own. It's what Debra Morgan both loved and despised about you.

Warning(s): Swearing, (major) death, graphic depictions of violence (blood/gore), gun violence, phycological trauma, depression, grief/loss, and vomiting

Notes: Someone requested Debra Morgan angst so......... here it is! I ended up writing a part two from Dexter's perspective (platonically), so that'll be out tomorrow. I've been wanting to write platonic fictional dude characters x reader for some time now

Dexter’s Perspective

The first time Debra breaks down, it's in the middle of the Miami Metro parking lot. You're three days dead, and she's just found one of your forensics reports tucked into a case file – your neat handwriting mapping out blood spatter analysis, methodical and precise. She vomits behind her car, heaving until there's nothing left but bile and grief.

The second time is at your funeral. She watches them lower your body into the ground and something inside her splinters. The sound that tears from her throat isn't human. Dexter has to physically restrain her from jumping into the grave after you. Later, she'll have no memory of this – just the dirt under her fingernails and bruises on her arms where her brother held her back.

The third time destroys her completely.

It's been two weeks since that convenience store security camera caught your last moments. Two weeks since a frightened kid with a shaky trigger finger turned your chest into a crime scene. She's standing in your shared apartment, trying to pack up your things because that's what people do, right? They pack up the dead's belongings and pretend it helps.

Your forensics kit is still by the door where you left it that last morning. She opens it, and your scent hits her – latex gloves and that shampoo you loved and something uniquely you. The organized compartments blur through her tears. Each tool precisely placed, because that's who you were – someone who brought order to chaos, who could look at blood patterns and tell stories of violence with scientific detachment.

She starts throwing things. Your carefully labeled evidence containers shatter against walls. Your case files scatter like dead leaves. She's screaming, but she can't hear herself over the roaring in her head. Over the echo of your voice from that last argument:

"You can't keep running forever, Deb. I love you, but I can't chase you anymore."

The neighbors call the police. Fucking ironic, isn't it? Angel finds her surrounded by the wreckage of your professional life, clutching your laminate to her chest. She's laughing now, a horrible broken sound, because isn't this exactly what you were afraid of? Her inability to handle emotional intimacy, to face her feelings instead of drowning them in rage and whiskey.

They take her to the hospital. Put her on leave. Make her talk to department shrinks who use words like "complicated grief" and "post-traumatic stress" and "survivor's guilt." As if labeling her breakdown makes it more manageable.

She dreams of you. Not the you from the security footage, bleeding out under fluorescent lights. But the you who used to wake her from nightmares about the Ice Truck Killer, who knew exactly how she took her coffee, who could make her laugh even at crime scenes. The you who saw her walls and loved her anyway.

"I'm sorry," she tells your ghost. "I'm so fucking sorry."

But you're not there to forgive her.

Dexter finds her one night, sitting in your office at Miami Metro, organizing blood slides with obsessive precision. Trying to find patterns like you taught her, as if understanding the science of death will somehow make losing you hurt less.

"You're starting to worry me," he says, in that awkward way of his.

She laughs, sharp and bitter. "Starting to? Fuck, Dex, I'm starting to worry myself."

The security footage plays on repeat in her mind. She's memorized every detail – how you raised your hands, trying to de-escalate. How you stepped in front of the teenage clerk, protecting her. Your body jerking back, a crimson flower blooming across your chest. The way you looked surprised, almost confused, as you fell.

She keeps working cases, because what else is there? But every crime scene becomes yours. Every victim wears your face. She gets reckless, aggressive with suspects. Takes stupid risks because maybe, just maybe, if she's fast enough, smart enough, brave enough, she can save someone else's you.

Angel takes her gun after she nearly beats a convenience store robber to death.

"This isn't what they would have wanted," he tells her gently.

"Yeah? Well, they're not fucking here to want anything, are they?"

She finds one of your hair ties under the bed and falls apart all over again. Remembers how you used to gather your hair back before leaning over evidence, that little furrow of concentration between your brows. How she used to tease you about being so serious, so focused. How you'd smile and say, "Someone has to be, with you charging around like a hurricane."

The hurricane is all that's left now.

Some days she can almost pretend she's healing. She goes to work, follows leads, eats when Dexter reminds her to. But then she'll catch a glimpse of the forensics lab, or smell latex gloves, or hear someone mention blood spatter analysis, and she's right back in that convenience store, watching you die on an endless loop.

The department shrink asks her what she thinks you would say if you could see her now.

She doesn't tell him about the letter she found in your forensics manual. The one that begs her not to let grief make her harder, not to let loss change how fiercely she loves. She's already failed you there.

Instead, she says, "They'd probably say I'm proving them right. About running away. About not being able to handle my feelings."

But that's not entirely true, is it? Because this time she's not running. She's standing perfectly still, letting grief consume her, letting the absence of you hollow her out until there's nothing left but echoes and regret.

The security footage plays on. You raise your hands. The gun fires. You fall.

And somewhere in Miami, Debra Morgan keeps breaking, keeps shattering, keeps failing to put herself back together.

Some things just break, and stay broken, and all we can do is learn to breathe around the shards.

-----------

A/N: Not me changing my format...

[alphajocklover]

You have to help me! I've been trying to get free of this... place for a long LONG time. After some time I've been able to gain back some free will, but it's really hard. Right now, as my "physicall" me picked his phone at the gym between reps, I've been able to log on here and I saw what you published about the Retsam Mirror. You have to help me. I've been stuck in it for years. I was a nerd when i first fell by accident on the mirror and i got sucked in. I can't do this anymore. The new me is a honry bastard and he spends his time getting fucked in front of mirrors, a lot and a lot of them. My reflections are exponentials and i feel every single one of them. Oh fuck he just got a notification from HungDomTop11in. Help m................

A Retsam mirror. You found a Retsam mirror. Another Retsam mirror. For those of you who didn’t see my earlier post, a Retsam mirror is an incredibly rare magical artifact that lets a person switch places with their reflection, which essentially traps the person in their reflection and leaves a very suggestable copy in their place. It was weird enough to hear that one guy had encountered one of those that hadn’t already been shattered, but if what you’re telling me is true… then whoever trapped that poor guy has been trapping people in mirrors for much longer than we thought. I can only guess, and hope, that you were one of his earliest victims. I know you said you fell in but… if that was true then your other self wouldn’t have acted any differently than you. Someone had to have pushed you in, and then used your reflections malleable state to change them. I have to say, as horrified as I am by all of this… I’m also kind of impressed. Not with the jerk who's been trapping people, but with you. It takes a lot of willpower to keep your mind intact while in a reflection. Most people lose themselves in it, not having the ability to choose their movements but still feeling everything. Yet what’s even more impressive is the fact you were actually able to take back control for a bit. From what I’ve heard, that's supposed to be impossible. For you to do that… It's truly incredible. I’m just sorry that it might not be able to help save you.  As far as I know, there isn’t a way to get out of a Retsam mirror, at least not on your own. Either your reflection would have to willingly swap back, which seems unlikely, or the guy who pushed you in would have to switch you again, which seems even less likely. I’ve been looking into ways to help get people out of Retsam mirrors since I first heard they were back, but I haven’t found much yet. So I’m afraid that, for the time being, you’re stuck there.

Don’t give up hope though! You’ve managed to do more than anyone else in your position has. Not to mention, the information you’ve given me may be invaluable to figuring out how to save and protect people from Retsam mirrors. I’ve been messing with a spell that might allow me to use my own Retsam mirror to help people stuck in reflections, or at least communicate with them, so there is light at the end of the tunnel.

I know this entire situation is horrible, but the reporter in me has to admit it’s kind of fascinating. It’s incredibly rare you get to talk to someone who's been inside a reflection, so I had no idea you could feel what was happening inside each and every reflection, even if you were reflected in multiple mirrors at once. That must be very overwhelming, especially if your other self is hooking up in front of mirrors. Feeling yourself get fucked by a a potentionally infinite amount of cocks all at once… As hot as that sounds it must be really intense.

Here's just hoping your other self doesn’t take advantage of it too much. 

[velidewrites]

thinking very hard about crying in front of sylas tonight. need to sob into his giant tits while he gets all big and scary and protective of me :/

You're suddenly enveloped by a fur cloak.

Sylas pulls you into his arms, the thick coat descending from his shoulders onto your own. This, you realize, is the very first time the two of you have ever stood so close — had you not sought him out in his war tent tonight, you might never have known the warmth radiating from his body, as if that fire simmering within him was as desperate for your touch as you are for its master.

He holds you in his arms with a strength that is gentle yet... reluctant. It makes you want to writhe against him until your bodies are welded into one at last, shattering that last bit of uncertainty, of hesitation, of the cold, cruel war that has so desperately been trying to drive you two apart. Somehow, he's always been able to find his way back to you.

Tonight, you finally managed to find him instead.

The featherlight touch of the fur against your cheek tingles, making you half-turn, burying your face into his chest subconsciously. You feel his muscles tense beneath your touch at the proximity, and a heat of your own begins to rise in your cheeks at your own boldness. The last time he'd tensed up beneath you like that, it was with the tip of your sword teasing his sternum, not your nose. How far the two of you had come.

He must be realizing it, too, as you feel his shoulders fall an inch, the broad hand on your waist moving to smooth over your lower back. He pulls you in closer, close enough now that you feel his breath brush against your temple before he rests his chin atop your head. Not once, in all those months on the opposing sides of the battlefield, did you ever imagine Sylas Vanserra like this. Let alone with you.

It dawns on you then that he's probably never comforted anyone this way — had never been comforted like that by another, at least not at a time when it would have mattered most. For a moment, the very thought makes you forget your own reasons for finding yourself in his tent in the first place, forget the nightmare that made you walk through the camp on shaky legs in the dead silence of the night. Sylas is holding you, and he's...

You dare to speak. "Sylas?"

"I'm here."

The response comes immediately, and it takes all the strength you have left to keep your body from melting into his own. Sylas's voice carries a rasp that makes you think — makes you hope — he's not the only one holding back.

"You're very good at this," you tell him, nuzzling your face deeper into his chest.

A small scoff sounds from above, and you can't help but let out a small chuckle.

"You make my compliment sound like an insult," you point out.

There's only a beat of silence between you before he finally says, "It's not."

You sigh, content. It's as if the sound of his voice had somehow dissipated all the tension in your body and quietened the raging storm of your sleepless mind. "I'm glad you think so." You turn your face to the side again, then, letting your cheek rest right above his heart — right where you know a horrible scar begins, twisting his skin into patterns of flames rising all the way up to his neck. He hides it, even without the bronze plates of his armor, and he hides it well. But you know — know he hates himself for it, and you've seen enough to understand who truly is the one at fault. Even if Sylas himself does not.

"Like this, I can hear your heart," you murmur, hoping its strong, if not a little rapid beat resonates with your own. Perhaps then, the two of you will finally sleep.

You might already be drifting away — or maybe his question is barely audible enough for you to catch, buried under the warm embrace of the furs. "What is my heart telling you?"

You smile.

"I think it's agreeing with me."

[mintiicinnamonii]

Im a sucker for angst so uhhh

Can I request a Macaque x reader who was once possessed by the LBD

And he can't help but flinch whenever they get mad cuz it reminds him of that time

And last but not least, u doin okay?

Oh Who is She?

You and Macaque got into a fight. A BIG fight. About what? You didn’t even remember anymore. You gritted your teeth as Macaque tried to reason with you, fists shaking. You snapped your head over to him, glaring at him with daggers in your eyes, and Macaque swore he saw a shimmer of blue in them. “GOD, WILL YOU SHUT THE HELL UP?!” 

Macaque flinched, backing up in shock and fear. His golden eyes widenedas he stared at you, throat dry. He was unable to speak, with his ears pinned back against his head, as a familiar feeling of dread filled his mind. The same dread he’d feel when he was around HER. He looked like a trapped animal; a horrified, weak, trapped animal. 

You maintained your scowl, until you suddenly realized what you did. The glass of water you were holding fell onto the ground, as your breathing quickened. “Macaque- I- I’m sorry- I- I didn’t mean to..” You covered your mouth, hyperventilating. The feeling of someone behind you sent a chill up your spine, and you felt something scratching at your skull. You wanted- no- NEEDED to get it out. You fell onto the floor, desperately picking up the broken shards with your shaking hands, biting your tongue so the tears wouldn’t fall. You cut your hands on the glass as you picked the shards up- it was so hard to hold anything- why was it so hARD-

Macaque saw your panicked state, and was immediately filled with worry. He was still shaken up by your sudden anger, but this wasn’t the time to worry about himself right now. “Woah- plum- you’re gonna hurt yourself!” He crouched down to you, holding your hands. He frowned, seeing how much they were shaking, “Hey, hey.. its okay. Look at me. Hey, look at me.” You hesitatantly shifted your gaze to your boyfriend, as Macaque smiled at you softly. “Thats it.. I need you to breathe with me, m’kay? In and out...” He inhaled and exhaled exaggeratedly, squeezing your hand. “You can do it, gem..”

You were quivering, but did your best to breathe as Macaque uttered sweet nothings into your ear. “You’re doing so good for me, starlight.. just like that…”

Soon enough, you were able to calm down enough, looking up at Macaque. “Sorry..” Your voice was raspy from the yelling and crying. “I shouldnt have snapped at you- god, why did I do that- I’m a horrible partner-“ Macaque furrowed his brows. “No. No you’re not. You are an amazing partner. You didn’t mean to-“

“BUT THAT DOESNT MAKE IT OKAY!” You sobbed. “If I hadn’t been possessed by that damn DEMON- none of this would have happened! I ruined everything; I wasn’t strong enough to fight against her, its all my fault!” The tears came in full force now, your eyes like waterfalls carved into your skull by the Lady Bone Demon’s cold, clawed hands, water rushing it from a dam of your own self hatred. “You shouldn’t have to put all of your struggles aside just for me! I fucked up!” 

Macaque let out a slow sigh. “Yeah. You did… but.. I forgive you.” Your eyes widened. “What?”

“I forgive you. I understand that you were the one that yelled at me, and yes, it still hurt..” He held your hand, his calloused hands intertwining with yours. “But I understand you didn’t mean to hurt me, and that you want to be better. And I still love you.” He gave your hand a gentle kiss, tail curling around your leg. Your heart’s icy walls shattered, replaced by pure adoration and raw emotion. “I love you too.” You smiled shakily. Macaque helped you up, careful to not let either of you step on the glass. “Lets go patch ya up, yeah? I’ll clean that up later..” 

You smiled. “Yeah. Sounds good.”