#and how our past doesn’t define us | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whizzing-fizzbee · 6 days ago

Text

I Love You, It's Ruining My Life

Sebastian Sallow x Reader (Female MC)

Rating: Explicit 18+ (profanity, smut, adult themes) Words: 16,004 Themes: ex-lovers, rekindled romance, failed marriages, unhappy marriages, post-Hogwarts, adulthood, cheating, infidelity, jealousy, pregnancy, mild violence, language, smut, happy ending

Summary: You were supposed to be happily married to your handsome and successful husband. You most certainly were not supposed to think about your ex-boyfriend, Sebastian Sallow. After all, it's been five years since you broke up amid your graduation from Hogwarts. But when your husband surprises you with the announcement you're moving to Feldcroft, you despair over your new neighbors.

Notes: This was obviously inspired by Taylor Swift's "Fortnight." I debated with myself about including any smut with this, so I wrote it in such a way that you, the reader, can choose. Part I is the story. Part II is a smutty epilogue, which you can skip if you'd like. Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Part I: Turned Into Good Neighbors

“Darling? Are you home?”

You looked up from your novel at the sound of your husband’s voice calling from the kitchen. It was a quarter past 6 p.m. and you made a mental note that he was an hour late.

“In here,” you called, ensuring your tone didn’t expose your annoyance. He was a good man, you told yourself, and he worked long, hard hours to provide you with a nice life.

“Ah, there you are,” Oliver said as he appeared in the doorway. You smiled up at him as he approached to plant a kiss on your forehead, his usual greeting. The next step in this routine was for you to ask him how his day went, and then he’d sit down and tell you everything he did at work for the next 20 minutes.

But today was different, and while you usually welcomed change, this was a bigger surprise than you had bargained for.

“I have news,” Oliver declared. You decided his gaze looked more excited than concerned, so the tense manner in which your posture had straightened relaxed, but just slightly.

“News?” you repeated. “What is it?”

“I bought us a new cottage,” Oliver revealed excitedly. You couldn’t help but blink at him.

“A new cottage?”

“Yes, in a quaint little hamlet in the Highlands,” Oliver said. “Far away from the bustle of the city.”

“And we’re going to live there?” you asked.

“Aye, we are,” Oliver said. “I can simply floo to the Ministry for work every day. And we can apparate or floo back here to London any time we want.”

He spoke as if it were the most simple, obvious decision in the world, but your stomach twisted into knots.

“We’re moving to the Highlands,” you repeated. The faint twitch in Oliver’s jaw indicated he was growing annoyed with the way you were repeating his words, but you were having a difficult time processing such a significant revelation.

London had been your home for the past five years, two of which you spent living with Oliver in your home together. Though city living wasn’t your dream, you’d established your roots there with friends and a life that kept you occupied. The Scottish Highlands would be vastly different from this life, especially since you hadn’t been there since your Hogwarts days.

“Look, I know this is sudden and that I’ve surprised you,” Oliver said, his tone steady and gentle. “But this is what you wanted, isn’t it? You’ve always said London doesn’t suit you and that you miss the Highlands. Now’s our chance to take advantage of that. It’s a perfect opportunity.”

It was true, you missed the Highlands. They were nostalgic to you, a reminder of your years as a student. Your life had been defined and shaped by the adventures you had across the Highlands’ hamlets, the good and the bad. You missed the people, the peace, the picturesque landscape and the slower pace of it all.

But you hadn’t asked to move there. You didn’t tell your husband you were intent on leaving your perfectly content life to buy a new home and make new friends.

“The cottage is lovely,” Oliver continued boastfully. “Or at least it will be. I got a fantastic deal on it because it requires some minor repairs and renovations. We’ll be able to put our own personal touch on it.”

You didn’t want to fight with Oliver. Your marriage had been rocky, to put it lightly, and the two of you were presently in a good place. You hadn’t had a fight in weeks, and it made you hopeful that your turbulent days were behind you.

So in order to keep the peace, you flashed a smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes. After all, Oliver was the one working to create a life for you both, together.

“It sounds lovely,” you said. “Which hamlet is it?”

“A brilliant little place to the south of Hogwarts,” Oliver said proudly. “Feldcroft.”

One month later

The spring air felt clean and refreshing against your skin the moment you emerged from the floo flames. It was a stark contrast to the heavy, dirty London air that clouded your lungs and made your eyes occasionally burn.

It was new, yet so familiar, you instantly felt the memories beginning to stir. You gazed around the hamlet, which looked largely unchanged since the last time you visited years back. Some of the cottages looked older, worn by time and the harsh, salty sea air that carried in from the coast. Other buildings were new, including a row of three small shops that hadn’t been there before.

The wood lookout tower was still there, looking weathered and rickety now. The recollection of the first time you visited Feldcroft surged immediately.

You flew there from Hogwarts when you were fifteen on a quiet Saturday morning to visit your friend, Sebastian, and his sister, Anne. The events of that first day remained vivid, but not as sharp or as provoking as the events that occurred the last day you were there.

You could still remember the smell of the Feldcroft catacombs, damp and deadly. You could hear the raucous echoes of spells ricocheting off the walls, the hiss of the inferi that circled you, and the cries of despair when Anne Sallow found her uncle’s body. You could still see the blinding green light that erupted from Sebastian’s wand the moment he changed everything.

“Darling?”

Oliver’s voice yanked you from your memories. The thoughts had left you winded, your palms sweaty and your mouth dry.

“Sorry, what?” you asked, turning to meet Oliver’s concerned gaze.

“I said, are you ready? Our cottage is just this way.”

“Oh, right. Of course. Sorry, I was just… feeling nostalgic,” you laughed, flashing a smile for good measure.

“Ah, I’ll bet,” Oliver said as he offered you his arm to guide you through the hamlet. He began rattling off every fact he could find about Feldcroft and its history, as if you weren’t well versed in the events that had happened there during your teenage years, as if you didn’t have your own history with the town.

But as he rambled, you could feel your heart beginning to pound in your chest as that particular cottage came into view. You swallowed as it drew nearer, your eyes scanning it carefully for signs of life.

It was mostly unchanged from the last time you saw it. Flower boxes hung from the windows now and you noticed a row of pink rose bushes in the front. There were new wood shutters flanking the windows and the door was painted a deep shade of green.

It looked lovely as ever, but the memories tied to it clouded your head with dread.

“Are- are we nearly there?” you asked, interrupting Oliver’s explanation of the hamlet’s first inhabitants.

“Just about,” he replied. “It’s just ahead, over there.”

Panic surged through your body, rising in your chest and blooming through your limbs as you realized how close you were coming to that cottage. Your feet suddenly felt as if they were carrying lead, the thud of each step reverberating in your brain.

“That one, right there,” Oliver said, gesturing toward your cottage as you passed the well at the center of town.

No. No way. Surely, not.

But Oliver steered you closer and closer until that cottage was in front of you. You passed it, your heart slamming in your chest as you snuck a glance toward the front window, before Oliver stopped outside the cottage next door.

“Here we are!” he said happily. “Home sweet home!”

You recognized this cottage, too. It belonged to a nice vendor named Bernard Ndiyae back when you were fifteen. It appeared worn down now, clearly having been vacant for years, but it looked cozy.

“Well?” Oliver’s voice said in your ear as you realized he had been watching you closely for a reaction. “What do you think?”

You made a careful point not to glance at the home next door, its rose bushes threatening you with thorns in spite of their beauty. Instead, you smiled up at Oliver and squeezed his hand.

“It’s perfect.”

---

The cottage certainly did need work, but thanks to some useful conjuration and transfiguration spells you learned from Professor Weasley, you had the house looking like a home in no time.

The fireplace now crackled with warmth thanks to repairs to the cracked chimney, the dusty wood floors were restored to a fresh gleam, and the kitchen was clean and functional.

You spent your first three days decidedly confined inside the cottage, working to put your own touches on the interior. It was necessary work, not just for the sake of your home, but for the preservation of your sanity.

You didn’t dare go outside. You didn’t even cast a peek out the window toward the next door neighbor’s house. Not until one morning, four days after you moved in, to begin your work on fixing the cottage’s exterior.

Oliver had taken a few days off from work to help with the house, which you appreciated. He had been putting in 10-hour work days, so you enjoyed his company while you had it.

That morning, he badgered you to join him outside so the two of you could decide what to do with the landscaping and garden, and what color to paint the front door. You begrudgingly agreed, blaming your allergies when Oliver called you out on your reluctance.

When you stepped outside, you couldn’t help but appreciate the warmth of the sunlight that seemed to breathe new life into you after spending days inside that dusty house.

But your euphoria was quickly quashed by the sound of splashing water.

“Oh! Hello!” a cheery voice said from the direction you had been desperate to avoid.

You held your breath as you turned to the source, your gaze falling on a pretty blonde woman who was watering the rose bushes in front of thatcottage. She appeared to be about your same age, though she was noticeably shorter and very pregnant.

“Hello,” Oliver said, making long, quick strides toward the short fence separating your homes as he kept one hand gently placed at the small of your back.

“Welcome!” the woman said, the high pitch of her voice already grating on your nerves. She smiled warmly at you, but something about her gaze unsettled you. “We were wondering when we’d get to meet our new neighbors. I’m Wendy.”

You and Oliver introduced yourselves as Wendy finished watering her roses. “I’m afraid my husband’s at work,” Wendy continued. “But you’ll meet him soon enough.”

Soon enough. You couldn’t be certain, but somehow you just knew you wouldn’t need an introduction.

“Have you lived here long?” you asked carefully.

“Oh, I’ve only lived here for a couple of years, since we got married,” Wendy explained. “But my husband has lived here since he was a boy. He inherited the cottage from his late uncle.”

The air immediately left your lungs and you began racking your brain for any excuse to retreat inside your cottage and never leave again. Better yet, an excuse to leave Feldcroft and never return again.

Instead, Oliver took control of the conversation to sing Feldcroft’s places and to dote his historical knowledge on Wendy, who appeared too polite to not listen.

How could this possibly happen? How did you end up back here, in this hamlet where your history was tainted by some of your worst memories? How did you end up living next door to the boy who had dragged you to Hell and back, only to clip your wings when you thought you’d reached Heaven? Most important, how were you ever going to possibly face him again?

It would be inevitable and anything but easy. It never was with him.

“You two will have to come over for dinner soon,” Wendy continued. “Sebastian would love to meet you.”

There it was. That name. His name. It wasn’t easy to hear it five years ago and it wasn’t easy now. Sure, you’d moved on and were perfectly content with the life you’d built with the husband you loved, but the past, those memories, still twisted your stomach into knots that left you winded.

There was something about the notion that he had moved on too that produced a pang in your chest that left you stricken by guilt and shame. Of course he moved on. He was the one who ended things with you, citing your different paths in life as you prepared for your futures outside of Hogwarts. That reason hadn’t been good enough for you, but you knew holding a grudge against your teenage boyfriend was senseless and unbecoming.

Now, you’d be living next door to him and his beautiful wife who seemed to radiate in ways you never could. Of course he found someone who was the epitome of human sunshine, a staggering contradiction to you. You were intense, prone to moody bouts of cynicism and warring convictions. You weren’t the type to light up a room or charm your way into the hearts of all who crossed your path. You were a lot, yet it seemed Sebastian had found someone who managed to be much more, but in all the right ways.

But propriety was important and you had a husband who was trying to make you happy. He bought you this cottage with the hope of returning you to a world you once loved, though you knew it was also his ploy to silence all of your recent arguments.

So instead of hexing Wendy Sallow into the next century, you forced a kind smile.

“That’d be lovely,” you said, your voice taking on a sickly sweet pitch of too much enthusiasm. “Please let me know if I can bring anything.”

“Wonderful,” Wendy cooed. “Well, I should get inside. Time to start working on dinner.”

She bid you farewell and you watched as she retreated inside that cottage that had once welcomed you. Even several months pregnant, she moved with a level of dainty grace that made your lip curl. You wanted to drown her in a lake.

“Well, she seems nice,” Oliver commented once she was gone. You nodded silently. “It’s nice to know our neighbors are friendly people. Perhaps we’ll be able to get to know them more.”

“Perhaps,” you said, praying your steady tone would drown out the silent screams ringing inside your skull.

---

Despite the tension you felt every time you stepped outside your cottage, you couldn’t help but ease into a comforting routine in Feldcroft. It was peaceful there, and the inhabitants lived at a much more pleasant pace than bustling London. You liked it there, but you also hadn’t run into the reason you’d avoided the hamlet in the first place.

One morning, you visited the store to pick up some items for dinner while Oliver was at work. It was warm outside and you enjoyed a slow stroll home with your groceries, the scent of spring easing your posture.

As you reached your front door, you fumbled in your pockets for your keys when a familiar voice greeted you.

“Hello.”

You froze. Did he realize it was you? Was there time to scurry inside your cottage before he figured it out? Perhaps you could apparate on the spot and never return.

It was all so deranged. You were a hero at one point in your life. You saved Hogwarts during a goblin rebellion, not to mention the countless creatures you freed from poachers and the dark wizards you defeated. You were anything but a coward, but one stupid man made you that way.

Slowly, you lifted your head to turn and meet his gaze. He froze, too, as you watched the recognition settle in his eyes.

“Hello, Sebastian,” you said quietly. There was no edge to your tone, nor was there any fondness. You were simply greeting him as cordial neighbors do.

If you hadn’t been wondering if you were going to be sick on your own front steps, you might have actually taken glee in Sebastian’s reaction. He looked like he’d seen a ghost, the color drained from his freckled cheeks as he struggled for words.

“I… you… It’s you,” he finally managed. You pressed your tongue into the roof of your mouth to stifle a snort. How very unromantic it all felt after all these years – you, fumbling your house keys and Sebastian, void of any coherent sentences. The two of you seemed as awkward and unrefined as your 15-year-old selves.

“It’s me,” you replied, and you couldn’t help but offer him a smile.

You knew this moment was coming, so you had spent the past week mentally preparing for it. You vowed to endure it with dignity. No hard feelings, no familiar longing or spite. You were going to handle it with class and poise, the way you always took care of business. That’s all this was anyway, right? It wasn’t personal. You and Sebastian hadn’t been personal in years. You were neighbors now, and neighborly relations could be handled as strictly business.

You tried not to stare too long. He was still youthful, but his boyish features had sharpened into handsome angles. You could see traces of stubble casting a faint shadow along his jawline, which was more defined. His skin remained freckled and his hair was still disheveled, an indication that the same Sebastian still lingered inside him.

“You’re my new neighbor?” he asked, still looking alarmed.

“I’m afraid so.”

An anguishing silence fell between you, but you were determined to force him to speak first. Maybe it was immature and petty, but you had decided to let Sebastian determine how far your new relationship as neighbors would go.

“My wife… my wife told me she met the new neighbors but she didn’t mention names,” Sebastian continued. “She didn’t mention it was anyone I knew.”

“I figured I’d let you decide if she needed to know that information,” you said simply. It was true. It wasn’t your place to reveal your past with Sebastian. He should be the one to tell Wendy, if he even wanted to. “If you’d rather pretend we’ve only just met, I’ll fully understand,” you added.

Sebastian couldn’t begin to compute how to relay your connection to Wendy – he was still stuck on the fact you were even there in the first place.

“How… why…” he started. Even after all these years, you could read him.

“My husband,” you answered without waiting on him to ask questions. “He bought this cottage without telling me. Wanted to get out of London. I had no idea until he brought me here.”

Sebastian didn’t respond as he mulled over your words, clearly unsure of what to say. His eyes were determinedly avoiding you, as if looking at you would expose all your shared secrets to everyone in Feldcroft.

“Your wife is lovely,” you offered in an attempt to facilitate the conversation.

“Oh. Yes, she is,” Sebastian mumbled stupidly.

“When is your baby due?”

“Two months.”

“Is it your first child?”

“Yes.”

Another silence emerged and you couldn’t help but eye Sebastian with the faintest air of amusement. The Sebastian you had known could rarely keep his mouth shut. This Sebastian seemed unable to speak in complete sentences.

“Look,” you said, your tone shifting to something much more pointed and serious. “I know this is bizarre. Believe me, I would never have agreed to move here had I known. But maybe we can both just pretend like the past doesn’t exist and get a fresh start.” Sebastian frowned but said nothing in protest, so you continued. “My husband doesn’t know anything about us - our past. He only knows that I used to spend time in Feldcroft during my Hogwarts days. We don’t have to tell them. We can be strangers turned neighbors.”

Still no response from Sebastian. His abnormal silence was making you nervous, yet annoyed. After all this time and all he had put you through, surely the least he could do was acknowledge your words with civility.

Finally, his eyes met yours, though they were difficult to read.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, sending you deeper into your unsettled state. “I-I’ve always wondered how you were doing, how you ended up.”

You weren’t prepared for that. Though he was likely just being polite, you hadn’t expected him to admit to thinking about you.

“I’m doing just fine,” you said, unsure who you were trying to convince. “Looks like you are as well.”

Sebastian nodded carefully. “You said you came from London. Are you… did you end up becoming an auror?”

The question was innocent enough, but it made your stomach twist and your eyes drop to the ground in shame. “No,” you said, taking care to keep your tone neutral. “I didn’t.”

“Oh.”

“What about you? I remember you wanting to be a curse breaker.”

Sebastian nodded. “I was in Egypt for a year, now I travel for work, mostly curse breaking cases within a hundred-mile radius.”

Despite your past differences and old wounds, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride for him. He had been so remorseful for the mistakes he made during your fifth year, you were happy to see his success in spite of it all.

“And Anne?”

“She’s still with us,” Sebastian said with a faint smile. “She lives at a care facility owned and operated by St. Mungo’s. They keep her comfortable there and she’s made good friends.”

“And Ominis?”

“Still the same old Ominis.” You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of your mutual friend. “He works at the Ministry. Part of the Wizengamot.”

“Ominis, a purveyor of justice? How original,” you quipped.

Sebastian barked a laugh, the sound beckoning you with nostalgia. “I reckon Ominis felt the need to make up for… well, you know,” he said.

Of course you knew. You and Ominis covered for Sebastian when he killed his uncle. It was you who had convinced Ominis not to turn Sebastian in, and Ominis in turn convinced Anne to protect her brother.

“Good for him,” you said, still smiling at the thought of Ominis Gaunt sitting in court. It certainly suited him. It also made you miss him.

You had tried to maintain your friendship with Ominis beyond your seventh year, but it became collateral damage as your turbulent relationship with Sebastian splintered.

“Your husband,” Sebastian finally said. “Is… is he home?”

“Oliver. His name is Oliver. He’s at work,” you answered. “He works for the Ministry as well. In the Department of International Magical Cooperation.”

Sebastian tilted his head. “I’m surprised Wendy didn’t recognize him,” he said. “She works at the Ministry as a receptionist, though she mainly just sees Ministry visitors, not employees.”

“Oliver comes and goes a lot,” you said with a shrug. “They have him traveling quite a bit.”

“Makes sense.”

You could feel the conversation reaching a conclusion, or at least you hoped that was the case. Sebastian’s eyes continued to linger on you and you prayed he blamed your red cheeks on the sun.

When several moments ticked by with no spoken words, you cleared your throat.

“Well, I’d better get this food inside,” you said, hoping your tone sounded more pleasant than nauseous.

“Right.” Sebastian shifted from one foot to the other, his hands shoved inside his pockets. “Er, I’ll see you around then.”

“Sure, see you around, Sebastian. It was, um, nice to meet you.”

“Right. Nice to meet you, too.”

Once you were inside your cottage, you slammed the door shut, your back pressed against it to catch your breath, your satchel of groceries forgotten on the floor.

Seeing him shouldn’t affect you like this. You were married. He was married. You shouldn’t feel a thing toward him, not after five years and the pain he inflicted on you during your breakup.

You should hate him.

By the time Oliver arrived home, you were in a sour mood, annoyed he was late again and mentally drained from your reunion with Sebastian. The dinner you made had grown cold from waiting for Oliver, leaving you to pick at your plate void of any appetite.

Oliver could sense the tension but tactfully chose to keep to himself. After dinner, he retired to his office to read, leaving you to clear the table.

What you really needed was to clear your mind.

Still fuming over Oliver’s tardiness, you flicked your wand to send the dinner dishes sailing toward the sink where they clattered audibly. Without acknowledging your husband, you pulled a sweater on and slipped outside, the door shutting behind you with a quiet creak.

You knew exactly where you were headed. It was the same place you and Sebastian frequented as teenagers to watch the stars when you were bored at night. You climbed the lookout tower, only slightly wary of the way it creaked and groaned beneath your footsteps to the top. When you reached it, you froze.

“Sebastian?”

“Heard you coming,” he replied. “Thought it might be you.”

“Oh. Sorry. I’ll go-”

“Stay,” he said quietly. “I assume you need to clear your mind about something. That’s the only reason anyone comes up here anymore.”

“I… yeah,” was all you could manage.

Sebastian gestured to a wood crate that sat opposite him. Years earlier, the two of you would sit on the floor of the tower, your legs dangling over the ledge as you gazed across the Feldcroft region’s landscape.

Your eyes scanned the view for the first time in years. Dusk was darkening the sky, but the scene appeared mostly unchanged. It comforted you, despite the unsettling company sitting across from you.

Neither of you said anything at first. What could you possibly say? You squirmed in your seat, silently willing Sebastian to be the first to break the silence. It was torture, because you wanted to be angry at him; instead, you were merely desperate to talk to him.

“What are you really doing here?” he finally asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Did your husband really just surprise you with a cottage in Feldcroft and force you to pack up and move here?”

You frowned at him, anxious that he might believe that you moved there for him. But you were also afraid to tell him the truth, to spill your personal troubles so quickly after your reunion.

“He really did,” you sighed. “But I suspect he has ulterior motives than simply trying to make me happy.”

It was Sebastian’s turn to frown. “Isn’t that what a husband is supposed to do – make his wife happy?”

“Is that what you do?”

“Of course.”

How lucky for Wendy.

“Well, I suppose he just wanted an escape from London,” you finally said with a shrug, prompting another lengthy silence.

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” Sebastian suddenly said. When you looked up, you noticed he wasn’t looking at you. Instead, his eyes had fallen on something distant, likely nothing in particular at all.

“Trust me, neither can I,” you breathed with a faint chuckle.

“I can’t believe it’s already been five years since we graduated and since we... broke up.”

“Feels like yesterday in many ways, yet also feels like a lifetime ago,” you said simply.

Sebastian finally turned his gaze to you, studying you with a curiosity that made you straighten your posture and hold your breath.

“So what have you been up to then?” he asked. “You mentioned you’re not an auror, so what are you?”

Your face fell. How could you possibly answer that with any dignity? The truth was shameful and, knowing Sebastian, he’d be disappointed in you. But you married Oliver, not Sebastian, and your husband’s opinion mattered more.

“I’m… not much of anything,” you finally admitted. There was no use lying to Sebastian. “I don’t work. Oliver takes care of me.” Sebastian hummed a response that ignited your defenses. “What?” you demanded rather sharply.

“Nothing,” Sebastian replied simply. “I’m just surprised, is all. You never struck me as the housewife type.”

“And why not?”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Sebastian chuckled. “Wendy’s probably going to quit her reception job and stay home once the baby arrives. The hours can be erratic and she doesn't like the work. It’s just… you always struck me as being different.”

“Different how?”

Sebastian shrugged. “You were the only person I’d ever met who was more stubborn and daring than me,” he answered. “You were always off on some adventure, saving or helping someone in need. You could never sit still and relax. You were always keen to use your magic for good. Just surprises me to hear you prefer to stay home.”

You bit your tongue. It wasn’t that you preferred to be a housewife. You wanted to become an auror, to do exactly what Sebastian had said - to use your ancient magic for good and to prevent more dark wizards from hurting anyone else. You had been well on your way, too. The Ministry had accepted your application to its auror division, but then you met Oliver.

Oliver preferred you to stay home and allow him to take care of you. He promised you invitations to elite social events and that you’d never have to worry about finances, not that you cared about those things. When you told him you wanted to work, he gave you an ultimatum, and you were in no place to turn down such a favorable marriage prospect.

You’d be more willing to stay home if you had children to take care of, but it wasn’t until after your wedding that Oliver made it clear he wasn’t interested in starting a family. You were crushed by the revelation, but clung to hope that someday he’d change his mind.

“Staying home just works better for Oliver and me,” you said quietly. You were afraid to meet Sebastian’s gaze, because you knew he’d see through that excuse. That was the terrifying, yet thrilling part of being near Sebastian – he read you like the hundreds of books in his collection.

“But you’d rather be working,” Sebastian said carefully.

“Of course. You can take the woman from the duel, but you can’t take the duel out of the woman.”

Sebastian couldn’t help but smirk. Merlin, that smirk was still there and it still made your insides melt.

“Why don’t you tell him you want to work?” he asked.

“Why don’t you mind your business?” you retorted. Your eyes widened the moment the words left your lips. Horrified at your lapse in decorum, you hastily apologized.

But this was Sebastian, and he knew your true wit and grit better than anyone. He barked a laugh. “I knew that scrappy spirit was still in there somewhere,” he said, his tone carrying an old fondness that made your heart ache.

But you couldn’t allow Sebastian to reel you back in, even if he wasn’t trying to do so. He had hurt you and you’d likely never forget it.

Sure, you recovered from the heartbreak, but you still remembered the way it made you feel. That memory dictated every relationship you had since Sebastian, including your decision to marry Oliver. You chose the safe bet, the one that wouldn’t make you feel that level of heartache ever again.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you snapped. “At least not anymore.”

Sebastian flinched at your tone. “I suppose that’s true,” he said with a frown. “And I suppose I deserve your hostility.”

“I’m not hostile-”

“It’s okay,” Sebastian cut you off with the wave of a hand. “I know I didn’t treat you all that great back then. I messed up bad and I’ve never forgiven myself for it.”

You paused, taken aback by his vulnerable admission. You hadn’t expected that from him, not when you’d only reconnected hours ago. You had assumed he had spent the past five years without giving you another thought.

“It’s not something worth fretting over,” you finally said, hoping your tone was gentler. “I mean, it all worked out in the end for the both of us, right?”

“Right,” Sebastian agreed, his eyes returning to the distant landscape. “But still, you didn’t deserve the way I treated you, or the way I broke things off.”

“Sebastian, we were eighteen,” you said, your lighthearted tone betraying the hurt you’d carried inside your chest for five years. “We were both young and dumb. A relationship like that was always going to be fleeting.”

“Still, I’ve never felt good about how we left things and I’m sorry for it. I've missed you terribly.”

It felt like something in the atmosphere had shifted, like that apology had been the missing piece to the puzzle of your past five years. But the weight that should have lifted off your shoulders pressed down harder when Sebastian’s gaze met yours again. His apology should have set you free with closure and loosened the ties that bound you to your past. Instead, it made you long for it.

“You don’t need to apologize, but I appreciate it,” you said, offering him a reassuring smile. “And I must say, this is the strangest second chance fate has ever handed me.”

“Too true,” Sebastian laughed. “It’d be a shame to waste it.”

You swallowed, willing yourself to have the strength to forgive Sebastian and the resolve to allow him back into your life, even just as your next door neighbor.

“Then we won’t,” you said confidently. “It would be nice to have a friend in Feldcroft�� again.”

Sebastian’s signature smirk returned as he appeared relieved by the olive branch you’d extended. “Hopefully this time around we’ll have a little less death and destruction.”

“Oh, where’s the fun in that?” you teased. “What’s a few more ruined lives?”

---

In the weeks that followed, you and Oliver settled nicely into life in Feldcroft. You found ways to keep yourself busy while he was at work and the other villagers eventually grew to recognize and greet you as one of their own.

You also became friendly with Sebastian and Wendy, though the sight of them together made your eyes darken and your stomach lurch.

You came to understand their routine, too. Sebastian would disappear for work, sometimes for several days at a time, leaving Wendy to tend to the cottage and water her stupid rose bushes when she returned home from work in the evenings. Sometimes she'd stop you for a chat, asking you about your day. You couldn't help but feel judged for the way you'd tell her about your trips to the store or the long walks you'd take. You wondered if she judged you for being a housewife, though she never made any disparaging remarks. Still, it made you want to poison her stupid rose bushes.

It wasn’t fair, the way you longed for her demise, and you knew it. Wendy seemed like a perfectly nice woman who had simply been lucky enough to win Sebastian over. The important thing was that she made Sebastian happy, or so you assumed. You couldn’t imagine they’d be expecting a child together if they were unhappy.

But one evening, your curiosity piqued as you left your cottage for the produce stand on the edge of town. As you locked the door, the sounds of shouts echoed from Sebastian’s home. You froze, your ears focused on the voices. One was clearly Wendy’s, the other’s presumably Sebastian’s. You didn’t want to eavesdrop, but you also wanted to ensure no one was in danger.

Quietly, you lingered beside Wendy’s stupid rose bush, your ears still straining to listen. Wendy’s anger was evident in the shrill pitch of her voice, but you couldn’t make out all the words – just something along the lines of, “What kind of father…”

No. You shook your head and forced yourself to continue your route to the shop. Sebastian and Wendy’s disagreements were none of your business.

But as you reached the path that connected your cottage to the remainder of the town, the sharp bang of a slamming door made you jump. You spun and spotted Sebastian storming out of his cottage, his expression contorted in frustration. He froze when he spotted you, his posture becoming less rigid.

You cursed under your breath as Sebastian approached. Should you admit you’d overheard anything? Should you play dumb? Would he think you were eavesdropping on purpose?

“Need some company?” he asked.

“Oh. I- er… sure. I was just walking to the produce stand. Need some carrots,” you replied. Sebastian merely nodded, his jawline looking taut as he gestured for you to continue walking.

“So I suppose you couldn’t help but overhear all that,” he said as he fell into step next to you.

“Sebastian, it’s none of my business-”

“It’s okay,” Sebastian continued. “We just argue like that sometimes. I say something stupid that Wendy doesn’t like and it escalates into a shouting match.”

“You, say something stupid? Never.” You cast a nervous glance at Sebastian, hoping your jest didn’t upset him more. His lips curved into a small smile.

“I guess you’ve been in Wendy’s shoes a few times, haven’t you? And I was the one who put you there,” he said quietly.

“Sebastian, that’s not what I meant.”

“I know. I just…” he sighed, his eyes shifting upward as if the answers to his problems were spelled in the sky. “I just wish Wendy understood my past.”

“Does she know… about Solomon?” you asked carefully. Sebastian shook his head.

“No. She only knows he died when I was fifteen.”

“Oh.”

“She doesn’t understand why…” Sebastian squeezed his eyes closed for a fleeting moment, willing the words to surface. “She doesn’t understand why I’m afraid to be a father.”

You let his statement settle before you gazed at him with empathy. “Does she know about your parents?” you asked.

“Yes. She knows. Honestly, my frustration with her isn’t even her lack of understanding, considering she doesn’t know how or why Solomon died. It’s more about the hostility she shows when I try to discuss it with her. She becomes so angry and says hurtful things. It’s like she cares more about becoming a mother than she does having a happy family.”

You didn’t want to take sides in an argument that had nothing to do with you, especially when you knew one party much better than the other. But you couldn’t help but sympathize with Sebastian's situation.

Of course he was fearful about being a parent. His own died, leaving him and Anne behind at an age too young to fend for themselves. They’d left him with Solomon, a man too angry and bitter about his own life to properly care for two children. Then Anne was cursed, leaving Sebastian as the only person willing to fight for her.

Then there was Sebastian’s dark past. Though he’d worked hard to right his wrongdoings, you knew he was still bothered by them, still fearful of the sinister acts he was capable of.

Sebastian’s hesitations were fair and you understand why he had them.

“Sebastian, you’re going to be an amazing dad,” you said assuredly. “I know your past has you scared, but you aren’t that person anymore. You can’t punish yourself forever. You deserve a good life, and so do your children.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course.” You turned your head to look him in the eye to emphasize your sincerity. “Sebastian, despite your past – and ours – you’ve always been one of the best men I know. You might be stubborn as hell, but you’re also fiercely loyal. You’re smart when you aren’t impulsive, and your intentions are always noble. You'll be a tremendous father.”

Sebastian nodded quietly as he considered your words. He wasn’t surprised you understood his concerns. You always understood.

“I just don’t want to let anymore people down,” he said quietly.

“You won’t,” you said confidently. “You’ve learned from your mistakes, which is going to make you a great father.”

“Thank you,” he said as the two of you reached the produce cart. “For being understanding about everything. You’re the last person who should have anything nice to say about me.”

“Sebastian, we were teenagers,” you said as you tossed a bundle of carrots into your basket.

“But I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought I was doing you a favor.”

“A favor?” You couldn’t help but snort as you paid the shopkeeper. “How was breaking up with me a favor?”

“I guess I was still punishing myself,” Sebastian replied. “I knew you were destined to do great things in a society full of lofty expectations. I thought being tied to me would bring you down.”

“A lot of good that did me,” you said, forcing an ironic laugh.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Sebastian said quietly.

You offered him a sad smile and a gentle touch to the forearm. “It’s okay,” you said with certainty. “All water under the bridge.”

Sebastian nodded in appreciation as the two of you headed back toward your homes.

“So what about you and Oliver?” he asked. “Do the two of you plan on having children?”

You pursed your lips, unsure of how to answer. But given how Sebastian had just opened up to you about his marriage, you decided you could do the same.

“It’s complicated,” you started. You could feel Sebastian’s eyes drift toward you with curiosity. “Oliver doesn’t want children. I didn’t know that when we got married and I haven’t been successful in changing his mind.”

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian said, his voice tinged with sadness. “You’d be a wonderful mother.”

“It’s okay. I’m starting to accept it,” you said with a shrug. You didn't dare allow Sebastian to see the tears that welled in your eyes.

As you neared your cottages, Sebastian heaved a sigh. “Well, I suppose I’d better go accept my punishment,” he said, his voice laced with bitterness. He rested a gentle hand on your shoulder that lingered for a fleeting second. “Thank you for… you know.”

You nodded in quiet, mutual understanding and offered him an encouraging smile. “Anytime.”

In the weeks that followed, Oliver’s absence became more prominent. The previous hour or so he’d turn up late after work had stretched into several hours. Once or twice, he failed to come at all and claimed he was called away on last-minute business, or was simply too exhausted and had slept in his office at the Ministry.

You had no proof, but you knew better. Your instincts told you he was with someone else, but you had no means of confirmation. Yet despite your nagging concerns over your husband’s whereabouts, your mind was more occupied with the man living next door.

Your evening rendezvous on the lookout tower with Sebastian became a frequent occurrence. When he was home and Wendy had fallen asleep, the two of you would sit on the tower together. Sometimes you’d chat the entire time, reminiscing about your Hogwarts days. Other times, you’d sit in silence for stretches and merely appreciate each other’s presence. It was nice to have a friend, even if that friend had a wife you wished would fall into a sinkhole.

One evening, you sat alone on the tower, wondering where your husband was this time. He should have been home three hours ago and you hadn’t received a word from him.

The familiar sound of Sebastian’s tread carried up the tower’s steps and you straightened in your seat as he emerged at the top, his hands stuff casually in his pockets.

“There you are,” you greeted.

“There you are.”

Typically, your mutual greeting made you smile, but Oliver’s antics weighed heavy in your chest as you wondered what to do about him. Though you had come to accept his infidelities, you weren’t sure how to confront him without proof, and you didn’t know what that would mean for your future.

You weren’t scared of the shame that would accompany a failed marriage – your reputation had been dragged around your entire life and you knew you’d recover. But Oliver and his rules had made it so you weren’t financially independent. Without him, you’d have no home, and you had no job to earn your own income. He had made it so that you needed him.

Sebastian recognized your tense demeanor immediately. “Something wrong?” he asked, peering downward at you in concern.

You swallowed, unsure how to reply. Sure, Sebastian was your friend again. He’d been your only friend since you moved to Feldcroft. But you weren’t sure you should reveal the latest details of your troubled marriage with him. Was it appropriate? Did he even care? Were you crossing a line?

“I’m fine,” you answered with a shrug. “Just tired is all.”

“Liar.”

You looked up in surprise. He looked concerned, yet you could see the faintest trace of smugness. He could still see through you and it was clear he enjoyed it.

That was the toughest and easiest part of your relationship with Sebastian, even after all these years. You couldn’t keep secrets because the two of you could read each other in ways no one else could.

You heaved a sigh as you tried to decide which detail to reveal first. Sebastian seemed to understand you were struggling, so he took a seat on the crate across from you and waited patiently.

“It’s Oliver,” you started. You paused, waiting for Sebastian to interject with some kind of snarky remark, but he remained quiet, nodding at you to continue. “He’s been… pretty absent lately. He gets home from work hours late, or sometimes he doesn’t come home at all.”

“You think he has someone else,” Sebastian said blankly.

“I don’t have proof.”

“You’re sure he isn’t simply putting extra hours in at work? Wendy does that for the extra pay. Says we could use it when the baby arrives.”

“I don’t know. Like I said, I can’t prove anything. All I have is my gut instinct.”

“And what is your instinct telling you?”

“That something isn’t right.”

Sebastian sat back, his hands resting on his knees as he considered his words carefully. “Is there a specific person in mind?” he asked. “Do you know who the other woman might be?”

“No idea. Outside of his family and me, Oliver doesn’t really spend time with anyone else. Most of his friends are through work and I don’t really know most of them.”

Sebastian exhaled slowly through his nose. You were surprised by the way his jaw seemed to twitch, a familiar tell that signaled he was trying to suppress his rage.

“You don’t deserve that,” Sebastian said quietly, his eyes wandering toward the sky that was shifting to nighttime.

“I don’t know, maybe I do,” you admitted. “It’s not like I married Oliver because he’s the love of my life. Maybe this is payback for that.”

“Why did you marry him then?” Sebastian asked sharply.

“Because he was safe,” you answered. “And because I lost my way. I lost myself when I met him. I had grown so used to taking care of myself that I thought I wanted someone to take care of me for a change. Oliver takes care of me, even if I’m not the only woman in his life. He’ll always come back to me.”

“You deserve to be the only woman in his life. And you deserve to be with someone you genuinely love,” Sebastian said quietly.

“I guess I just didn’t get that lucky."

The revelation was a sad truth you had never admitted out loud. You were grateful for the things you had, but many people mistook your life for something glamorous. They deemed you lucky – you were born with a rare, powerful ancient magic. You were declared a hero by your school, your name famous to all who passed through Hogwarts. You married a respected man with money so that you didn’t have to work.

Nevermind the omnipresent burden you had carried since the day you learned of Isidora Morganach and the repository. Nevermind the way people stared and whispered when they recognized you. Nevermind your loveless marriage that isolated you from the friends and career you wanted. Nevermind the fact your neighbor was the only person you ever loved.

To everyone else, you had it good. For all you cared, your life peaked years ago.

Sebastian was looking at you with a deep frown, an expression you chalked up to pity.

“So what are you going to do?” he finally asked.

“I don’t know,” was the best you could offer. “He’s made me too dependent on him to leave him. I don’t have a job. I’d have nothing, nowhere to go. I’d have to start all over.”

“Would a fresh start be all that bad?”

It was a simple question, but the answer felt heavy. It was true, you only stayed with Oliver for the convenience. The two of you were compatible enough for a pleasant relationship, but you certainly didn’t feel any overwhelming love and adoration for him.

Leaving Oliver could lead you to someone you did love properly, and vice versa. Perhaps you could start a career and build a life you felt proud of. But leaving Oliver could also mean something much worse, and being with him wasn’t the most miserable life you could dream up.

“I don’t have any proof that he’s having an affair,” you repeated. “And I can’t just leave him without reason.”

“You aren’t happy,” Sebastian pointed out. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

You wanted to agree with him. You wanted to put yourself first and give yourself the opportunity for the life you wanted – even if the one you’d always envisioned included the man sitting across from you. But you knew simply wanting a better life wasn’t enough. There were rules and expectations in your society. Leaving your husband simply due to unhappiness would blacklist you immediately. Though you didn’t care about the parties and decorum, a tarnished reputation could make life miserable. A proper divorce would require a legitimate reason.

“I’d need to catch him cheating,” you said. “I’d need a valid excuse for divorce.”

“So then let’s catch him.”

“What? How?”

“We follow him,” Sebastian said simply.

“Sebastian,” you said, your tone laced with warning and hesitation. It felt eerily reminiscent of your Hogwarts days, particularly your fifth year when the two of you were prone to risky adventures and questionable decisions. “We can’t just stalk my husband in hopes of catching him in the act.”

“Why not? We’ve done it before.”

“That was when we were children.” You couldn’t help but huff a laugh. “It was unwise tracking poachers and Ranrok’s loyalists then, and it’d be unwise tracking my cheating husband now."

“So you’re just going to sit back and do nothing, let him get away with it while you pine for the life you deserve?” Sebastian asked, his tone reflecting his obvious irritation. “You really have changed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re backing down from a challenge,” Sebastian said. He leaned back on the crate with his arms crossed. “And worse, you’re backing down from standing for what’s right.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it? Because the version of you I used to know never would have sat in silence when faced with injustice. Even when I killed Solomon, you only decided to protect me because of Anne.”

“I protected you because I loved you.” The words left your lips before you could think better of it, and you bit the inside of your cheek in instant regret. Sebastian failed to maintain a stoic expression, frowning as the statement stirred more guilt inside him.

The comfortable bond the two of you had built over the past few weeks was compromised as the silence that fell between you felt somber.

After several moments of internal struggle, Sebastian sighed and leaned forward on the crate, his elbows resting on his knees.

“All I’m saying,” he finally started, “Is that I’ve seen you fight some of the most dangerous people and creatures on Earth. I’ve seen you keep your composure and resolve under unfathomable circumstances, and you never took the easy way out by compromising your morals. You’ve done immeasurable things for other people out of love, but that should include yourself, too.”

“Even if I wanted to end things with Oliver and catch him cheating, I can’t exactly just cast disillusionment charm and expect to trail him around the Ministry all day,” you said.

“You’re right, you can’t,” Sebastian agreed. “Good thing I have a better idea.”

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” you muttered. It was the following morning and you were standing in Sebastian’s cottage as he rummaged through a trunk in his bedroom. As he searched, your eyes drifted around the room.

It was different from the last time you were there. There was much more decor, surely Wendy’s doing. A coat rack in the corner held a pink sweater that you decided was ugly before Sebastian's voice pulled you from your judgmental musings.

“Ah, here it is,” he said, pulling a shimmering cloak from the trunk. “Haven’t needed it in quite some time.”

“And where did you get an invisibility cloak anyway?” you demanded.

“Found it on one of my work assignments,” Sebastian said proudly. He pulled the trunk around his body so that only his head remained in view. “See? Much better than any disillusionment spell.”

“And you expect to just trail Oliver around the Ministry all day while we huddle beneath that cloak?”

“Of course not. We’ll hide in his office and wait until the end of the work day, see where he goes.”

“And how do you expect to get inside his office? We can’t just waltz into the Department of International Magical Cooperation.”

“Good thing we know someone else who works at the Ministry,” Sebastian said smugly.

“Oh Sebastian, we can’t drag Wendy into this-”

“Not Wendy,” Sebastian cut in. “I’ve not said a word to her. She’s been too stressed to think straight lately, with the baby coming.”

“Who then?”

Sebastian smiled at you. “You’ll see.”

You and Sebastian waited until noon to apparate to the Ministry to ensure you’d arrived while Wendy was on her lunch break. Once you were past the reception desk, you stepped into the lift and Sebastian led you to Basement Level II.

“Department of Magical Law Enforcement?” you hissed as you stepped off the lift. “Sebastian, what are we doing here? What are you going to do, have Oliver arrested?”

“Believe me, if infidelity were a crime, I would.” He glanced at his pocketwatch before leading you toward an inconspicuous door at the end of the corridor, guiding you inside.

“Sebastian, this is a broom closet. What the hell-”

“You’ll see.”

“It’s dark and it smells in here. I-” The door swung open and you froze as you took in the newcomer’s appearance. “Ominis?”

Your former friend looked amused. “The two of you hiding away inside a broom closet. It really is like old times,” he said. Sebastian ushered him inside and shut the door with a quiet snap as you blushed. “I should have known it would be some precarious, covert mission that would reunite the two of you.”

You threw your arms around him in a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

Ominis hugged you back, pulling away to smile at you. “While I’m also thrilled for this reunion, I must say, the circumstances are concerning – again, not that I’m surprised given that it concerns you two,” he said.

“Sebastian didn’t give you the details?”

“Sebastian, provide details before doing something potentially stupid and risky? Have you forgotten the past?”

You laughed, relieved that Ominis hadn’t changed, before you launched into an explanation of why you were currently hiding in a broom closet inside the Ministry of Magic with your two former closest friends. When your explanation was complete, Ominis’ expression was ambiguous.

He heaved a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You don’t deserve that,” Ominis said with an air of sadness. “I’ve run into Oliver a few times for work purposes and I never found him as charismatic or astute as he seems to think he is. You deserve better than him." You opened your mouth to respond, but Ominis continued, his expression shifting to something more serious. “You two do realize this is utterly insane,” he said. You and Sebastian swapped a glance but said nothing. “I could jeopardize my standing with the Wizengamot if anyone finds out I helped you two sneak into Oliver’s office.”

“Which is why no one’s going to find out,” Sebastian said simply.

Ominis sighed and you couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity of it all. You and Sebastian, tasking a reluctant Ominis to help you carry out a daring task that could get all three of you into trouble...

“Just like old times,” Sebastian quipped, as if he could read your mind.

“All right,” Ominis said. “You have the cloak?”

“I do.”

“Well put it on then. I’ll show you where to go and get you into Oliver’s office, but consider my involvement complete after that,” Ominis said.

“Yes, sir.” Sebastian draped the cloak around himself and then motioned for you to step closer. You froze. You hadn’t been that close to Sebastian in years. Ominis quirked an eyebrow as if he could sense your discomfort but said nothing.

You moved closer to Sebastian and he draped the cloak around you. The proximity made you tense, beads of sweat forming on your forehead as the scent of Sebastian’s cologne found you.

Fearful Sebastian would hear your heavy breaths, you kept your jaw clenched as Ominis swung the closet door open.

Once certain no one else was in sight, Ominis strolled toward the lift, where you and Sebastian squeezed into a corner to avoid detection by its other occupants. As more wizards and witches filed in, Sebastian pressed up against you, the two of you so close you could feel his chest heaving. His frame felt much sturdier than his teenage self and it made you want to snake your arms around him, to feel how much he had changed with the palms of your hands.

Once the lift reached Basement Level 5, Ominis strode to the corridor that led to the Department of International Cooperation’s International Magical Trading Standards Body offices, where Oliver worked.

Ominis offered polite greetings to passerby until he reached a row of doors. He glanced around to see if anyone was nearby, but the department was largely vacant due to the lunch hour. He knocked gently on the second door and waited until he was sure no one was inside to answer it. He cracked open the door just wide enough for you and Sebastian to file inside.

“Oliver, you in here?” Ominis called out as he stuck his head inside the office for good measure. He paused to give you and Sebastian time to slip inside before he muttered, “Must be at lunch. I’ll come back later.”

The door snapped shut and you and Sebastian exhaled a simultaneous breath. “We did it,” Sebastian said.

“Yes, but now we have to wait,” you said. “Perhaps we should sit in that corner, there. I doubt anyone would venture over there. We can sit comfortably and stay hidden beneath the cloak.”

Sebastian nodded in agreement and the two of you retreated to the corner of the room where you sat on the floor, your backs against the walls.

You took a moment to gaze around Oliver’s office. You’d never been there before, but it appeared to be an accurate reflection of him. A stately chesterfield sofa sat against the wall, a stack of books neatly placed on the table next to it. Various quidditch team pennants hung neatly on the walls and Oliver’s school quidditch trophies gleamed on the top shelf of a bookcase.

Sitting on the corner of Oliver’s desk was a single frame that contained a portrait of you.

You studied the photo of yourself, watching the woman in the frame wave and flash a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes.

The adrenaline rush of sneaking through the halls of the Ministry of Magic was suddenly replaced by a surge of sadness as you remembered why you were there to begin with.

Oliver wasn’t the love of your life. After two years of marriage, you merely tolerated him most days, maybe liked him on your best days. Losing him wouldn’t destroy you – not in the way losing Sebastian did. But still, Oliver was your husband, and you’d be a liar to deny the hurt his infidelity would cause.

Sebastian stirred next to you. You couldn’t help but smile as you remembered how the teenage version of him couldn’t sit still for too long without fidgeting.

“So tell me,” you said quietly, keeping your eyes on the door for any sign of movement. “What name do you have picked out for the baby?”

“Well, if it’s a boy, he’s got to be Sebastian Jr.”

“Then let’s hope it’s not a boy,” you quipped, drawing a grin from Sebastian.

“And if it’s a girl… I’m not sure. Wendy and I are sort of at odds over the name.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, she likes the name Doris,” Sebastian said. “Which is a fine name and all, but I’d like to name her some iteration of Anne. Maybe Anne-Marie.”

“Of course,” you smiled. “Anne’s perfect.”

“The truth is, I’m not sure how much longer Anne has left,” Sebastian said, his expression becoming serious. “The curse has really worn her down in the last five years. She’s so frail now, and she just doesn’t have the same fiery spirit. She’s tired of fighting.”

“Oh, Sebastian,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“She’ll keep fighting as long as she can, because that’s who she is, but I can tell it’s wearing on her.”

“She’s one of the toughest people I’ve ever met. And probably the only person more stubborn than you,” you said with a sad smile. “I’m sure she’d love to have a little niece with her namesake. And I’m sure any kid of yours will be just as gutsy as Anne is.”

“You’re damn right,” Sebastian said proudly.

The two of you fell quiet for a moment, the hum of the Ministry's offices echoing to fill the space. You thought about how bizarre your current scenario was. A few months ago, you’d have thought you’d gone mad if you had told yourself you were going to reunite with Sebastian Sallow and sneak through the Ministry of Magic to stalk your potentially cheating husband.

“Thank you for coming with me,” you said softly. “You didn’t have to do all this for me.”

“I’d do anything for you, you know that. Just because we broke up doesn’t mean we stopped being kindred spirits.”

His words made your chest contort. Even when he belonged to someone else, even when he was set to start a family with her, he still cared about you. It would have been beautiful if it wasn’t quite so heartbreaking.

“I’m glad such a bizarre twist of fate made us neighbors,” you managed with a soft laugh.

“Indeed. Life wasn’t the same without you.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” you laughed again. “Though it was much more stable and my stress levels dropped considerably.”

“That’s an interesting way of saying life was boring without me,” Sebastian mused. “Though I could say the same.” He cast a sideways glance at you, studying your expression from the corner of his eye for a moment. “My biggest regret in life is walking away from you, you know.”

Your chest caved at his statement and you swallowed, praying he couldn’t hear the way your heart threatened to hammer itself out of your chest. Part of you wanted Sebastian to continue spilling his innermost thoughts, to learn more about how he felt about you; the other part wanted him to shut the fuck up before he broke your heart all over again.

You dared to tilt your head to look at him and were surprised to find he was looking directly at you, too. You wondered if the sadness in his gaze mirrored your own, but you said nothing. Instead, you could feel him breathing as your treasonous mind made you wonder how it would feel to kiss him again.

You determinedly averted your eyes from his lips, refusing to reveal what was on your mind. You held Sebastian’s gaze as long as you could, as if his thoughts might permeate your own if you looked hard enough. You could see the familiar traces of affection in his eyes that once overwhelmed you with love.

But before any more thoughts could be expressed, the doorknob twisted. You and Sebastian both straightened, your eyes darting to the door as you held your breath. It was still 20 minutes until 1 p.m., meaning Oliver was returning from lunch early.

He strolled in with an aggravated expression that made you frown in confusion. But the answer revealed itself sooner than you ever could have imagined.

The clack of heels on the stone floor echoed their way toward the office, indicating a woman was close behind him. Your gaze darkened as you prepared yourself for the woman who was likely your rival.

You weren’t prepared to see Wendy Sallow.

Sebastian tensed immediately next to you, so you did the only thing that calmed him back when you were teenagers. You placed a gentle hand on top of his knee and gave it a gentle squeeze, silently begging him not to act. His breath hitched and you clenched your jaw.

“Oliver, we’re running out of time,” Wendy said with a frustrated tone. Oliver shot her a sharp glare and waved his wand, the door swinging shut with a firm snap.

“I’m aware of that,” Oliver replied curtly, gesturing toward Wendy’s pregnant stomach. “But I don’t know what you expect me to do about it.”

“You said you were going to leave her.”

“I said I’d consider it, and in due time,” Oliver responded irritably. “I didn’t say I’d do it so soon. And I certainly didn’t expect you to end up pregnant.”

“Well, this baby should be all the reason you need,” Wendy said. “You promised you’d take care of me – and our child.”

The room seemed to tilt, Oliver and Wendy’s bickering becoming a low background whir that your brain threatened to tune out as the reality of the situation unraveled itself at the expense of your nervous system. Your chest felt so tight, you wondered if you were suffering from cardiac arrest, and you suddenly felt so hot, you were certain the building was on fire.

Meanwhile, Sebastian was rigid next to you. Your heart dropped as the reality sank in. Sebastian would walk away from this moment with more scars than you. You had entered that office prepared to learn of your spouse’s infidelities, but Sebastian hadn’t. He was supposed to be the innocent, third party in all of this.

You realized you had to keep your composure in order for Sebastian to keep his. You had to silently convince him to control his emotions before he gave you both away.

The hand that rested atop his knee found his hand instead. You gripped it tightly, squeezing hard to send the message. You didn’t dare glance at Sebastian, fearful that doing so might evoke his rage, or your tears.

“And I will take care of you, darling,” Oliver said, crossing the office to place his hands on both sides of Wendy’s waist. “And our child.” He placed a gentle hand on Wendy’s stomach and you started to feel nauseous.

For two years, Oliver refused to father a child with you, and you were his wife . He had given you a barrage of excuses, claiming he wanted your attention all to himself, or that children were a tremendous financial burden.

This was an act of betrayal beyond any pain you’d ever felt. Worst of all, Sebastian had to share in it. Even now, all these years later when the two of you had built separate lives, your pain was mutual. It was beginning to feel like you and Sebastian were linked for life.

Suddenly, you let out a quiet gasp as you felt it. All of the fury and pain inside of you had clashed and boiled. It was currently coursing through your veins in the form of your ancient magic.

You could feel the familiar tingle rush through your fingertips and you dug your nails into the back of Sebastian’s hand to send him a warning. He cast a sideways glance at you and understood what was happening. He'd seen it before. He shifted, reaching in his pocket for his wand to ready himself. Though you could control your ancient magic, you couldn’t hide it, and anyone in your vicinity would be able to feel it.

The room’s atmosphere began to shift, the air becoming heavy as your ancient magic rolled through it. The background sounds of conversation, footsteps and rustling parchment fizzled as the hum of your magic swelled. Oliver and Wendy both froze as they felt it, the hairs on their arms standing upright.

Your magic caused the invisibility cloak to flutter, its fabric dancing in the sunlight that drifted through the window curtains. It was enough to catch Oliver’s eye and you watched as his hand disappeared into his robes. He sent a basic cast toward your corner that narrowly missed your head.

You and Sebastian dove in separate directions, the cloak falling to a pile on the floor. The room grew quiet as Oliver and Wendy watched in shock while you and Sebastian climbed to your feet.

“What in Merlin’s name-” Oliver started.

“Sebastian?” Wendy gasped.

Sebastian didn’t speak, a rare change in his usual demeanor, but the severity of his gaze was perilous. His chest heaved and his fingers gripped his wand so tight, his knuckles were white.

“How long?” you finally asked, shifting your gaze to Oliver who still looked stunned. “How long have the two of you…”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Oliver demanded.

“Sebastian, love, it’s not what it looks like,” Wendy interjected. She moved toward Sebastian, her hands outstretched and her doe eyes wide as they silently pleaded with him.

“Don’t,” was all Sebastian said, his voice steady but quiet.

Wendy whimpered. If you hadn’t been so furious, you might have laughed at her.

“How did you get in here?” Oliver continued. “How long have you been here? Were you following me?”

“I said, how long have the two of you been doing this?” you repeated.

Oliver appeared to be searching his mind for explanations, but he knew you were too smart to entertain any of them.

“Darling,” he started. “It’s not what you think. It’s much more complicated-”

“I think you’ve been having an affair for quite some time,” you said. “But I didn’t expect it to be with our neighbor.” Your ancient magic surrounded you with a blue haze as you glared at Oliver. “Is that why you moved us to Feldcroft? So you could be closer to her? So that you could see your child?”

“How do you know it’s his?” Sebastian suddenly asked, his gaze on Wendy. “How can you be sure it’s not mine?”

“Sebastian-” Wendy started, her eyes sparkling with tears.

“Answer me.”

Wendy recoiled, her heels clicking on the stone floors as she lingered next to Oliver. “I’m sure,” she squeaked. “It happened when you were away… in Portugal. I know it’s his because you and I hadn’t-” She let out a sob that made you flinch.

“So this has been going on for months,” you said blankly. “And what were you two going to do when the baby arrived?” You turned on Wendy, your glare brimming with disgust. “Were you just going to allow Sebastian to believe it’s his?”

“I…” Wendy’s sniffled. “Oliver said he was going to be with me. I was going to tell Sebastian then.” Her eyes pleaded with Sebastian. “I didn’t mean to cause any harm. I just… Oliver said he would take care of me. I just wanted to be taken care of.”

It was a jarring realization for you. The life you had grown to detest was the life Wendy wanted. You dreamed of a career, a husband who understood you and a family to call your own. Wendy wanted to stay home and be doted over. It was as if the two of you had ended up in the other’s fairytale.

The hurt in Sebastian’s eyes broke your heart. You hated how unfair life had been to him. Dead parents, a cursed sister, a cruel uncle who never wanted him. Sebastian had worked hard to make up for his past, but now life had betrayed him with an unfaithful wife and a child that wasn’t his.

“I don’t understand,” you finally said, frowning as you tried to make sense of the entire situation. “There were nights… times when you’d come home late, Oliver. But Wendy… I’d see you at home with Sebastian.”

Oliver and Wendy swapped a glance and your braced yourself for more bad news.

“Our townhome in London…” Oliver said. “I… I didn’t actually sell it. It’s still mine. Sometimes I’d stay there after we… I just couldn’t face you, darling.”

“Couldn’t face me,” you repeated blankly. “So you could have an affair with another woman – our neighbor – but couldn’t come home and look me in the eye when you were done fucking her?”

“Oh, don’t act so innocent,” Wendy spat. You flinched at her sudden outburst, her tone reaching a new shrill. “I’ve seen you and Sebastian sneaking away to have private little conversations about your past. Don’t think I didn’t know about the two of you. Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you looked at each other, like two lovesick puppies.”

“Nothing has happened between us since we were eighteen,” you said, glaring at Wendy. “Sebastian has always been faithful to you.”

Wendy forced a laugh. “Sebastian hasn’t touched me since you moved next door,” she said. “At first I thought it was because of my pregnancy, but then I saw the way he’d look at you, the way he’d rather spend time with you. It was never about me. It was always you.”

Sebastian opened his mouth to speak but Oliver cut him off.

“I know all about you, Sallow,” Oliver said. “Your dead parents and shamed uncle who was ousted by the Ministry. Your cursed sister stuck in St. Mungo’s. You can’t give your wife a life worth anything.”

The entire time, you had been worried for the way Sebastian might act. You didn’t consider your own reaction. But your ancient magic surged again, ignited by Oliver’s harsh words toward Sebastian, sparking a sudden crackle over the room you couldn’t control.

Oliver recoiled at the sound, mistaking it for an attack from Sebastian. He hit Sebastian with a basic cast, which sent him backward.

“Oliver!” you hissed, moving to check on Sebastian, who scrambled to his feet. Before you could beg him to refrain, Sebastian retaliated with Diffindo. Oliver spun from the red flash that sliced toward him, but it nicked him across the torso while Wendy let out a scream.

The conversation was over. It was now going to end in a duel and a peculiar twist of fate, with you and Sebastian against your husband.

Sebastian cast a barrage of spells at Oliver that sent parchment and paperwork flying. Oliver managed a Protego charm, its rebound causing the spells to ricochet throughout the office. One skimmed the top of Oliver’s desk, sending its content scattering, while another careened into the bookcase, smashing his trophies. Your eyes shifted to Wendy, who continued to scream. You refused to attack a pregnant woman, but pointed your wand at her in case she dared to attack Sebastian.

“Go,” you ordered. “Get the fuck out of here and stay away from Sebastian. I don’t want to ever see you again.”

She blinked in disbelief, but scurried for the door, the clack of her heels echoing until the sound faded down the corridor. Oliver had moved toward the door to follow her, but Sebastian remained on him, his force of spells driving him backward into the hall.

“Sebastian!” you shouted, following after them. “Sebastian, stop! We’re in the Ministry. The aurors will be on you in a heartbeat.”

He didn’t listen. You watched as he sent a Confringo spell at Oliver, which deflected into a row of desks, setting them ablaze. A handful of workers who had returned from lunch were backed up against the dark stone walls, their eyes wide as they took in the scene.

“Sebastian, you can’t!” you begged. “Think of Anne. Think of Ominis… think of me.”

You don’t know what made you say it. After all, you and Sebastian had only reconnected recently. He had been the one who left you five years ago, so you didn’t know why you thought he’d care about you now.

But he was here with you. He’d been the one to plan this entire day and help you get answers about Oliver long before he had any idea his own wife was involved.

Sebastian paused for a fleeting moment, his eyes drifting to you with understanding. Time seemed to slow when your gazes locked and you begged Sebastian with your eyes to come to his senses.

His pause gave Oliver just enough time to react.

“Incarcerous!” Ropes shot from Oliver’s wand, whipping through the air until they coiled tightly around Sebastian. He fell over, writhing on the floor as he struggled against them.

And before you could stop to reflect, your ancient magic acted on your behalf. You didn’t need your wand as the blue static enveloped you, illuminating your frame. One dismissive flick of your hand blasted Oliver backward until his body skidded across the floor against the far wall in a heap.

Your eyes scanned the room for any more potential threats, but you noticed it had cleared out. You turned to Sebastian and waved your hand again, the ropes disintegrating as you knelt next to him.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You stared at one another, unsure what to say or what to do next. “We should go,” you finally said.

“Right.” You helped Sebastian to his feet and he cleared his throat. The awkward tension wasn’t lost on either of you, but Sebastian took your hand and apparated, leaving the Ministry behind with a sharp crack.

Eighteen months later

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You froze in your tracks, a tiny smile forming across your lips before you turned to face your husband.

“I was just going out front,” you said innocently. “The daylilies need watering.”

“You’re supposed to be on bed rest,” Sebastian said, his arms folded across his chest as if he were stern with you.

“I’m fine,” you groaned. “The doctor told me to take it easy. I’m simply tending to my garden, not dueling any poachers.”

“You’re nine months pregnant. You need to stay off your feet.”

“I’m going to hex you off your feet if you don’t back off.”

Sebastian smirked and took a step toward you. “That’s exactly the kind of attitude that got you pregnant in the first place.” He reached for your arm and gently tugged you closer, his arms wrapping around you despite your large belly keeping you separate.

“Just let me water the daylilies first.”

Sebastian relented and followed you outside, where you used Aguamenti to water the bright flowers you had planted to replace the rose bushes. You smiled to yourself as you let the peaceful scene settle around you. You’d picked daylilies for their resilience – beautiful, yet tough as nails and difficult to kill. They were a symbolic reflection of both you and Sebastian, as well as your relationship.

You moved into Sebastian’s cottage shortly after your divorce with Oliver was finalized. Your relationship didn’t rekindle immediately after that day you discovered Oliver and Wendy’s affair at the Ministry of Magic. You hadn’t expected it to.

Instead, you and Sebastian both needed time to heal from your broken marriages. You recovered quicker, given that your marriage had been built on convenience, but Sebastian needed more time to grieve. Not only had he been betrayed by his wife, he had to accept her child was never his.

You were patient with Sebastian, careful to give him all the time he needed to mend. Though you were hopeful time would heal the wounds and bring you two together again, you made sure to keep your proper distance.

Eventually, you and Sebastian fell into a comfortable routine. Ominis introduced you to the head of the Ministry’s Auror Division, which eventually led to a spot with the Muggle Prime Minister’s security detail. Sebastian helped you regain your strength and skills as the two of you sparred in friendly duels in a fields west of Feldcroft. You finally had started the career you wanted with hopes you’d someday advance from protecting the prime minister to hunting down and catching dark wizards.

You and Sebastian spent your evenings talking quietly, cozied up next to the fire. You’d lounge on the sofa and he’d sit opposite of you in an armchair, both of your noses in books. But eventually, Sebastian began to join you on the sofa, sitting next to you every night until you felt comfortable resting your head on his shoulder. Other times, he’d stretch out with his head in your lap.

Finally, the traces of pain left his eyes and he returned to his normal self. He had also filed for divorce and Wendy agreed without another word. The last you heard, she and Oliver moved into your old townhouse together and she gave birth to a baby girl she named Doris.

Your closeness with Sebastian returned with a blend of nostalgia and unfamiliarity. You joked and teased just like you did as teenagers, but your romance carried a new level of trust that surprised you. Sebastian broke your heart once, but the pain and anger you carried was long gone. Now, it was replaced with the mutual understanding that you and Sebastian had been given a second chance you both refused to ruin.

You fell in love again slowly, then all at once. You and Sebastian had gotten married a year ago.

Now, Sebastian leaned against the doorframe, smiling gently as he watched you quietly. You pretended not to notice at first, until you flicked your wand toward him to spray him with water.

“You little-”

You laughed as he lunged for you, pinning your arms behind your back so that you’d drop your wand. It clattered on the stone pathway and rolled toward the cottage next door. You and Sebastian watched in silence until it came to a stop a few feet from the house. Lights were on inside and you could hear laughter from the family who had moved in a few months back. They were an older couple with a pair of twins who attended Hogwarts.

“Not thinking about leaving me for the neighbor, are you?” Sebastian murmured in your ear. He stood behind you, pressed against your back so that he could place his hands on your pregnant belly.

“Hmm, not sure he’s my type,” you mused.

“Good. Because I’ve killed before and I’d do it again. Wendy didn’t deserve it, but you – I’d kill for you.”

“Sebastian!” You whirled around to scold him and he laughed, gently pulling you close again so that he could press a kiss to your forehead. You continued to glower at him until he bent down to retrieve your wand from the ground.

“You know,” he said as he steered you past the daylilies and back toward your cottage. “I never liked those roses anyway.”

Part II: There We Were Forever

(Smut warning - minors DNI)

One year later

“Is she asleep?”

You nodded quietly as you joined Sebastian in the kitchen to help him finish clearing the dinner dishes.

“She’s out,” you said, waving your wand to send a stack of dishes toward the cupboard. You slowed your motion, moving your wand with precision until the plates settled with a quiet clink. “She was exhausted.”

“Good.” Sebastian tossed a dish rag on the counter and moved toward you, his hands resting on the small of your back as he kissed your temple. “I bet you’re exhausted too.”

You nodded. Motherhood was the toughest task you had ever faced, but you couldn’t be happier. Your 1-year-old daughter, Anne Marie, was your proudest accomplishment.

“I’ll finish cleaning up,” Sebastian said. “You go relax.”

You smiled in gratitude and retreated to the sofa by the fireplace. It crackled quietly as you sank into the cozy cushions and closed your eyes. A gentle smile rested across your lips as you silently appreciated the moment. Just three years ago, you were still married to Oliver, trapped in a life you didn’t want. Now, you were happy and full of appreciation for all the moments – the good and bad – that had led you to this point.

Your eyes remained closed but you could sense motion nearby as Sebastian settled in beside you, his arm draping gently around your shoulders.

“You look like you’re about to fall asleep,” he mumbled in your ear before he nuzzled your neck. He left a trail of kisses from your collarbone, up your neck, to the soft patch of skin behind your ear.

Sleep sounded positively blissful, but not nearly as blissful as whatever it was Sebastian had in mind.

You tilted your head to the side to allow Sebastian more access to your neck. You could feel him smirk against your skin as he shifted his body to face you better, one hand resting atop your thigh.

He kissed you as if his lips were searching for something rare, though he’d kissed you like that just hours earlier before he left for work. Those same lips had spent the early hours of the morning between your thighs, ensuring you’d relax a little before your daughter awoke for the day.

Now, Sebastian’s hand inched higher beneath the hem of your dress, his thumb tracing lazy patterns across your skin as he continued to kiss you.

Your own hands gripped the front of Sebastian’s shirt, balling and tightening the white fabric in your fists to emphasize the sinful thoughts escalating inside your mind.

A whimper escaped your throat as Sebastian’s fingertips brushed against your panties covering your core. He shifted again until you were on your back, your head on the armrest on the couch as he loomed over you.

He had you in a similar position in bed this morning, and the memory of it made you shift your hips as the familiar ache of lust swelled between your legs.

Sebastian’s fingers dragged against your panties again until you felt them inch to your hips, curling around the waistband on your side. He guided them downward, tossing them lazily on the floor as he returned his eyes to you.

Your own gaze fell to the bulge in his pants, which had the fabric so taut, it looked painful. You bit your lip as you eyed it, picturing Sebastian’s full, unclothed length in your mind despite having seen it countless times.

You suddenly felt guilty as you remembered that Sebastian had only serviced you that morning. He had helped you achieve your own release – twice – but Anne Marie’s wails from across the hall interrupted you before you could return the favor.

Despite the positively anguishing ache that was coursing between your thighs, you started to sit up to take control. But Sebastian was in no mood for a fight.

“Bad idea, love,” he purred as he gently pushed your shoulder back down. You narrowed your eyes in protest, provoking a wolfish grin from him.

His hand snapped back to your entrance, and before you could protest, a finger was edging its way inside you. The best you could manage was a moan.

“That’s better,” Sebastian cooed as he slipped another finger inside. He pumped his hand, the friction of his calloused skin stimulating pure bliss against your slick interior in sweeping motions. “Just relax, my love. You deserve some rest.”

Sebastian used his thumb to drag circles over your clit as his index and middle fingers glided in and out of your entrance. You pushed back with your hips, guiding your most sensitive spot over his fingertips. He curled his fingers and you gasped at the welcome, warming sensation building there.

A few twists of his fingers and just the right amount of pressure from Sebastian’s thumb nudged you over the edge. A loud moan echoed through the living room as your walls clenched around Sebastian’s fingers, which continued their beckoning motion inside of you as they worked through your orgasm. They sank back inside of you, pressing into your soft core until your body relaxed around them.

His fingers were slick as he removed them to suck on them, his eyes dark with satisfaction at your submissive state.

“Now it’s my turn,” Sebastian said, sitting back as he unbuttoned his shirt. You used the time it took him to undress to catch your breath. Your eyes roamed his bare chest until he began kicking off his trousers, the sudden sight of his erection reenergizing your tired body.

It was an erotic vision that prompted your filthiest thoughts as all you could picture was the way you would stretch around him until he fucked you so hard, your knees collapsed.

You couldn’t believe you ever allowed yourself to tolerate another man.

“Come here,” Sebastian growled as he settled upright at the center of the sofa. You straddled his lap, using the scant remnants of self-control that remained to slowly ease yourself around his cock. Sebastian’s head fell backward to rest against the back of the sofa, his eyes falling shut at the sensation of your cunt surrounding him. “Going to reward me for my generosity this morning?” he asked.

You hummed a reply as you lifted your hips slowly, delighted by the sensation of your folds dragging along Sebastian’s length as you worked up and down with deliberation.

You leaned back slightly and Sebastian’s eyes fell open to gaze at you. He frowned as he realized you were still in your dress.

“This needs to go,” he said as his hands searched for the hem. Once he found it, he helped you yank the dress over your head until it heaped on the floor in one fluid swish of fabric. “Much better,” Sebastian mewed as his eyes fell to your breasts. He groaned in pleasure as they bounced when you sank downward again, his cock filling you entirely.

As you continued to lean backward, your fingers gripping the back of the sofa for leverage, the angle made your eyes roll back as you concentrated on the feeling of Sebastian’s tip plunging inside of you, pressing against that same spot that would make your toes curl.

"You're too fucking good at this," Sebastian hissed.

“Oh fuck,” you breathed as you could feel the familiar uprise of another orgasm. Its threat surfaced quickly and you had a momentary, fleeting thought of using a silencing charm the next time you decided to let Sebastian ruin you in the living room. That thought was interrupted by the eruption of pleasure that made your cunt contract.

"I'm coming," you whined as you sank down once more, Sebastian's cock slamming into your sweet spot.

Your hips drove downward, settling in place as your walls quivered around Sebastian’s cock. He held still to allow you to ride it out, your wetness trickling to the base of his shaft.

“So fucking good,” he groaned as he felt your orgasm subside. “You always feel fucking incredible.”

By now, you were reaching the point that lay beyond exhaustion. Your legs felt weak from riding Sebastian so hard and your head felt hazy, but you’d be damned if you walked away again without feeling Sebastian’s sweet release.

“Let me up,” Sebastian said, his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair to gently pull you backward. You obliged, praying your knees wouldn’t give out as you stood.

“On your knees,” Sebastian ordered as he gently nudged you toward the sofa. You obeyed, your knees sinking into the cushions as you leaned forward against the sofa back, your hands clutching it in anticipation. You felt Sebastian kneel behind you, his own knees settling between your spread legs.

He rested one hand on your waist as the other wrapped around his cock to ease it back inside of you. Your cunt accommodated him with less resistance this time, but Sebastian grunted at the tight heat that swallowed his cock.

“Like it when I take you from behind?” he murmured against the back of your neck.

“Yes,” you breathed as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade.

“Want me to make you come again?”

“Yes.” You whimpered to emphasize your greedy desperation. Sebastian made you come twice that morning and twice now this evening, but the feeling of your cunt stretched around his hard length made it difficult for you to think rationally. “Sebastian,” you whined at his lack of movement. You bucked your hips backward, drawing a resounding moan from him.

“Just like that love,” he breathed.

You ground yourself backward, Sebastian’s cock burying itself inside you repeatedly, the sounds of slapping skin clapping across the room. Sebastian’s grip on your hips tightened until his primal instincts overpowered him.

He thrust himself hard against you, his fingers sinking into your flesh to leave inevitable bruises.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned as he drove himself harder inside you. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the sofa, your cunt gripping at Sebastian in an attempt to stir up one more orgasm.

Sebastian’s cock pounded against your sensitive spot and you cried out in encouragement, pleading with him to grant you the privilege of one more moment of euphoria.

“Come for me,” he commanded. You moaned in response to indicate how close you were, rocking your hips backward to meet Sebastian’s rhythm. His thrusts became more erratic, an obvious sign he was nearing his peak.

“Right there,” you managed as you squeezed your eyes shut, every ounce of your focus on the building sensation. Almost there. A few more strokes should do it…

The pleasure made your thighs shake as you released a breathy cry that was followed by the sounds of Sebastian’s thrusts fucking you to completion. The orgasm erupted in forceful waves that fluttered through your walls until you collapsed over the back of the sofa.

The sight of your satisfied, fucked out frame was Sebastian’s ultimate climax. He grunted as he thrusted hard and held you flush against himself while he spilled inside you. You couldn’t help but release one final moan at the sensation of his heat pooling within your cunt until he pulled away. It dripped from you, cascading down your thighs as you feebly straightened to your feet.

Sebastian’s arms were around you instantly, pulling you close as he held you quietly, both of your panting the only sound in the cottage. You slumped against him, sleepy and sweaty, your eyes fluttering shut.

“I can’t believe we didn’t wake the baby,” Sebastian mused softly.

Your eyes opened and drifted over the scene of your sins. “I can’t believe we ruined the sofa,” you frowned.

Sebastian barked a laugh and pulled you in close again, your head resting against his chest. “Wendy picked that out years ago. I never liked it anyway.”

186 notes · View notes

thepinkdreamganjaqueen · 2 months ago

Text

Limitations

Randall Kirkland x Fem!Reader

Masterlist🩷

Summary: Randall plays on your competitive nature. How far will he take it? How far will you let him?

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, piv, unprotected sex, DubCon, manipulation, breeding, choking, gagging, dacrophilia swearing, mentions of violence and murder, fem!reader, romantic smut, aftercare

A/N: Finally!!! It is time!! I know y'all have been itching for this new Randall fic, I’ve been grinding hard on this, I hope it doesn’t disappoint. I love y'all! I love Randall!!! Thank you all so so much for your support! It truly means the world to me and motivates me to do better every day and put out more fics! As always, I’m open to comments, questions, requests, etc. or if you ever just want to reach out, say, "Hey", and chat, I am all for it!! *kisses*

W/C: 9.2k

You didn’t want to walk past the bus this morning. Every time you did, you felt his eyes on you. You could feel them traipse across your skin, observing your every curve, how you walked, the way your hips swayed, and how your hair bounced behind you as you walked. You had gotten used to the town, as used to it as someone could get, you supposed. But you never could bring yourself to come to terms with your feelings, feelings you weren’t sure how to address, or what to even call them. Was it envy, lust, longing? You’ve never even spoken to him, but you felt his eyes bore into you every morning as you walked past to the diner.

Some days, you wondered what would happen if you stopped to speak with him. What would you say? Every morning you saw him from your peripheral vision as he turned his head to follow your path. Wanting to look back, but eyes still looking straight ahead. You never looked back, unsure of what you'd see, what you wanted to see. The one and only person you thought you had figured out, but too scared to be direct or approach. You stole a few glances at times at the diner or by the farm. You often remarked at how handsome he was, shying away from those lustful thoughts, but always going back to them once it got dark and you were alone.

You kept to yourself most days, only chatting with folks in passing at the diner and steering far from colony house. You had heard stories, and gossip passed through tight lips from person to person. You were not one to indulge but still remained vigilant with an ear to listen. Randall, the guy they kicked out and forced to live on the bus. Some say he threatened Donna. Some say he held people at gunpoint. Nothing surprising, nothing you probably wouldn’t do yourself given the chance. This place had a way of messing with people, getting into their heads, making people mad in every sense of the word. Some days, you didn’t know if what you were seeing was real, and were unsure if anyone else had similar experiences but kept to yourself all the same due to your own distrust in others.

Day in and day out, you felt defeated, not sure if you were even really alive. You walked through the day in a slump, wondering if anything is real, if this was real or if it was a dream… and what of the life you knew before. Was that the dream? You had gone numb, wracking your mind over the details and inconsistencies of the day-to-day happenings. Not wanting to die, not willing to, but not sure if you would or if that even meant anything anymore. Was this what death was? Did we all die in car crashes and this is our fucked-up purgatory? What is survival, really? In this situation, it was hard to define.

That’s why you found yourself thinking of Randall often, yet too shy or scared to approach him, only in your mind's eye did he linger. Not knowing what he’s thinking or going through personally. You were remiss to your thoughts and thoughts alone. They drove you to the edge of delirium nightly. Clutching your pillow over your face, screaming to drown out the sounds of the creatures that knocked upon your windows and doors. Always trying to find a way in, slowly waiting, watching. You felt helpless and alone often escaping in the thought of his touch, how his hands would feel on your skin, how soft his lips must feel, how they’d taste. It was the last piece of sanity you could hold onto every night before the nightmare became too close of a reality. Instead, you fantasized about Randall and turned it into a dream.

You reluctantly headed out the door later than usual today, unwilling to brood between four walls. You threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before heading out the door and to the diner. Before arriving, you could hear commotion in the distance. There was a group of people standing near the entrance of the diner arguing about supplies and food. The crowd seemed rowdy and questionable.

You stopped at the edge of where the bus stood with its tires shot out a safe distance away, watching as the township fought and argued. You scoffed and sneered. Tired of how the people ran things here, tired of the rules in a place with no natural law. It was ridiculous to you, a noble effort that just somehow still wasn’t enough. People are still being killed, people are still lost, there’s no escaping and they’re fighting over supplies. Your eyes rolled so hard you felt the nerves stretch behind your eye socket causing a slight headache.

“Ugh”, you audibly spoke. “My sentiments exactly” a voice said from beside you. You shuddered at the sound of the voice, deep and gravelly. You quickly looked up realizing Randall had stepped off the bus and stood next to you. Suddenly you found your lungs had tightened in your chest lifting a lump into your throat leaving you unable to speak or even breath for a moment. You observed his expression, aloof yet fixed and focused. You could see behind his eyes, a darkness softened by disappointment and fear. His eyes looked on toward the diner as he snickered.

“Can you believe what they’re doing? Rationing food now?” He spoke again. You watched as his mouth moved when he spoke, how his lips curled over his teeth, how his dark rimmed mossy green eyes flickered with speech. His hands gesturing toward the diner, looked rough and abrasive, covered in veins that crawled up his forearms and disappeared under his flannel shirt. He was so remarkably handsome you thought to yourself, blushing at the thoughts that began to fill your head once more.

You found yourself trying to respond, to think of something to say. His stature alone was intimidating, he towered over you leaning against the bus with his arms crossed looking at you under a furrowed brow. Those eyes, burning you. You could feel his gaze wash over you like molten lava. You could feel heat begin brimming to your cheeks as your whole body went flush and mind blank.

“Someone should do something” was all you could manage to say. You spoke angrily and out of frustration in a mere whisper, but truly you thought, someone really should do something, anything, literally anything. Randall’s eyes remained fixed on you as you looked onward towards the diner, your attention caught by louder yelling.

You watched as Boyd broke up the crowd, unable to hear what was being said but seeing his arms wave side to side palms down as if it would calm anyone. The crowd murmured as they dispersed, sharing looks of shame and frustration with one another. “Come on” Randall said reaching for your hand. It was soft, warm, and completely swallowed yours within his grip. “What are you doing?” you questioned. The crowd had already broken and cleared out at this point. “We’re going to do something about it” he whispered in a hushed voice. He pulled you with him towards the back side of the diner, you followed effortlessly. His confidence surged through his grip onto your palm. Kinetic energy leaking from his skin to yours, exhilarating your senses and emboldening your mood. Finally, someone with an assertive nature, you thought.

Randall kept eyes on Boyd and the few that lingered as he led you to the backside of the diner, peeking around the corner as he did. You both watched as Boyd, Donna, and a few others left towards the sheriff station. Slowly disappearing into the distance. You felt his hand reach past your waist and brush against your t-shirt lifting it slightly allowing a draft of cold air to touch your skin. You shuddered at the feeling of his forearm sweeping against you, only for a second. He was warm, his skin, so soft.

He had reached across to open the door you stood next to. He then smirked and said “after you” outstretching his hand, guiding you into the diner's kitchen. You nodded taking the lead but not fully sure what you were doing there. Upon entering the kitchen, you noticed it’s disarray. There were various dishes, cans, and boxes, strewn about and stacked high. The town’s folk had tried to gather and take what they could, anything they could get their hands on. Perhaps a few even got to take some home, but this was what was left.

Several jars of canned goods, boxed goods, spices, and various pickled fruits and veggies. You imagined the work it took to prep all this who had done it and how long it must have taken. You slide the boxes over with your foot that were haphazardly stacked near the door where Randall entered behind you. He slid past you reaching for an empty box and began filling it with items of his own personal preference. “Grab what you can carry and whatever else you want; we’ll take it over to your place” he said firmly in a curt almost whisper.

You looked on as your mind fought with itself. You hadn’t expected this, to take things for yourself. The idea of it, however much you rationalized it, agreed with it and wanted to, still felt wrong. A tinge of guilt swept over you. Randall, who had his back turned, had turned to face you. Seeing your apprehension he spoke. “Thought you wanted to do something about it?” He said playfully jesting toward you with his elbow, easing your tension a bit. It wasn’t so much that you didn’t want to do it, you did, it’s more that you were afraid of being caught, what would happen then? What would they do?

Truly you thought you didn’t really care for anybody in this town, you didn’t know them on any personal level, you weren’t even sure if they were truly who they said they were. Everyone was out for themselves at this point, proven this morning as you approached the diner and seeing the rowdy crowd, and now, looking around the kitchen and seeing boxes strewn about and the mess they had left behind in their haste. They were all fending for themselves why shouldn’t you?

Randall had set his box down with a thunk as the box hit the table. You could hear the clinks of the cans and jars that rustled within. The bulk of his content being canned meats and veggies, various soups, stocks and spices. He had grabbed a box handing it to you. “Here. If we’re going to survive, we have to beat them to it. You saw them out there, they just didn’t get away with it” a mischievous smile crept across your lips. After all, you did say something should be done.

He met your smile with one of his own, a devilish grin widened at the corners of his lips and his eyes narrowed “atta girl! Almost didn’t think you had it in you” he chuckled as he turned and proceeded to fill his box. Your cheeks flushed immediately, a balmy heat filling your face. A mixture of feelings brimmed at that sentiment. You tried dissecting your emotions while grabbing items from the shelves. What had he thought of you? You hadn’t thought of that until just now. What did Randall think of you, about you? Did he think you meek and mousey? You supposed you could be perceived that way but truly you were bold, you were passionate, stubborn, and would never back down from a challenge, especially if someone thought you couldn’t or wouldn’t.

What did he mean he didn’t think you had it in you? Sure, you hesitated, but only for a moment. But him saying “atta girl” almost made it all ok. You wanted him to say more, to give you that praise, to give you the attention you hadn’t realized until now, you were so starved for. His voice penetrated your psyche in an undefined pleasurable way. You felt the urge to show him who you really were, after all, he didn’t know anything about you sans what he could observe in passing. You had never held a conversation with him prior to today. You surmised that maybe others spoke about you and he had heard. You didn’t doubt it, it's how you heard about him.

What had you heard about him that wasn’t true or was a misrepresented truth in some way. You wanted to know more about him. You always had but fear held you back. What an opportunity today had presented you with. He was the only person in this place that intrigued you, the only person you felt you could possibly relate to, the only person who seemed… real.

Randall had stopped grabbing things, remarking about his full box being a good haul then turning his attention to you as you continued meticulously picking things out. You could feel that familiar feeling, the one you felt every morning as you passed by the bus at first light. His eyes were on you. You could feel them wander your curves as you bent over to look at a lower shelf or kneeled to grab something. His eyes laid upon you like a soft touch, caressing every inch with his vision.

The feelings you had fought every morning quickly presented themselves at the forefront of your mind once again. Today, you let them flourish, examining them closely. Today you would find out what it was you felt. You could feel your body tremble at the thought of him touching you. Your hands shook grabbing items as lustful thoughts overtook your brain making your focus almost nonexistent.

You found yourself easing into his gaze. Calculating your movements to emphasize your body for his view, arching your back, bending your knees. You reached for a high shelf, an item perched just out of your reach. You looked over your shoulder peeking through strands of hair that fell about your face, meeting his smoldering gaze. He was leaned against the counter, arms crossed with one leg crossed over the other. He nonchalantly stood, walking towards you. You tried reaching once more, inching on your feet when you felt his presence behind you.

The space between your bodies was warm and quickly got warmer. An arm outstretched, reaching over your head and grabbing the can from the top shelf you had been reaching for. You could feel the flannel from his shirt brush against your arm. You turned to thank him, falling back onto your heels and looking up. He stood so close to you still, you could smell his clothes, a mix of ozonic and possibly leather. Perhaps from sleeping on the bus you pondered. It was hypnotic.

He took another step closer, enclosing the space between you. A lump lifted into your chest as your breathing hitched. You met his eyes, darkened by the shadows within the room, his face only lit from the bit of daylight that streamed in from the dining area and small back window. You observed his face, lamenting internally how beautiful he was, how soft his features were. His angled jaw, cheek bones, and dimpled chin catching light and emphasizing some of his most beautiful features. The kindness you could see in his face behind his brooding exterior. There was a layer deeper you couldn’t see but feel.

The air in the room felt thicker, harder to breath. You could feel each breath you took as it lifted your chest to meet his sternum, pressing firmly against him. He looked down at you with a sly smile “is this what you wanted?” He spoke in a low raspy tone. You looked down seeing the can in his hand. “Mhmm. Thank you” you said shaking your head in affirmation and looking into his eyes. He smiled coyly and handed you the can. With his other arm, he grabbed your shoulder and ran his fingers down your arm gently, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “We should probably hurry up and get out of here, so we don’t get caught too”.

However true his words were, it was the farthest thought from your mind. All you could think about was how his breath felt on your ear, how each syllable danced across your skin ever so gently, cascading down your neck. How his hand felt on your shoulder. How firm his grip was, how the sensation of his fingertips still lingered upon your skin leaving goosebumps in their wake. You all but melted at the slightest of touch. An ache deep within your core, a feeling so intense it couldn’t be ignored. However, he was right. It was best to get in and out of there as quickly as possible.

Earlier, he had said that he would bring the items with you to your place. Your mind raced at the possibilities. You tried to quell those thoughts; they ran rampant within the confines of your mind. Playing out scenes of all the different ways you wanted him, the things you wanted to do to him. You felt your heart race within your chest, your palms got clammy and for once in your time here in the township, fear wasn’t at the forefront of your mind.

You nodded in agreement as he stepped aside allowing you space to finish grabbing what you needed. You had found the last item that you topped your box off with before setting it down. A can of fruit medley with extra cherries you found hidden in the back of one of the cabinets. “Ready?” He asked standing from his aloof leaning position he watched you from. “Let's go!” You whispered excitedly. You grabbed your box when Randall reached out “I got it” he said matter of factly, stacking your box on top of his and carrying them both. “Just keep an eye out, yeah?” He gestured nodding his head toward the door. “Of course,” you agreed.

You slowly open the door peeking around the corner looking for any signs of activity or prying eyes. Everything looked clear, you motioned with a wave of your hand to Randall indicating it was safe. You both carefully made your way back to your place in the township. You opted to stick to the tree line, hoping that no one would see you as you quickly made your way home. It must have only been a couple blocks away, but the feeling of excitement and the thrill of the entire situation had you giddy. You felt as if you floated home.

You must have spent more time at the diner than you realized. You are very fortunate, you thought, that no one came back and caught you and Randall. Would they put you in a cell at the sheriff’s station for a night or would they put you in the box? A fleeting thought. For it did not matter, no one did catch you, and you made it to your home safely just before dark.

You scrambled to open the door and let Randall inside as quickly and unnoticeably as possible. Still worried someone would see, but knowing it was unlikely an issue as most were probably already inside as that familiar nightly bell began to ring in the distance.

He had carried those two boxes the entire way, and the fact that he even offered was so kind and gentlemanly. You felt that the things people have said about him and the way they felt about him were wrong, that maybe they didn’t give him a chance. He was actually very sweet, albeit intimidating for sure. But that didn’t scare you, it only furthered your curiosity.

You regretted not taking the time to approach him sooner instead of waiting for him to approach you on a chance encounter. However it may have happened, you were thankful that it eventually did. If anything, just having him around and being in his presence made you feel less alone, less afraid. As a matter of fact, for most of your time here you weren’t sure you were even alive. But with him, this is the most alive you've ever felt since you’ve been here.

Such a simple act, a small way to fight back and to resist. He made you feel exhilarated and validated. In the short time you had spent together, you already felt like you wanted him around more. It wasn’t just the lust, even though those thoughts danced freely beneath the surface, but you felt a kind of connection with him.

It was unexplainable, maybe irrational even, you couldn’t explain it except for that you felt wanted in his presence, accepted. Something you had yet to feel here. It only drew you to him further. There were sudden realizations of unspoken truths between you two. One, you knew he wanted you; you had already known, you supposed for some time. Only now was it clear. Two, he knew you knew. And three, you wanted him as well.

He rushed past you as you pushed the door closed behind him while checking that the talisman was secure. Randall entered your home, setting the boxes upon the table just within the opening to the dining room area, then immediately returned his attention back to you. You went to move but felt locked in his gaze. You watched helplessly as he walked towards you, each step inching closer.

You turned to speak. You had a question still burning within you, you sought clarification from his snide commentary from earlier. “What did you mean by you didn’t think I had it in me?” You asked pointedly. You were curious. “Huh?” Randall spoke, stopping mid step halfway to where you stood. He paused to think for a moment. “I didn’t peg you for defiance” he mocked. “But I guess for a second, I thought you might’ve been like the others. Self-righteous, goody two shoes…” he trailed off as he began to move closer once more.

“But I guess I was wrong. You don’t back down from anything do you?” He said playfully looking down at you as the space between you became less, once more pushing himself against you. “Unh uh” you murmured with broken speech as you shook your head from side to side. So, he does see you? You thought. You went to move away when his hand grasped yours bringing your attention right back to him. You froze staring into his eyes as he spoke, trying to hear his words but being so distracted by him, it became difficult to decipher the meaning and context of what he said.

“My turn to ask a question” he said grasping both of your hands within his, gently rubbing his thumbs over the back of your hands from your knuckles to your wrists in slow circles. You nodded unable to speak, awaiting his question. What could he possibly ask? You would tell him anything. In this moment he held you prisoner, you couldn’t move if you wanted to. He held a gravity within his core so powerful you couldn’t help but be pulled in.

“Why don’t you ever look back?” He whispered. “What are you afraid of?” He spoke once more looking into your eyes examiningly. A loaded question for sure, the duality of the question alone knowing where you were, seemed almost oxymoronic. However, you knew what he meant. It wasn’t about this place; it was about you. You, yourself hadn’t truly come to terms with it, not knowing your own reasoning for why you never did. He leaned in slightly further, putting literal pressure on you. You fought hard internally to answer but felt it impossible. How could you focus when he stood so close to you. Your mind felt like mush, processing thoughts became the hardest of chores. Why must he put you on the spot like this? You thought.

“I-I don’t know” you muttered, still searching for an answer. “Were you scared of me? What people say?” He said leaning in closer. “Hell no!” You snapped back. “You’re the only person around here I actually think is real!” You replied without thinking. “It's okay.” He spoke softly, reaching his hand to grab a lock of hair from atop your shoulder, twirling it in his fingers as he spoke. You were now flat against the wall in the hallway near the dining room where he had you pinned. “I know you watch me too” he said as he leaned in to whisper in your ear once more. Your chest heaved as you inhaled deeply. Your mind raced as your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Had he seen you watching him at the farm on occasion, or at the diner? You suppose that obviously he had for him to mention that, but there’s no way he can know how you truly felt. The things you thought about him on a nightly basis when you were alone in your bed. The things you had imagined him doing to you as you gingerly slipped your hand beneath the waistband of your underwear to drown out the screaming outside with your own. Would he blush? He was so confident, so sure of himself. You wondered.

The familiar nightly rapping began at your doors as the creatures descended from the woods. Randall would be staying with you tonight. A fleeting thought so glaringly obvious yet it needed its own space and attention for you to acknowledge before it left once more, leaving a feeling of excitement and joy behind.

The noise had broken your concentration on each other as you both looked towards the direction of the sound. The voices murmured beyond the space of your home. No doubt saying the same things they did nightly, although tonight you had a feeling that they wouldn’t be much of a bother to you. Randall had a way of holding your attention, and he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

Randall returned his attention to you once more. “Looks like I’ll have to stay here tonight” he said confidently with a smirk that crept across his lips, lifting on one side. “Is there somewhere we can go in here where we won't be bothered by...” he trailed off as he gestured toward the door. “Yeah” you said clearing your throat. “Follow me”.

You led him to the bedroom upstairs. It provided some solace from the noise but it wasn’t completely unavoidable. It was the only bedroom in the house and the only space furthest from the door's downstairs. "We can sit here”, you motioned to the bed as you sat upon its edge. He followed you through the door sitting right next to you on the bed. The pressure from his weight on the bed caused you to lean into him, once again pulled by his gravity. You let yourself slip closer, blaming the motions of the mattress as it flexed. You wanted so badly to just melt into him, for him to hold you, and for you to lay your head upon his chest. He felt so close yet so far.

You crossed your legs and turned to face him. Looking up at him behind locks of brown waves that fell in front of your face. You motioned to move them, brushing them behind your ear giving him your full attention. He was facing you as well as you searched to find the words to speak. “You don’t even know my name” you said suddenly. A thought that never surfaced but only came straight out without a filter. Without You acknowledging it or accepting it. But you were right, you didn’t even think he knew your name or much else about you.

“Y/n” he spoke defiantly. “Everyone knows everything about everyone around here, or at least they like to think they do. But yes, I do know your name y/n. I probably know a lot more about you than you think. I can tell a lot about a person just by watching them. Let’s call it a newly developed skill since living on the bus, I’ve become very observant. I also know that you know me, or are aware of me and for sure know my name considering the way word travels around here” he said cheekily while letting his eyes wander your body in earnest. A dimly lit room where you were closer to him than ever. He took his time looking at every aspect of you as if you were under a microscope.

“I'm not afraid of you”. You spoke. “Yeah, I hear what other people say, but I don’t know them and I don’t trust them. I don’t think I ever will. The only thing that frightens me, is this place. But I’ll be damned if I just sit around and do nothing. If anything, those people had the right idea! No one here is safe, it's all security theatre! We might as well just fend for ourselves. Whatever Boyd is doing, is clearly not working.”

You felt as if you could speak safely and openly with Randall. You quickly discovered that you really enjoyed his presence, perhaps it was just from being alone for so long but you truly felt connected to him in some way, you didn't know why and you didn’t really try to figure that out. For now, it was beyond your comprehension and you just found yourself going with the flow. You reminded yourself that this is probably the first time in a long time that you felt anything other than dread.

“I see” he said. “Sounds like you’re just as tired of this place and the people here as I am.” He spoke once more. “But I bet you wouldn’t do what needed to be done if it were too much. Even to just forget for a while” he jested. “What makes you think I wouldn’t? what gives you that impression?” You asked looking directly into his eyes. You truly wanted an answer. Did he think this was some kind of game? Of course, you would do what needed to be done in any respect or in any manner. Whether it be to forget for a night or to save everyone or anything in between. You scoffed once more at his sentiment; it was almost funny to you as much as it was slightly insulting. He continued teasing you in this way, little did he know, you liked it. He probably did know.

“I don’t know. I look at you and I see someone with good intentions who wants to do what it takes or what is needed but beneath the surface I feel like, you’re too good, too timid, and too shy. Not that that is at all a bad thing, it’s hard to find someone with a heart as good as yours in a place as terrible as this.” You sat there, mouth agape, remarking at his words. Sure, there was some truth to it but you felt the same could apply to him. You could see he put off this hard exterior shell, but in reality, beneath the surface he was scared like the rest of us and hated to be alone. His rough demeanor was only a way to hide that. You saw right through it. However, there he went again thinking you were someone who wasn’t capable or brave enough. Whether he truly though that or not, you would show him.

“You think so?” You retorted deviously. You could feel the tension in the room as a thickness once again lifted in the air. The room felt hot and the air felt heavy. A surge of heat rushed to your core and you shivered slightly. Randall reached a hand out, placing it gently on your thigh and began tracing his fingers lightly from your knee to your hip, then grabbing your leg and pulling you closer to him.

The screams outside got louder as they approached and then moved on catching your attention, and drawing your eyes from him once more. You felt his hand lift from your thigh to your face, directing your gaze back to him. "I can help you tonight, and you could help me”. He whispered, his face was soft, he seemed genuine as he caressed your cheek, watching and waiting for your reaction. You looked on, eye brows raised. You knew he could. In fact, you so badly wanted him to. This was just all happening so fast and your mind warbled trying to play catch up from the whiplash of a day you've had. The actions of the day swirling within your mind, unable to grasp at any single particular thought. “But I bet you won’t”. He said with a sly smile in a toying manner.

His words spilled out of his mouth in a cascade of sarcasm. Thought he knew you, you thought, laughing internally. He definitely did and he was using a weakness he had figured out in his favor. Perhaps there were good intentions behind his teasing, you found yourself not caring. He had just unknowingly awoken an animal within you that had been asleep for so long. A primal urge washed over you as you rose to the occasion. He wanted to help you forget? Oh no, you would be helping him tonight! If you were anything, you sure as hell were not a coward. Your eyes narrowed as a calculating smile swept across your lips. You fixed your gaze upon him, examining him. What is it he should want you to do? You could think of a couple things.

You stood letting his hand slide from your thigh as you rose. His eyes followed you with that smirk still lingering on his lips. You stepped in front of him, nudging your legs between his knees, spreading them apart as you leaned in closer. Placing a hand atop each knee and kneeling further in until you were eye level with him. “In what way would you want me to help you tonight, Randall?” you smiled innocently, mere inches from his face. You looked him up and down, stopping at his lips then meeting his eyes again. Shrugging your shoulders as if still waiting for his reply. You felt the muscles beneath your hands tense as his smile softened.

Randall slid one hand from your shoulder, up to your neck, stopping to caress your cheek. His eyes darted from yours to your lips before his hand slid gingerly behind your head to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer. You lifted your hands from his knees and placed them around his neck as his lips met yours in a fiery lock of passion. You immediately raised your knees on either side of his legs, straddling him and enveloping yourself into his kiss. Your heads tossing back and forth as you breathed sharply through your nose. His tongue heartily exploring your mouth. You pulled his tongue into your mouth, sucking on it before biting his soft pillowy lips and returning to the kiss with fervor.

Soft moans escaped your lips with every breath you took between kisses. You ran your hand over his chest feeling every curve and definition of his build as he used both hands to pull you closer onto him. Grasping your backside, a cheek squeezed in each hand tightly. You slid a hand under his flannel and he quickly shrugged it off, returning his attention to you. You were so enveloped in the feeling of him touching you. How long it had been you've waited for this, and how nice it felt. Your nightly fantasies becoming reality. You almost forgot what led you here, you didn’t care. In this moment you were engulfed in Randall, and it was the most content you’ve felt.

Randall wrapped his fingers in your hair, holding you to him as he feverishly attacked you with kisses of passion. Heavy breathing, teeth clanking, sloppy, messy, fucking fantastic. You had been slowly grinding on him as you continued kissing him. Moving your hips gently forward and back. You could feel his breath quicken as he began guiding you with his hands. Still grasping your backside, pushing and pulling you harder onto him. You could feel the wetness pool in your panties as you felt his manhood throbbing near his thigh. Only brushing against it slightly. You could feel Randall suck air through his teeth in a hiss as you continued to grind onto his length with his help.

He quickly tightened his grip, flipping you over onto the bed and standing in front of you. You took the free moment to remove your shirt, pulling it over your head, letting your hair cascade onto your bare shoulders, back, and chest. He remarked at your breasts for a moment before fumbling to kick off his shoes and undo his pants. You quickly reached out to stop him. “Let me help” you said in the same playfully teasing manner he had done so earlier. He grinned and put his hands up. “You’re right.” He said then gestured “please”.

You chuckled lightly as you got down from the bed, kneeling on the floor in front of him. You looked up at him as you undid his belt. He looked on approvingly, watching as you disrobed him. The outline of his length against his pants was prominent. You rushed to pull his jeans down, then his boxers, revealing his manhood. It snapped up with force. It was quite substantial in length as well as girth, it throbbed a bruised red, glistening at the tip. You felt your core ache and your mouth water.

You grasped him at the base, taking hold of him while looking up at him. You wanted to see his face when you took him in. How smug would he be then? His face still carried that sly smile as if he thought he was in control. You gently licked the precum from his tip, eliciting a slight grunt from him as he reeled at the heat of your mouth upon him. How easy it was to break him you thought.

You continued looking up at him as you danced your tongue along his frenulum, encircling it with your tongue before slightly sucking just the tip and stopping to see his reaction. He moved to lift up his shirt, you slid your hand underneath the space he provided. You traced the veins that wound their way along his v line. His skin was so soft, yet firm. His build was so athletic and toned. Touching him made you dizzy, he was just so perfect, and tonight, you’d make him whimper.

He looked down at you, locking eyes as you opened your mouth taking him in fully. Doing your best to relax your throat and accept him, taking him in as deeply as he could go until your nose hit his mound. You could feel his hands quickly grasp your head, gathering your hair into a ponytail, held by his hands. He immediately moved to hold you there. Your hands pressed against each thigh on either side as you fought to hold your breath while your throat hitched and lurched, gagging on him. Saliva began leaking out from both corners of your lips as your face turned red and spots began to fill your vision. Tears streaming down your cheeks.

Just then he let you go, pulling you back before he could bust. You breathed in deeply, catching your breath, as he held your face with one hand, squeezing your cheeks between his grip, pouting your lips. “So, fucking beautiful” he said between gritted teeth before returning his grip to your hair, gathering it in one fistful and holding his shirt up with the other. Before you finish catching your breath, your mouth was on him once again. Sliding his length in and out of your mouth, hitting the back of your throat every time. You forced yourself to take him all in every time, to gag on him. You could feel his cock spasm, leaking a salty precum. Each time you felt it, a gasp would escape his lips.

He took a moment, letting go of your hair to take his shirt off before returning his grip to your head. He met each motion of your mouth with thrusts of his own as he threw his head back in ecstasy. Faint moans escaped his lips each time you took him in fully. You watched as he looked back down, his mouth open, gritting his teeth with each inhale. His eyes looked on innocently, pupils enlarged, eyebrows raised, meeting in the middle as he continued between watching you and rolling his head back. His thrusts quickened as he grabbed each side of your face before pulling you away.

You looked up at him with glistening puffy lips, wiping at the corners of your mouth as he pulled you up, meeting you with a sloppy breathy kiss. Your breasts pressed firmly against his sternum, he reached down to squeeze and paw at them with one hand as he held you close at the small of your back with the other. Your tongues glided against each other, swirling in and out of your mouths until his hands firmly pushed you back onto the bed. His face hardened once more with that smirk that he held when he was confident, when he had control.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as he gently yet forcefully undid your jeans and pulled them off of you before sliding his own off, kicking them onto the floor next to him followed by his boxers. He then gently placed a finger from each hand under the waistband of your panties. Slowly he wiggled them off of you, revealing you fully to him. You lifted yourself slightly so that he could pull them off. He carelessly tossed them aside before leaning down to kiss you once more. The cold air down below sent shivers up your spine, but warmth quickly brushed up against you and you felt yourself buck into him almost instinctively.

Your back arched as he slowly peppered kisses on his way down. Starting from your neck leading down your collarbones to your chest where he paid particular attention to your breasts giving them the full attention they deserved. He squeezed them tightly while lightly flicking his tongue over your nipple. The cold breeze from his breath intensifying the pleasure. You could feel your breath hitch once more, you ached for him, needed so badly for him to be inside you. You could feel yourself dripping for him the anticipation killing you mentally and physically.

He continued on kissing down your abdomen, laying a kiss on your belly button, kissing each hip before following it down to your mound where he gently nipped at you. You gasped at the feeling as he slid both hands under each side of each thigh, pulling you towards his face. You felt your breathing quicken as his face slowly disappeared behind your mound. Only his eyes left peeking over watching your every reaction as he slowly licked you from top to bottom. Licking up every drop of your slick. You tried hard to focus on him, the feeling of the pleasure. Your head snapped back as his tongue pressed inside you. Tasting you fully.

You let out a cry, the feeling of his tongue moving in and out of you, driving you to the brink of no return. You grabbed his head with both hands pulling him closer to you grinding into his face. He pulls away, replacing his tongue with two fingers and quickly moving his lips to your throbbing clit. He began working his fingers in and out of you as he flicked your clit gingerly with his tongue, sucking it gently between his lips. You bucked into his grip. You could feel his mouth form a smile on you as you tried so hard to grind on him, pulling his face into you once more. He continued on, fucking you even harder with his fingers, you threw your head back once again, moaning loudly in ecstasy. You felt as if you were about to explode you tried to close your legs but he used both hands to forcefully push them back open and hold them there while continuing to suck your clit furiously. He watched as your face contorted nearing your end.

Before you could feel yourself approaching your climax, he pulled his face away, hopping up onto his knees and pushing them between your legs, spreading them open and pushing himself against you. You look up at him pleadingly as his eyes hungrily wander your body. He takes his hands grabbing a top of each side of your hip, pulling you up to him and onto his thighs where he kneeled on the bed. His cock perched right at your entrance. His thumb encircled your clit, another soft moan escaping your lips. He laid you back down flat as he moved in to kiss you once more. Slowly tracing along your tongue with his, allowing you to taste yourself on him.

You once again felt him press against your entrance. Your body defied you, it was eager to know what he felt like. It bucked against him autonomously of its own accord and own volition. Not that your mind didn’t agree, it just wasn’t fast enough to keep up with your primal urge to be bred by this man. As if sensing your eagerness, he lifted one of your legs to your chest and leaned against it slowly pushing himself into you. “Fuuuck” he said in a low growl as he pushed the tip in, forcing himself in the rest of the way. You clenched around him as he slid inside if you, filling you completely. As tight as you were, he slid in so easily because of how insanely wet he made you. You looked deeply into his eyes as he lay his forehead upon yours. Your eyes, staring at him in a pleadingly innocent manner, almost as if you were ready to beg. His expression was fixed, stern, and focused. He looked so fucking sexy you thought. Buried deep inside you. “Randall, fuck!” You moaned in his ear in a strain watching as he pushed himself to the hilt within you.

You watched as his face slightly contorted with each thrust, how his lips thinned, and his jaw tightened. How every muscle in his body tensed, squeezing himself tightly against you. Each push was met with a moan from you, and a grunt from him as he picked up his pace. His length fully filling you with each push, bringing you so close to coming once again. The curve of his cock hitting your G-spot with each upward thrust, your body quivered and your legs shook beneath him.

“Feels so fucking good inside me!” You cried. “So fucking deep!” You moaned once more, arching your back and meeting each thrust of his with your own. He watched how you reacted and when he thought you were really enjoying yourself, he continued those actions. He didn’t lie, he was very observant. You put your leg down and crossed them both behind his back, pulling him to you closer as he continued pounding into you, throwing your head back into the comforter that lay halfway on the bed beneath you.

His thrusts grew more aggressive as he panted above you, resting his hand upon your throat to steady himself, squeezing slightly. He slowed, slipping out of you and rising up as you whimpered. With one hand he gently tapped your side, motioning for you to turn over. You climbed onto your knees in front of him. You were postured on all fours spread open for him. He slid his hand down your back, pushing you down onto the mattress, laying your chest flush against the now messy sheets and blankets. The comforter now laid on the floor in a pile of puffy fabric.

His hands gripped both sides of your hips as he crept closer to you on the bed, kneeling just behind you as you lay with your face buried, and your ass in the air. He swung his hand back and slapped your ass cheek with enough force it echoed with a ‘crack’ in the room and for sure left a red print of his hand. You jumped, yelping in surprise. He quickly rubbed the spot he had slapped, caressing the hot stinging flesh he left behind.

His length pressed firmly against your opening. With his thumbs he grasped each cheek, spreading you open for him as he pushed himself inside once more. He felt even deeper now, you cried into the sheets as you turned your head to look back at him. He continued holding onto your hips, digging his hands into the crease between your thighs and your waist. His fingers rested just beyond your bikini line as they applied pressure, pulling you toward him. "You're such a good girl” He began fucking you furiously, each thrust with the sound of a slap. You liked it when he was rough with you.

You locked eyes with him, “use me” was all you could muster to say in your breathlessness. His eyes darkened and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. You watched behind strands of damp hair as he continued thrusting into you, harder each time. His moans low an guttural. His thrusts also became faster, pounding into your slick wet cunt like an assault, pushing you further into the mattress until your legs lay flat underneath him. He held you there like that as he continued. Placing both of his hands on your shoulders. Your face buried in the sheets, you screamed each time he buried himself within you. He was so deep, it hurt. You could feel him slam into your cervixe with each push. But it felt so fucking good. One of his hands slipped to the backside of your neck where he continued pushing, leaning in closely to peck your sweat tinged forehead as his cock continued beating into your cunt. You mewled at him, still begging for more.

He quickly and suddenly rolled you on top on him. You straddled him on the bed, his cock still twitching deep inside you. “Ride me” he said demandingly. Looking directly into your eyes with a face you would never say no to. You would do anything he demanded of you. You lifted each leg to steady yourself on your feet while remaining seated, feeling him throb within you. Watching his face twitch as you shifted positions, how his eyes watched your every move.

You met his eyes and locked gaze as you slowly began to bounce on top of him. His hands rested upon your thighs, slamming you down as you went, lifting his head from the bed and throwing it back as you continued moving up and down his length. “Y/n” he whimpered as you clenched around him. He hissed, sucking in air through his gritted teeth, using his hands to help rock you forward and backwards on top of him as you rose and fell. His face softened as you used your hands to explore his body. Caressing his abdomen and chest, reaching to his face and gently dancing your fingertips over his lips, enveloping him in a passionate kiss as you continued to grind into him. You sat up once more watching his face as you rode him. He pawed at your heaving breasts as they bounced above him. Squeezing them and caressing them.

His breathing quickened and your body felt light. You could feel his body tense underneath you. Your motions slowed as you approached your own climax. Bouncing less and grinding more, his cock, hitting the right spot every time. He reached his hands to your hips, pulling you closer onto him, pushing you back and pulling you forward. You could feel yourself clenching harder around him, focusing on the feeling.

He was grunting and breathing heavy with each push against him. He locked eyes with you once more under a furrowed brow. Watching as you writhed, and moaned atop of him, because of him. He drew great pleasure in seeing you enjoy yourself. But so did you. Focusing on his face as he felt you envelope him, feeling you from the inside. “Come for me?” you said pleadingly. He nodded, squeezing your hips, rocking you back and forth on him harder. Up, down, forward, back.

You could feel yourself tighten around him as you approached the precipice of your climax. His cock swelling inside you. Your orgasm took hold, striking through your body. You quivered and convulsed on top of him crying out loudly as you came. “Fuuuck, Randall I’m coming!” Your breath hitched as your climax ravaged your body, causing you to breath as if you had just jumped into a cold lake. You froze as the convulsions sent shockwaves through your body. You could feel his cock begin to spasm inside of you as his movements slowed, holding you to him as he pumped his seed deep within your trembling cunt. A long low animalistic groan escaped his lips, almost like a growl as he came. Each twitch of his member, filling you with the warmth of his essence. His face scrunched as his body twitched beneath you with each wave of his orgasm that swept over him. You continued riding him excruciatingly slow, letting pearls of his essence leak out of you.

As both of your breathing began to slow he reached up pulling your face towards his, stealing a sloppy tired kiss. He pushed himself up, and you slid off of him laying next to him. He then reached over, turning the knob for the bedside lamp to shut it off before sliding closer to you. Laying on the pillow beside you and facing you, he intertwines his legs with yours. His still swollen member rest a top your mid thigh as he pulled you closer to him.

He pulled the comforter from the floor to cover you, looking down at you, with one finger lifting your chin for another kiss. He closed his eyes and pressed his soft lips hard against yours, breathing in through his nose. He continued kissing your face before cradling you to his chest where you held onto him raising and wrapping one leg around him, listening to his heartbeat and being lulled to sleep by it. “Thank you” you heard him whisper while kissing the top of your head as you drifted to sleep within his arms, thinking of how sweet he was and how you managed to find a sliver of happiness here. How lucky you must be, you thought. There was no greater comfort you could ask for than Randall. In a place where you were forever lost, Randall felt like home.

Tag List: @azirayphale, @degeorgetown, @iwantbloostoes, @l-o-t-t-i-e, @thekr2ken, @scarlets-phases, @the-kitty-cat-shirt, @bananapanpan, @emmy2811, @cafemirka, @kumisbaby, @ushygussy, @loving-the-dead16, @rosey1981, @ch3rrybbie, @girlinthegoldenchair, @hellolove137, @raffydesign @wowhowrudeofyou, @alllaboutangel, @lucillewinchester, @polishedsins, @pavvtron, @fallenvervain, @somerwolf13, @horpynaa,

If you would like to be added to the tag list or taken off, please lmk.

#randall kirkland smut #randall kirkland x fem reader #randall kirkland x you #randall kirkland x reader #randall from #randall kirkland #epix from #from fanfiction #from tv #from epix #ao3 #pink dream ganja queen #from mgm

136 notes · View notes

ghostboneswrites2 · 9 months ago

Note

I really resonated with Daryl x abused reader could you maybe do one where the reader doesn’t let their past define them and shows little signs of abuse like they’re super cheery and happy and doesn’t let their past get them down and but maybe reader has a ptsd attack by Daryl after he confronts her about being so happy especially in an apocalypse and they just realize they relate to each other even if they’re personalities are so drastically and Daryl just comforts reader 🫂

The Painted Bunting

Era: Greene Farm

Summary: Daryl is paired with you on the search for Sophia and snaps at you after growing tiresome of your seemingly endless kindness.

Note: No more laptop for now since the cord broke so I hope you’ll all forgive the lack of my usual post formatting :(

Warnings: profanity, mentions of past abuse, grumpy sassy asshole Daryl (the man we originally fell in love with)

Banner credits on this post

Shining hair in the rays of the sun, an infectious laugh, a beaming grin that never seemed to dissipate. A glowing beacon in the dark. That was what you were. And, admittedly, it got under his skin a little, so Daryl tended to avoid you. You weren’t oblivious to it, but you accepted it for what it was. After all, you couldn’t win them all, right?

You had always been that way; soft, gentle, graceful, kind. If you had never let the past change that for you, you certainly wouldn’t let present day events change it, either. Maybe the world had become a nightmare, but that didn’t mean you had to be one too.

Daryl thought that what really gritted his teeth about you was that through everything that had happened, you never changed a single bit. Not like the others had; not like he had.

After the world fell, after the camp by the quarry was overrun, after the CDC, after Sophia had gone missing, you remained exactly the same. For all of the afore mentioned, Daryl found you to be one of the most vexing people he ever had the displeasure of interacting with, second only to Shane, who could have easily been traded off for his own brother, Merle.

Needless to say, he was peeved at the idea that you were sent on search duty with him after he hurt himself in the ravine. Rick decided a buddy system would be beneficial to all of the search party participants, and you volunteered to tag along, because of course you did.

You weren’t so much looking forward to spending so much one on one time with the man, yourself. You didn’t necessarily have an issue with him, but you were all too aware of the issue he seemed to have with you. Really, you couldn’t relate to him at all. Not everyone around camp was perky and sweet, and rightfully so, but Daryl was such a brooding presence and you just couldn’t put yourself in that frame of mind.

The two of you had set out just after dawn and the hours ticked by as you made friendly conversation and Daryl occasionally offered you a measly grunt in response.

“Do you think we’ll find anyone out here?” You asked. “I mean, aside from Sophia. I know we’ll find her.”

“Pro’ly better if we don’t find nobody else.” Was his first verbal response all day. You shrugged.

“I don’t know. Could be good. I’m sure there are people who could really use some help.”

“Ain’t our problem.” He argued. “Gotta look out for our own. The hell you worried about helpin’ strangers for when we ain’t even found the little girl we’re after?”

“Oh, no.” You chuckled nervously. “It’s not that I was just —“ You cut yourself off, sensing an oncoming ramble. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Mm.” He hummed, pausing his footsteps to take a breath and scan his surroundings. After a moment, he continued forward, and you followed without question . Admittedly, you had no clue how to track, so if anything you were there in case he got hurt.

“So, if someone needed your help… You wouldn’t help?” You asked innocently.

He whipped around to face you, the aggression behind his motion drawing you to a dead stop.

“The hell’s your problem, huh?” He snapped. You blinked. “It’s the end of the goddamn world and you’re askin’ me about some hypothetical moral dilemma? Let me tell you somethin’, girl; ain’t no damn morals in the apocalypse. Ain’t no more law and order! It’s just us,” he paused, sending an arrow through the skull of a walker that had crept up behind you. You flinched and turned to watch its carcass thud on the forest floor. “And them.” He concluded.

“I—I was just making conversation.” You mumbled timidly.

“Why? It’s not a social call! We’re out here to find that little girl. This is why I didn’t need no damn babysitter.” He complained.

“I was just trying to be nice.” You defended.

“Nice?” He scoffed. That simple word seemed to trigger something in him as his eyes lit up with aggravation. “Don’t you get it? It ain’t about bein’ nice anymore. It’s about survival. Got dead people standin’ up and eatin’ people and you’re worried about bein’ nice. Walkin’ around passin’ out water and food and gigglin’ with everybody like we ain’t got a bunch o’ dead bodies stumblin’ around us just waitin’ to take a bite out.”

Maybe it was the way he raised his voice, or the way his eyes shot flaming daggers of fury right through your chest, or the way he threw his arms down and spat words at you like you were some puny, wretched little thing. You didn’t know what it was, but somewhere in the whirlwind of heated exchange, his voice slowly blended together with the other voice — the one that still lived in the back of your mind and ate away at you every day.

The voice that belonged to your own father, the one person who struck true, genuine fear in you. Before you knew it, that old sensation of real terror, the one you’d buried somewhere deep inside you and covered with cement, was breaking free and engulfing you.

You were frozen, like a fawn under the scrutinizing gaze of a predator. The humid air felt like a thick paste as you struggled to gulp it down and catch a breath. At first, Daryl felt inclined to criticize your tears as a show of weakness, fragility, inability to handle a little raise of the voice. He quickly noticed, however, that this was no simple burst of reactionary emotions. No, this was something much deeper and it was rattling you to the core. There was a distant look in your wide eyes, one that he came to recognize, even if it took him a minute.

He shifted on his feet, scanning you, unsure how to intervene.

“Hey.” He eventually called out, but it was clear his voice wasn’t reaching you. This was the final piece of confirmation he needed. You were having an episode, the kind he experienced a few times when he first got out of his father’s abusive home.

He sighed and grabbed your trembling shoulders. You jumped but you didn’t flee or strike out. His touch seemed to dry you out and shrivel you up like a raisin. You shrank into yourself, hyperventilating.

“C’mon.” He said softly, ushering you done to your knees. “Hey. Ya gotta breathe.”

Your breathe only became more shallow and forced. Tears poured down your cheeks as your chest got tighter.

“Just breathe. That’s the only way it’s gonna stop.” He urged. He went to grab your wrists but you panicked, snatching your arms away and falling down on your back.

“No! Get away! You can’t do this anymore! I’m not a little kid!” You cried out.

You were making quite a bit of noise by this point, between the gasps for air and the sobs. He crouched over you and grabbed your shoulders.

“(Y/N), ya ain’t there anymore. Wherever it is, it’s gone. In the past. It’s just you and me right now, and we ain’t there. We’re here.” He soothed, hoping his voice could find you somewhere in the abyss. “Just listen. Ya hear that? It’s a Painted Bunting. Look,” he pointed up into a tree at a bright multicolored bird, similar in its beauty to a parrot, only much smaller. “It’s right up there. Ya see it?”

Your breathing had started to slow down now, those shallow inhales finally reaching a little deeper within. Your eyes lazily followed his finger to the bright little bird singing a flute-like melody.

“Ya see it?” He asked again. You managed to nod once, still holding your arms tightly to your chest as you laid flat on the bed of leaves and twigs. He took a moment to see you, to really take you in, and he realized you were beautiful. Not just in the way a pretty girl with a nice personality was beautiful, but in a way that left so much of who you really were unsaid.

“Just watch it.” He whispered, glancing back up at the feathered creature, hoping it would stick around long enough to bring you back down to earth. “They take two years to look that pretty. Did ya know that?” He asked, glancing back down at you. Your eyes were still on the bird, but you shook your head no. “Yeah. Only the males, too.” He added. “Otherwise, they’re just kinda greenish and yellowish.”

Once your chest was rising and falling with a steady rhythm, you finally looked over at him. Humiliation began to set in. You quickly sat yourself up and brushed the dead foliage away from your clothes and hair.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled. “That hasn’t happened in a long time.”

“‘S okay.” He shrugged, standing himself back up as well. “Happens.”

“Yeah, we’ll, it shouldn’t. Not nowadays.”

“Can’t help it when it does.” He assured you. “I get it.”

“Maybe I should head back.” You suggested.

“We both can. If ya wanna. It’ll be dark soon anyways.”

“I don’t wanna make you lose your trail or.. Ya know.” You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

“Nah. Ain’t no use after dark, anyways. We’d just be stumbling in circles and bumpin’ into each other.” He insisted, contrastingly soft in comparison to before your episode.

“Oh. Right.” You nodded. Just as you got ready to turn back toward the farm, he cleared his throat.

“Ya wanna talk about it?”

“About what?” You turned back to him. He shifted his weight anxiously, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Offering an ear to listen was at least ten yards outside the perimeter of his comfort zone. “About that?” You asked. “That was nothing. Just something stupid that happens sometimes. That’s all.”

While his tone was much kinder and warmer than before, yours was cold, dull, and tired. Those episodes could take a lot out of a person, and he was no stranger to that fact.

“Sometimes it helps.” He said. “Talkin’ about it. Makes it a little less…” He trailed off, searching for the word he wanted. “Less, uh… Consuming.”

“It never gets less consuming.” You argued.

“It does.” He insisted.

“And how would you know?” You asked, impatience lacing your words.

“I used to get ‘em too.” He admitted. “Been awhile but… I just get it. That’s all.”

You studied him. In all the weeks you’d spent around the man, you’d never seen him so genuine, or really so open. He never seemed to look at you like another person. You were always just another load on his shoulders.

“My dad.” You finally spoke. He nodded.

“Me too.”

“I’m sorry.” You sympathized.

“Me too.” He agreed.

“We should go.” You sighed, turning away again.

This time you didn’t wait for him, you just started walking, until he called out behind you; “‘M sorry.” You stood still, but you didn’t look back. He knew he had your attention, though, and he knew he had to say something else. “I know I did it this time. I shouldn’t’ve yelled at ya like that.”

“It’s okay. Maybe you were right.”

“Nah.” He shook his head, taking slow steps to catch up to you. “I wasn’t. It’s good. Ya didn’t let none of that shit make ya bitter. Keep it that way. Else you’ll end up a grumpy redneck.” He joked. You suppressed the small smile that tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Maybe the grumpy rednecks of the world got it figured out.” You said, walking again once you felt him catch up.

“Nah. I don’t know shit about shit.” He admitted, eliciting a small laugh from you. You shook your head.

“I don’t think anyone does.” You reasoned.

On the hike back to the Greene farm, you two shared some light banter, some stories of the past, some laughs and extended looks. He grew finder of you that day. The critical glares he’d send you from a distance were replaced with admiration and respectful nods. You’d often catch him looking and flash him a big smile, waving at him before you attention was drawn elsewhere.

You both learned that maybe the two of you were differently colored fruit, but you grew from the same tree, and you weren’t so different after all. And, that sentiment was never lost or forgotten. It carried with you for as long as you two knew each other.

Taglist || Masterlist

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl x female reader #daryl twd #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x you #daryl x y/n

339 notes · View notes

writingwithcolor · 1 year ago

Text

Any advice for handling race in reincarnation situations?

@swamp-spirit asked:

I'm writing a story that includes characters being reincarnated with completely different appearances. It's a fantasy world, and most of the characters are being reborn in the same region, but I still want a range of skin tones and features in the main cast (this is a comic). I have weird feelings about a character being 'reborn' with notably lighter or darker skin, but it also feels implausible and lazy for people to Just Happen to have a similar appearance when the theology of the story doesn't support it. Characters being reborn, and taking out things specific to real life groups, what are the major things you'd want an author to read up on or take into account? (Note: there is not a 'white' looking ethnic group in this story)

I don’t think it’s a problem as long as the skin tones don’t have any correlation to the circumstances that they’re reincarnated into.

- SK

It’s an interesting question, because in most religions where reincarnation/ transmigration of the soul is a feature of “what happens after death”, remembering one’s past life is not really part of the package deal. From what you’ve written, it’s not clear to me where the “memory” of these characters’ lives are held. Is there a 3rd person omniscient narrator telling the audience who each person is in their next life or do the characters themselves retain memory of past lives?

Assuming this is your typical reincarnation scenario where characters retain no memory of previous lives, it doesn’t much matter. The next life is the next life. Who a person was in their previous life and that identity, in theory, means nothing to them. This also means whatever personality, values, experiences and so on they had in their previous life no longer has meaning. They are, in effect, another person. However, you say you feel awkward about the above which makes me wonder if characters are remembering past lives, in which case…

If you study pretty much any major Asian religion where reincarnation is a part of the belief system, having no memory of the previous life is par for the course. In present-day religions like Jainism, Sikhism, Hinduism and Buddhism, only “special” (I’m using the term very casually here) entities like bodhisattvas, guru, arihant, buddhas, etc. usually get to keep their memories, while the rest of us (literal) mere mortals are supposed to lose our memories between lives as a part of Samsara. In Hinduism, even the gods often forget their previous lives, unless their reincarnation had a targeted purpose (Like being born to defeat an evil entity).

For most people, it is only through prayer, devotion, meditation and accumulated virtuous/ good/ compassionate deeds that humans are thought to deepen their understanding of the nature of the universe, and thus have the capacity to remember past lives (I’m, again, paraphrasing very loosely here from several years worth of university history+religion courses).

This is why the isekai genre in Japan is largely regarded as a “cheat”/ parody genre of fantasy. The protagonist, according to common Japanese cultural beliefs, which are quite heavily grounded in Buddhism, is definitively “cheating.” Not to get too ironically biblical, the character’s success often comes from the forbidden knowledge borne of their previous life.

Thus, there are two ways I look at your characters’ predicaments:

It’s not technically reincarnation - not by the way most major world religions define reincarnation, anyway. You have people who died now inhabiting other bodies, but that’s not the same as the transmigration of the soul. Also, you want to delve into the weirdness (and maybe heaviness) of “Wow, I went to sleep with one face and woke up with another.” There are certainly stories about people who have had dramatic cosmetic plastic surgery, weight loss surgery, HRT, etc. and then experienced the difference in the “before” versus “after” of how their altered physical appearance makes them feel, as well as how other people treat them. Even if the community your characters are born into now differs from their previous community (Which I guess would make this more a “I traveled between dimensions, and my appearance altered in the process” sci-fi adjacent affair), their new life will still have social environments with differing attitudes towards human physical appearance that will affect your characters’ emotional states.

Isekai it up and play with the ridiculous contradiction of having past lives and differing memories of one’s appearance. Isekai manga, manhwa and webtoons all make use of this trope heavily, especially with protagonists who experience a “glow-up” (Ex. Going from a Plain Jane OL to beautiful fantasy heroine) or, by contrast, protagonists who end up in very different forms from their original lives (Tensura, I’m a Spider, So What?). I’d be creative and go even more granular. Being able to tan after a lifetime of getting sunburns or no longer needing glasses might be nice, but what if the new body lacks the enzymes to process dairy or alcohol? What about dealing with differences in hair texture? Skincare routines? What about living life as a very tall person after being quite short or vice versa? What if you bumped into an acquaintance from your previous life, and one of you clearly got a more “coveted” reincarnation? See how far of an extreme you can take this idea until it feels too uncomfortable or ridiculous.

Marika.

#reincarnation #skin #skin tone #worldbuilding #religions #characters #ask #isekai #writeblr

431 notes · View notes

onlinesuzie · 5 months ago

Text

☆ hamzah vs. watching love island ☆

words: 2.3k

summary: Hamzah has always found Love Island embarrassing an unrealistic but on a warm summers evening spent pouring drinks and binging the show with Martin and Mandy, Hamzah’s disdain for Love Island changes when he has the opportunity to ‘pull you for a chat’.

notes: GUYS I LOVE LOVE ISLAND SO BAD and martin and mandy mentioning it on ooc inspired me to write this!!

♡

It was one of those lazy summer evenings at Mandy’s house, where the air was thick with warmth and your favourite part of the summer was about to begin. You, Mandy, and Martin had gathered in the living room, ready for your weekly tradition of binge watching that week’s episodes of Love Island. The show was a guilty pleasure for the three of you, a chance to unwind and indulge in the drama and romance unfolding on the screen.

You thought it was stupid but some part of you wanted that cheesy romance, the type where you just make out for no reason or just anything. It had been months since you had even kissed someone let alone all the borderline soft porn you laugh at with Mandy and Martin. But regardless of how much action you were getting, alcohol and snacks were scattered across the coffee table, and you were nestled comfortably on the couch next to your friends.

The night was in full swing, and the alcohol kept flowing. The more you drank, the funnier the islanders’ antics appeared. You, Mandy, and Martin were laughing loudly, making bets on who would be kicked off next, and sipping your drinks between comments.

As the opening credits rolled for the Wednesday’s episode, Hamzah wandered into the room, his expression one of mild disdain. “I still don’t understand how you guys can watch this shit,” he remarked, folding his arms and leaning against the doorway.

“Fuck,” you thought. Maybe it was the alcohol or the grossly horny scenes you’d been watching for the past few hours, but Hamzah looked incredible. He looked so good, with his biceps straining against the fabric of his loose shirt and his hair falling casually over his warm brown eyes.

Mandy rolled her eyes playfully. “Oh, come on, Hamzah. It’s fun! Besides, you don’t have to watch it with us, you just like to complain.”

Martin grinned, tossing a piece of popcorn at Hamzah. “Yeah, man, just let us have our fun. You’re always free to join us if you want.”

Hamzah dodged the popcorn with a chuckle, shaking his head. He approached the three of you and leaned against the back of the couch, his arms looking impressively defined in the artificial blue light. You found it hard to focus on the show as you admired how good he looked. “I think I’ll pass,” he said, releasing his grip on the couch and gesturing toward the TV as he made eye contact with Martin. “This whole thing is just so… fake. Who behaves like that when they actually like someone?”

You couldn’t suppress a smile at Hamzah’s typical response. It was a long-standing joke among your group that he was the self-appointed critic of all things reality television. It made sense; the thought of Hamzah behaving like the guys on Love Island was a bit unsettling. You had never seen him with a girl before, and while Martin mentioned that Hamzah had dated in the past, none of those girls had ever made an appearance since you’d known him.

Mandy laughs at him, “You don’t even know what that’s like Hamzah, you don’t even know how to talk to women let alone have the opportunity to pull someone for a chat”

“I could, but whatever, it doesn’t matter cause this isn’t what dating is like” Hamzah criticised.

“Suit yourself,” you teased, glancing over at him. “But you’re missing out on some quality entertainment.”

Hamzah’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you could see how warm and inviting his eyes were, his thick eyelashes, the deep brown colour. He opened his mouth to say something but seemed to think better of it, shaking his head with a smile. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. Enjoy your show.”

As he walked away, you felt this disappointment of him leaving. Over the months, you couldn’t deny how attracted you were to Hamzah, and maybe it was just the alcohol speaking but he looked gorgeous tonight, and every interaction with him seemed to intensify the emotions you tried so hard to keep in check.

The evening progressed with the usual mix of laughter and commentary, and the frequent refills of your drinks. Mandy and Martin were engrossed in the latest drama between the islanders, while you found your thoughts drifting back to Hamzah. You could hear him moving around in the kitchen, and the low hum of his voice as he hummed a tune. The alcohol in your system made you feel bolder, more aware of your surroundings, and undeniably drawn to Hamzah.

Eventually, a commercial break gave you an excuse to get up and stretch your legs. “I’m going to grab another drink,” you announced, making your way to the kitchen with slightly tipsy movements.

Hamzah looked up as you entered, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Taking a break from the love triangle drama?”

“Something like that,” you replied, leaning against the counter. “I needed a breather. And maybe some real conversation as you would say.”

He chuckled, passing you a glass of water. “I can definitely offer that. How are you holding up?”

“Good, just the usual work stuff,” you said, taking a sip. “And you? How’s everything going with the channel?”

“Busy as always,” he said, running a hand through his curls. “But I love it. Keeps me distracted.”

As you watched him, you couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he looked tonight. His dark curls framed his face perfectly, and his eyes sparkling with the dim lighting making your heart warm to him more. Was it the alcohol making you see him in this romantic light, or had you always felt this way?

There was a moment of comfortable silence, the kind that often fell between you two. It was in these moments that you felt closest to him, the quiet allowing for an unspoken connection to surface.

“You know,” you began, your voice dropping to a more playful tone, “you’re missing out on all the fun out there. Maybe you should join us and see what all the fuss is about.”

Hamzah looked a little taken aback by your forwardness, his cheeks coloring slightly. “I don’t know if I’d call it fun,” he said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “But I guess I could sit with you guys for a bit.”

You stepped closer to him, feeling emboldened by the drinks you’d had. “I think you’d enjoy it more than you think,” you said, your voice soft and teasing moving closer to Hamzah.

Hamzah’s eyes widened slightly, and he seemed at a loss for words. “Maybe… maybe I’ll give it a try,” he stammered, his usual confidence momentarily shaken by your proximity.

You smiled, taking another sip of your drink. “Good. It’s always more fun with you around, Hamzah.”

Before he could respond, the sound of Mandy calling your name from the living room broke the moment. “Come on, we’re missing the show!”

You gave Hamzah one last playful look before turning to leave. “Think about it,” you said over your shoulder as you made your way back to the couch.

As you settled back in with Mandy and Martin, you couldn’t help but glance back towards the kitchen, where Hamzah stood, looking a little dazed but undeniably intrigued. The night continued with the usual banter and laughter, but now, there was an unspoken tension between you and Hamzah.

The chatter of Mandy and Martin filled the living room as you huddled on the couch, eyes glued to the chaotic drama of Love Island. The alcohol coursing through your veins loosened your inhibitions and heightened your senses. Each moment spent watching the ridiculous antics on-screen only made you think of Hamzah, who had just slipped into the kitchen for a drink.

You couldn’t help but admire him from afar. The way his dark curls fell effortlessly around his face, the way his shirt clung to his frame just right—it was all mesmerizing. With every laugh that rang out from the room, you felt a flutter of excitement mixed with longing. It was as if the alcohol had amplified everything you felt for him, making him the most attractive person in the room.

Suddenly, Hamzah reappeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. “Hey, can you come here for a second?” His voice broke through your thoughts, and you found yourself looking into his warm, inviting eyes.

“Me?” you asked, slightly surprised but undeniably intrigued. “What’s up?”

“Just something I wanted to show you,” he said, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

Your heart raced at the invitation, and you quickly excused yourself from the couch, making your way to the kitchen. As you stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted. It was just you and Hamzah, and the air was thick with unspoken tension.

“What did you want to show me?” you asked, leaning against the counter, feeling slightly tipsy but more confident by the alcohol.

Without answering, Hamzah closed the distance between you in a heartbeat. His hands found your waist as he pulled you closer, and before you could process what was happening, he leaned in and captured your lips with his. The kiss was sudden and electrifying, igniting a rush of warmth that spread through your body.

You melted against him, surprised at the intensity of his kiss and the urgency behind it. Hamzah’s lips moved against yours with a passionate hunger, his touch igniting every nerve in your body. As you responded, kissing him back, you felt your head spin, the world around you fading into nothingness. The kiss deepened, his hands roaming to the small of your back, pulling you even closer as if he never wanted to let go.

Your heart raced as you leaned into him, savoring the taste of his lips and the warmth radiating from his body. The moment felt electric, charged with all the unspoken feelings you had harbored for so long. Hamzah’s breath mingled with yours, creating a shared rhythm that left you breathless. You could feel the heat rising between you, the chemistry strong as you lost yourself in the kiss.

As the kiss continued, you tangled your fingers in his dark curls, deepening the connection, feeling every rush of adrenaline that came with it. Hamzah responded by pressing you against the counter, his body a reassuring weight against yours, grounding you in the midst of the overwhelming emotions swirling around you.

You pulled back for a moment, breathless, your foreheads resting together as you both gasped for air. The playful glint in his eyes now had a serious undertone, a depth of feeling that sent your heart racing all over again. “Wow,” he breathed, still trying to catch his breath. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Neither did I,” you admitted, feeling a giddy rush of exhilaration wash over you.

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Really?” you asked, your heart soaring at his confession.

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze steady and sincere. “You’re beautiful, and I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while.”

Just then, the sound of Mandy calling from the living room broke the intimate atmosphere. “Hey! What’s taking so long in there?”

You exchanged a knowing look with Hamzah, both of you unable to suppress the smiles spreading across your faces.

“Guess we should get back before they wonder if we’re plotting something,” you said, reluctantly stepping away from him.

Hamzah nodded but lingered for a moment longer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe we are,” he said teasingly, his voice low.

With one last shared smile, you turned and headed back into the living room, feeling the thrill of the kiss linger in the air. You settled back onto the couch next to Mandy and Martin, trying to focus on the screen while your heart raced with the memory of Hamzah’s lips on yours.

As he rejoined the group, Mandy immediately looked at him with a teasing grin. “What took you so long? Did you find the secret stash of snacks or something?”

Hamzah chuckled, glancing between you and your friends. “Just… got distracted,” he said, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

Martin raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing something had shifted in the air. “Distracted, huh? Doing what, exactly?” he probed, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Oh, you know, just talking,” Hamzah replied, his tone casual, but you could see a hint of nervousness in his demeanor.

Mandy smirked, nudging him playfully. “You two were in there long enough for a serious conversation. What happened!”

You felt your cheeks flush at the teasing, but Hamzah simply laughed it off, shrugging his shoulders. “Nothing major. Just catching up. “

As the teasing continued, you settled into the couch, the warmth of the moment still lingering between you and Hamzah. You could feel his presence beside you, the comfort of being near him made you blush. The electricity of your earlier kiss hung in the air, unspoken yet there.

In a bold move, you leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder. To your delight, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in closer. The warmth radiating from him made you feel safe and cherished, and you couldn’t help but smile.

Hamzah glanced down at you, his expression softening. “You okay?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” you replied, looking up at him. “I’m really good, actually.”

He smiled back, his eyes shining with warmth. “Good,” he said softly.

As the episode of Love Island continued, you found yourself stealing glances at Hamzah, who seemed engrossed in the show. Yet, every time your eyes met, a silent understanding passed between you, you are going back to his house tonight.

#hamzahthefantastic #slushy noobz #thatmartinkid #hamzah x reader #hamzah x y/n

173 notes · View notes

jamespotterismydaddy · 4 months ago

Text

Lord Husband (Chapter 13)

A/N: i'm sorry yall, i feel like my posting is getting slower and slower. I know this a short one too but i've been so stressed with uni

WORD COUNT: 862 words

Series masterlist

Both Safia and Rose are waiting for you when you get back from your supper.

“Gods, i’m nearly ready for bed. I’m so tired.” You groan as you walk into the room but both of the girls can see clearly that you walk as if you’re much lighter than you have been for the past few weeks.

“Yes, princess. Your ride was very long today. You entirely skipped lunch.” Safia muses, fetching yours and her own needlework. She hands you yours before sitting on a settee across from the armchair you rest on.

“I suppose I did.” You murmur as you make yourself comfortable, not yet looking at the needlework.

“Your meal with Lord Stark seemed to perk you up.” Rose comments and Safia shoots her a pointed look for her impertinence. She always was the more bold one of the two.

“I look happier because he said we should have my brothers over for a visit, not because I shared a meal with him.” You say sharply.

“That is wonderful news, princess!” Safia states politely but her joy is clearly genuine as well. She’s loved nothing more than playing with little Aegon and Viserys since her brother died.

“Yes, very wonderful.” Rose adds. It isn’t that she is unhappy with the news, she just senses that it isn’t the only reason you’ve come back to your chambers with such a smile on your face.

Rose is higher born than Safia and you can tell in these moments. She is much less frightened to speak her mind than the lowborn girl is even if she is only the daughter of a second born son whose house is nothing close to prominent. You’ve always liked that about her; Rose doesn’t let her station define her and that’s one of the reasons she’s your closest friend.

“You have other thoughts on your mind, Rose. Speak them.”

“I wouldn’t want to overstep, princess.” She replies. The girl may be bold but she isn’t stupid. She knows how easy it is to hit a nerve when speaking of your relationship, or lack thereof, with Cregan.

“You’ve never had that problem before.” You point out and Safia smiles at the comment, looking back down at her needlepoint right away.

“I just sensed that you were getting along better with your husband. It pleases me to see you smile once in a while. It used to grace your face so often back in Dragonstone, and even in Kingslanding. Now, it seems as though you haven’t smiled for weeks.” it's a sad notion but you aren’t regretful of your coldness.

“I am the last woman in this world to sit down and take the hand they’ve been given by an unfair dealer.” You muse. The anger all feels justified, thinking of yourself as an avenging angel. “If I am compliant in my own misery then every other woman will follow suit... They’ll have no choice. I’m the second most powerful woman in the world and I had no choice.” You say solemnly.

“Change is coming, princess.” Safia starts. “It is just… slow.”

“Look at your mother. Westeros had not seen a queen rule in her own right before her.” Rose says.

“At this rate, our children won’t even see a fair world.” You reply.

“But the later generations will benefit.” Safia says optimistically. “Prince Jacaerys will see that it is continued.”

“Yes… Jacaerys.” You murmur bitterly. “Is it so wrong that I want to benefit from it? More could be done.”

The girls ignore the slight against your mother and Rose speaks again, “It could take… unfathomable amounts of violence to accomplish such a thing.”

“Who cares for the lives of men who are unfaithful to their ruler?”

“And those men’s children, wives, families, are innocent but if you kill the head of their house, they would never forget it. They might not directly call for vengeance but most would resent a radical ruler. People of status rarely care for radicality. It diminishes their power.”

“Death would extinguish it.” You murmur. The girls know you aren’t truly serious but such laxness in reference to violence discomforts them. “Jacaerys will continue our mother’s progressions but that doesn’t make him any less of a man. He can’t truly understand.”

“I am sure Lady Baela will be of aid to him in that.” Safia adds thoughtfully.

But it could’ve been you aiding him. Though, the people would never chant your name the way they chant his.

“She will make a good queen one day.”

“Perhaps one day your brother will take you on as an advisor.” Rose suggests. She sees how badly you want control.

“If I’m not too busy tending to Stark’s children.” You scoff.

“They will be your children too, princess. I am sure you will love them as any mother loves their child.” Safia says kindly.

You ponder on her words for a moment, wondering if a mothers love if truly unconditional. Is there something inherent in childbirth that will make you fall in love with the babe that tears itself from your womb?

You’re not sure if you’ll ever love the children Cregan puts in your belly.

“Perhaps.”

Comment to be added to taglist

#lord husband #cregan stark fic #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan #hotd #hotd fic

128 notes · View notes

neysaadept · 24 days ago

Text

Prometheus Chapter 12

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 12 - Let's Chat

Tags: Swearing, canon typical violence, therapy, mentions of sexual assault, murder, torture, strangulation. No beta reader, mistakes are all me. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 6.6k

AO3

“I think this is the first time you had a good excuse for missing a session that wasn’t entirely work related.”

You laugh as your therapist scribbles information on the notepad resting on her thighs. She was sitting on the white chair across from your position on the couch in your apartment. Brian really called out all the stops in making this happen.

You have been seeing Nina Davis for the last four years as part of mandatory therapy because of your unique situation in joining the CIA. Whenever you were stateside, you had to see her and thanks to Rebecca Wilson, you get to see her for six months instead of a couple sessions snuck in before you were deployed once more. The CIA always wanted to get you back working in the field as soon as you were debriefed and cleared.

Nina was a thin woman with well-manicured nails, you couldn’t remember a time they weren’t perfectly filed and polished. Often, they were clear coated but depending on the season or holiday, she dazzled with some color. Like now her nails are colored burgundy that compliment her rust color sweater. Since it was Sunday, she has on jeans and tennis shoes which was about as casual as Nina got. In her office, it was always business casual. You noticed it was only in the last year and a half Nina’s straight blonde hair was paling as she pushed fifty. It was still a lovely shade that made her just as beautiful as it frames her face and slides across her shoulders as she moves.

It makes your thoughts shift to how Emily’s hair does the same but since hers was longer, it cascaded so smoothly like water. You wonder how it would feel to run your hands through it …

Then you hear your name being spoken with increasing urgency to get your attention. You look at Nina apologetically. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“Where did you go just now?” she asks in that annoyingly knowing therapeutic curiosity.

“Thinking about work.” She doesn’t buy it and raises a brow to have you elaborate further. “Fine. A co-worker.”

“Are you getting along well with them? You mentioned that Prentiss was causing you problems that first week.”

You shrug, not realizing that what you thought was a simple relieved smile was broad and bright. “Yeah, things are much better. We talked it out and came to a mutual understanding.”

Nina squints wisely. “You have a new friend.”

Damn she’s still good at this shit, you think.

“I wouldn’t call us friends. Not sure people like us define our …” you struggle to find the right words for you and Emily as your curling fingers circle one another in front of you as if trying to grab onto the right words. You’re coworkers for sure. And she has gone out of her way to make you be social with the BAU. You have a lot in common but enough differences to keep each other on a playful edge. The woman knew how to make you feel safe around her and not be on guard.

“ … uh, I guess we’re a budding friendship?” You wince. “That sounds lame.”

“It’s not lame at all.” You smile. “It’s difficult for you to connect with new people so this is really nice to hear.”

“Yeah. The BAU has been really cool. I even got a desk and everything,” you admit fondly.

“Good. You’re integrating well.” She scribbles more notes down. “Any issues come up with your past?”

You think back to a few gaffs with Prentiss, but it works out now that she has clearance. “I did let it slip that Rebecca bailed me out of the AWOL situation without specifics. Brian doesn’t know …” you say warily.

Nina chuckles. “Not the first time you’ve told me this, and he doesn’t have to know now. He gave the section chief some leeway in your background. So, this shouldn’t be a problem.” She looks up at you. “Does she know anything else?”

“That I’m a spy. She was one, too.”

“Common ground is nice. Anything else?” She senses you’re hiding something and pushes gently.

You look away with your tongue firmly pressing against the back of your teeth. Your knee starts bouncing frantically. Nina knows the signs of when you are delving deep into your childhood trauma.

“I …” You clear your throat and rest your head against the back of the couch cushions. “The case I worked with Prentiss and Rossi. The unsub was a victim of sexual assault.” Nina is quiet, letting the silence be a sign to continue to share further if you’re comfortable. “The guy she wanted to kill was an unconfirmed rapist in the eyes of the law. But she knew he was guilty and got off on technicalities with a lot of money getting good lawyers. So, despite the fact that I wanted her to slice his throat open and watch the fucker die …” You stop there as your eyes get wet with tears and work your lips as you reach down to find the courage you need continue. “… I shared … I shared that I knew how she felt … as a survivor. Talked her down.”

“That had to be difficult.”

“Yeah, it really fucking was and I feel so guilty about it.”

She says your name softly. “Why is that?”

“Because …” you suddenly lean forward over your legs, your arms bracing you upright while balling your hands into fists. “… I wasn’t honest with her. I couldn’t fucking tell her that I killed my abuser when she never could. It’s fucking bullshit what happened to her. Me. Anyone this happens to. I fucking hate that I had to fucking lie to her so much, but I knew if I said it, she’d snap and try to kill her mark and then she’d be shot to death.”

“You didn’t want her to get hurt. Or die.”

“No!” You shake your head and growl. “She didn’t want to die. She just wanted justice.”

“You’re still trying to reconcile saving her life by lying. You’ve done that numerous times in the past. But this was different.”

“Yes!” You look up with wild eyes. “Of course it was!”

Nina sets her pen down, cradling the notepad as she looks sympathetically at you. “Did you talk to Brian about this?”

“No …”

“How about someone from the Prometheus unit?”

You sigh and lean back. “No.”

“Just me then.”

You twist your lips and sigh again. “No. Well, not exactly.”

“Can you explain further?” she says with gentle caution.

“Well, I didn’t out right say I was feeling guilty, but Emily knows that I killed my abuser. And she’s a profiler. She knows how to add all that shit up to a reasonable conclusion.” You hold your hands up in defeat. “She’s not stupid.”

“You don’t share these things so easily. Or at all.” Her blue eyes are scrutinizing you and you feel exposed. “What’s changed?”

You nervously lick your lips before biting the lower half from spilling how your heart has developed a rather large soft spot for the section chief. After a few beats of uncomfortable silence on your part, not Nina’s, she sits back up and accepts the non-answer. You know she has suspicions. “You don’t have to tell me. But it would be a good idea to revisit this at our next session since you’re going to be with these people for another …” She flips through her notes. “Five months?”

You nod in confirmation.

“Good. Now … let’s shift gears with how you’re handling the Sicarius case.”

Non Boss Chat Created at 1258

Penelope Garcia invited JJ and Tara Lewis to the chat.

Penelope Garica changed their username to Queen Penelope.

Queen Penelope sent at 1301: GUYS EMILY FLAKED OUT ON ASKING WHITLOCK OUT!!!

JJ joins the chat.

JJ sent 1325: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME WHEN?!

Queen Penelope sent 1325: Yesterday. She was all set to do it but then just came back and said she changed her mind.

Queen Penelope sent 1326: I want to know WHY

Queen Penelope changed JJ username to Cheeto Mom.

Cheeto Mom sent 1327: Spill. What exactly happened???

Cheeto Mom sent 1327: And WTF Pen. Really? Cheeto Mom?

Queen Penelope sent 1327: Yes! You are a mom and like Cheetos! So duh, Cheeto Mom!

Tara Lewis joins the chat.

Cheeto Mom sent 1328: Why can’t I be a queen like you?

Queen Penelope changed Cheeto Mom username to Queen Cheeto Mom.

Queen Penelope sent 1329: Better?

Queen Cheeto Mom sent 1331: Very

Tara Lewis sent 1331: What the hell did I just walk in on?

Queen Penelope changes Tara Lewis username to Bisexual Goddess.

Queen Cheeto Mom sent 1332: Emily was going to ask Whitlock out and didn’t!

Bisexual Goddess sent 1332: WHAT

Bisexual Goddess sent 1332: You are all not playing with me right? Also, I approve of the name change.

Queen Penelope sent 1333: We are not! And Yay!

Queen Penelope sent 1333: Our Emily really likes her but I don’t know why she doesn’t want to now.

Queen Cheeto Mom sent 1335: I repeat SPILL.

Queen Cheeto Mom sent 1335: WHAT HAPPENED???

Queen Penelope sent 1340: OK. We were at Quantico yesterday to deal with Spiderboy. When cutie left the lair I asked Emily about the whole into her thing. Cuz HELLO Emily is so loving the attention she was getting from her at Fireside. Emily denied I confirmed and after an amazing pep talk by yours truly she got up to go ask her out. Then when she came back she was all sad and that made me sad and when I asked why she was sad she just said she changed her mind. And when I pressed further, she told me to drop it rather angrily 😭

Bisexual Goddess sent 1350: That’s weird. Even for Emily. Did she say anything about why she changed her mind. Did she even talk to Whitlock?

Queen Penelope sent 1353: No. She didn’t. I got that out of her but nothing else.

Queen Penelope sent 1354: OOOOOOO maybe we can get Rebecca in on this to help!

Bisexual Goddess sent 1355: HELL NO! Were you NOT there on Friday when I said she hates people meddling in her love life? Need to let these two sort it out. Least we know our girl didn’t fuck things up with her mouth.

Queen Cheeto Mom sent 1401: Buuuuuuut … we can at least find out wtf happened with Emily.

Queen Cheeto Mom sent 1402: I’ll talk to Emily and see what happened.

Queen Penelope sent 1403: WHEN

Queen Cheeto Mom sent 1405: At soccer right now.

Bisexual Goddess sent 1406: They winning?

Queen Penelope sent 1406: Is Michael scoring all the goals?

Queen Cheeto Mom sent 1415: Yes and Yes 😊 One time at the wrong goal post LOL

User45125: Same shit on my end. Life. Will life get in the way with you being around?

FlamePit23: I’m not a psychic. But the plan is to be more active. Bunch of idiots on this board need a proper education and happy to enroll them in how to not blow yourself up and die and instead find the rush of fire to cover up all those lies.

User45125: All the lies of the world.

FlamePit23: And humanity.

User45125: Still the same old prophetic sounding girl I know. Good. Had any fun lately?

FlamePit23: Minor annoyances. Don’t want to go too big just yet until I’m ready for the next masterpiece.

User45125: Maybe I can help with that.

FlamePit23: That right? Do tell.

“Haven’t heard from him since,” you explain to Emily in her office. You wanted to make sure to brief her in full then just the quick update by text last night on your personal phone. Emily had turned one of the computer screens so the two of you could view the messages on either side of her desk.

“We need to tread carefully with this.” Emily leans back while running the fingers of one hand over the palm of the other. “After Green, he might sense another mole.”

You nod. “Agreed. I’m optimistic he sees me as the real user. Confirms the user is female like I anticipated, but until we know how he wants to help; we’re in a holding pattern until he explains further.”

“I’ll get Garcia on requisitioning burner phones for your use. If this continues, he’ll want to reach out and talk to you. Someone like this FlamePit23 will want to remain off the grid.”

“Makes sense. We’ll have to see how Pen’s doing with the digital footprints.”

“And you not having one will work in our favor. Soon as he sees your face, he’ll go snooping.” She looks at you and then nods. “Finally, your mysterious past works in our favor.”

You chuckle. “I thought my mysterious past was already working in our favor when I showed up at your door like the CIA leprechaun.”

Emily’s reaction is one sculpted brow raising.

“Uh …” You bring your arms up in a circle. “Stipend. Pot of gold.”

She remains unimpressed.

You lower your arms in a huff. “I didn’t wanna say I was your sugar mama again but …”

“Whitlock!” She growls and throws a pen sideways at you. “That’s not funny!”

You bring your hands up to deflect the pen that ricochets off your palm and to the floor. “Why I said pot of gold!”

“Just … go.” She waves you away. “Out! Go talk to Garcia and get your cover sorted.”

You pivot onto your feet in a flourish that has you standing at attention in the next second. You salute playfully. “Yes, ma’am.” And then before Emily had a chance to throw the piece of paper she was balling up; you make a swift exit.

Emily still chucks it after you, watching it arc in the air before it pitifully hits the floor at the threshold of her office door then rolls to a stop. Her face deeply sets into a frown as she is left wondering why you must remain so fucking adorable. It didn’t make this easier – stepping away because you clearly had no interest in her. Only this Nina that Brian set you up with. And fuck, Emily had been so sure Penelope was right in convincing her to go after you because she had just overheard how you were embarrassed singing in front of her and confirming that she had clearance. It made her feel nervous and excited all at once and it wasn’t a mixture of emotions she would have thought possible to feel for another woman again.

“Hey, Em.” JJ pokes her head through the doorway and looks down at the ball of paper. “Uh, you busy?”

“No, JJ. Come on in.”

She reaches down to pick up the paper. “You sure?” JJ shakes the wad and throws it back to Emily as she stands up to close the door.

Emily catches it with a flinch. “Yes. Why?”

“Whitlock told us a tale of woe of you trying to papercut her to death,” she says with a twinkle in her eye.

“As usual, that woman likes to exaggerate.” She sets the paper aside with more force than intended. “What can I do for you, JJ?”

“Well, I was curious about something.” She doesn’t elaborate further as she sits across from Emily.

Emily’s danger sense starts to go off, and her brown eyes narrow suspiciously. “About what exactly?”

That accusing tone makes JJ sit up straighter and grins knowingly. “About the woman you tried to hit that with when you should be hitting on her.”

“God damn it, Penelope …” Emily complains, lowering her head over the desk as she grips the roots of grey hair with frustration. She should’ve known Penelope would have said something even though she warned her not to. “Who else knows?”

“Just me and Tara.” Something inaudible was heard and JJ leaned in closer. “What was that?”

“I said shoot me.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, even for you Emily.” JJ tightens her lips at seeing her friend so wound up. “I’m just here to understand what happened.”

“You’re here to spy on me and report back.”

“Emily, look …” She stops, disappointed that Emily hasn’t looked up yet. “Hey, I rather I wasn’t talking to your head.

JJ watches as Emily’s shoulders dramatically rise and fall before she looks up and lets her hands fall against the desk. “She had a date.”

That made JJ jerk back in confusion. “Whitlock?” Emily nods. “So, you didn’t ask her out because she had a date? Suppose that doesn’t surprise me. Doesn’t take much for you to run away.”

Emily pushes herself up with an elbow and leans back. “Gee. Thanks, JJ.”

“It’s true! You suck at dating.” Her face drops with gentle sincerity. “And you suck at noticing when people have the hots for you.” She dramatically points to herself with two thumbs. “Case in point.”

She laughs morosely. “Fair. But keep in mind we were in two different places mentally and emotionally when that was happening.”

The back-and-forth affection that went beyond friendship just never connected at the right time for JJ and Emily. They long made peace with that fact years ago that it wasn’t meant to be. JJ moved on with Will and it really saddened her that Emily hadn’t found that special someone yet – which was by design or her friend’s awkwardness, the jury was still out. She knew that Emily wanted all of those things – a partner she could trust and confide in and start a long-term relationship with that meant moving in together and perhaps even marriage. The woman across from her kept self-sabotaging any chance of that from blossoming so far.

“And it doesn’t matter,” Emily states again.

“You need glasses because that girl was all over you on Friday with hands and eyes. Sometimes, those eyes of hers actually found yours when she wasn’t staring at your tits,” JJ teases.

“Then why was she so apologetic about this Nina?” she counters in anger, but it made her feel better that you were staring at her boobs.

“Wow.” JJ is shocked. “You really like her.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She brought her hand up to purposefully cut JJ off. “I mean it. I made my decision, and I stand by it. And I swear that the three of you need to stay out of it. I’m not going after Whitlock since she’s already maybe probably has someone.”

“Bu-“

“I mean it, JJ.” She glares hard at her. “And I don’t want to have this conversation again with any of you. And I fucking swear if Whitlock hears about this …”

“Hey, Em. Come on. We wouldn’t do anything like that to embarrass you. Or her. That’s crossing a line none of us would do.”

Emily seems to be appeased and nods curtly. “Good.”

“But …”

She groans in annoyance but allows JJ to continue.

“… I think it says a lot that you were going to take a chance on her. But making a decision on a partially overheard conversation doesn’t do your profiling skills justice.”

“What are you on about?” she asks, incredulously.

“All I’m saying, Em, is that you are thinking with your emotions and not that beautiful brain of yours. Since when do us profilers make a case based on a half overheard conversation and jump to only one outcome?” Emily looks to JJ as the blonde profiler nods at seeing her friend’s mind start to work. “You need more info.”

That conversation never had a chance to happen, and Emily was left ruminating on JJ’s advice when she sent the team out on a case in Hayden, ID four days later. The city was close to the Washington State border and a twenty-minute drive from Coeur d’Alene, ID. A body of an adult female had been found dumped in the woods with strangulation marks, broken fingers, burn marks, and shot twice in the chest. The victimology matched similar murders near Spokane and local authorities needed help finding the unsub before more victims appeared.

Emily had Rossi stay behind to keep working on Green to see if he would cooperate, which was turning into a colder lead by the day. They were trying hard to keep him out of prison and convince him that his cooperation would benefit all parties involved in capturing Sicarius. He keeps refusing to assist and the cognitive interview. The BAU was sympathetic to his plight, but Green has been warned that FBI benevolence can last for so long, especially since they have another way to contact Sicarius. So far, he doesn’t either care or believe them.

Back in Idaho, the four of you are split up to maximize resources and gather information. Alvez and Lewis went to Spokane, leaving you and JJ to work with the sheriff’s department, interview witnesses, family and friends, and examine the crime scene. You check in with your counterparts to compare notes several times a day to work the profile in two cities and update Prentiss and Garcia to narrow the search, fine tune the data.

Finally, you struck gold with Tommy Ferguson, a fifty-one-year-old local trucker who was physically abused by his alcoholic father. He had also been forced to watch his father beat and rape his mother repeatedly as punishment for being a bad child. When CPS* got involved, Tommy was living in Washington state and removed him from the home and placed in foster care. He passed around from home to home until he was of age. With this, he had a long list of anti-social traits that therapists tried to work through, but he often got into fights and petty thefts, causing small stints in jail. That is where he met Andrew Loyd as his cellmate, who was charged with involuntary manslaughter on his second DUI. The two of them met up three years ago after Loyd finished his stint in at the Idaho State Corrections, and soon the two spiraled into drugs, alcohol and violent tendencies against several women in the beginning when reunited. Loyd was the dominant in the relationship and kept escalating the partnership until they were torturing and murdering their victims.

This is why you were now outside a warehouse that was being rented by Ferguson with the reunited BAU and the local SWAT team. The contract had an agreement to store his cab, equipment, and trailers that he couldn’t store at his mobile home since there wasn’t enough room on the lot. It was also a potentially easy location to bring their victims to and from under the cover of Ferguson’s job. That was the running theory.

You convinced local police to keep Ferguson and Loyd off media outlets and take them by surprise as it was unknown if they had a current victim, and they were conveniently scarce. There were no missing people filed that fit their profile but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t inside the building. You couldn’t confirm and you didn’t want to escalate the timeframe of their kill and make a run for it. There were officers watching Ferguson’s trailer since he became a suspect but there was no recent sign of him. Even neighbors hadn’t seen him or Loyd lately. Loyd had no address and lived off the grid, presumably with Ferguson. That made the warehouse the most likely location for the pair.

The plan is simple. Enter quietly and take them by surprise once confirmed by plain clothes officers that they had visuals on the unsubs. The BAU and SWAT surrounded the area under the cover of Amazon and UPS trucks throughout the day setting up the operation. The vehicles would back up against the driveways and have officers secretly enter the buildings through the garages on either side of the targeted building, already approved by the owners of those properties. They would operate business as usual while feds and officers were staging the op in a locked back room. This was to keep the suspects contained in the area, minimize damage to the surrounding areas and loss of life, and hopefully protect any captured victims.

It was just after 10am when Luke and Tara took the lead heading behind the building while you and JJ had the front. Gun drawn, you nod to JJ and test the doorknob and true to the lifestyle in this area of Idaho, the door was unlocked while someone was onsite. You quietly continue to turn it and push the door open ajar. Silence greets you and nothing catches your visual interest. You signal to the team on how to split up and cover ground. JJ would be with you.

You and JJ broke off left and soon the beloved voice of Garcia was in your ear.

“Luke was useful and found an electrical box by his location. They missed it at first since it was painted over to look like part of the building.”

Then Prentiss spoke up. “It appears to be done on purpose. These guys are smart so be careful.”

“And it means I have access to the video feed. I will be your eyes my Padawans.”

You and JJ signal all clears and continue to move deeper into the warehouse. You are about to turn into the next room when Garcia shouts. “STOP! Do not go in there! Both of them are in the conference room with all sorts of nasty things that can kill you.”

You and JJ exchange looks, and you point to yourself, then her, and then the door signaling how you can take them by surprise. What you didn’t know is that Prentiss and Garcia can see you and JJ as well on the live feed by a camera in your area.

“Stand down. There’s no victim in there. Wait for further back up,” Prentiss orders.

“Uh … something spooked them. They’re grabbing things, Emily.” Penelope’s worried voice hits the adrenaline you have into overdrive.

“God damn SWAT moved too close to the windows.” Yeah, Prentiss was pissed. So are you.

You hear the erratic sounds of metal being moved around and a clip of ammo clicking into place. There were also careless footfalls that were smacking into furniture. With only seconds to think this through you look to JJ and signal for her to back up and they should take them as they leave. She nods in agreement as you holster your gun.

“What the hell are you doing, Whitlock? Pull your firearm out.” You ignore Emily because you know what you were doing. “I know you can hear me. Pull out your weapon!”

You both brace yourselves against the walls as you hear steps getting closer, the handle starts to shake, and soon the door swung open towards the inside. Your focus was on the first one that came through the door, and it was the lanky, greasy brown-haired Loyd. You grab his gun arm viciously and spin him around so his back slams up against the wall so hard that his baseball cap gets knocked off and falls to the ground. With you in control of where the gun is pointed, you and JJ remain safe.

The events happened so fast that Ferguson didn’t know what to make of it and when he passed through the doorway, his attention was with the struggle his partner was having with you. All it took was a well place crack of her gun handle on Ferguson’s shoulder to force him to drop his weapon. She kicks it out of reach and grabs him by the shirt collar. “FBI! Don’t move!” and places the barrel of the gun against his head for emphasis.

You put immediate pressure on the outside of Loyd’s arm against his radial nerve that causes him to cry out in excruciating pain that forces him to drop the weapon. You then twist his arm while kicking the gun far away from both men, forcing him to come off the wall and onto his knees. From there, it was easy to cuff him.

You and JJ had fun ping ponging announcing their Miranda rights as you both walked them through the warehouse.

Penelope warily looks up at Emily as the chatter from Luke and Tara comes through congratulating you and JJ on a nice takedown of the unsubs without being hurt. She saw Emily face set squarely, nostrils flaring with each inhalation of breath. The palms of her hands remained flat on Penelope’s desk, but Emily’s fingers were jagged at each joint. She was pissed.

She tries to diffuse the tension by clapping her hands. “Yay! Team Padawan got the bad guys!”

Emily raises a brow and tilts her head before pushing herself up to stand fully. “Yes, they did. Approximately how long until they’re back.”

“Uh …” She puts her arms down to do some calculations. “Probably seven to nine hours depending how quickly they hand the case off to local PD.”

“Let me know when they land.” She orders before turning to leave, not acknowledging Penelope with even a look.

When the door closes, Penelope mouths a ‘wow’ and looks at you on the video feed. “Oh, my beloved Whitlock. Mom’s pissed at you.”

Seven hours later, the BAU was back at Quantico and exhausted. You were all looking forward to finalizing the checkout procedure and heading home.

JJ is on her phone texting back and forth with Will as she heads to pick up her things at her desk. Luke yawns as he swings his to go bag around in hand and lets go, watching it land on his chair. He pumps his fist in victory. “Yes!”

“Nice form, Alvez. I’m impressed.” Tara looks at you. “Your turn.”

“Yeah, no. Knowing my luck, I’ll miss and knock everything off my desk.” You set your bag down on top of your desk and log into your computer to check out when Emily’s voice cuts through the lighthearted camaraderie.

“Whitlock. My office now.”

You look up in time to see an indignant cross armed Prentiss make brief eye contact with you before making an about face back inside her office. You didn’t even have a chance to appear confused before her, but your team saw it.

“What did you do?” Luke asks from across the bullpen.

“I … honestly have no idea,” you admit lamely and look to Tara and JJ. “You have any insights?”

Of course, the two of them wonder if this is about Emily’s feelings towards you and she was pretending to be upset to throw them off the trail.

Tara shrugs helplessly and JJ shakes her head no.

“Big help you two are.” You lock your station and start heading up to Emily’s office. “Better not keep her waiting.”

Once you passed by and were at a safe distance, Tara locks eyes with JJ and mouths, ‘Is this about your talk with Emily?’

JJ shrugs and mouths back, ‘No idea.’

Luke was too busy finishing up to notice the exchange.

“Hey …” you say, poking your head in and study Emily behind her desk not looking at you but at a file. She was making notes with a pen. You got a shiver down your spine and have a sense of déjà vu. “Wanted to see me?”

“Close the door.” She said it without looking up making you frown, but you did it. When it clicks close, she speaks again in that clip tone. “Have a seat.”

She still wasn’t looking at you and you almost wanted to take a seat on the couch to fuck with her but even you knew when to behave. It wasn’t often, but this was one of those times. So, you take a seat, rest a shoe on the opposite knee and interlock your fingers together on your stomach.

You begin the opening salvo with a, “What’s up chief?” since you sense a fight.

Emily makes a production in capping the pen before setting it down. It was then she looks.up at you with formidable brown orbs. “You may have gotten away with a lot of interpretations of orders in the CIA, but as you’re a member of the BAU, mine are not a suggestion.”

“Wait,” You pull your fingers free to lift a hand up to point at Emily. “This is about me putting my gun away?”

“Yes, this is about that. You never holster a weapon when confronting suspects,” she snaps back.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I am not.” She points the pen accusingly at you. “You went against protocol and my order. You could’ve gotten yourself and JJ killed.”

“But based on what I was aware of, I made the better call. Which ended in no shots fired and the suspects in custody.”

She looks at you with indignation and sits up straight in the chair. “But there is no way you could have predicted that. You got lucky.”

“No, what’s lucky is the call I made because I was concerned that if they saw us in their peripherals, they’d start shooting. By taking one by surprise, it knocked the other off their game and they became easy pickings for me and JJ to apprehend. It didn’t even take a minute,” you explain calmly. You didn’t want to feed into Prentiss’ exertion of authority. Even if the two of you were able to open up to one another and find common ground, you felt that your friendship with her was hanging on a precarious thread. Ever since drunk karaoke in her car, Emily felt more distant this week. Nothing could prove this was true besides the gnawing feeling in your gut.

Emily crosses her arms across her chest defensively. “You didn’t wait to hear what my next orders were going to be because you ignored me. You do not ignore your superior in the field, Whitlock.”

“Okay, then. Enlighten me oh great and all-knowing Prentiss on how the situation would have went down with your orders.” You motion to her with both arms extending with the cocky condescending tone you were known for. Yeah, the whole being nice thing just went out the window after that.

“You and JJ would have backed off, put enough distance between you and the door to provide enough opportunity to take them off guard. You’d have them in your sights with weapons trained on them, giving you both the upper hand.”

“Loyd is the issue with that.” She starts to open her mouth to argue but you continue. “I’m serious. The guy got off on violence and would have opened fire. Instead of exchanging fire with no known outcome on casualties, we go two suspects alive and me and JJ unharmed.”

Emily knew you were right, but she was edging towards a release and fighting with you for going against her order was all she had right now. It was completely irrational, and she knew it, but her mouth wouldn’t stop. “Regardless you blatantly ignored me in the field. That is unacceptable. How am I to trust you won’t do this again?”

That raises the hackles on your neck. Your face twists in contempt as she doesn’t back down with her haughty air of authority. “Are you fucking kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?! After everything I told you, after everything we shared, you don’t fucking trust me?”

Your eyes were seething, which matches the intensity of Emily’s anger. But there was a flicker of awareness that briefly peaked through a crack in her defense.

Your phone rings and you reach for it resting in your back pocket. “May the ladyship excuse me?” You ask with a biting tone. “I have to check who this is. Or are ya gonna order me to ignore it?”

“Don’t be a child.” She snaps.

“Then stop acting like I personally offended you because I made the better call.” You could feel your lips curl into a snarl. You were offended that Emily felt that your relationship had to fall back a few steps because her ego got bruised. You thought Emily was better than the usual agents turned bureaucrats. Emily had strong roots in the work. She should be able to understand a different call in the middle of an operation that you felt was right, not because you wanted to undermine her authority. You pegged her wrong, and it saddens you.

“Ah fuck.” You finally take note of who was calling and hit accept before it went to voicemail. “I need to take this.”

“Brian?” she asks hesitantly.

“No, my therapist.” You watched as Emily’s face went from hot to baffled within seconds. “What? Never had mandated therapy before?” you accuse, because of course Emily had it with all the shit she’s been through and switch your attention to the caller. “Kinda late for you. Everything alright?”

“Well, is everything alright with you?”

“Yes, just in a meeting with my boss.”

“Emily?”

You sigh and confirm. “Yes, Emily. But back to you, why are you calling?”

“I need to reschedule Monday. I’m on the way to the airport to see my mother.”

“Oh shit. Is she okay?”

“She had a fall, and I need to get eyes on her.”

You are amazed at how Nina could sound so sterile over the phone about personal matters. You know why, because you’re her patient, and it makes sense to keep things separated as much as possible. But there are times, like this, when she offers a glimpse into her life.

“I’m sorry to hear that and yeah, of course we can reschedule. I hope she’s gonna be okay.” You mean every word. You always find people who have any relationship with their mothers that are positive, something to be grateful for. You sure as hell didn’t have that.

“I appreciate that. Talk to you soon.”

“Yeah, Nina. Be safe.”

Emily’s eyes widen in horror and JJ’s words come back to haunt her. She made a terrible assumption and clearly didn’t have all the information because Nina was your therapist. And your therapist knew about her. So, in some way, you talked about her in your sessions. Or was it just a footnote in your file that Nina knew? Either way….

Fuck!

Emily recovers quickly and smooths out her features as you end the call. “Is Nina alright?”

You found it strange that Emily seemingly cared about this after being a bitch. “She is. It’s her mom.”

“Oh.” She licks her lips and decides not to press further. Your curt responses were not open ended. You were closing up and rightfully so. Damn her assumptions and taking the call you made in the field personally. This should have been a collaborated conversation about field ops and chain of command. A conversation you had hinted happened often and got you into trouble. Why should it be different at the BAU? She offers neutral sympathy. “I’m … sorry to hear that.”

You squint trying to read Emily and come up confused. “Yeah. Anyway …” you quirk a brow. “Shall we revisit the child comment?”

“No. I think we’re done here.” Her tone is not as sharp but holds finality.

“Fantastic.” You rise and start to leave, but before you do, you take one last look at Prentiss and give her a Han Solo salute. “Have a lovely weekend your worshipfulness. See ya Monday.”

Emily watches you go but unlike the last time the two of you argued, you didn’t slam the door closed, and Emily didn’t reach for the pack of cigarettes in the desk drawer. Instead, she rests her forehead against the desk and pounds a fist atop it. “Fucking hell.”

*Child Protective Services

Please let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list.

@unkonw00 @ara-a-bird @rayisaknight @sevyscoven @maybe-a-humanbean @unoreverselu @fluffypalmtree @willow-nox @simplylove-c @piiinco @daffodil-heart

#emily prentiss #criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x female reader #emily x reader #emily x you #prometheus #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction

83 notes · View notes

physalian · 1 month ago

Text

When can you "tell" instead of "show"?

Based on some beta feedback I got, I have thoughts on a narrative style that is very “tell” over “show” and when it might be useful to be a little leaner. This is highly, highly subjective and no matter how much potential a story might have to be entertaining, some readers will get turned off by the lack of “immersion” no matter what you say to them. Doesn’t make the book bad, doesn’t make the reader wrong, you just can’t please everyone.

So I got some feedback on my new novella, Tell Me How Long, about a group of marine biologists with the chance of a lifetime to save a Mer, sick from the epidemic of bleaching coral reefs. Outside of fanfic, where I don’t have to tell you the worldbuilding, it’s all been done by the canon, I don’t write short stories. My usual wordcount is 100k+ words, easy, for sci-fi and fantasy.

TMHL was written like a fanfic, in many ways. I’d pulled the OC characters from my other work and tossed them into this little ficlet because I was suffering some writer’s block and I like mermaids and here we are. It’s 20k words and is bereft of the following:

A main villain character

Romantic subplots

Manufactured drama for a 3rd act “falling out” between characters

Lengthy backstory for all but 2 characters

Lore or magic

The main threat is simply time, the ravages of a disease, and the nihilism of the MC raging against the creep of global warming destroying the reefs she loves so dearly.

It has themes, too, asking the question of whether commodification of the natural world is necessary for preservation, of which all the main humans have different perspectives on.

My merfolk cannot speak, so while they can learn Sign and can understand English, there’s no place for lengthy conversations between mer and humans or opportunities for explanations of backstory.

It is absolutely a very “telling” story, lots of speeding through the MC’s days while dealing with and treating this disease. She does get moments of introspection, this is my only WIP from the past 9 years of my writing career that does not have multiple narrators. It’s all Finley all the time.

But due to the nature of this story and setting, 4/6ths of it is set on and around a single boat anchored in the Great Barrier Reef, there is no justification for extra scenes away from the action.

Nor are these mer trapped by anything except the need for medicine and while they do trust these immediate humans, they’re itching to leave as soon as they can, so there’s no precedent for longer, fluffier moments, when half the characters aren’t invested in establishing a long-lasting friendship with the other half.

I wrote it this way because you’re not here for Finley’s (MC) daily hum-drum of life. You’re here for the mer. Who is she outside of this job? Not important. What’s her family life like? Not important. What’s going on in the rest of the world? Not important. What’s the backstory for the rest of the team? Not important.

So much I could add simply does not matter, is not important, and would only detract from the reason you’re reading it: You want to know if they’ll save the mer, and if, in doing so, they’ll tell the rest of the world that mer still exist.

Does this leave some threadbare characters? Absolutely. The story I wanted to tell was not one of individuals with great depth and symbolism, it’s the collective effort of a generation facing the consequences of inaction by our elders.

And in that way, I think “telling” in terms of not having those slower moments, in not being all that flowery, in not giving the individual humans many solo scenes to really define who they are and what they stand for, works for this specific kind of story.

There can be a time to hold back on the rich character development, I think, when “what they do” matters more to the story than “who they are”.

I do plan to go back and add in some extra detail, but we’re talking 400 words at most across the entire story, a sentence or two here or there for clarity.

But at the end of the day, this is the story I wanted to tell, written in the way I wanted to tell it.

#show vs tell #writing #writeblr #writing a book #writing advice #writing resources #writing tools #writing tips #character development

63 notes · View notes

briebysabs · 10 months ago

Text

Lu Guang is a hypocrite and that’s okay (great even)

I must stand ten toes for this man because I’m noticing the slander that went on in September and I cannot allow it. I know I’m six months late but just bear with me. We are introduced to Lu Guang as a rational, stoic, sort of wise protagonist. The brains of the operation if you will (although Cheng is clever in his own right but that’s a whole other discussion). Qiao Ling and Captain Xiao describe him as more mature. Shiguang’s relationship is strong but it’s structured, especially for their work, to where Cheng has to depend on Lu Guang. Should only do as he says and not do anything impulsive.

And it gets to a point where Cheng doesn’t know what to do without him and when LG isn’t there he relies on his past words to guide him. The thing is, we’ve seen that CXS can come up with great plans and make good decisions without Lu Guang’s voice in his head. Like how he caught Min Liu or planning how save Lu Guang from Li Tianchen. But the story has built LG up so much to be a reliable character so it can’t be untrue. But then the s2 finale happens, Cheng gets shot and Lu Guang loses his mind.

And then the ending basically tells you that he’s been winging it and gambling this whole time. Experimenting with god knows how many timelines, simply using his knowledge from the previous one to see if he’ll get lucky this time. Lu Guang has been playing a crane game. So in a story that is all about mistakes, guilt and regrets. Of showing the imperfections of people. Of showing the struggles of moving forward, of being satisfied with the present. Of sacrificing your sanity, your voice, your desires, and happiness for the people you love. How is this bad writing?

Link click has been tricking the audience to believe Lu Guang is an infallible character.

But Link Click was never about perfect people.

What he’s trying to do is no different from Li Tianchen, one of our antagonists. And I love CXS to fucking pieces but this show raises the question of a life’s value. LG is trying to save Cheng and so refuses to change the past for anyone else. Bc it may alter things and doom CXS in the process and ruin all he’s worked towards. But then you ask yourself, is CXS’s life worth more than the twins' mother? Is it worth more than Chen’s mother? Is it worth more than Emma?

It doesn’t matter because it is to Lu Guang. It’s like the question if your sibling and a mailman are trapped in a burning building but you can only try to save one. Unless they’re the absolute scum of the earth, chances are and possibly even despite that, you’re going to pick your sibling. That don’t mean it’s objectively more valuable than the mailman or you didn’t have sympathy for that person, they have loved ones, hopes and joys too. “Lu Guang is a hypocrite, selfish, unreliable, and a liar” yes he is. Because there is something called ‘flawed characters’. It’s okay for your protagonist to not be the best person. It’s okay to write a protagonist whose trauma has defined some of their actions.

If you’ve been forced to have someone you love die in your arms over and over, why is it surprising that you would lie to them? How is it surprising that you’d try to keep secrets? That you’d set things up to be in a position to control the situation? That’ll force you to plan better so maybe, just maybe things will be different? You think Lu Guang lacks self awareness and doesn’t know what this makes him? Of all things you can call LG, he’s not delusional. He knows the weight of his actions.

Link Click has and always will be a story about people. Where our emotions and choices take us. Lu Guang isn’t a robot so why would he be an exception?

Plus everyone should’ve been knew Lu Guang was sus anyway. Idk how that’s mischaracterization, there’s proof of him lying and keeping secrets from CXS in s1. It doesn’t ruin anything it recontextualizes what we were shown back then.

199 notes · View notes

niqhtlord01 · 10 months ago

Text

Humans are weird: What use is honor in war?

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

*Clouds of ash part to reveal burnt out husks of barracks complexes, shatter communication towers, and looming over all of it was the crumbling structure of the once proud command center itself.*

*Setting down in front of the command building a small squad of human soldiers approach and form a cordon to either side of the lowering boarding ramp.*

*General Marius Fimble slowly walks down the ramp flanked by a pair of black clad honor guard. His robotic left foot slamming against the ramp with a resounding cannon like echo until he reaches the bottom*

Colonel: *Salutes* General.

Marius: *Returns salute lazily while scanning surroundings* Colonel.

Colonel: You can relax sir; we’ve cleared the area of all resistance.

Marius: Complacency breeds overconfidence; never forget that.

Colonel: Sir!

Marius: Do you have him?

Colonel: We are keeping him in the main building to prevent escape.

Marius: *Confused* Have they made attempts?

Colonel: First one he killed three and injured twelve.

Marius: First?

Colonel: Second he killed seven and injured six, then again three hours later with eight injured.

Marius: He’s tried escaping three times already?

Colonel: Oh no.

Colonel: Those were all within the first seven hours of capture; we’re on twenty seven attempts by now.

Marius: *Grunts*

Marius: Let’s get this over with then before he kills any more of my men.

*Colonel escorts the general and his guards inside the command center. Descending three flights of stairs the group comes to an armored door guarded by twenty soldiers and an auto turret pointed at the doorframe*

Marius: Open it.

*The armored door slowly creeks open as all twenty guards take aim at the opening. The auto turret slowly begins spinning its turrets in preparation to fire as the general walks by.*

Marius: *Waves his bodyguards* Wait here.

Colonel: I would not recommend that, sir.

Marius: *Walks past Colonel and into the room* Noted.

*The door slams behind Marius as he takes in the surroundings. A single light hangs from the ceiling illuminating a lone figure secured firmly to the ground my numerous heavy chains*

Marius: Commandant Fring, we meet at last.

Fring: *Spits out glob of purple blood at Marius’s feet*

Marius: *Steps over it without acknowledging it*

Marius: I had heard tales of the great Grung military back in my academy days and I must say after fighting you, I am deeply underwhelmed.

Fring: *Low growl*

Marius: *Circling the room* Over a thousand years of military prowess and I took you apart in less than a day.

Fring: YOU STRUCK WITHOUT HONOR!

*Fring lunges at Marius who doesn’t flinch. The chains straining under the sudden pressure with Fring just out of reach of Marius’s throat*

*Marius watches in silence as Fring continues for several minutes before relenting*

Marius: I never understood that.

Fring: What?

Marius: Honor.

Fring: You do not understand it because you have never held it.

Fring: You preach of taking down our military when you attacked like cowards and thieves in the dead of night! Slaughtering my warriors while they slept rather than dying by their hands on the field of battle!

Marius: The purpose of war is to win.

Marius: Everything else takes a back seat to that one concept; because if you don’t win nothing you were fighting for matters.

Fring: And yet it is the manner of how you fight that defines who you are.

Fring: And you are a coward!

Marius: So you justify your incompetence by claiming I am a coward?

Fring: You dare!?!

Marius: You were unprepared for an attack despite declaring war on my people. They should have been mustering for war and already onboard troop ships heading out of system; instead they were…how did you put it? Ah yes, they were sleeping.

Marius: *Leans in close to Fring who lunges again only to be grabbed by the general’s hand*

*The general’s grip is iron and Fring claws at it as he gasps for air. There is no emotion behind the eyes of the human leader as he watches his foe*

Marius: Honor, is a novelty for those who can afford it. A justification to fight in a manner of combat they prefer regardless of how many souls die by the outdated ideal that is “Honor”. I fight to win wars, and though my victories seem beneath you I ensure that my men, my soldiers, will return home safe and sound because I fought using my head and not my heart.

*Marius let’s go of Fring who collapses to the ground*

Marius: *Looks down at Fring* You fought with your heart and you lost five field army’s worth of soldiers in a single night.

Fring: Do you keep me alive just to mock me? End me then, for I will hear none of this.

Marius: *Chuckles* I’m sure I had a reason for keeping you alive, but seeing you now I can’t for the life of me wonder why I thought it was worth the effort.

Marius: *bangs on door and the door opens*

Marius: *motions to the soldiers* kill him.

#humans are insane #humans are weird #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01

236 notes · View notes

nerdygaymormon · 4 months ago

Text

Scriptures for queer people

I like that the scriptures show life is messy and complicated. God works with really flawed people and they learn to measure up and do amazing things. The scriptures are full of contradictions as people try to figure out God’s will and how it applies in their situation. The scriptures show that God’s people are a mess and often get it wrong. These are the chosen people? In that case, I’m doing alright.

God is an out-of-the-box thinker who wants to be inclusive. The scriptures teach me that God values a relationship with me, will adjust things so the gospel works for me and my situation, and God can help me do amazing things.

I'm not claiming to be an expert or that people should agree with my interpretations. I'm simply sharing how I am thinking of these verses when I apply my viewpoint and experience as a queer Latter-day Saint

Instead of concentrating on all the specific answers & rules, I look for the overarching themes of the scriptures, I can apply those principles in my life and to my life’s situations. Some principles & teachings are more important than others, we can use the more important ones to help us think about the rest. The Bible emphasizes love, equality, & justice, we can use these to filter which messages are important for us and which should remain in the past as part of ancient cultures. For example, the Biblical principles of loving other people as yourself and treating others how you want to be treated should cause us to dismiss slavery even though the Bible allows it. Would forbidding someone from marrying who they love while allowing yourself that opportunity fit with the Biblical principles of love, equality, & justice? No.

I think most people view the Bible as decidedly anti-queer because certain “clobber passages” are regularly used against queer people. A closer inspection of those “clobber passages” shows when put back in context they’re not quite what people think. For example, ‘don’t have gay sex...as part of worshiping a pagan god.’ For the record, straight sex that is done as worship of another god is also condemned, but nobody goes around saying all straight sex is banned.

The verses people like to use to condemn homosexuality, when put back into their cultural context and original language, they are condemnations of sexual exploitation and abuse which was common in the ancient world. They are not condemnations of loving, consensual same-sex relationships. The marriage doesn't define what marriage is, so how can people claim the Bible is against same-sex marriage?

There’s queer-positive scriptures that are usually ignored because they don’t fit the anti-queer narrative people want the Bible to have.

We’re also taught in Matthew 7 that good principles don’t bring forth bad results (“a good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit”). If teachings are bringing forth bad outcomes for a whole group of people, then we should discard those, they aren’t good.

It's sad to me that so much of modern Christianity identity is about being against LGBTQ people and against abortion when those things are not condemned in the Bible, but the Bible goes on and on about forgiving debt, liberating the poor, healing the sick, and loving others. Where are the sermons and Sunday School lessons on forgiving student debt, guaranteeing health care to every person, loving our LGBTQ+ neighbors, and decrying racism? The Bible has a lot to say about protecting women and children. Do we have preach more about queer people and abortions than we do condemning domestic violence, sexual assault, and molestation?

If every Christian church congregation in the United States decided to provide resources to help every child in foster care reconnect with their family or get adopted, each church would need to help only 1 child and there'd be none left in the foster care system. Same for the number of homeless people each church would have to help get into a home for there to be no more homeless people. Christians could transform the nation and the world if they actually applied the lessons taught by Jesus.

————————————————————

Genesis 1 & 2 - Adam & Eve AND Adam & Steve : The purpose of this story isn’t to discount being gay or trans, in fact queerness fits into this story

Genesis 2 - Tree of the Knowledge of Good & Evil : Humans have been messing up what to do with the concept of good & evil. Gender roles are a result of the Fall

Genesis 3:20; Genesis 17:5 & 15; Genesis 32:28; Numbers 13:16; Matthew 16:17-18 - Changing Names : The Bible has much to teach about our obligation to respect a person’s name

Genesis 4:9-10 - Your Brother’s Blood Cries Out to Me from the Ground : The blood of queer people is crying from the ground

Genesis 6:9 - Noah’s obedience led to destruction : Kindness & inclusion are more important than obedience

Genesis 7:2-3 - Noah and the Ark : Some people point to the animals on the ark as proof God only honors male/female pairings, however for many animals Noah didn’t just bring 2 of them but 14, which offers opportunities for diversity

Genesis 9:13-16 - Rainbow : Queer people carry the promise of the rainbow

Genesis 9:20-27 - Noah & Ham : It’s wrong to use this passage to justify the enslavement of people, or to be against love between consenting gay adults

Genesis 12:1-3 : A blessing to all families - If we choose to harm rather than to bless queer families, then we are not the people of God

Genesis 16 - Hagar : We may still be required to deal with difficult situations, but we have a God who hears us, a God who knows us

Genesis 19:1-11 - Sodom & Gomorrah : It’s ironic THIS story is used against queer people when its message is the opposite

Genesis 19:26 - Lot’s wife turned into a pillar of salt : She became a memorial to the destruction of two cities and likewise we need to witness and bear record of the suffering and marginalization of queer people

Genesis 21 - Hagar, Part 2 : God finds all of us in the wilderness

Genesis 22 - Rejection of Ishmael and Binding of Isaac : We aren’t asked to sacrifice our queer children, doing so may cut us off from God

Genesis 25 - Jacob & Esau : The great blessing didn’t belong to the manly man but to the effeminate one

Genesis 34 - Rape of Dinah & the Response : Diverse viewpoints are needed in positions of power & decision making

Genesis 38 - Tamar : It is a sin to deny people fair treatment & they are justified to find solutions when basic rights are denied

Genesis 37-46 - Joseph Sold by his Brothers into Slavery : Life gets better and there may come a time for forgiveness and reconciliation

Genesis - The Bible teaches that wealth is destructive

Exodus 1 - Pharaoh Seeks to Murder the Hebrew Baby Boys : The right thing is to defy the oppressors in order to protect the innocent and the vulnerable

Exodus 3:14 - I AM THAT I AM : I am who I am

Exodus 3:15 - The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob : Why not say “the God of Abraham, Isaac & Jacob”?

Exodus 10: 7-11, 24-26 - Passover is an annual reminder that we do not negotiate at the expense of others : Civil rights aren’t to be given sparingly, we fight for all.

Leviticus 18:5 & Ezekiel 20:11 - Doing what You Need to Live : Living is more important than obeying commandments

Leviticus 18, 20 - Lie with a Man as with a Woman : These verses forbid Jews from engaging in male-male sex done as part of pagan worship

Numbers 9:1-14 - Second Passover : God finds ways to include people

Numbers 21:6-9 - The Brass Serpent : The people’s tradition of not worshiping idols made them misunderstand what God wanted from them. What traditions do we have that blind us from what God wants for us?

Deuteronomy 22:5 - Cross Dressing : This verse isn’t about performing drag or living as a trans person, it’s meant to avoid harming others

Deuteronomy 23:17 - Whores and Sodomites : The word “sodomite” is used for male prostitutes

Lessons from Moses’ life for Queer Folks

Judges 4-5 - Deborah : A woman prophet? What else is possible?

Judges 19 - Murder of the Levite’s Concubine : Despite this horrific story, we don’t condemn heterosexuals & heterosexuality

Ruth & Naomi : The Bible celebrates this relationship of 2 women

1 Samuel 16:7 - The Lord Looketh on the Heart : Gender & orientation are matters of the heart and God knows us for who we are

Jonathan & David : The possibility this is a same-sex relationship blessed by God is why this story has been a favorite of queer Christians

1 Kings 14:24; 1 Kings 15:12; 1 Kings 22:46; 2 Kings 23:7 - Sodomites : The Hebrew Bible condemns worshiping a different god

Esther : By ‘coming out,’ Esther changed how the king viewed a marginalized group, and gender non-conforming people are the unsung heroes of this story

Book of Job : God had a different path for Job, and queer believers know God has a path for us

Psalms 27 - With the Lord’s Strength, We don’t need to Fear : The Lord won’t abandon us even if our parents do

Psalms 126:5 - Shall Reap in Joy : Life gets better

Psalms 133:1-3 - How Pleasant it is for Brethren to Dwell Together in Unity

Psalms 139:13-14 - I am Fearfully and Wonderfully Made : Our sexual orientation & gender identity is woven throughout our bodies

Proverbs 6:16-19 - The 7 Things the Lord Hates : Being Queer ain’t on the list

Isaiah 3:9 - Declare their Sin as Sodom : Sodom’s sins are not taking care of the poor or visitors & not feeling guilt for committing sins (notice being gay isn’t one of the sins of Sodom)

Isaiah 43:1 - I have Called Thee by Thy Name; Thou art Mine : God is with us no matter whether our church is

Isaiah 51:1-2 - Abraham and Sarah are Intersex? : A traditional Jewish understanding for why they’re infertile is that they were intersex

Isaiah 54:2 - Enlarge the place of thy tents, and let them stretch forth the curtains : We need to make room for not just more people but for more diversity

Isaiah 56:3-7 - Eunuchs Welcomed by God : God’s way is radical inclusiveness, God doesn’t marginalize people

Jeremiah 1:5 - Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee : You are not a mistake. God loves you and intentionally made you into who you are

Jeremiah 16:1-2 - God tells the prophet Jeremiah not to marry nor have a family : How does this fit with the Latter-day Saint idea of exaltation where marriage is required? Maybe we need to expand our vision of heaven

Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7, 11 - God Plans to Give You Hope and a Future: God’s plan includes blessing & prospering You

Ezekiel 16:49-50 - Two types of forbidden things, To’evah is forbidden for Jews and Zimah is an injustice or a sin : The gay sex acts prohibited in Leviticus 18:22 & Leviticus 20:13 are to’evah, not forbidden for anyone but the Israelites

Daniel - Daniel & Ashpenaz : God supports a loving gay relationship

Hosea 6:6 - God desires mercy, not burnt offerings : True religion isn’t about practicing rituals, it’s about extending love and mercy

Joel 2:28 - Restoration of Gospel Leads to an Increase in Knowledge : Science is providing knowledge about queer people

Amos 5:23-24 - God Wants Justice, Not Our Hymns : Enough with the talk, let’s enact real change to achieve justice

Micah 6:8 - "What does the Lord require of us?" Are we to kill our enemies for a vengeful God? No!!! Micah teaches "To do justice, to do kindness, and to walk humbly with God." That is the whole point for the prophet Micah." : Are we just & kind to our queer siblings?

Malachi 4:6 - The human family is going to be united : if queer people are excluded then the whole is cursed

Socially Queer Jesus & Disciples : Queerness fits naturally with the life and teachings of Jesus Christ

Matthew 1 & Luke 3 - Jesus’ genealogy : Think what this means for chosen family

Matthew 1 : Joseph chose mercy over the Law - Joseph preserved Mary’s dignity and life

Matthew 2:1-12 : The Magi visit the Christchild : The Magi knew of the Savior’s birth but not those who read the Hebrew Bible. Knowledge, wisdom, and truth come from many sources and those inside a religion may be blind to what is apparent to others

Matthew 4 - Denying Identity is a Tactic of the Devil : Understanding who we are is an important part of facing the challenges of life

Matthew 5:30 : And if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee : if a church continues teaching queerphobic things, it may be necessary to cut it from your life in order to survive and thrive

Matthew 5:21-48 - Ye have heard that it was said...But I say unto you : Jesus is saying this text has been interpreted one way, but He is giving a better way. With all that God taught about loving others and about all being alike unto God, what is a better way to interpret how we treat and love queer people?

Matthew 5:43-48 - Love Your Enemies : These verses refute the idea that the two great commandments to Love God and to Love Our Neighbor are in conflict

Matthew 6:9-13 - The Lord’s Prayer : We’re meant to build heaven on earth. There’s an idea that queer people will no longer be queer when they die and then can have joy and all the blessings. That’s wrong! We’re to have joy in THIS life. We’re to have justice in THIS life. We’re to have all the blessings in THIS life. We’re to be treated alike in THIS life.

Matthew 6:27 - Can’t change your height or extend your life just by thinking about it : Queerness is not something we can simply choose to change. Thoughts, prayer, & faith aren’t going to change this part of who we are

Matthew 7:9-12, 16-20 - If his Son Asks for Bread, Will He Give Him a Stone? : Our Heavenly Father is more liberal in his views, and boundless in his mercies and blessings, than we are ready to believe or receive

Matthew 8:2-3 - Jesus touched the leper : Contact with queer people heals others of their anti-queer bigotry, which leads to the question of who actually needs to be healed?

Matthew 8:5-13 - The Centurion and his ‘Servant’ : Jesus holds up a gay man as an example of faith for all to follow

Matthew 9:18-26; Mark 5:21-34; Luke 8:41-56 - Woman touched the hem of Jesus’ garment : She persisted in getting what she needed. Queer people have to persist to get what they need

Matthew 10:29-31 - God knows of every sparrow that falls to the grown and has numbered every hair of your head. You are worth more than many sparrows : You can trust that God isn’t squandering souls, isn’t creating queer people while simultaneously condemning them for being queer

Matthew 12:50 - Who does Jesus proclaim as brother, sister, and mother? : Chosen Families

Matthew 13:24-30 - Parable of the Wheat and the Tares : This parable teaches that the wheat and the tares can’t be separated until the very end. That to pull up tares would also uproot the wheat. Whichever one we are, we’re inseparable from each other. We can’t remove them without removing ourselves. Only Christ can tell them apart and will separate them. However, a lot of people think they can tell, and unsurprisingly, they always think they’re the wheat, and often they assume queer people are the tares

Matthew 14:22-23 - Peter Walks on Water : Queer people need to believe in ourselves, that’s when miracles happen

Matthew 15:7-14 - But in vain they do worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men : Some churches are misguided and teach the biases of humans rather than God’s message of love

Matthew 15:10-20 - The things that come out of a person’s mouth come from the heart, and these defile them : Racist, transphobic, and homophobic words make us unworthy

Matthew 15:21-28 - Yet the Dogs Eat of the Crumbs which Fall from their Master’s Table : God’s love is so expansive it can surprise and stretch even Jesus Christ

Matthew 17:1-9; Luke 9:28-43 - Jesus Comes Out : Jesus revealed the deepest truth about Himself to His closest friends

Matthew 18:6 - Do not Offend the Little Ones who Believe : Being queer isn’t the problem, it’s the church experience that is broken and defective

Matthew 19:5-12 - Marriage & Eunuchs : Jesus declares men who aren’t attracted to women are exempt from a male+female marriage

Matthew 19:16-23 - Obey the commandments to have eternal life : There is no commandment to live a heteronormative life

Matthew 20:1-16 - Parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard : Queer people are relying on the goodness of the Master to bless us the same as others

Matthew 21:18-22; Mark 11:12-25 - Jesus curses the fig tree : The only time Jesus cursed a fig tree was for not being fruity enough, maybe we should contemplate on that as we consider how to love our LGBTQ+ neighbors

Matthew 21:31 - The Publicans and the Harlots go into the Kingdom of God before You : Church leaders are setting themselves up to go from ‘First’ to ‘Last’

Matthew 21-27; Mark 11-15; Luke 19-23; John 12-19 - Final Week of Jesus’ Life : Many lessons from Jesus’ life apply to queer lives

Matthew 22:23-32 - When His disciples asked about marriage and about whose wife someone will be when they reach heaven, this was Jesus’ answer, “You are in error because you do not know the scriptures or the power of God. At the resurrection people will neither marry nor be given in marriage, they will be like the angels in heaven.” : Sounds like no heterosexuality in heaven. Sorry.

Matthew 22:36-40 - The 2 Great Commandments

Matthew 23:37 - Even as a Hen Gathereth her Chickens under her Wings : Jesus uses feminine pronouns and imagery to illustrate His role

Matthew 25:1-13 - Parable of the 10 Virgins : the foolish bridesmaids listened to those who said they weren’t worthy to meet the groom

Matthew 25:14-30 - Parable of the Talents : telling queer people not to “act” on their queerness is akin to telling us to bury our talent and to go back to the Lord without doing anything with it

Matthew 25:31-46 - Jesus will use how I Treat Others to Determine if I Inherit his Blessings : Mistreating queer people isn’t a qualifier for Christ’s blessings

Garden of Gethsemane : Asking for help & seeking emotional support is Christlike

Easter : Jesus' resurrection can be read as a coming out story. Jesus came out into a changed body and new way of life. Likewise, queer people come out into a new identity and can never go back to what it was before. Others may look back and see your empty tomb that contains your deadname & the misgendered identity of how they saw you, but they'll also see your life reborn as you move forward in your new identity.

Mark 1:10-11 - God Knows Us, We aren’t a Mistake : Many queer people get messages of love from God

Mark 1:32 - Jesus is teaching that under certain circumstances it’s okay to break the rules about the Sabbath.

Mark 2:1-13 - Friends Lower a Paralyzed Man through the Roof to be Healed by Jesus : Better to break the house than to break the person

Mark 2:15 - Jesus invited sinners & disciples to His house and fed them : We also can invite people to our homes for meals as a way to show we love them and want them in our lives. As Ben Schilaty likes to say, “Love the sinner, invite them to dinner.”

Mark 2:27 - The Sabbath was Made for Man, not Man for the Sabbath : We don’t have to break ourselves against the commandments. They’re for our benefit, not our harm

Mark 9:17-27 - This is a story of demonic possession which causes the individual to act in strange ways, and when the demon(s) is cast out the person is healed : Today we use medicine and counseling because we understand diseases and mental health issues. When we know better, we should do better.

Mark 10:46-52 - Ask People Questions and Listen : “We need to listen to and understand what our LGBT brothers and sisters are feeling and experiencing”

Mark 12:30-31 - Love God and Love People : There’s no greater commandments. How do we love queer people, and do they recognize how we treat them as love?

Mark 12:41-44; Luke 21:1-4 - The Widow’s Mite : Jesus condemns making the widow impoverished and the same applies to queer people who are asked to sacrifice all they are

Mark 13:24-37 - Fig Tree’s Leaves Show Summer is Near : Members are trying to build a church that’s more inclusive of LGBTQ+ people. Maybe summer isn’t near, but perhaps it is Spring as it seems the winter chill is thawing

Luke 1:27 - Mary is a virgin : The Greek term parthenos normally referred to an unmarried woman of marriageable age, because in their society an unmarried female typically hadn’t yet had sex. As a missionary, I learned the Korean language does the same thing, all unmarried women of marriageable age can be referred to as a virgin, even though some unmarried women have had sex. But if we keep with the tradition that Mary was in fact a virgin as we think of that term in English, and she did not conceive through ordinary means but through the Holy Spirit she produced an offspring without a human father, then that raises some interesting questions. For example, the Y chromosome is inherited from the biological father, which calls into question how is Jesus a male? Could this suggest Jesus is trans?

Luke 1:37 - Nothing is impossible with God...except for LGBTQ+ people getting into the Celestial Kingdom, at least that’s what some Christians believe

Luke 1:78-79 - Give Light to Them that Sit in Darkness : Going from the darkness of the closet to the dayspring when we learn our Heavenly Parents love us

Luke 2; Matthew 1:18-25 - Nativity Story : Queer people can see ourselves in this story

Luke 2:52 - Jesus Increased in Wisdom and Stature, and in Favour with God and Man : Jesus didn’t marry, as a church we need to reprioritize what is important

Luke 3:12-14 - Jesus was able to meet people where they were at. He didn't ask the Roman soldiers to stop being a Roman Soldier. Jesus told him to be just and virtuous in his soldier duties. How does this apply to queer people?

Luke 3:23 - Jesus began His ministry at age 30 : There’s no rush, come out when you’re ready

Luke 4:16-30 - No prophet is accepted in his own country : Jesus understands the hardships & joys of ‘coming out’

Luke 4:17-21 - What did Jesus come to do? : Do we liberate or oppress queer people? Do we share God’s abundance with them or withhold it?

Luke 7:36-50 - Woman who Anoints Jesus’ Feet : Queer people’s tears wash Jesus’ feet

Luke 10:25-37 - The Good Samaritan : Members of the church avoid the injured man, or perhaps are even the ones who hurt him

Luke 13:24-30 - The First Shall be Last and the Last First : We’re gonna be surprised at who gets into heaven

Luke 14:15 - an ass or an ox fallen into a pit : Under some circumstances it’s okay to break a commandment/covenant

Luke 15:1-7 - The Lost Sheep : The 99 sheep are also sinners but they think it’s just the 1 who is lost

Luke 15:8-10 - The Lost Coin : The woman’s joy at being reunited with her lost coin is like God’s joy at being reunited with a queer person.

Luke 15:11-32 - The Prodigal Son : Queer People go on a journey similar to the Prodigal Son

Luke 17:34-35 - One Shall be Taken, and the Other Shall be Left : There shall be two men in one bed; two women shall be ‘grinding’ together, some of them are saved and some aren’t

Luke 22:10 - A Man Carrying a Pitcher of Water : A man not conforming to gender norms is mentioned without any negative connotation

Luke 22:33-34 - Paul will deny Jesus 3 times : What if Jesus tells Paul to deny Him so that he would live to lead the church? Queer people sometimes deny being queer in order to be safe (especially when they’re in the closet)

Luke 22:50-51 - After Peter Slices Off a Man’s Ear, Jesus says “No More of This!” and Heals the Man’s Ear : One day Jesus will say to those who harm queer people, “No more of this!”

John 1:11 - His own received him not : Many queer people experience being rejected by their families and loved ones

John 3:16 - Whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life : Despite what some teach, Jesus didn’t come to earth to condemn us, but to save us. Unfortunately, some Christians add “unless you’re queer, in which case you can’t have eternal life”

John 4 - Jesus meets a woman at a well and points out she has had 5 husbands and now lives with a man to whom she is not married : What’s interesting is Jesus doesn’t call her to repent or command her to stop sinning. Contrast this with purity culture.

John 6:37-39 - I Shall Lose None of all Those He has Given Me : The Church may cast out, but Jesus does not

John 8:2-11 - Woman Caught in Adultery : Jesus stood with the woman, not the religious leaders

John 9:1-3 - Who sinned, the blind man or his parents? : We all have inherent value and should be respected and loved

John 10:10 - I am Come that They Might have Abundant Life : A Harvard Study found Relationships are key to happiness, as are having good health, being educated, having coping skills, and giving back to the community. This is how to have joy, don’t deny this to queer people.

John 11:43 - Jesus Helps Lazarus to Come Out : Coming out of the closet can feel like going from being dead to coming back to life, or to being fully alive

John 13:23 - John, whom Jesus Loved, is Laying against Jesus’ Breast : Could John & Jesus be in a same-sex relationship?

John 13:26 - Jesus feeds Judas : Jesus never excluded Judas, Judas excludes himself. So why does the church exclude queer people and treat us as enemies?

John 13:35 - By This Shall Men Know Ye are my Disciples if Ye have Love One to Another : To be Christian is to love others, including LGBTQIA+ people

John 14:1-3 - “In my Father's house are many mansions...” : Christ doesn’t tell queer people there’s not a place for us

John 20:15 - Supposing Him to be the Gardner : Jesus is our Gardner

Acts 1:15 - Peter has a dream where God commands him to consume food that his religion considers “unclean.” Peter is reminded that it’s God who gets to declare what is clean and may even contradict the law : This passage shows that God’s promises and beloved community are not defined by our own rules or boundaries, or even by our understanding of God’s law. God is constantly drawing us to love our neighbors

Acts 8:26-39 - Apostle Baptizes Eunuch into the Church : The early Church welcomed queer people. When will the modern Church allow queer people to fully participate?

Acts 10:15 - What God Hath Cleansed, that Call not thou Common : People who were traditionally excluded are welcome

Acts 10:34 - Peter declared “God shows no partiality”

Acts 17:28 - God has a Womb : Do we use the image of God to see the Divine in all of us or do we use God to diminish others?

Romans 1:20 - To Know God, Look at the Things God Created : What does the diversity of different sexual orientations & gender identities tell us about God?

Romans 1:26-27 - Vile Affections : People use this against gays, but it’s really directed at straight people

Romans 8:38-39 - Nothing Separates us from God’s Love : Nothing can separate us from the love of God. Not church leaders, not metaphorical muskets, not the church

Romans 10:12 - There is no distinction between Jew & Greek, the same Lord is the Lord of all, bestowing riches on all who call on Him

Romans 13:10 - Love Does no Wrong to Others : If church is causing harm, then it is not doing the work of Christ and God

1 Corinthians 1:27-28 - God Chose the Lowly Things of this World : Things look different from the margins than they do from the center

1 Corinthians 3:16 - You are the temple of God : The actual temple is our bodies and it's beautiful the way transgender people get to co-create with God in building their temple

1 Corinthians 4:3-4 - We’re often told not to judge others and not to let others judge us, but it’s easy to forget we shouldn’t shouldn’t judge ourselves. Work hard, do your best, and let yourself be forgiven. When we repent, the Lord forgives and forgets all of our transgressions so we should allow ourselves the same peace of mind. Stop beating yourself up, It’s okay, let it go

1 Corinthians 6:9-10 - The Unrighteous Shall Not Inherit the Kingdom of God : No one believes Paul is condemning sex between heterosexual couples as unrighteous, we shouldn’t assume He’s condemning relationships between people of the same gender

1 Corinthians 7 - We Shouldn’t Force Ourselves to be Celibate if We have Sexual Desires, Instead We Should Channel our Sexual Appetites within Marriage : A great argument for Christians to accept & celebrate gay marriages

1 Corinthians 12:12-13 - All the Members are One Body : The church needs its LGBTQ+ members, without us the body of the church is incomplete

1 Corinthians 14:10-13 - So Many Kinds of Voices in the World : It takes every voice for the choir to sound beautiful, no one is without significance

1 Corinthians 15:41 - Glory of the Sun, Moon and Stars : The sun, moon and stars all appear in the same sky. Could this mean we’ll all be together?

Galatians 2:1-5 - Gentiles are not Required to become Jews : Gentiles are accepted as they are and not forced to lose their identity by becoming Jews. Likewise queer people should be accepted as we are and not required to live as cisgender straight people

Galatians 3:28 - Ye Are All One in Christ Jesus : The scriptures say that all our diversity is welcome by Christ

Galatians 5:22-23 - There is No Law Against Love : The law doesn’t distinguish between gay and straight love

Ephesians 5:22-33 - A marriage between a man and a wife is used to symbolize Christ’s relationship with the church : If the church is made up of its members, we are the bride of Christ, we are in a marriage relationship with Christ. Which is an interesting concept for cis hetero men, they’re in a same-sex marriage with Jesus

Colossians 3:9-11 - There is not Greek & Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, slave & free, we’re all one in Christ : We can continue this metaphor to say there is not difference between cis & trans, or gay and straight, you’re all one in Christ

1 Timothy 1:8-10 - Whoremongers...Them that Defile Themselves with Mankind...Menstealers : Condemnation of men who use boy prostitutes, and the slave dealers who procured the young boys and sold them into prostitution, in other words a condemnation of pedophiles, not as some claim of all homosexuals

1 Timothy 3:2 - Husbands of One Wife : Paul is not trying to address questions about sexual orientation or gay marriage in this verse

2 Timothy 3:1-3 - Without natural affection : Hateful, shaming, rejecting behavior by a parent to a queer child certainly sounds like the opposite of “natural affection” and was prophesied in the New Testament

1 Timothy 4:1-5 - Forbidding to marry : This is about people in the congregation leaving the faith because of what’s taught at the pulpit, teachings which happen to not be in line with God’s will . If you're against people of consenting age getting married, it seems like this is a test to show who's on the wrong side.

James 1:27 - Religion that is pure and undefiled before God the Father is to care for orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself unstained by the world : Pure religion is not about hiding away in an ivory tower and discussing eternal truths--it's about being out in the world and living those truths by caring for people. We can come closest to Christ not by studying and memorizing His words but by loving the way He loved "that when he shall appear we shall be like him" (Moroni 7:48).

1 John 4:7-8 - He that Loveth not, Knoweth not God; for God is Love : Any genuine love comes from God. Unfortunately, Christians have created many laws against love

1 John 4:20 - If you hate others then you don’t love God : Quote this verse to any Christian who is yelling scriptures at you for being queer

Jude 1:7 - Going after Strange Flesh : Some use this to condemn homosexuality, but what would be the word for a married person going after “strange flesh,” aka “another flesh”? Adultery!

Revelation 4:1-4 - There’s a Rainbow Around the Throne of God : Confirmation that queer people make it to heaven

1 Nephi 2:2 - God tells Lehi to leave the land given to his ancestors, leave behind the temple, leave behind extended family, and go on a new path : Many queer people also get this message, to leave behind the church, the temple, and the community which are hurting them

1 Nephi 4:6-19 - Nephi Kills Laban : What does it tell us about God that He is chill with murder but not two men or two women in love? Maybe it’s the believers that are mixing up what is okay and what is not

1 Nephi 8 - When Lehi tastes the fruit of the tree, which symbolizes the pure love of Christ, he wants his family to experience it with him : God’s love isn’t meant to be experienced alone

1 Nephi 16:2 - the guilty take the truth to be hard, for it cutteth them to the very center : The truth about how church hurts queer people can be hard for believers to hear

1 Nephi 16:10, 26-29 - Liahona : They had the Brass Plates, but that wasn’t enough.

2 Nephi 2:25 - Adam Fell that Men Might Be; and Men are that They Might have Joy : A Harvard study found relationships are key to happiness, also helpful are good coping skills and giving back to the community. This is how to have joy

2 Nephi 26:33 - All are Alike Unto God : When will the Church embrace all people?

2 Nephi 31:20 - Love of all men : those who try to make sure they don’t love us too much so that it’s clear they don’t condone all our choices, they are breaking the commandments.

Jacob 5 - Allegory of the Olive Tree : Fruitful trees start producing bad fruit and wild olive branches are grafted in : It’s interesting that good fruit comes from margins of the vineyard, which is not the expected place. The Lord operates in places those in the center don’t even know about

Omni - Two Queer Authors? : This book is written by 5 different men, 2 of them have no sons to whom they could hand it down. Could that be it's because they’re queer?

Mosiah 3:19 - Putteth off the natural man : It’s natural to feel uncomfortable around people who are different from you. Try putting off your natural reaction and learn to see as God does.

Mosiah 9 - Zeniff sees beyond the biased teachings : It’s hard to hate people up close

Alma 7:11-12 - That He May Know How to Succor his People : The atonement lets Jesus know how to help us

Alma 17:24-25 - Ammon & King Lamoni : They love each other

Alma 19 - Abish : Abish was closeted, God used her to upend social norms

Alma 32:9-10 - What Shall We Do? For We are Cast Out of Our Synagogues : Queer people can worship God whether we’re allowed at church or the temple

Alma 34:34 - We’re still queer when we’re resurrected

Alma 37:6 - Who are the small and simple? : Queer people who were considered small and simple were the ones strong enough to break the rules of masculinity and femininity which made it safe for the strong and powerful to come out as queer

Alma 41:10 : Wickedness never was happiness : What makes you joyful is not wicked

Alma 53:2 - Captain Moroni and General Lehi : Could Moroni and Lehi love each other as more than just as friends and soldiers, but as family?

Alma 56:16-17 - Helaman and the 2000 young warriors show up and boost the soldiers’ morale : I can easily imagine feeling beat up and defeated by the nonsense of church folk, and then the arrival of a few more queer people would lift me up and feel like those who be with us are brave and fabulous and what we have is worth defending and affirming.

Alma 60:5-10 - Captain Moroni’s opening words could be a cry of marginalized people and a damning indictment of complicity or participation in their oppression

Ether 6 - Jaredite Barges are Driven by the Winds to the Promised Land : All 8 barges made it to the Promised Land and each made a separate journey

Ether 12:4 - Hope for a Better World : What would a better world look like? A place where we’re all treated alike and allowed personal dignity

Ether 12:27 - I Make Weak Things Become Strong Unto Them : To become strong, people must acquire a positive self image

3 Nephi 28 - The 3 Nephites : Could they be queer? It’s a possibility

Doctrine and Covenants 1 - Purpose of revelations to Joseph Smith : How is the church doing in these purposes in regards to queer people?

Doctrine and Covenants 38:25-27 - If Ye are not One Ye are not mine : Bad news for the homophobes, transphobes, and all those who oppose their queer siblings

Doctrine and Covenants 46:3-6 - Don’t Cast People out of Church Meetings : Don’t cast out queer people but instead provide a place that is safe, welcoming and inclusive

Doctrine and Covenants 49:15-17 - Whoso Forbiddeth to Marry is not ordained of God : This is a rejection of requiring life-long celibacy and affirms that getting married is approved by the Lord

Doctrine and Covenants 74 - Sometimes apostles teach their own opinions as commandments : Sometimes apostles actually are teaching things opposite of the Lord’s will

Doctrine and Covenants 78:5-6 - If Ye are not Equal in Earthly Things Ye cannot be Equal in Obtaining Heavenly Things : We could seal gay couples today if we wanted to, that would help make things equal on earth.

Doctrine and Covenants 93:33-34 - Fulness of Joy Contingent on Connectedness of Spirit & Body : Transitioning can be part of a person’s journey towards godliness

Doctrine and Covenants 121:41 - Priesthood doesn’t give Authority and Power over Others : It’s how you treat others

Doctrine and Covenants 128:18 - We cannot be pro-family and anti-LGBTQ+ at same time : Everyone talking about being exalted without their LGBTQ+ family members WON’T BE. If same-gender couples and trans people aren’t exalted, NO ONE will be.

Doctrine and Covenants 130:2 - And that Same Sociality which Exists among Us Here will Exist among Us in Eternity : Love will prevail

Doctrine and Covenants 131 - Eternal Life : Nothing in this section excludes queer people from obtaining Eternal Life

Doctrine and Covenants 132 - New and Everlasting Covenant : There’s no reason to think queer relationships were meant to be excluded from being sealed

Doctrine and Covenants 137:7-9 - We will be Judged According the Desires of our Heart : Queer people will not be judged for not completing opportunities not open to us

Moses 6:31 - Enoch doesn’t See Himself as God Does : When queer people accept ourselves it opens 1000 doors of possibility

Moses 7:28-40 - What makes God weep? : God weeps when we don’t have love for one another

Joseph Smith--History - God can be found outside church

Articles of Faith 2 - Adam’s Transgression : Elder Oaks classifies gay marriage as a transgression, not a sin. What are the implications of that?

Articles of Faith 8 - Scriptures only as Good as the Translation and Interpretation : Has the Church & Christianity been interpreting scriptures using fear, ignorance, and personal bias in a way that’s harmful to queer people?

Articles of Faith 13 - Doing Good to All Men : Harming queer people and denying them the promises & blessings made to others is the opposite of what this church claims to believe

Proclamation on the Family - It doesn’t say what most people assume it does. Queer people aren’t discussed at all in this document

Criteria by which Christ will Evaluate our Lives

#queer scriptures #queer faith #queerstake

91 notes · View notes

starsworldd · 2 years ago

Text

➴ astro observations pt 4 ➶

reminder to go listen to domino 1 by iamsagsssssss out on all platforms now <3 (i know the artist very well i promise it’s good ⭐️

remember to please take the following with a grain of salt ⭐️

⥺ mars conjunct mc people are very hard workers but are often met with conflicts with people at work also. could be business entrepreneurs

⥺ people who have moon sextile venus are very kind and endearing <3

⥺ scorpio mercuries often hide weird stuff (doesn’t have to be innapropiate but it’s just weird and odd) on their phones and more than other people don’t show people their photos, social media, texts, etc…

⥺ mercury conjunct uranus people are some smart people let me tell you. i find that they’re often pretty witty and good with defending themselves in arguments too!

⥺ sun in 6th house people get burnt out really easily but moon in 6th house people seem to be working 24/7 and seem unbothered by it?? maybe they just hide it better. moon in 6th house people are also really smart. i want to look more into that though, because moon and sun are both luminaries so you’d think they’d both get pretty burnt out being in the 6th house of daily work and service…

⥺ the 8th-9th-10th houses i think explain how one finds their purpose in life and their calling. of course all the houses are involved in this because a chart works as a whole story, but i want to focus specifically on these 3 houses: we start at the 8th house of trauma and transformation. 8th house transits usually signify a new beginning (though it usually doesn’t come without trouble and hardship) and it is in the 9th house that we find what we can do to help ourselves out of hardship. what do we believe in? what do i learn out of this difficult time? what experiences can i engage with that help me be a better me? pluto (ruling the 8th house) is the ruler of the underworld and from there we literally go to the king of the heavens (jupiter, ruler of 9th house) to one’s calling in life, signified by the 10th house. it is through one’s hardships and main battles (8th house) that can show us how we can put our best selves out into the world (10th house). sorry to rant, i just think this is so cool to point out! if you guys want i can make a post for the rising signs on this topic ⭐️

⥺ pisces venus people are obsessive over their crushes

⥺ venus conjunct saturn natives may not be that interested or rushed into getting into serious partnerships, in fact they seem to not prefer it, usually due to a past experience unfortunately :(

⥺ does anyone else get their period when the moon crosses their ascendant? just me? okay☺️

⥺ aries sun people are so attractive

⥺ people usually say that musicians with the same moon sign as you resonate with you more, but, this is kind of an iffy observation BUT, artists with their moon in your fourth house may also seem to make music you really like as well or you may just like them in general

⥺ cancer risings having an aries midheaven meaning that their life’s ambition is about defining themselves and being themselves unapologetically <3

⥺ people with venus in a detriment sign are often really attractive (aries, scorpio)

⥺ cancer and leo risings have a natural almost child-like glow to them. also really attractive placement in my opinion

⥺ scorpio risings and mars are often perceived as mean and intimidating. same for moons (unless if there’s aspects to venus i’ve noticed)

⥺ mars in gemini 🤝 over-competitive in games (especially games to do with the hands like spit, word hunt, certain sports, etc..)

⥺ moon conjunct jupiter people are so wholesome. they have very good morals and care deeply for the well-being of others. such a lovely placement <3

⥺ bucket-shaped chart is giving “you have all this pizazz and potential but…(insert planet here) is giving you some obstacles”

⥺ moon square neptune could be an indicator of a parent who struggles with alcoholic or drug addiction

⥺ chart ruler square neptune can give poor perception as to how you’re perceived by others or anxieties about it

thank you for reading! hope you’re well ! ⭐️

1K notes · View notes

raptorish · 5 months ago

Text

On Sapience, Longing, and the Lack Thereof

Written by Max on August 12th, 2024.

So I was at Othercon 2024 this past weekend - and like many who attended, I came out the other side with a new piece of my identity to chew over. This essay is me chewing over my thoughts on archaeosapience, as it connects to my velociraptor paleotheriotype, and why I genuinely don’t feel like I fit the label.

One of the panels I attended and thoroughly enjoyed was “Not Humans, Still People: How Inhumanity Interacts with Personhood,” by Goratrix bani Tremere of the Draconic Wizard Workshop and Chaiya Askari-Vykos of the Treehouse System. During the panel, Goratrix and Chaiya argue that personhood is different from humanity, defining personhood as, essentially, sapience - the ability to understand oneself, to make rational choices, to comprehend the world in not only physical ways, but also the abstract and symbolic. All humans are people, but not all people are humans - nonhuman personhood is experienced by many, many alterhumans, and this is an important distinction to keep in mind.

Another panel I adored, presented by Sivaan of Candlekeep, was “Archaeosapience: To Awaken as Ancient in a Modern Age,” in which he discusses the label and the intricacies of his own experience as an archaeosapien. Once again, nonhuman sapience is a key feature here - as Sivaan writes in xyr coining essay, “[t]he “sapience” in archaeosapience exclusively refers to our awareness of our existence as ancient beings,” as opposed to an inherent connection with the species Homo sapiens. Archaeosapience does not require one to be human.

An archaeosapien is defined as “an individual whose alterhuman or nonhuman identity is intrinsically rooted in prehistory, antiquity or mythic accounts of history.” And funnily enough, here lies my personal disconnect with the term, even though I identify as a velociraptor - a prehistoric animal well known to be extinct. To experience archaeosapience requires personhood, requires sapience, an understanding of oneself as an ancient being. And this is one thing that my theriotype utterly lacks.

Now, I’m not saying that I lack sapience. I am a person, one who reads and writes and learns about the world around me. I also identify as human, separate but intertwined with my personhood, and my humanity is as important to me as my animality. Both of these core parts of myself contribute to where I stand today - as a prehistoric animal person who is, somehow, completely at home in modernity.

Throughout this essay, I’m going to refer to my raptor self in the third person - it thinks this, it wants that. I separate myself from my theriotype in this way because I do not feel like I’m myself in a mental shift. My raptorial mind is not a person, but an animal. It is incapable of understanding abstract concepts or philosophical thought, living in the physical world where it gets food, water, rest, shelter, and enrichment. This does not make it any lesser than my sapient mind - it does mean that it has a different way of understanding the world.

My raptor brain, the instinctual animal side, does not feel like it’s an animal from another era. It doesn’t even know what time is, beyond the regular cycles of day and night. It doesn’t understand common features of modern human society, like computers or elevators or money - not because those things didn’t exist back in prehistoric Asia, 75 million years ago, but because it’s an animal. I could be a gecko from the modern day and still feel the same mentally shifted apathy and confusion about the things I need to live day to day as a human being. The raptor doesn’t know or care about its status as a long-extinct relic, because as far as it’s concerned, it is alive and well, healthy and fed and comfortable in a house with people it knows.

In fact, my raptor brain doesn’t even feel attached to a habitat. Early on in my awakening, as someone who knows where velociraptors used to live in the spacetime continuum, I felt a sort of connection with deserts - I’d look at them and think, that’s like the place my species lived! This was the part of me who’s a person, putting a label to a place that I’ve never been, thinking fondly of it despite never having lived there.

The part of me that’s not a person, that knows nothing but pavement and grass and many-walled shelters keeping out the wind, looks at the desert and bristles with distaste. It doesn’t like the idea of being somewhere it doesn’t know, with sand and scorching sun and no food it knows how to catch. It knows its home territory, a place with cooling wooden floorboards and a comfortable nest of mattress and blankets and a cache of good food that never runs out, and it likes its territory. It doesn’t like the desert or understand the significance of it. It can’t comprehend the idea of wilderness enough to miss it. It doesn’t want to be wild and free, it wants to live in a building with air conditioning and clean freshwater from the sink.

As you can see, my raptor self is perfectly content to be a modern animal. How about my human self, the part of me that can think about my theriotype and know that it’s a prehistoric animal? Do I long for ancient deserts, grieve and yearn for a world I never experienced because I know it might have once been home?

Well… no. I don’t. For better or worse, my humanity feels inexorably linked to modernity, to cities, to technology. I can’t go anywhere or do anything without running into electronics. I use the internet every day of my life to learn, entertain, engage with the world around me. I couldn’t imagine living a life where I didn’t have it. There’s no disconnect from the modern day for me, no longing for the past - only the sense that I’m right where I want to be.

As a person, I’m content with where I am today. As an animal, a raptor can’t yearn for a time it has never lived.

#archaeosapien #paleotherian #therian #alterhuman #otherkin #personal essay #max talks

76 notes · View notes

honestsycrets · 1 year ago

Text

before anyone else I: the venerable [admiral!miguel o'hara x princess!reader]

❛ pairing | admiral!miguel o'hara x princess!reader

❛ type | one-shot, sfw (minor past suggestive themes)

❛ summary | once upon a time, miguel loved a princess. upon learning about her engagement to his father, King Stone, he's back with a plan in hand.

❛ tags | forced marriage, arranged marriage, historical period not defined, royal!au, admiral!miguel, princess!reader, mention of character death, elements of implied treason and betrayal, some angst, some fluff, annoyed miguel, lyla makes trouble, self edited, f!reader, persuasion inspired, a kiss, innocent!reader, Spanish is not translated, a kiss.

❛ sy's notes | no requests were fulfilled; filled to meet this poll.

An imperial boat docks. It waves in the water a little off-kilter, pulling to the right in all its glorious majesty. On the dock itself, the head of ground forces stood dressed in full regalia, all navy blue and white, the gold buttons glistening in the fresh morning light. Jess expected this day would one day come. The seamen shouted among one another on the ship until at last the crew outstretched a thick oak plank. Boots bounded down the strong wooden ramp leading from an imperial ship to the dock. The awaiting crowd was rough and rowdy, casting bellowing screams at the admiral and his crew.

“There he is!” Jess boomed, clapping her umber hands together.

They were freckled, with the frequency of her exposure to the sun. Today, her skin was shielded by a heavy coat. She abandoned the thing over her chair as she wrote letters, recommendations, and battle orders. But she preferred it when her poet shirt was thrown open, teaching the men and women in her charge.

Admiral Miguel O’Hara led the charge, passing by the lackeys throwing down trade goods from the belly of the boat. Compared to Jess, his clothing was rough, punctuated by his time at the sea. What use was there for a thick coat with the spray of sea spray daily? No, he stood in dark brown breeches and a thrown open poet-shirt, sodden with sea water, likely from dealing with whatever injury brought his ship back to this usually forgotten port.

He was glad to be back on the Spanish shore, if only it weren’t this shore and the many stairs he would have to brave to get to the castle while the engineers worked on the Venerable. Miguel loosened the sweat from his coarse locks, his shoulders bunched and ready for another fight. He came to a stop in front of Jess, exhaling deep, rage-filled breaths. Jess shifted back on her boot heel, a grimace on her countenance.

“That’s a pretty good hole. She’s taking on water quick. You hit something, Miguel?”

“Me? No, I don’t hit rocks.” Miguel snorted, casting a look over his shoulder to the woman that stood at his side. Lyla’s eyes averted, not quite saying anything and saying everything at the same time. Lyla obscured herself behind her thick honey-brown bob. “Someone was distracted with the king’s cask of Carribean rum.”

“Lyla?” Jess came up behind her, grasping her shoulders for emphasis. “No. Our Lyla couldn’t’ve done that number.”

“It was once! One in eight years.”

“Those... those changes you wrote me about. They have you on edge, paranoid. Let’s have a drink with the imperial guard. They have missed you.”

Miguel threw a hiss back at the two as he stormed up the stairs, bundling buttons of his dirty poet shirt to obscure the sight of his dark chest from onlookers, namely the sex-deprived women and men of the capital whose hungry eyes ogled his crew. He didn’t need a loon bothering him right now, not here, he might punch them into a permanent, instantaneous sleep.

“Oh, come, Miguel, these things happen. Look how sorry she is.” She says as if he cares. Jess rushed to catch up with him, the beads on the ends of her braids snatching and clicking. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, his head heavy. He doesn’t have time for this.

“What she meant to do is as much irrelevant as it was irresponsible. If you’ll excuse me, Jess, I now have to prepare a new ship to set sail.”

“The king wants to see you. It’s about her,” she shouted. Miguel’s steps came to all but a grinding halt, his finger fingers flexing into a tight fist. His mouth was dry, and it wasn’t due to a lack of hydration but the mention of your name on Jess’s lips. She brought her hands to her hips, her hands on the golden embroidered loops. His face sagged, all irritation melding into something different, inscrutable. He threw her a look.

“Fine.”

But first-- he had to get this sea stank off of his skin.

“Admiral O’Hara! There is just the man I have been looking for. Come, come, let me pour you tea. No? No tea? Of course not, it seems I don’t remember the boy I used to know. You’re a man now. And one of decisive action! Coffee, yes? You are better suited to black coffee. Am I correct?”

Everyone thinks he is thirsty in this blasted place.

He didn’t belong here. He was, as he preferred to be, stuck at sea. The unforgiving sea required his attention lest his men befall a terrible end. He could handle that burden. He stood below a great sigil of a sea dragon whirling to chew its tail. Its hands secured a great many orbs in its sharp, jeweled talons. His eye tracked across the inside of the crest, turning over the word hopelessly on his tongue.

“Rum,” he answered caustically, his eye dropping from the great sigil before him to the jeweled sapphire and emeralds that were embedded in the floor. Between rows of sentinel were porcelain statues, their hands wrapped around blunt and aged swords, their fingers almost palpable on the artifacts that remained from times of old. The deep navy blue curtains and tapestries are detailed in ineffectual teal. He never cared for the other assortment of pots and jars that were so-called mythical artifacts and rolls of paper that would soon house the king’s poorly-made royal decrees.

“Aha! A good seaman and his alcohol,” the king minced his laughter. The noise aggravated him, the memory of the man’s words buzzing in the back of his head. Now he kissed up to him. How he’d fallen. He blinked up to the royal crest, then down to the aged king. His long, grey hair at the middle of his back reflected his many losses. Miguel turned his eyes back down to the king, eyes crinkling at the corners, taking a glimpse of him. His tone slipped. “It makes the time pass more tolerably, does it not?”

“It does.”

He pops open a glass bottle of rum, pouring it into a cup encrusted with more fine jewels. Miguel doesn’t drink.

"I suppose you want me to get to the point.”

That would be a nice change, yes. His eyes held modest deference, his heavy dark brown boots pacing toward a hearth in the middle of the king’s study. Wisps of vibrant blue fire threw embers into the air. He finds himself staring at a stained glass effigy of your mother. A woman who undoubtedly would have been ashamed of the husband that stood before him now.

“You recall my daughter,” How could he not? He released a small grunt, an acknowledgment of the king’s words. Mindful of his reaction, Miguel turned his hands over the hot air, plumes of warmth kissing his sun-worn cheeks. As the king spoke, the flickering flames warmed the slight ring on his thick fingers. “I’ve arranged her marriage to Lord Stone. An alliance of sorts.”

Miguel’s eyes go wide, aghast, staring into the blank flames. He grits his teeth together, the thin blade of his patience whittling down with every word from the king. He kills his face of the horrified, fleeting emotions that dappled his skin like obvious spots. He might have snapped a look at the king before his eyes calmed, trained to maintain the illusion of composure.

“How unfortunate.”

“King Stone?” around the corner, his second-in-command squeaked. He should have left her outside. Miguel brought his hand to cup his slight forehead, throwing her a warning look. “That old coot is still--”

“Lyla.”

“Yes, he is quite old, isn’t he? I was surprised when he asked for her hand in marriage, truly,” the king said tightly, born in annoyance. He has gone ashy, eyes desolate as he recounts the death of the prince, or perhaps his own. “I would have preferred an engagement to his son. I trust you heard about his assassination. It was a great surprise. A tragedy, indeed.”

“We have heard many things about it. I am surprised that you would agree to such an alliance after what he's done.”

It was impossible not to hear rumors in the ports he sailed through. Miguel did not only hold to royal ports but those that held slimy crowds of pirates and prostitutes. If he did not, he would never have the truth behind the many rumors that swirled through the air. Women in richer towns had time to spread rumors. Those suffering from poverty had no time for them. Their lives were ones of perpetual struggle. What use had they for the death of stupid princes?

“Feelings change.”

Did they really--

“Miguel. Truly, I understand your apprehension. But unless you have the magic to raise my dead sons from the grave, I have no choice.” The king sighed, beating his old knuckles on the game board. He’d sacrifice another child for his own safety-- the illusion of it. Coward. “I must know if I can I trust you with her transport.”

“She won’t last.” Miguel stared at him, breathing the words out, his frown darkening the rest of his features. “She is a balm to any battle-worn king, but Stone is not just old. He is dangerous. If you send her there, you will send her to her death.”

“His wives are well cared for,” your father argued mildly because it was not him who would face the rest of a lifetime with Stone. He brought a fist to his mouth and bit down upon it, a vestige of the man he used to be. “Perhaps your feelings for her cloud your judgement.”

“I can separate my feelings from my professional judgements, mi rey.”

“Yes. I suppose you can, admiral. How long has it been since you bore the responsibility of being the Head of Guards? Seven years?”

“Eight,” Miguel cropped, his hand shifting to the top of his pommel. “It has been eight years since I left the crown city.”

“Head of ground forces regulates my guard now. I find them lacking,” he grabbed Miguel’s cup of undrunk rum and threw it back, his tongue snapping against the roof of his tongue. He felt for the sentinel of guards in the room. “My soldiers, that is. If they had been stronger, perhaps my sons would still be alive.”

Be it like him to find fault in everyone but his own battle choices.

“But I am ever humbled by your selfless service, mi hijo,” he spoke mildly, “Please know it isn’t a decision I make lightly. I know my daughter. She would feel more secure if you were the one to take her to Stone.”

They were nice words from a soon-to-be puppet king. Miguel turned his gaze onward, locating Lyla by his side. Her small, scarred hands warmed themselves over the ancient blue flame. A surge of heat turned over in his stomach, punctured by a fear he hadn’t felt in a while. He steadied his voice.

“I would not be so certain.” Miguel wrinkled his forehead, throwing a look that looked almost off-kilter. After this many years, would it be easy to face you again? No, he decided. Not for this purpose. “Soft women are fickle to easy words.”

What of me?

Not you, Lyla. You’re not soft.

“If you do not want to, I can send her by way of Jess,” a long sigh slipped off the king’s lips. Then quiet, only broken by a clatter and Lyla’s frantic attempt to replace game pieces into their proper position. Miguel swayed to where she was, grabbing the head of a miniature oak knight and popping it into the proper position.

“For her sake, I will deliver her.”

Miguel said nothing more. He failed to wait for the king to dismiss him, perhaps out of confidence in their relationship, that this was not something he had to tread lightly around. Lyla rushed by his side, the wordless guards drawing the heavy doors open to the wide stone hallway before them.

“You cannot take her there,” Lyla spoke with a rigidity that Miguel admired, mindful of the volume of her words, only a whisper. “Your father is--”

“Yes, Lyla, I know very well.”

“Then what next?”

At the end of the hall, Miguel rushed down the steps, out of the king’s chambers, and into lush, almost stabilizing grass. Free of the constricting walls that he would have once called home, Miguel took in the fresh air, his hands behind his neck. To take you there meant certain death. To not take you there, well, he regarded both just as poorly. The fat roses bobbed on their pointy stems. Miguel expects to see you there, with your chambermaids, eating fruits on an Arab blanket.

“We take Jess up on her offer. She’ll be expecting me.”

“Miguel, the intent in horseback riding is that your ride the horse.”

“You know, on top,” Lyla jumps onto Jess’s sentence. “He hasn’t been on top of anything in years--”

“And break its back?” Miguel held the reins in his thick fist. The horse, a chunky mocha and white painted thing was a profit from his voyages overseas. Not only was it subjected to awful sea travel, but now to have a man of muscle on its back? With his newfound speed, it was a risk he did not need to take. “No. I have two feet. I can walk.”

Miguel was many things, but he wasn’t a monster. Or so he liked to think.

“I think you’re quite sweet, Admiral O'Hara.” Jess’s own guard, Gwen, spoke. She was a willowy thing, barely a sprout of a woman with a good heart. He could tell. Miguel looked down, opting for silence as he crunched down full blades of grass under his foot.

“Miguel doesn’t like compliments,” Lyla said.

He also didn’t like long, relaxing walks in the valley. Jess proposed something like drinking in her office. It would have been glorious-- but Lyla, whose recent binge nearly scuttled his ship, chose a good ol’fashioned horseback ride. Something that didn’t remind her of sitting on the patchwork doll that was the Venerable.

“The princess would marry someone she does not know?”

Dread filled Miguel’s stomach at the words, the truth in them half-cocked and wrong. He found no words on his tongue that could fit the weight of bitterness that he felt about the arranged marriage. Everyone knew, everyone but Gwen. She was a young thing.

“It’s not her choice,” Lyla spoke in your defense. “It’s her father’s.”

“Forced marriages are a thing of the past. They are not right. Has the princess ever even met Lord Stone?” Gwen asked.

In less than a week’s time, following the festival of roses, they would sail eastward. Or, so said the sailing plans he laid out for Jess. Who, for her part, looked away. Lyla and he exchanged a glance of mutual understanding. That was what he liked to call a sign.

“No, before their deaths, her brothers never would have allowed her travel to Alche. This whole alliance is a sham. We’re expected to deliver the princess in some false faith that he keeps this so-called alliance. He will not. I cannot decide if the king truly believes in this alliance or if he is hopeful he will remain as a ruler. In either case, it is foolish. Stone would murder his own legitimate heir and for what?”

Except they aren’t his words. Those words flowed freely from Jess’s lips.

“The king will fall.”

“Miguel. Those are treasonous—“

“Treasonous? He is incapable of governing.”

“The council helps him,” Jess says, but the words come out slanted. She convinces herself as much of the truth as him. Gwen’s lips close, looking down to the sword at her side, then back to Jess’s troubled eyes. Miguel had her where he wanted her. Where she wanted to be-- abandoning this foolish faith in a man who long since gave up hope on a strong, independent nation.

“A counsel of plants. Five of his sons have fallen. If this keeps up, we will fall next.”

Jess felt the words running bone-deep.

“You have a plan.”

He always did.

The deep night sky was a sea of twinkling stars. Oil lamps illuminated the solitary garden. Miguel fit his hands in balls on his hips, eyes flickering from the blades of grass to the long stems of lilies. He breathed softly, drawing in breaths that should have been relaxing, but morphed into something awful, some unfiltered fear of the failure of his plans.

“These are her gardens, aren’t they?”

“They are,” Miguel answered. “If nothing has changed, she cares for them herself and harvests them with the peasants. She’ll be here, tomorrow, for her last harvest as a princess.”

On one hand, overturning the king and his council could go seamlessly. He had Jess, that much was for certain. Gwen, who seemed to go with her bidding, held a good heart about the ethics of arranged marriage. She turned her nose up at it, the suggestion that you would be forced into a marriage with an old, cruel king. Lyla, his Lyla, held no apprehension to the plan. She treated him with deference, seeking only his happiness as his best friend.

Would this-- being king-- make him happy?

Miguel looked down. Soft pink roses, ripe and ready for the rose-picking festival. Your last, if things went to your father’s plan. He hadn’t thought about it: about how you might feel in the push for another engagement. Not one to an aged, cruel man-- but… he never thought to find you, to ask. He wasn’t sure he could stomach the rejection and yet still force you into a marriage with him.

It wasn’t that he wanted to-- but had to.

Miguel turned his hand into the suit vest across his chest, removing a bit of aged parchment with a broken wax seal. He turned his finger over the old ink. In every interaction I face, I long to spot you, hidden among the roses, the lilies, to be one of the heads of delighted harvesters. But you are not here. You are never here. I fear you never may be.

“Miggy,” Lyla said. “Miggy look.”

Miguel lifted his head to look at Lyla. She wasn’t looking at him, peering across the garden, somewhere Miguel couldn’t see from where he stood. He lifted his dark brown boots, stomping around the corner. His sharp red eyes were wide in shock, bags of exhaustion lifted by your sight. Had it-- really been eight years?

Panic works in tandem with longing. He could run for Jess’s chambers, crumple there like the very coward that ran this fastly crumbling kingdom. Face you another day. He couldn’t help but indulge himself in the gentle lilt of your voice, the way you rolled the ‘r’ on his last name, even though it was very much not an ‘r’ to be rolled.

“Is that you, Miguel O’Hara? ¿De verdad?”

No, Miguel thought. Not yet.

His mind was overwrought, more stimulation than he had in months of battling the sea. He could climb ropes, fix sails, fight pirates, throw out orders, and care for the ports. No issue. None. But as you stood there, looking finer than any treasure he ripped from the hands of the most experienced of pirates, he found himself unable to locate his practiced words.

You were meant to be his. To be by his side. Of that much, he was certain. Miguel folded the letter in his hand and tucked it back into his dark coat, exploring your gown. A light, white off-the-shoulder dress, embroidered in teal and ombre details, with the most beautiful seafoam bowed sash. You pulled at the rebozo over your long dripping sleeves, the jewels of your hairpieces tinking together as you moved, pulling up your skirts saucily over your ankle.

“Is it not the admiral?” your handmaiden whispered.

“I did not know he was back,” said the other.

“Please excuse us, girls. Lady Lyla, I would prefer a private audience with the admiral. If you would,”

“Of course! Of course, come, hurry up, you're slow--” Lyla did not need to be told twice. She made herself scarce, grabbing the mid-backs of the girls, forcing them up the steps and out of sight. Miguel dipped down to take a lantern that one of the girls had forgotten.

“Hola, mi amor,”

Miguel turned around, offering you his forearm. Your jeweled eyes fell on it. You took his broad arm with one hand, minding the train of your dress in the other. The pads of your fingers shifted along the muscle. It took a moment for him to register your curious touch. The increase in his muscle mass, particularly as of late, must have been jarring. His brows knit together, his eyes crinkling around the edges in a way that reflected his age by sea. You moved through your gardens. Miguel, your ever-patient servant, followed your lead.

At night time, your garden was impossibly beautiful. It was lined by bushels of healthy, salt-tolerant roses, cloaked in the secret of darkness. Miguel remembered the small pond as if it were yesterday, the secret place of his youth. Small bugs sang in the heaviness of your mutual silence, breaking with the pop of your lips.

“I saw you had a letter in your hands. From a woman, perhaps?”

He lifted his hand, offering the lack of a marriage band. No wife, not even a love on a distant shore. The memory of your kisses, your bodies strewn in bed, overrode any ability for him to find another woman. What happened to your eyes-- you began, reaching to touch him. He turned his face away. You were the first to notice. Or, perhaps, just unbothered by tethers of propriety.

“You are still unmarried? Then why did you never answer my letters?”

“What would you have me say, princesa?” Miguel’s words came at last. He hadn’t meant them to come out the way they did. A long, painful lament on his tongue, marked with barbs. “You chose your family over my proposal. Your rejection was quite clear.”

“You, above everyone else, should know it was not an easy choice. I could not have told them the truth.” You sat down on your stone bench, fixing your skirts. “You would have hung.”

“Yes... well. How funny is it that they are now dead,” he bit out. “While I stand here alive.”

Your eyes were bright, watery, bits of tears slipping down from the corners of your eyes, over pink blush at your cheeks. Shit, he hadn't meant to say that. A slow breath leaked from his mouth. You stood up, brushing the tears away with the flowing sleeves. It hurt to see your pain well to the surface.

“Miggy, I know you hate them, but please don’t talk ill of the dead. They did what they thought was best for our nation and nothing more.”

Right-- to secure the possibility of an alliance through an arranged marriage, how charitable of them. You stood before a bushel of roses, turning your eyes over the fat blooms as an excuse not to look at him. You poisoned your mind with the lies of your father and brothers. He turned you, lip trembling.

“What of what was best for you?” His hand found your cheek, rolling away the tears that spilled openly before those in the garden. The sentinel who watched, the flowers that grew in peace. You leaned into his touch, eyes closing at the comforting warmth that welled up in your chest. He was here, again. “That has always been the only thing that I am concerned with.”

“I know. My brothers couldn’t understand. They only understood politics.”

“What of your father? He knows how I feel.” Miguel said. The words were smooth and soft, gentle like the sill waters of your pond. “He may not know that I was your first--”

“Miggy,”

“Your virginity belongs to me. Stone cannot take it,” he punctuates the words. They seem to draw some ancient feelings loose, drawing back with your hand to your chest, cooling the heat that bubbled in your chest at the mere memory. His voice milded out, a smile warring at the corners of his lips. Eight years, and he knew you thought of that very warm summer’s night on the pavilion. "But your father would still allow you to live in misery."

You're not thinking of your father when Miguel speaks of such silly, youthful things. It's hurled into the past.

“You remember.” The tone in his voice pulled at a question, but he asked none. You tugged on your rebozo and turned away from Miguel once more, embarrassed. He couldn’t resist. His hands cupped your slight shoulders, rippled with goosebumps, though it was not a cold night out. His lips worked on your ears, kissing the delicate earrings that dripped from your earlobes. “The last day of the rose harvest.”

“Miggy, not here.”

“Your guards fell ill for their night shift. I took their place. You bathed in petals and perfumed your skin that night. I dare say, on purpose. You were so good for me.”

The memory must have made you clench, your blood runs warm, leaning into the soft kiss he set behind your ear, the scrape of his fang. Oh, stars, you cried.

“We should stop, my father--”

“Knows what love we have. Even if he is a spineless coward.”

“Have? Miggy?”

He held his chin level, swaying where he stood, seeking some acknowledgment that your feelings had not changed. For what seemed like the hundredth time that night, you faced him. In place of a response, silence was the best course of action. A grim smile worked on his face, his head pounding with the lack of alcohol, that little friend of his that had made these years pass so easily. You tugged him forward.

“You are mine?” you ask.

“I am yours. I am loyal to you before anyone else.”

To his surprise, you held out your hand, your fingers twiddling at him.

“Then prove your loyalty to me.” You hummed. “Give me that letter. I want it.”

“You can’t trust me, can you?” He sighed, slipping his hand into his coat pocket. Finally pulling it free, he unraveled it. Its crispy, flaked edges slipped from your fingertips. The royal seal glimmered in your eyes, wrought in sudden delight at your own handwriting.

“This is mine. And you’ve kept it so close to your heart this whole time? Oh, Miggy,”

“Don’t start,” Miguel took a step away, rubbing the frustration out of his forehead. Blood rushed to Miggy’s dark face. He should be so lucky that it was night, that the moon was not full, and that you would not weaponize it. You plucked up your skirts, daring a twirl, jewelry jingling, skirts whirling. His lips pulled in a smile at your delight, a party all on your own. Congratulations on your victory, he wanted to say, as if it hadn't resulted in years of endless longing.

“I knew it.”

“You did not,” Miguel bit out, kicking out his feet over the inky blades of glass. “You interrogated me regarding its source. Another woman when I have a princess? How asinine.”

“Oh, Miggy. If you write me a letter, just one,” you settled it back in his coat jacket. “I can be at peace with this marriage. I’ll close my eyes and think of you.”

His mind reeled at your words. He shot you a wan look, which you returned with a confused flicker of your long lashes, wondering what you said that was so wrong. Miguel looked toward the armed guards, men who-- in the day, he served with. He trusts them in a way that is unique to service under the crown-- to you.

“What sort of man do you take me for?” he bit out, his tone tapering dangerously low. “To think I would allow you to marry that man?”

“What choice do I--”

“You listen to your father regarding the oddest things. You would marry an archaic sack of shit but not the love of your life.”

“Oh,” breath punched from your chest, exhaled in a shaky breath. Your hand came to your chest, twiddling the jewelry at your chest. Miguel turned his head back to face yours, his scarlet eyes trained on yours. “I wasn’t aware of your offer.”

He couldn’t help it. Not anymore. The time at sea, eight years of suppressed pleasure through memories of your warmth, and the letters you sent all culminated in overcoming longing. He dipped down, his lips sliding against yours. He swept his tongue past your lips, drawing you closer with a stabilizing hand behind your back. He was many things, but never a coward, savoring the tender taste of fig and honey and you on your lips. You were as sweet as he remembered. His lips parted, words barely a puff.

“I don't believe I ever retracted it, Princesa.”

Yes, you say delightfully. He wonders if you'll still say yes after you learn of what he's done. He doesn't always like the decisions he has to make-- but they're for your good. One day, perhaps, you'll understand.

#miguel ohara oneshot #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #atsv imagines #atsv au #atsv imagine #atsv x reader #atsv miguel imagine #atsv x you #atsv angst #miguel o'hara angst #royalty au

749 notes · View notes