#and i realized that in the past i would have done the same thing based on how my current social group functions

[soupradio]

I miss s1 y'all I'm so upset about this

I'm half asleep and Tumblr crash when I wrote this the first time this app is really trying to piss me off. This is more rant I don't think I added anything to the conversation but I had thoughts and I needed them out.

"use minorities as a way to push conservative propaganda to a left leaning audience in a palatable way."

First of all great phrasing second of all a lot of y'all are falling for it.

I don't think it's just that people like a character I think it's people who genuinely defend billionaires and bad people like a lot of y'all are showing your true colors when you defend the actions of characters like Caitlyn and Mel and even Viktor.

Yes all three of these characters are complex great but are you just saying that so that people get off your ass about your favorite character being also kind of a bad person.

"Stop trying to put your real life issues on a TV show/stop treating fictional characters like real people" What lens do you want me to view media through? Reality affects Media. When season 1 in its entirety was just a mirror for the oppression we see in real life? Did that slip past y'all? It's not just because you like the character it's because these are your real morals. Y'all might not want to come to that realization because you might realize that you're morals don't necessarily align with the shit that you post on your Instagram story.

Like they gave us a fascist cop, a classist billionaire, and a cult leader. None of which had to suffer by the way I mean the cop and the billionaire lost their moms but like that's it meanwhile zaunites are still losing everything and have for thousands of years them losing their mom don't make up for shit. And Zaun still helped them in that war and every single zaunite became a piltover apologist.

It almost feels like they hid these centrist fence sitting leaning right politics under themes of oppression and generational trauma and revolution and familial relationships, just for the lesson in the end to be forgive and hope that you're oppressors are nice to you. But a lot of y'all are eating it up.

Because you aren't just liking a character that's a fascist in the story You are defending the actions of a fascist. Your defending the actions of billionaires and bad people. Y'all are so quick to say eat the rich in real life but the second your favorite character is a billionaire you are quick to defend. That's pretty telling. This isn't just fiction.

And it feels like the creators also hid behind the fact that this fascist is a lesbian and this billionaire is a black woman in order to reel people in and almost put like hazy rose-tinted glasses over the fan base and y'all fell for it. If you do hate Mel it's never for the right reasons, you'll never criticize her for the fact that she's actually a classist. For the fact that she is probably benefited the most from the oppression of the undercity, and done nothing for them.

That's why I don't like her. If she existed in real life I would be against her whole heartedly I would have hope she didn't make it out of that councilor room too, Y'all don't like her because she's a black woman we are not the same.

Like the desire for representation overpowering your critical thinking. I can criticize Caitlyn and Vi's relationship and say it's not healthy without me being against lesbians. You can want lesbian representation and not accept every single piece of it that comes your way. Vi can be good representation while the relationship can be bad, Y'all keep saying you understand complexity and yet these basic things fool you.

Or maybe the creators are just stupid and a bunch of white people who can't read a room it's probably the latter

Arcane ignores all of the intersectionality that comes between race, gender, sexuality, social class and use minorities as a way to push conservative propaganda to a left leaning audience in a palatable way.

And it works, because you guys are out here loving a fascist and a billionaire.

It's a power fantasy they sell.

...or maybe the writers are just really stupid, dunno.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

What is Mage Viktor doing?

So it turns out I do have a take on what's going on with Mage Viktor, why he's messing with timelines in the way he is, and what he hoped to achieve by bringing Jayce to the torment nexus dimension and then sending him back to his own timeline armed with facial hair, trauma, and the ruthless determination to somehow stop his own Viktor.

Of course this is just my own reading; there are many ways you can interpret the reveals of the final episode. But it's become my preferred reading because it makes Mage Viktor come off as absolutely BATSHIT. The apotheosis of all Viktor's best and worst qualities. As he would be.

First we gotta lay out some fundamental principles about how I understand Viktor that will inform this reading.

Viktor was never being controlled by the Hexcore. This deserves its own whole meta, but tl;dr, I think it is directly antithetical to the core themes of the show to think that Viktor wasn't making his own decisions all through s2.

Over and over again in Arcane, we see characters become "monsters" and do monstrous things, and every time the thematic point is that this is still the person you love. When Vi says that her sister is dead because she is Jinx now and when Jayce says "my partner died in this room" THEY ARE BOTH WRONG. The person they love is different now but they're still in there and they can still be reached.

Viktor is transformed by something terrible happening to him (like many characters in the show!) but all his decisions are still his own and to me they seem like perfectly consistent--if extreme--extensions of what we know about him as a character before he gets a Hexcore heart.

So my analysis starts with the premise that Mage Viktor is not trying to free his past self from an outside influence. He's trying to hack his own character traits to make a different version of himself do what he wants.

Viktor is BOTH genuinely altruistic and compassionate AND deeply arrogant. This is such a banger combination and I think turning down the dial on either trait makes Viktor less interesting. I think Mage Viktor has genuine remorse about what he did in his timeline and he is, fundamentally, trying to find a way he could have stopped himself from killing everyone (within certain constraints; we'll get to that). When Jayce is able to show main timeline Herald Viktor his memories of what Viktor is about to do to their world, the first thing Viktor sees is not dead Jayce, or himself left alone in an empty world. It's all the ordinary people who are going to die terrified because of him.

I do not think any version of Viktor wanted this result. But Viktor is so convinced he is always right that his arrogance carries him right past the point of no return before he realizes oh actually I haven't freed everybody I have killed them.

So I do think Mage Viktor is trying to find a timeline where this doesn't happen, but he is not timeline-hopping in order to preemptively stop other versions of himself from making the same mistake. If he wanted to do that, he would just leave all the many many timelines where Jayce dies in a blizzard as a child alone. No Jayce who grows up obsessed with magic, goes around Academy rules to get the hex crystals, invents Hextech and gives Viktor the power to fuck everything up. Easy peasy.

But no. Instead, Viktor is actively going into other timelines and changing them at the point where Jayce would have died.

He is doing things that appear to make the sequence of events that leads to his world-ending magic blast WAY MORE LIKELY. And that's because...

Viktor is obsessively selfish when it comes to Jayce.

Mage Viktor wants to find a timeline where he doesn't doom the world but not at the expense of meeting Jayce and spending years doing science with him.

If the goal was only to prevent Jayce from dying in the blizzard, he could have done it quietly, waiting for Jayce to collapse in the snow and then transporting him to the base of the mountain, leaving before Jayce had any idea who saved him. Instead he makes SUCH A DRAMATIC PRODUCTION of it that Jayce remembers and can repeat the steps of the action years later, well enough that he actually produces a working spell from a barely-tested Hextech prototype. Mage Viktor wants that shit burned into baby Jayce's brain. He wants to make sure he fundamentally alters the arc of Jayce's life, bending it into a trajectory that collides with his own.

Viktor also (as far as we see) doesn't go the route of going back in time and killing his younger self, or steering the course of his own life along a path where he never meets Jayce. He doesn't even go for a timeline where he and Jayce meet each other but they don't invent Hextech. Now maybe it's the case that some time before our Jayce arrives in his timeline, Mage Viktor tried all that, and has figured out that none of those options work. (Maybe in some of those timelines Jayce is the one who goes Machine Herald, and there's no partner there to talk him off the ledge of ending the world.) But I think it's also possible that, now that he's gotten the experience in one timeline of spending years with Jayce making once-in-a-generation scientific breakthroughs together (which I truly believe is just as important a part of their relationship to Viktor as any romantic or sexual element might be)...he can't bear to deny any version of himself the chance of having that--even if the price is the rest of the world. Because a world where Jayce isn't his partner isn't a world worth saving.

So what I think Mage Viktor is doing is sitting there with his stubborn engineer brain and the husk of his dead soulmate, fiddling with the timelines like a Rubik's cube, going Not meeting Jayce CANNOT be the only option. There MUST be a timeline where Jayce and I meet each other and entangle our lives in an alarmingly codependent way AND we dodge the apocalypse at the last minute, I don't end up killing him, and we do not doom the world together. And I'm going to fucking find it.

So he's been hitting timeline after timeline, trying to find the combination of factors where everything works. He is not trying to preemptively save every timeline from himself, he is trying to prove to himself that meeting the love of his life doesn't doom the entire fucking world. It's devotion that is SO PROFOUNDLY SELFISH that he is willing to doom timeline after timeline, but driven by someone with enough compassion and pride that he doesn't want the guilt and shame of knowing he can only have this one life-changing thing if he ruins everything else for everyone, and enough arrogance to still look at this as a problem he must be smart enough to solve.

At some point in this process, I think he also figures out that Jayce is the only person who has any chance of reasoning with any version of himself. I think it's worth paying attention to the exact wording of his "in all timelines, in all possibilities" speech, because it's not just a love confession (although it is that).

"I thought I could bring an end to the world's suffering. But when every equation was solved, all that remained were fields of dreamless solitude. There is no prize to perfection. Only an end to pursuit. In all timelines, in all possibilities, only you can show me this."

And while this is some hella romantic cosmic soulmate level shit, it is also Viktor saying I need you, because you are the only person I have ever trusted enough to save me from myself.

It's the Hexcore promise all over again. Viktor knew he couldn't destroy his own creation. I read this not as Viktor being physically unable to destroy it because the Hexcore had some power over him, but not having the will to destroy it. Because this huge leap in Hextech technology was his big breakthrough and not (as I think he saw it) him supporting Jayce's dream. He knew he couldn't do it. So he asked Jayce to do it for him. Please, save me from my own pride, my desire to leave a legacy. I can't do it on my own.

It's a huge extension of trust, for Viktor to admit such a need. And now he's doing it again when the stakes are MUCH MUCH higher. I need you, because you are the only person who can show me the horror of what I am about to do and have me believe it.

Of course, the deep irony is that really the only person Viktor trusts to tell him he is wrong is HIMSELF FROM THE FUTURE. Astral plane Machine Herald Viktor is standing right behind Jayce, watching Jayce's memory of Mage Viktor telling him what the consequences of his actions will be, and that is the moment the horror sinks in and cracks him fully out of his machine shell.

But of course Jayce is the only person he would ever trust enough to carry such a message (from himself!!) to somewhere close enough to reach him.

It's not clear exactly how much of a detailed plan Mage Viktor has when he sends Jayce back to the main timeline, or how much of that plan he shares with Jayce. But I think he has figured out some broad strokes which affect how Jayce behaves.

(1) Jayce has to immediately go and kill commune Viktor. Squishing Salo is maybe a bonus side quest, but Jayce doesn't even take time to fucking shower before he heads for the commune. (I would love to see the part of the conversation where Mage Viktor is like yeah you know that pit you just climbed out of? Yeah the first thing you gotta do is go right back in there, all the way to the bottom, and find me looking like ethereal cyborg Jesus and blast a fucking hole through my chest.) Maybe this is because if Jayce waits around at all, commune Viktor finds a way to get to him and he folds and joins the cult. Maybe this is because there are just fewer variables involved in forcing Viktor to speedrun his own villain arc by Jayce repeatedly turning him down in one "perfect" form after another. Maybe Mage Viktor knows himself well enough to realize "yeah if you say no to me even ONE TIME but ESPECIALLY when you are HOT and SUFFERING I will go fucking apeshit and we can use that to our advantage."

(2) I think Mage Viktor has realized that he can only be stopped at the very very VERY last minute. He has to be able to see the direct line between what he is about to do right now and the arcane-blasted hell world he's about to create. Otherwise his ego will get in the way and tell him he is smart enough to figure out a way to somehow not kill everybody. Yeah Mage Viktor fucked that one up obviously, but I, main timeline Viktor, will be smart enough and well-intentioned enough when the time comes to simply not do that. I think this is why, for example, Jayce doesn't go to the commune trying to get Viktor to see the error of his ways. It won't work until it is allllmost too late.

Main timeline Viktor stops literally seconds before the point of no return. The arcane corruption spikes that we see everywhere in Mage Viktor's world are already starting to appear.

I think Mage Viktor knows that Jayce has to let him get right up to the edge, close enough to be looking over into the abyss, before he'll be able to pull him back.

But he knows Jayce can do that. That's what they do for each other, right?

This is why I think it was always the plan for Jayce to fight him all the way to the top of the Hexgate, and then surrender. Jayce has to survive until the end of the fight, and maybe for magical physics reasons he has to wait until Viktor sends the anomaly into the sky above the Hexgate. But once they get to the top of the Hexgate tower he stops trying to fight Viktor altogether. Maybe Mage Viktor told him exactly when it had to happen or maybe he just realizes this is the exact same place where he died in Mage Viktor's world; this is his last chance. But in any case, Jayce lands on the top of the Hexgate on his knees and he doesn't try to get up.

He waits, and when he senses Viktor behind him he doesn't try to fight or run away.

I think he knows, either because Mage Viktor told him or through his own intuition, that he has to let Viktor pull him into the astral plane if he wants a chance at reaching him.

How exactly he was going to get through to him and/or get close enough to share the memories before Viktor assimilated him...ehhhh I don't know if either of them had that figured out. The "you were never broken" part of Jayce's speech, while important from a character perspective...very crucially DOES NOT WORK. IT DOES NOT WORK AT ALL. Viktor is assimilating Jayce the whole time. You can see Jayce's astral body changing from the unique version that's still him (like his hands on the left, when he first enters the astral plane--which still look more or less human even though Viktor has already erased "imperfections" like the scrapes and cuts from his time in the pit and the arcane corruption that's spreading up and down his arm from where the rune is embedded) into a featureless gold blob like the other assimilated people.

You can watch the gold light creeping up his body steadily during those lines until it reaches his eyes.

The ONLY thing that stops this timeline from ending the same way Mage Viktor's does...is EKKO.

I think you can make the case that Mage Viktor sent Ekko to the no-Hextech timeline intentionally. But it is such a complex chain of causality for Ekko to get to the point where he's chucking a time machine at Herald Viktor's face that there is no way anyone--even a remorseful demigod with lots of time on his hands--could control every possible factor.

However elaborate Mage Viktor's plan was, and however determined Jayce was to keep his promise to him, it all would have failed if not for factors outside their control and random fucking chance.

Arcane is FULL of near-misses and what-could-have-beens and characters who are trying their best to do something getting knocked off course by consequences they never could have foreseen. Season 2 in particular introduces a persistent thread of chaos and the sense that even events that have understandable root causes are now spiraling out of characters' control. So it feels fitting that such a moment factors into the show's ending.

This is Jayce right before Ekko blasts through spacetime right above Viktor's head.

Yeah that guy was cooked.

The only thing that stops Jayce from being assimilated is Ekko breaking time to throw the Z drive at Viktor's face.

Which startles Viktor enough that he takes his hand off Jayce's head in the physical realm, and also breaks a piece of his machine mask off in the astral realm.

As he always does when one of his "perfect" bodies gets damaged, Viktor withdraws and tried to hide, enough that he lets go of the assimilation connection with Jayce.

Jayce starts to regain his own identity/autonomy.

And he gets a do-over. Exactly the same way Ekko used the Z drive to get a do-over with Jinx when he was trying to talk her out of suicide. Jayce gets another chance, and that's when he goes for "all I want is my partner back" and "because I promised you." Which works.

Mage Viktor's plan, I think, was for Jayce to help main timeline Viktor realize what he was doing before it was too late, and then give him the runestone, which allows him to release all the minds/souls that are connected to him before this becomes some runaway chain reaction of arcane power that swallows everything around him. (How the runestone does this exactly, and how the anomalies play into it, is stuff I am still thinking about. But tbh I am less concerned with the details of made-up magic physics than I am with the character beats.) Mage Viktor had accepted that main timeline Viktor was probably going to die in this process and he'd made peace with it. That's what "should" have happened anyway, if Viktor never found a way to forestall his illness, right? As long as this Viktor got to spend the best years of his life with his Jayce, it was okay.

I don't think Mage Viktor ever expected Jayce to stay there until the end. His goal was to save the world and spare Jayce from himself. And why would he plan otherwise? We know why Jayce stays, but Mage Viktor never got that part of the story. He schlorped up his own Jayce's consciousness with everyone else and maybe he only understood the depths of what Jayce felt for him in the moment that he was killing him. And main timeline Viktor certainly does not expect Jayce to stay. He's shocked when he realizes Jayce has no intention of leaving. No, that wasn't part of any master plan. That part was all Jayce.

[medi-bee]

isat pokemon au, my liege?

my rambling in tags

[ceruleanchillin]

But is she really yours? (141 x Reader)

Note(s) -

It's long, so be warned.

The guys are doing a little of what we like to call Dirty Mackin, and yes, I think this is something they’d all do in their own way.

Still working on getting those accents to come through, while not stepping into cringe/wrong territory. 

I apologize, this is a very messy format (borderline stream of consciousness), and I’m trying to figure out a cleaner way to do this. I hope it doesn’t hurt the reading experience.

And I am the only one who kinda wants to see the reverse scenario, where Reader tries to get the guys away from their trash gfs? 👀Thanks to @bunnyreaper for the idea, it wrote itself as I read that.

Simon:

Annoying. That was the first thing Simon thought of you. So of course you had to work at the only cafe near his flat that made tea the way he liked.

You were always on your phone, arguing with someone (he guessed a boyfriend), and he hated getting stuck at your register. The calls clearly distressed you, and he didn’t know why you kept taking them. Especially on the job.

You’d gotten his order wrong more times than he could count, and you were always having to turn around and ask him to repeat the things he wanted. It got to the point where he waited until the other barista’s line was open.

Unfortunately, other customers had done the same, and it was causing a backup.

Then there was the day. His day started as it always did on his off time. The three S’s, and then he was at the gym to get his time in when he knew it was mostly empty. Then finally, his black tea.

He sighed, mentally preparing himself for the wait before he entered. As expected, there was a line.

You were there, and you appeared to be deeply engaged in conversation with the only person at your counter.

He was surprised to see you had a customer. ‘Must not be a regular.’

As he got closer to the counter, he could overhear the whispered argument. The man wasn’t a customer at all, he presumed he was the boyfriend from the phone calls. Based on the things the two of you were saying, that made the most sense.

‘Great. Getting the live version today.’ Simon had to wonder how you kept this job. Were you the boss's daughter? Did you own a share? Could he steal enough of the signature black tea blend and go into hiding until he had to ship out again?

You looked exasperated, and your co-worker stepped over to your side, coming to your aid.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Simon groaned, realizing the wait would be longer. 

He stepped outside for a cigarette, making the mental decision that if by the time he was done with it there was still a line, he would forgo his drink that day.

He chose the alley on the side of the shop, not liking the openness of the sidewalk, and staked out against the opposite building’s wall.

He was halfway past the tip of his cigarette when the side door he’d been eyeing warily opened, and out came you.

You looked frustrated, anxious, and maybe a little embarrassed. He didn’t think you noticed him, instead, walking over to the dumpster and kicking it, hard. It sent a loud, tinny groan echoing through the alley. He narrowed his eyes, feeling that itch of frustration under his skin.

You noticed him finally, and stopped angrily muttering to yourself. Instead, you started talking to him. It was mostly an uninterrupted stream of dialogue for two minutes straight (he timed it), before he could finally understand you.

“Mandatory break! That’s the second one this week, can you believe that?”

He started to say yes, and that he hoped the third one won you a prize: getting fired. He kept his mouth shut though.

“It’s not even me, it’s my boyfriend. He means well, but he just…I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.” You were searching for something in your apron, but he couldn’t tell what, out of the corner of his eye.

Simon flexed his fingers, eyes narrowing until the shop’s logo mural was a blur. You found it, and walked closer to him until he turned both eyes to you.

“Can I get a light?” You gestured with the unlit cigarette between your fingers to the one burning between his lips.

“Bloody. Fuckin’. Hell, Bird! S’not enough you keep half the fuckin’ place backed up on a good day, but then you prance your arse out here to annoy me some fuckin’ more? Fuck off.” He jabbed his pointer finger at the door you’d come out of.

The alley echoed his baritone, and somehow made his outburst sharper.

You stared at him like he’d taken his head off, instead of having bitten off yours. Eyes wide, bottom lip trembling, he thought you might cry, and he began to feel guilt grow in the pit of his stomach. He’d forgotten, in the midst of you stirring up similar agitation, that he wasn’t on base talking to some recruit dumped on him. 

You did cry, but once you started talking, he suspected it was more due to anger. “Fuck you! You fuck off, I work here!”

He ignored the small voice telling him ‘stop’, and fired back. “Work?” He snorted. “Real fuckin’ rich that is. Don’t confuse work with your million mandatory breaks.”

You clenched your fists, eyes wild with adrenaline and voice shrill with anger. “Go to hell. You’re just some freak in an alley who can’t remember when Halloween is. You don’t know me.”

You angrily wiped at your tears to no avail, as more quickly took their place, and then you started sobbing. 

Simon sighed, feeling like shit and wishing he’d held it together just a little more. “Alright. Alright. ‘Nuff of that now.”

“I’m not crying *hic* because of you…” you huffed, trying to get your voice under control. “Just go back to your cigarette. I hope you suck it up and *hic* choke!”

He chuckled, you were the first person in a while who’d lashed back out at his harsh disposition. At least to his face. “Was uglier than I should’ve been, but won’t pretend there wasn’t some truth to it.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’re a shit barista, wanna form a band?” His lips quirked into a smirk around his near-stub cigarette.

For a beat there was silence, until the two of you burst into laughter. Yours a raucous peal of giggles, and his, raspy chuckles.

“Well, you earned that light. Got more balls then a lot of soldiers I know.”

The two of you stayed in that alley for thirty minutes just riffing off different topics. It ended with Simon giving you the friendly (read: rough) advice to not let your boyfriend cost you your job.

That’s not how he saw his day going. Having the most interesting conversation he’d had in a while with the woman who annoyed the piss out of him for the better part of his leave.

You were no longer annoying, you’d been upgraded to interesting, and that was the second thing Simon thought about you.

After your talk in the alley, Simon was pleasantly surprised to find that you’d taken his advice and stepped your skills up. It turned out, you were distracted by your boyfriend, but Simon had come to see why. He was obsessed with knowing where you were, and if you were thinking of him, and wondering if he should drop by. 

Simon felt more guilt for being so impatient, and he decided no matter what, he would pick your line. That was the only reason too. It certainly wasn’t because he couldn’t stop thinking about you after your last conversation. 

Sometimes you would take your breaks with him now, exhibiting that same forward nature from the alley, but it no longer annoyed him. He’d tease you about whether or not that break was mandatory, but he looked forward to it all the same.

You talked about anything and everything, from where you were from, to Simon having to explain the delicate ins and outs of football to you. (He was pretty sure you were pushing him to have a heart attack by pretending you forgot a different detail every time you talked).

It was an unstated, but mutually understood, thing that your time together fulfilled something missing for both of you. For him it was cutting into his habit of cutting off socialization until he was back on base or a mission, and for you, it was a break from your relationship.

He liked to think that you looked forward to your talks as much as he did, if your expression every time you saw him was an indicator. 

Unlike him, you were an open book, so you did most of the talking. Simon soaked up everything you told him, filing it away. You were funny, and fascinating.

On his end, he was careful about some of what he shared, and nervous about other things. He had more dark or restricted anecdotes than humourous or endearing ones, and he didn’t want to bring you down. After all, you had more than enough of that to deal with.

The boyfriend. He was a nightmare of obsession and insecurity. It was perhaps your fourth break-hangout that Simon saw it completely for himself. He’d all but dragged you out of your seat, which made Simon rise from his so quickly, it almost toppled over behind him. He wasn’t unaware of his size, nor was he afraid to use it on the shorter man, but you assured him it was fine until he sat down.

Your boyfriend was panicking, wondering why you were keeping someone like him company. He wanted to know what it meant for the two of you, and Simon hated seeing you in an endless loop of begging the pathetic prick to believe you loved him. All of your humor and your cute little habits disappeared as he forced you to become a helicopter girlfriend, concerned only with his fears.

Simon decided then he would sway you away from him. He didn’t deserve you, and Simon may not have known you long, but he couldn’t stand to see you withering under him and his emotional blackmail. No one ever accused Simon of being sane.

You would be his, and that was the third thing Simon thought about you.

If he said so himself, he was slick about it. He’d forgotten about the amount of energy it took to pursue a relationship with someone, and why he limited his romantic interactions to hookups with women he found interesting.

You weren’t just interesting, he was fully infatuated with you by the time he started to actively move towards getting you away from that neurotic dumpster. You were worth the effort.

It started with seeing you outside of the cafe in a way that seemed natural. He thought about it for a while, before he settled on inviting you to a football game. He couldn’t believe he’d worried that you’d say no, your ‘yes’ came out before he was even done asking.

You were impressed with his timing, confessing that the night before, your boyfriend had thoroughly embarrassed you at a party, and you needed a fun day.

Simon had smiled tightly all through your hurried explanation that everything was fine, and that he had apologized once you got home with him.

The day of the game, you were absolutely adorable when he picked you up. Giddily introducing him to your roommate. She eyed him with approval, and even congratulated you for trading up.

Before you could correct her, he slipped in his answer. “That remains to be seen. Depends on if she embarrasses me at the game.”

You snorted, launching into that now familiar peal of giggles. “I promise I won’t. Now, which of these soccer teams is yours again? The Manfordshire Mermaids?”

“You wanna ride there on the roof?”

The trip was a better investment than he thought. You were enthralled with what was going on, the hype of the crowd, the skill of the players, and just being there in person. However, you had to rely on him to translate this new world to you, and that left you literally clinging to him in interest. Simon was your whole world in that stadium, and he locked that feeling down tightly for motivation.

Step one had gone off without a hitch, and now it was on to step two. 

Outings with you became a series. Simon encouraged as many as possible in order to trigger the response he wanted.

He knew it wouldn’t be long until your boyfriend started getting antsy, and insecure again. You were going out twice as much as you had before you started hanging out with Simon outside of the cafe.

To push the matter, Simon told you his work schedule was getting hectic. It was a half truth, the training period before the announcement of a deployment had commenced, and Simon planned on having a girlfriend to come home to this time. Namely you.

He used the excuse to create later meetups. Dinners, movies, wandering the street and stumbling into things to do. All the while getting you hooked on his touch. Simon wasn’t a touchy-feely person by nature, and this was something everyone who knew him picked up on quickly. You picked up on it too, but he wanted to touch you. He didn’t though, at least not often. 

Starting off with little touches that could be confused as an accident, he increased the pressure but kept the frequency low so you became addicted to his rare touches. He wanted you to feel special that someone like him indulged you in that way, so that you’d seek out more, even though HE was the one who felt blessed every time he felt your skin on his.

When you were together, he made sure things were about you. He didn’t imagine your boyfriend left much room for that with his paranoia, but he wanted to show you what you were in for once you were together. 

One night, Simon kept you out later than usual. He’d stayed away from you for two weeks, which wasn’t hard, work was starting to pick up. He could’ve carved out a day or two though, but he wanted to make you crave his time like he did yours. 

It worked. He scheduled a late dinner at an upscale restaurant, letting you fill him in on all that he missed. Namely, you missed being with him. You weren’t the type to keep your feelings to yourself, and you’d inevitably vented to your boyfriend about missing your friend. He didn’t like that label at all, but he liked what would come from your actions.

Periodically throughout the dinner, your phone rang, increasing in frequency as the night wore on. 

You had to excuse yourself multiple times, and Simon pretended to be annoyed. In reality, he anticipated that. Each time the phone rang, you cringed and looked at him apologetically. 

On what had to be the tenth time, Simon said. “Go on then, run off to pamper the pathetic bastard. Powder his arse too this time.”

Your face screwed up in objection to his barbed words. “He’s just worried…”

He shrugged. “Don’t owe me an explanation lovie. S’just a mystery why you’re in such a rush to be a nursemaid.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood up from the table. “I’m in a rush to be a good girlfriend thank you. Stop being an ass, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“S’go,” he downed the last of his bourbon before he pulled his wallet from his pocket. “I’ll pay the tab and take you home.”

“What? We’re supposed to have dessert, and then maybe a movie.” 

Simon watched your distressed body language and expression with mild amusement, and he was proud of being able to hide it, even though he’d forgone his mask that night. “You’ve gotta tuck in your kid. S’not on me you won’t date a man.”

You pouted and sat back down. “If I put my phone away, you put your wallet away. You promised me dessert.”

He smirked, refusing to hide it now. This was the first time, since he’d met you, that you’d ignored your boyfriend, and it said a lot.

You did it once, so Simon was able to turn it into a habit. Your boyfriend looked increasingly unhinged as Simon made sure you starved him of your attention.

The ugly voicemails and text messages began soon after. He didn’t like that at all, and he had to remind himself the time to deal with your boyfriend would come, but he did appreciate that you were becoming less tolerant of him. 

Every time you returned to Simon after having to soothe your boyfriend’s ego, and stop his tantrums, Simon made your life easier. He worshiped you in subtle ways, reminding you of what a man was, compared to a child.

There was guilt on your part, but it felt so good to be taken care of for once. To not have to worry about Simon bursting into a fit of insecurity that made you completely responsible for his feelings, and left little to no room for anything else. 

When he touched you, it lit your nerve endings on fire. You knew that the touches were bordering on inappropriate, since you were still taken, but you also knew that your brain went numb with good vibrations with even just a brush of his fingertips.

Simon still kept it light, almost questionable as to whether it even happened, and you finally began to seek it out. Wearing backless tops so that his fingertips would brush your bare skin, sitting next to him in diner booths so a thick thigh was always brushing your own, going for things in high places so he’d steady you by your waist.

He never seemed to miss a beat on when and where to touch you, but it wasn’t enough.

The breaking point came when he invited you to a dinner Price was holding as a goodbye to civilian life until next leave. The verbal invitation was the most valuable thing to you in a while. Not only because you were increasingly becoming addicted to him, but because for someone like Simon to invite you into that part of his life, it meant that he was in deep with you too.

All of Simon’s friends were funny, inviting, and very taken by you. They were so polite to you, complimenting you, and telling you as much as they could about their work, trying to impress you.

You were having fun trying to keep up, but you got the impression that Simon inviting a woman he was seeing to meet them was a new thing, and they didn’t know the protocol.

You were surprised to find he went by Ghost in his field, and they were unused to hearing Simon. You shared how the two of you met, and how polite he wasn’t in your first conversation, and they weren’t surprised.

You were enjoying your time with them, the conversation never stopped, and you would venture to say Simon looked fond at times. Though, as each man became more flirtatious, his expression would change. It became an unspoken game between you and his team to try and make him speak up about it. He didn’t take the bait.

Then came the topic of your boyfriend.

“Come now love, you’re a smart girl. Why do you wanna waste your time with that bellend?” - Price

“I don’t ken what the situation here is, but if Ghost and the other one don’t appreciate you, I promise I will.” Soap

“I had a girl once, who used to follow me in her friend’s car, sit outside my apartment, and call me from different phones to test me. You’re fit as hell love, dump him.” - Gaz

 It was a little embarrassing, and you were slightly annoyed that Simon had told them, but your mind kept shortening it to ‘he talked about me to his team.’ 

During dinner, you excused yourself to the bathroom. While you were washing your hands, Simon slipped into the room, making you jump.

Your eyes met in the mirror, where Simon just glared.

“Have fun with the boys, bird?”

“Have fun broadcasting my business?” You raised an eyebrow, but your tone held no anger to it.

Simon chuckled, locking the door. “S’not my business is it?”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head slowly.

He trapped you between the sink and himself, hands locking onto the counter on either side of you. 

“Let’s fix that.” His lips pressed to the pulse point on the side of your neck, speaking his command against it. “Get rid of him lovie, and come home where you belong.”

You tried to do just that, but for the first time that you could recall, your boyfriend wasn’t taking your calls.

Simon watched you while he packed, tucked beneath his sheets where you belonged, bare. It’d been a week since you took that next step in his captain’s guest bathroom, and you’d been trying to inform your ex he was now in fact, your ex.

You gingerly rolled over to face him, mindful of all the reminders that he loved you he left your body. “Si, he’s still not picking up. I don’t want to do it over the phone, but…”

“Don’t get worked up. Maybe he got the message already...”

Kyle:

He’d re-visited Chicago on his downtime, and met you in a club. Unknown to him at the time, your boyfriend had stood you up for the third time that month, and you decided not to waste the night. It’d made you so free and enthralling to watch, he couldn’t look away.

Gaz spent the entire night with you, glad he’d ignored the jet lag, even when you took him to all the best after-hours spots.

The only problem was your boyfriend, Keith, who Gaz personally believed formed in the bottom of a toilet, and sought life elsewhere. His team thought he was delusional, and/or giving you too much thought.

“You hitting the States again then? Don’t get in the kind of trouble that you can’t get out of because you’re jealous.” - Price

“Garrick! Get your fuckin’ head off your cock, and on the exercise, before I shove my boot down your throat!” - Ghost (after he fumbled a training exercise twice)

Except for Soap, Soap backed his delusions %1,000. “She let you charge your phone when hers needed it more? That’s wedding bells lad, and I wanna be best man.” 

Then there was the relentless teasing every time he spent his leave with you, but Gaz didn’t care. He couldn’t bother being embarrassed when you were waiting for him. Your grin was for him, your excited laughter was for him, and your hug was for him. The one he always held longer than friends do, his heart racing when you relaxed in his hold. Smirking when he felt your nose brush over chest quickly. You were sheepish when he grinned down at you, realizing what you were doing.

You’d gotten him cologne on his first (date) daytime hangout with you. You’d been strolling through the mall, Gaz trying to make you forget about the ugly scene he’d walked into between you and your boyfriend when he arrived at your place.

You’d been so sad, and it didn’t suit you at all. He just wanted to take you out of that environment, and let your real-self blossom again.

His hand brushed with yours, pinkies locking and unlocking so he could feel his stomach dip again and again.

He was able to slowly bring you back, into a little world of inside jokes and friendly culture clashes. Gaz fully had you back by the time he stopped in front of an expensive looking fragrance shop and said:

“You know what? I need a new aftershave, but I’m clueless about shopping for that stuff.”

“Uh, aftershave?” you’d looked puzzled, peering into the store window. “Do they even sell that here?”

He let out a confused laugh, pointing at the bottles on the glass shelf. “We’re looking at it, so I’d guess yes.”

“You mean cologne?” you gave him your first real smile since you’d gotten there, and Gaz forgave yet another correction in favor of it.

“Get in here, and help me find an aftershave.”

He proposed that you guys find the perfect scent for the other and buy it as a gift. The two of you spent the better part of thirty minutes teasing and sniffing each other. Every time Gaz lifted a part of your arm or wrist to his nose, he let his lips brush across your skin accidentally.

“Kyyylee..” you whined every time, making him stir in the right places at the wrong time. 

Eventually you both settled on something for the other, but Kyle slyly placed himself in the position of paying for both. The thought of you paying never having been a real thing in his mind.

“You’ll get it next time, love.”

He treasured that scent, you’d specifically picked it out for him, and he’d savored the look you gave him when you’d finally found it. Now he was in front of you again.

“Yeah, it’s the one you bought me. Did me a good turn with that. I get compliments like they get paid to give ‘em.”

“Who’s complimenting you?” you asked, your wince revealing it’d probably come out sharper than you meant for it to.

Gaz didn’t mind, he liked you as jealous as he was. 

He chuckled, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “Just..other girls with good taste.”

Your pout and sharp head turn went right on display in the mental gallery he had of you. He couldn’t resist teasing you again.

“Are you wearing the one I picked.” he leaned down hovering just over your neck where he knew you could feel the soft puffs of breath on your neck. He heard your breath hitch when he hummed, confirming that you were.

“I am, and don’t worry about who’s complimenting it, since you have sooo many of your own.”

Gaz laughed as you yanked him after you with a huff. If he was delusional, you weren’t helping.

This visit was going how he imagined it, and he intended to end it exactly that way too. Finally getting that bastard out of a picture he should’ve never been a part of. 

When clubbing, Kyle kept you close. You both loved to dance, and every song that came on seemed out to prove that your bodies were built to fit together like a puzzle.

He took an interest in your life, wanting to see what you got up to when he wasn’t there. You’d resisted, thinking it’d bore him. It did not.

 He enjoyed meeting your co-workers, and eating at the cafe you loved a block from your job. You even took him to spend an afternoon with your family. Every time he scored a point with them, you gave him this dreamy expression he was determined to see for the rest of his life.

When he suggested making plans with your friends, so they didn’t feel like you were ignoring them while he was there, you were thrilled at how considerate he was, and he got the pleasure of overhearing you hype him up to your friends while you invited them out to do something.

It was you blocking your girlfriends every time one of them tried to push the flirtation with him too far, that let him know it was time.

He decided he would make his move when the two of you were having a movie night at your place. It wasn’t ideal, because that piece of shit was lingering around the place. Kyle hated that you lived together, but wouldn’t let that interfere. He had work to do.

“Kyyyleee.” you giggled, dragging his name out the way he loved when he ran a finger down your cheek to your neck, complimenting your skin.

“Just admiring your skin routine. You’ve gotta share.”

Or, when he shivered, and you instinctively extended your blanket to him. He took it without question, trying not to think about all of the things you could do under a shared blanket. Although, your boyfriend walking in and out of the room, pretending he had things to get out of the kitchen, made the thought more enticing.

You’d invited him to watch in earnest, and he’d just cut you down in a way that made Kyle quickly remind him he was in your apartment, because he’d lost his job, and had nowhere else to go. That you’d sweetly taken him in, and that he should remember that.

He enjoyed kicking him down while raising you up.

Your boyfriend finally just sat at the kitchen table in the dark, fuming. The living room was visible to him from there, but Kyle was glad to have him as an audience to him reminding you of your worth.

You two exchanged snacks and commentary, easily ignoring the unwanted third party.

“No offense love, but beer here is straight piss.”

You laughed, stealing one of the cookies left on his plate. “Beer tastes like that in general.”

“How would you know? You’ve never been anywhere.” your boyfriend snapped at you nastily, from where he’d been glaring at the two of you for an hour. “And why don't you go back to jolly old England if you hate it so much?”

Gaz lazily rolled his head in his direction, body language shouting how much he didn’t respect him. “Mate, you’re being a right prick right now. It’s not like you bought the beer, or anything else you’ve been shoving in that hole.”

Your boyfriend leapt to his feet, fast enough to knock over the chair. “Come over here and repeat that teacup.”

“Blud, that’s not what you want.”

“Kyle don’t, he’s just drunk and embarrassed. Ignore him when he’s like this.” you quickly passed a hand over the back of his, but he just gave you a soft smile instead. 

“That’s his problem, he embarrassed himself. Why don’t you go in the back and find something to do.” He was so effortlessly dismissive, that your boyfriend mistook this for being unprepared to fight.

Kyle’s one rule for his plan was that he wouldn’t physically handle your boyfriend unless he got physical with you. He’d planned to show you how you should be loved, and let a smart girl like you do the rest. That went out the window.

He kept it clean, the other man was stocky, but didn’t stand a chance against his training. If you hadn’t been there, he might’ve taken it further, grinding his hatred of him into harsher blows. Instead, he gave him quick, almost surgically effective, blows to put him down. He was too intoxicated and unskilled to retaliate. 

“See, he just needed a nap.” Gaz tried to lighten the mood.

“I’m so embarrassed,” you whispered. “I don’t know why he’s always like this now. He didn’t use to be. I just want this to stop.”

Kyle shushed you, crossing the room to pull you into his arms. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. You’ve been dealing with this for too long.”

“I’m so tired.” you admitted, clutching his soft shirt, and inhaling his scent (your scent, that you gave him) that made your eyes roll back in your head. He was so solid, warm, and a darker word popped into your mind, ‘mine.’

“You’ve been so good to everyone, too good. Let me take care of you.” he whispered, hands roaming from your lower back to cup your ass.

He heard the hybrid of a whimper-moan, and it had him at attention before you were done.

“I’d be just like him…” you trailed off weakly.

“That’s not possible.” He lowered his lips to yours, giving you the first kiss from him that couldn’t possibly be mistaken as platonic. You kissed back without any hesitation, not even willing to pull away when he started to lead you to the back. To your room.

Hate him as he did, Gaz noted somewhere in his mind how dark the scenario was. The location, and situation, in which he was about to fulfill the second-to-last step of his plan was kind of fucked.

He cupped your jaw in both hands,“Babe…we can go back to my room at the hotel.”

He didn’t want to. He wanted to erase any trace of him here, starting in your room. He wanted you everywhere he could have you in the apartment, and he wanted him to come to just enough to hear it.

“Makes no sense. Too far. Here.” you murmured, pupils blown wide. 

Gaz didn’t need to be told twice. You were barely able to string a sentence together, and it was top three one of the hottest things he’d ever heard.

“Yes ma'am.” 

Kyle didn’t doubt you’d complete the final step in the morning, and officially dump the forgotten man on the floor.

Johnny:

You and Johnny met through social media. He thought you were gorgeous and, being John “Soap” MacTavish, couldn’t leave your profile without letting you know. Though he threw in some playful critique.

You responded with a thanks, and a challenge for him to do the picture better. It resulted in a months-long photo battle that quickly became a real friendship.

Late phone calls, video calls, and constant strings of texting built a whole world between the two of you. 

You were the highlight of his day sometimes, especially when he’d been gone awhile. You helped him reconnect with the world after shutting it out to defend it.

The only problem was your boyfriend. Johnny prided himself on being able to get along with all kinds of people. It was just in his nature. Hate was so rarely felt by him, that he always had trouble identifying it when he felt it. 

He felt hate for your boyfriend, and it didn’t take him long to figure that out. He thought he didn’t deserve you. He was always talking to you reckless, like he didn’t have the most beautiful woman in the world in his life. Johnny wouldn’t talk to you like that, he wouldn’t have time to even consider it for all the worshiping of you he’d be doing. 

He’d cheated, only to make you feel like that was on you, and you took him back. 

When Johnny heard your pained sobs for the first time, he’d been halfway through texting Simon to ask for help with a dark favor before he was able to talk himself down.

It was then Johnny realized how much you’d come to mean to him, and that only made him hate your boyfriend more.

Your conversations ranged from anything to everything, but they always ended with you venting, and Johnny comforting. He didn’t mind it, in fact, most times he initiated it.

He realized, he must mean a good deal to you too, because you got all your comfort from him. Johnny’s thoughts mattered to you, and you sought his advice all the time. He hated what for, but he loved that you did.

“He didn’t even like the dress Johnny. I told him you thought of it, and he accused me of wanting to wear it for you.” your screen shook violently as you stomped into your bedroom, sending said garment sailing through the air.

“M’sorry to hear that. I meant what I said when you showed it to me in the shop. Any guy that doesn’t lose it to you in that dress deserves to be committed.”

You sniffed, choking out a humorless chuckle. “I’m glad you liked it at least.”

“Oh, you don’t ken how much sweetheart. In fact, put it on for me again.”

Six months into the friendship, he convinced you to come visit him in Scotland. You’d been having more trouble with your boyfriend than usual, living with him didn’t exactly give you a lot of places to take a breather.

Once Johnny confirmed he hadn’t hurt you physically, he’d switched to coaxing you into coming to see him for a couple of weeks.

“C’mon bonnie, I’ve been stateside more times than I can count. You haven’t been here once.” He watched you do your bedtime routine, as the sun came up in the windows behind him.

He loved how despite being countries away, the moment felt as intimate as if you were with him. In his home, getting ready to come to bed with him. Except if you were, he’d tell you not to bother brushing your hair. You’d just have to do it again later.

You laughed as you ran a comb through your hair. “It’s not like you came here for me Johnny. We didn’t even know each other the last time you were here.”

“So…you’ll return the favor later. Be my pretty tour guide.”

You wound up in Scotland barely a week later. A suitcase full of clothes haphazardly thrown into it.

“I don’t even know what I packed, it's a mess!” 

Cue Johnny, who can’t quit hugging you, and they feel less and less platonic. “Don’t worry ‘bout it bon. I’ll find somewhere for it all to go.”

Somewhere turns out to be designated drawers and shelves, that he’d cleared in advance, for your clothes and bath products. Johnny putting them away himself like the simp for you he is. All the while distracting you from stating how you wouldn’t be there long, and you don’t need all that space. 

“We’ll see.”

Johnny had been coaxing less and less innocent behaviors out of you all week, and just worshiping you when he wasn’t. You were a worked up hybrid of desperation, and restored self-confidence. It was addictive, and you started to lean into Johnny’s touches and kisses. You pretended you didn’t hear his murmured dirty statements so he’d have to try again and again.

It came to a head when you finally accepted a video call from your pathetic boyfriend. 

You were in Johnny’s living room, wearing his favorite football jersey, with him behind you, absolutely refusing to make himself scarce. You didn’t want to take the call anyway, but Johnny convinced you it’d be good for closure.

Your boyfriend started going off, yelling about how you didn’t respect him or your relationship, and demanding that ‘you bring your ass home’.

“The thing of it is lad, there’s not really anything about this relationship to respect.” Johnny slipped around to your side, tilting your head up to press his lips to yours. 

You hummed in surprise, but all of his gentle touches and sweet kisses over the week had you pliant. You immediately responded, squeezing his arm when he slipped his tongue into your mouth as a tease.

He pulled away, looking way too smug, and looking all the more impossibly-handsome for it. “Say bye to your ex-boyfriend then bon. The rest of this isn’t for him.”

You gurgled something like goodbye as you slammed the lid on your laptop, attention still fully on Johnny.

John Price:

Price thought your fiance should crawl in a fire and stay there. Yeah. He wasn’t ashamed.

The man was garbage, and hardly worth you giving him a glance, let alone this much sacrifice. You’d moved countries for him, happy to make your home with him because of his job. He treated it as though that should’ve been a given.

That’s how Price had gotten to know you. You lived in the apartment across the hall from him, and the first moment you smiled at him, John was a goner.

You introduced yourself with a smile, your pretty little hand extended out towards him. He’d stood there, wishing he hadn’t worn his ratty sweatshirt with his old football team logo in fading letters. You looked gorgeous, hair framing your face, slightly out of breath from lugging in your things.

He’d stumbled in his mind until he finally remembered proper social protocol. “Price…Captain John.” He cleared his throat. “Captain John Price.”

Your mouth formed an ‘o’, you were visibly intrigued.“Captain? You’re in the military.”

“Yes.” 

“Well…thank you for your service.” 

Normally, John didn’t react to that line as expected. He’d heard it enough times to wish he had a pound for every time, but that was about it. He didn’t do his job for thanks, and sometimes felt they shouldn’t be for him anyways.

Coming from you however, it was different. He had the reaction he knew most people wanted. He knew from the heat in his cheeks and the tips of his ears, they were red.

Your fiancé, who’d appeared in the doorway behind you, stole his chance to answer.

“Yeah, thanks or whatever. (Y/N), come in here and figure out where you want your hair crap to go. I’m just going to toss it anywhere in a moment.”

“Oh, you could’ve just put it under the sink.” 

“You should be getting ready anyways, we have a dinner engagement.” He adjusted his shirt cuffs, eyeing John like he was picturing ways he could kill him.

John wanted to see him try just one.

“Bye John,” you gave a wave, a soft smile on your lips. “I’ll see you.”

You disappeared inside, leaving the two men in a stare down. There was a silent conversation at play, what your fiancé wanted to say was stated without a word. How much John cared about that was conveyed in the same manner.

Your fiancé broke first, slamming the door behind him. 

“We’ll see if I’ll stay away.” He muttered, going into his own place.

Over that first month, you two got to know each other well. Your fiance was often at work, and you turned to John with your questions as you tried to settle into your new home. You had no one else there, and even though John had planned to decompress in complete isolation, he couldn’t do that to you. Didn’t have a part of his being that wanted to. 

However, as John got to know you, he got to know your fiance too. Enough to know if he was ever going to murder someone outside of work, it’d be him.

It started with small things like what takeout you should go for, or which grocery store did he use? It seemed your fiance was useless.

One day, you needed help putting together your beauty table. You’d come to John, clearly embarrassed, and something told him you’d debated on asking him for a while. Your fiance refused, because you hadn’t paid attention when you were checking out, and didn’t select the construction help option.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me love. You mean to tell me that he never made a mistake?” John was already coming out of his apartment, ready to help.

“It’s stupid, but I don’t feel like arguing with him over it. We’re in an ok place right now.” you laughed awkwardly, leading him inside.

“Ok probably isn’t a place you want to be when you’re headed for the church.” it came out of his mouth before he could think about how it wasn’t his place.

He was so used to being blunt, and dealing out cold, hard facts or opinions. It always took him a minute to readjust to what was appropriate, but by then he was back on duty.

You looked stunned, clearly not expecting that from him. Your arms crossed defensively, giving him a side glance while you mulled over responding. 

He meant what he said, but he never would’ve delivered it to you that way, or at all, if he had thought two seconds more.

“‘M sorry. It’s really not my place is it?” he gestured to the back of the apartment. “Where do you need me?”

There were many more opportunities to spend time with you, and with them, opportunities to point out the toxicity he was seeing. It wasn’t in John’s nature to ignore obvious problems, he got paid to do the opposite. He had to resign himself every time so he didn’t upset you.

With every time he gave you directions, or answered a local cultural difference that confused you, you two lingered in each other’s presence a little longer. He wasn’t going to spoil that. 

Your requests started to leave the territory of furniture building and directions, and started to cross more into trying a new recipe, and how you could do better at fitting into your new home. Your conversations started to get deeper, more information about each other being shared.

There were times where you dropped off food, having made too much, or your fiance didn’t want what you cooked. John loved your cooking as it was, he normally lived off whatever he could grab and nuke, but he threw in extra enthusiasm for spite and your pretty smile. 

Sometimes John found reasons to come over to your place. 

“Share a cake love? Don’t get excited, I picked it up at the shops.” “Just bringing back your bowl.” “I can take a look at that window if maintenance is still laying about.”

And without fail, you made him stay every time. You got lonely, and you still knew very few people in the area outside of him. Your fiance didn’t seem to care, he felt he’d set you up with plenty of friends in his circle. John called them posh knobheads, and you couldn’t agree more. You had nothing in common with them, and you always wound up back with John to vent.

He found it easier to talk to you than he had anybody else, and from the never ending conversation between you two, he guessed you felt the same. The topic of the nature of your relationship was verboten, but that was fine by him. By that point, he was more interested in making you forget you even had a fiance. He really hadn’t even made an effort to do it, it just tilted that way, and he leaned into it.

You weren’t exactly stopping his flirtatious comments, in fact, you seemed to light up in ways he hadn’t seen until then.

Then came the outings. As your fiance got more negligent, you got bolder. It started with you taking a chance to invite John to a movie when you two bumped into each other in the mailroom. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone to the cinema, and he couldn’t say what was playing if someone held a gun to his head, but ‘don’t see why not’ fell out of his mouth with no resistance.

Then it was shopping together, or you dragging him to a museum and him bullshitting his art knowledge to make you laugh. He didn’t normally spend his time off being this active socially. He decompressed, and prepared for the next assignment. Maybe he’d meet a woman at a pub and bang out some release before getting back into formation.

He’d wondered if he would regret doing things differently on his next deployment, but that stopped the first time someone mistook the two of you for a couple. That alone would’ve been enough for him to keep his delusions (that he definitely did not have) going, but it was the fact that you didn’t correct them. It happened again, and if he thought he imagined things, he hadn’t. You never corrected the person, just gave a coy smile and accepted the compliment.

Well if you didn’t, he certainly wasn’t going to.

The final time that John could say he only found you attractive, instead of wanting you completely, you’d come to him to ask him if he could drive you to a little farmer’s market outside of the city. Things hadn’t been going well with you and your fiance.

You didn’t have to tell John, he could attest to that himself. He’d heard your arguments in his place, and between the noise level, and trying to make sure it didn't go to a place where you weren’t safe, he wasn’t getting much sleep.

Your plan was to cook your fiance a favorite meal from his childhood, using nothing but farm fresh ingredients. You figured that all you needed to get things on track was a quiet night in, focused on reminding each other why you were engaged. John nearly bit through his tongue to keep himself from bringing up the fact that it seemed the workload on maintaining the relationship fell solely on your shoulders.

Instead, he shoved his bucket hat on his head, and lied about needing to head out that way anyways.

The car ride started out quiet on his part, with you filling in the conversation. Price may have flexed his fingertips in jealousy more times than he could count, but you were so goddamn beautiful when you were excited. It almost hurt to look at you head on, so he gave you side glances to show he was listening.

At the market, your excitement didn’t die down. In fact, it turned into infectious playfulness. You two teased each other, engaged in playful scams to get more samples, and dared each other to come up with crazier and crazier stories about yourselves for the owner of each stall you visited.

Price would die twice before he admitted that he imagined you were on a date a couple times during the day. You never brought your fiance up, and he had to remind you to check your grocery list more than once.

It was late afternoon when you returned to the car, laden with goodies and constructing inside jokes. John was enjoying his time with you so much, he almost forgot he had to tell you he was shipping out the following week. He didn’t know if you’d care so much as to need an announcement in advance, but he felt he should.

 He was worried about you, and he would think of you wherever he was bound to wind up, hoping you’d come to your senses and leave the garbage behind. Of course, he’d miss you…and he certainly wasn’t under any delusion that when you’d taken out the trash, maybe you’d consider him.

“Why’re you so quiet?” you’d squeezed his bicep to get his attention, and he instinctively pushed his arm into your hands, encouraging the touch.

It was quiet for a moment, before you slowly uncurled your fingertips, and placed your hands in your lap. His face flooded with embarrassed warmth. 

Had he gone too far by leaning into the physical?

Price white-knuckle-gripped the steering wheel, swallowing down what he thought was a rejection he had no right to be hurt about, and cleared his throat. “Right. I’m heading out next week, and it won’t be short. Just thought you should know.”

Whatever reaction he expected from you, it wasn’t the one you gave.

“What?” You placed a hand on your chest, and then rolled your eyes. “Well that’s great.”

John gave you a bewildered expression, and it must've shown, because you quickly straightened up and faced forward. 

“I don’t know about great, but it is my job. The one I was quite clear about when we first met.”

“Pull over.” you said so quickly, he wasn’t even sure you’d heard his response.

“What? Why? Are you feeling il-”

“No..just..please.” you gestured to the side of the road.

He obliged, brows drawn tight and carrying all of his questions. “Your boy is going to be home soon, and we still have a bit of a drive ahead of us. What-”

“I wanted to come here because of you.” you breathed out, still facing forward, your posture almost impossibly rigid.

“Me? You’re not making much sense (Y/N).” 

You huffed, and when you turned to him, your expression took his breath away. In that moment he could read every thought you were thinking, and it would’ve bowled him over if he wasn’t sitting.

He felt electricity beneath his skin, the feeling he got any time he was about to do something drastic and dangerous.

It was the little hidden thing in your eyes that he couldn’t place that gave him pause.

“I came here, because I wanted to get away with you for today. I needed to.” you turned your whole body to him. “I don’t give a fuck about fresh ingredients for him, he probably won’t eat it anyways.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “We agreed to start over. And I’m going to try, I really am, but…I still can’t stop feeling need.”

In the looming silence, all John could do was scratch his beard, and try not to look as stupid as he was sure he did. He knew what you were saying, what you were toeing at, but surely you were just venting. You couldn’t-

“S’not right love.” Now it was his turn to look ahead. “Not for him, fuck him. For you. You’re upset and you’re scared, and you're raw.”

“And I need this.” you breathed. “If you’re trying to protect me, stop. If you don’t want me in that way..ok, I’m a big gi-”

“Oooh,” his voice came from deep in his chest, baritone thrumming through the car. “That’s not it. I promise you, that’s.not.it.”

Your fingertips gently pulled his face in your direction. “You’re leaving me…and when you get back things are going to have to be different.”

There it was. John swallowed, hard. 

“I’m being selfish, but..I thought I’d have a little more time with you before..” Your eyes watered. “It’d be one thing if you really were just my friend, but that’s not right is it?”

John wiped at your eyes with his thumb before cupping his cheek in his hand. “No, it’s not.”

“Just one time.”

It was a struggle to say no to you, and that didn’t stop now. He pulled your mouth to his, hands gripping your shoulders in a subconscious effort to prove this was happening. You were in front of him, kissing him back as hard as he was kissing you.

He unbuckled you, and pulled you into his lap, sliding the seat back. 

“I’m gonna miss you.” you were crying now, and neither one of you did anything about the tears.

His hands cupped the back of your head, fingers gently threading through your hair. “Oh, sweet girl. Why didn’t you meet me sooner?”

What transpired after was the most bittersweet moment he could recall. He had heartbreaks and troubled relationships before, but he’d never had to have a breakup with a woman he wasn’t sure he’d been seeing in the first place, but knew that he loved.

He took you twice in his car, before finally, the two of you could no longer ignore the setting sun and had to return home.

John remembered why he preferred to take a girl somewhere quickly, and then spend the rest of his leave in solitude, occasionally seeing a trusted friend. It wasn’t as fulfilling as what he had with you, but it didn’t hurt this deeply either.

He sat in his apartment for hours after he watched you disappear into your own. He didn’t even bother turning on a light when it got too dark, he just sat there, continuing to contemplate how things had gotten to be such a mess. How could he continue to pride himself on being the logical leader he thought he was, when he’d made such a mess of himself so quickly?

How was he supposed to forget you? How was he supposed to forget that he loved you, and that you loved him with another man’s ring on your finger?

The thought of seeing you, carrying your fiance’s child, and looking miserable during what should’ve been one of the happiest times of your life made Price leap from the couch. That familiar electricity raising every hair on his person to a point.

He didn’t know what he was doing, or what he was going to say, but he was moving like he’d planned it for months.

When he stepped into the hall, he paused.

You were sitting on the plush hall couch, eyes puffy, with a death grip on a pyrex dish. Your hair was perfectly styled, and you were wearing a low-cut silken dress that made him want to fall to his knees now that he knew what lay beneath. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, trying to curb your sniffles.

“I was right, he wouldn’t eat it. He got mad and left.”

“You should’ve made him wear it instead.” John’s fist clenched at his side, itching to do what he wanted from the moment he first saw him get short with you.

You shook your head, rising to your feet. “I don’t blame him this time. I didn’t make it for him, anymore than I shopped for it with him in mind, and I told him so.”

You held up the dish, and John saw it was his favorite. His idea of a perfect Sunday roast in one pot. Your meaning was clear.

“I just kept thinking, it shouldn’t be this hard. I mean, it shouldn’t be, right?” you stepped forward.

“No, it shouldn’t be.” He also took a step forward.

“It’s not that way with you.” Another step.

“I would hope not.” he also took another step

You stopped when all that separated the two of you was the dish.

“So this belongs to me then?” he was staring at the dish, but his hands gently grasped your wrists.

You, however, were looking directly at him when you breathed out. “Yes.”

[leona-hawthorne]

AURORA / mattheo riddle

requested / part 2

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary: in the aftermath of the second wizarding war, mattheo is sent to azkaban for his crimes. when released and faced with the harsh reality that you had, unbeknownst to him, had his child and had been raising her alone all these years, he falls apart.

based on this lovely request right here!! @isntthatsweetiguessso sorry for taking literally a month bb ily and this brilliant concept

warnings: angst, mom!reader, dad!mattheo, swearing, sad but happy ending!!

words: 4.6k

a/n: so sorry to the person who requested it for taking so long :( i hope this is something like what you had in your head. its very long, fluffy part 2 is out now!

navigation mattheo riddle masterlist part two

The world outside Azkaban had always felt like a distant memory to Mattheo. The walls, the cold, and the constant torment of his own mind had been his reality for six long years. But now, walking the streets of Diagon Alley as a free man, the memories felt sharper, more painful. He had imagined this moment so many times—stepping back into the life he'd left behind, finding you, and maybe, just maybe, picking up the pieces of what you two had.

But nothing could have prepared him for this.

It was supposed to be a simple walk—an aimless stroll to ground himself, to remind himself that he was no longer trapped in that hellhole. But as he turned the corner, there it was: Brews and Stews. The same café you both used to sneak away to when the world got too loud. His heart clenched at the sight, and before he knew it, his feet were pulling him closer, as if some invisible force was guiding him back to the past.

Then he saw you.

You were sitting at one of the outside tables, sunlight bathing you in a warm glow that made you look almost ethereal. His heart stuttered in his chest as he stood frozen on the cobblestone street, staring at you like a man starved. Six years, and you were still the same. Beautiful, captivating. You were reading a book, the furrow of your brow as mesmerizing as ever.

For a moment, he considered turning back. He didn’t belong here. Not anymore. You had probably moved on; you had to. Six years was a lifetime. But just as he was about to retreat, the small figure next to you caught his eye.

A little girl, her brown curls bouncing as she laughed, sitting beside you at the table. She was a blur of motion—happy, full of life.

"Mama, look!" the child giggled, holding up a small trinket, her voice full of excitement. "Isn't it pretty?"

You smiled, reaching over to stroke her hair, and that’s when Mattheo felt the world collapse around him. Mama. The word echoed in his head, ripping through his chest like a knife. His stomach twisted painfully as he watched the scene unfold before him.

You had a child.

For a split second, his mind couldn’t process it. A child. A little girl. With you.

His heart thundered in his chest, and his fists clenched at his sides. It wasn’t possible, was it? You had moved on. Of course you had. Six years was too long for anyone to wait, especially for someone like him—a man who had done unspeakable things, who had been imprisoned for it. Why would you wait for him? And yet, the thought of you with someone else, of you having a family, was enough to suffocate him.

He took a shaky step back, the weight of the realization crashing down on him. He wasn’t ready for this. He hadn’t prepared himself to see you like this. But just as he was about to turn away, you glanced up.

Your eyes locked with his, and the world seemed to stop.

"Mattheo?" Your voice was a breathless whisper, as if you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. The expression on your face shifted from shock to something else—something he couldn’t quite read.

His breath caught in his throat as he stood frozen, every muscle in his body tensing. You were staring at him, those eyes he had dreamed of every night in Azkaban now filled with confusion, and something else... regret, maybe?

But then the girl looked up too. She had your eyes, but the rest of her—the wild brown curls, the soft slope of her nose—it was like staring into a mirror. She had his features.

He couldn’t move. His gaze flicked between you and the girl, heart hammering in his chest as his mind screamed for answers. The question hung heavy on his lips, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask it.

"Come on, Aurora," you said quickly, standing up and gathering your things. Your voice wavered, the panic evident as you scooped the girl into your arms. "We have to go."

You brushed past him without another word, holding the little girl tightly as you hurried away from the café. His body moved instinctively to follow, but his feet were rooted to the spot. He watched you walk away, the weight of the unanswered question heavy in the air.

Aurora looked back at him once, her big, curious eyes staring into his, and then she was gone, disappearing down the street with you.

He stood there for what felt like hours, his mind spinning. That girl—Aurora. She was his. He could see it now, clear as day. He could feel it. The brown curls, the shape of her face, the way her eyes had stared at him with that same intensity he’d seen in his own reflection.

His daughter.

The realization slammed into him, nearly knocking the wind out of his lungs. How could you not have told him?

With heavy steps, he set off down the street, following the path you had taken. His heart pounded in his chest, each step bringing him closer to the confrontation he had dreaded but needed. He wasn’t sure what he would say, wasn’t sure how you would react.

But one thing was clear: he wasn’t going to lose you again. And he wasn’t going to lose his daughter. Not after everything he had already lost.

Mattheo’s heart pounded in his chest as he strode through the narrow streets, the weight of what he’d just seen pressing down on him with every step. The world felt suffocating, spinning around him in a blur of emotions—anger, betrayal, heartbreak. His hands shook at his sides, clenched into fists as he tried to keep his mind focused on the only thing that mattered now: finding you.

You couldn’t have gone far.

Aurora. Our daughter, the thought kept repeating in his mind like a relentless drumbeat. His daughter—his little girl, and you had never told him. He hadn’t known, hadn’t been there for anything. The rage simmering inside him was barely contained as he searched the crowd, every face blurring together until he finally saw you, ducking into a quieter street with Aurora still in your arms.

His legs moved before he could think.

“Y/N!” His voice was a shout, desperate, raw. You didn’t stop. “Y/N, stop!”

You glanced over your shoulder, eyes wide with panic, but you didn’t slow down. Mattheo’s breath was ragged as he pushed through the crowd, forcing his way closer. He wasn’t letting you run from this. He wasn’t letting you run from him. Not again.

Finally, you reached a quiet alleyway, and Mattheo caught up to you just as you were fumbling with your wand, trying to Apparate. His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

“Mattheo—” you started, but he cut you off, the fury burning in his chest.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” His voice boomed through the narrow alley, raw and loud. “Is this what I think it is, Y/N? Is that my goddamn kid?”

Aurora flinched at his raised voice, her small body shrinking into your arms. You immediately shifted her to your other hip, turning her face away from him.

“Mattheo, not here,” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper as you glanced down at your daughter. “Please.” And the first conversation you’re having after six years is going to be an argument.

“Not here?” he spat, eyes blazing with fury. “That—That’s my daughter,” he sputtered. “You fucking kept my daughter from me. Don’t tell me to calm down.”

You winced at the venom in his voice, but you didn’t move, your eyes pleading with him to lower his voice. “You don’t understand. Let’s just talk about this. I didn’t know how to—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he repeated, louder this time, his voice trembling with rage. “You didn’t know how? You knew damn well how to keep her from me! You didn’t even try, Y/N.”

“I…” You hesitated, the guilt written all over your face, but Mattheo wasn’t letting you off the hook that easily.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?” he forced out, the pain bleeding into his voice now. “I fucking rotted in Azkaban for six years, thinking I had nothing left. And all this time, you had her? I—I had a kid? ”

Aurora shifted again in your arms, and Mattheo’s heart wrenched as he saw her big, curious eyes peek out from beneath your hair. She didn’t know him. She had no idea who he was, and that realization broke something inside him.

“How could you?” His voice cracked, his eyes burning as he stared at you, searching for some explanation that would make any of this hurt less.

You closed your eyes, breathing deeply as if steadying yourself before meeting his gaze again. “I didn’t know what to do, Mattheo,” you said softly, the edge of panic still there but buried beneath layers of hurt. “You were in Azkaban. I didn’t think you’d ever get out.”

“That’s bullshit!” he snarled, his hands trembling as he ran them through his hair. “You could’ve written. You could’ve found a way! You could’ve let me fucking know I had a daughter!”

Tears welled in your eyes, your lips trembling as you looked away, the guilt eating at you. “I… I was scared,” you whispered, barely audible over the sound of his labored breathing. “I was scared she’d grow up without you. That she’d grow up knowing what you were forced to be… and I didn’t want that for her.”

Mattheo’s chest heaved with the weight of your words, but it only stoked the fire of his rage. “That’s not your decision to make, you had no right to keep her from me!”

You blinked, tears spilling down your cheeks as you clutched Aurora tighter. “I didn’t do it on purpose. You weren’t here. You literally couldn’t be here. I was trying to protect her—”

“From me?!” he shouted, the words scraping from his throat like broken glass.

Aurora’s tiny whimper cut through the air like a knife, and Mattheo’s heart shattered. He hadn’t meant to scare her, hadn’t meant to let his anger bleed into his voice, but it was too late now.

You stepped back, rocking Aurora gently in your arms, trying to soothe her as you looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Mattheo.”

“Then what the fuck were you trying to do?” he spat, his voice low now, hoarse with emotion. “Because it sure as hell feels like you didn’t give a shit about what I’d feel. I missed everything. Everything, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched, and the weight of his words settled over you like a blanket of regret. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” you whispered. “I didn’t know if I could. And by the time I thought about it, too much time had passed. I thought… I thought maybe it was better this way.”

Mattheo let out a bitter, hollow laugh, his eyes wild as he stared at you. “Better? Better?! How the fuck is this better? I lost all six years of her goddamn existence! Six years! I didn’t get to see her first steps, didn’t hear her first words, didn’t even know she existed. And you think that was better?”

You sobbed, clutching Aurora close to you as if the little girl could shield you from the onslaught of his anger. “I’m sorry,” you cried, your voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Mattheo.”

But sorry wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to undo the years of pain, the years of loneliness and anguish he had endured in that cell, thinking he had lost you, lost everything.

He took a deep, shaky breath, forcing himself to look at the little girl—Aurora. His daughter. She was watching him now, her big eyes wide and confused, her small fingers gripping your shirt. She looked so much like him.

“Aurora,” he said, his voice a broken whisper.

She blinked at him, tilting her head slightly as if she didn’t understand why he was looking at her that way. Of course she didn’t. She didn’t know him. He was a stranger to her. And that hurt more than anything else.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Mattheo whispered, his voice barely audible now. “You kept her from me.” He shook his head, tears of his own threatening to spill over. “You took everything from me.”

You wiped at your eyes, shaking your head. "I didn’t want her to grow up around this—around what we were part of. I didn't want her to know the darkness.”

“But that darkness is a part of me, Y/N,” Mattheo snapped, his voice breaking. “It's who I am. I can’t escape it, no matter how much you want to pretend it’s not there. And you—you kept my baby from me because of it?”

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of your decision hanging between you. “I made a mistake, Mattheo. I thought I was doing what was best for her.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and for the first time since you’d left the café, Mattheo’s anger began to ebb, replaced by something even more painful—regret.

Mattheo stood frozen, his chest heaving with the weight of all that had just transpired. His gaze shifted between you and Aurora, trying to piece together the shards of the life he thought he’d lost. His anger still simmered beneath the surface, but as he watched you, tears streaming down your face, and saw Aurora clinging to you with wide, confused eyes, something inside him softened.

But the more he looked at you, standing there with Aurora in your arms, the more the anger started to unravel into something deeper, something rawer.

Because it wasn't just about Aurora. It was about you. You, the woman he'd loved so fiercely before everything fell apart. The woman he had held onto in the darkest hours of Azkaban, when hope was the only thing that kept him from losing his mind.

He had missed you— fuck, he'd missed you— and now you were here, standing in front of him with his daughter. And as furious as he was, as shattered as he felt, that love hadn't gone anywhere.

He hadn't seen you in six years, but you still made his heart race in ways he couldn't control.

“Y/N,” he whispered, the anger in his voice beginning to crack, replaced by a deep, aching sadness. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

"I used to run my fingers through her hair every night," you whispered suddenly, your voice cracking as you glanced down at Aurora's curls. "Because she has your curls. And it made me feel closer to you."

Those words hit Mattheo like a punch to the gut, his chest tightening as the reality of it all began to sink in. You hadn't forgotten him. In all those years, despite everything, you had tried to keep a part of him with you-through Aurora.

He swallowed thickly, his throat constricting. "Why didn't you write me?" he asked, the question soft now, almost a plea. "I could've—hell, I don't know what I could've done, but I would've known. I would've been there in some way. Anything but this."

You sighed, wiping another tear from your cheek. "I didn't think you'd ever get out. I thought..." You took a deep breath, struggling with your words. "I thought it'd be easier if she didn't know. If you didn't know. And I was wrong. I see that now."

He falls silent for a while, his eyes trained on the beautiful girl in your arms.

“She’s really ours?” Mattheo asked, his voice softer now, though the tremor of rage still lurked. “That’s her name? Aurora?”

You nodded, wiping at your cheeks as you pressed a kiss to Aurora’s head. “Yes,” you whispered. “That’s her name.”

Mattheo let out a shaky breath, his heart clenching at the sound of it. Aurora. His daughter. Aurora’s wide eyes met his, so innocent, so big and full of wonder, but also a little shy, hiding in the safety of your arms. She didn’t know him. How could she?

His heart broke even more.

“Well, you do look like quite the princess,” he murmured, his voice soft and careful as if speaking any louder would scare her away.

Aurora’s brow furrowed, still unsure, but Mattheo could see the curiosity shining in her eyes. She stayed pressed against you, her small fingers clutching your shirt.

“Mama,” she whispered, looking up at you, her voice trembling. “Why are you crying?”

Your breath caught as you tried to answer, but words seemed to fail you. Instead, you simply stroked Aurora’s hair, trying to steady yourself. Mattheo watched, helpless, as Aurora’s small hand reached up to touch your cheek.

“It’s okay,” you said softly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m just—just a little sad, baby.”

Mattheo could feel the weight of everything pressing down on you both. He had a million questions, a million things he wanted to yell, but none of it would make sense right now. Not with Aurora watching, her innocent eyes darting between the two of you, trying to make sense of something so much bigger than her little world had ever allowed.

“Who is that, Mama?”

"Remember when you asked me where your Daddy was and why he wasn't here?" you whispered to Aurora, your voice shaking as you cradled her close. "Remember how I told you your Daddy loved you, and that he'd find us one day?"

Aurora’s gaze flicked back to Mattheo, her little forehead creasing in confusion.

“That’s him, sweet girl,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “That’s your Daddy.”

Mattheo’s breath caught in his throat as those words hit him like a tidal wave. That’s your Daddy. For all these years, that’s all he should have been—her father, her protector, her everything—and instead, he was a stranger. He blinked back the sting in his eyes, trying to keep himself together for her sake.

Aurora’s little fingers clung tighter to your shirt as she processed what you’d said. She looked back at Mattheo, her eyes wide and uncertain.

Mattheo’s heart ached with the silence, with the lost years that could never be undone. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, but he knew he couldn’t—at least, not yet. She didn’t know him, and that hurt more than anything else.

You looked down at Aurora, gently prying her small hands from your shirt before setting her down on the ground. “It’s okay,” you whispered softly. “You can say hello.”

Aurora hesitated, her little body leaning toward you, and then slowly, cautiously, she moved to hide behind your legs. Mattheo’s heart squeezed painfully at the sight of her shy little face peeking out at him. His own daughter was scared of him.

He crouched down to her level, making himself as small as he could, hoping it would make him seem less intimidating. He had no idea how to be a father, no idea what to say to this little girl, but he had to try.

“Hey there, Aurora,” he murmured softly, trying to keep his voice gentle, steady. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She didn’t respond, just kept her wide eyes on him as she clung to the back of your leg. Mattheo’s heart shattered further, but he swallowed hard, forcing a shaky smile.

But Aurora, as shy as she was, was still a child. And as she looked at him again, her small voice broke the silence. "Are you really my daddy?"

Mattheo's throat tightened, the words lodged there, unable to come out. He was scared—terrified, really— of what to say, of how she would react. But he nodded, his voice breaking as he whispered, "Yeah. That's me."

Aurora stared at him, her eyes big and full of questions, her small hands clutching onto your shirt as if grounding herself. But after a long, silent moment, she seemed to relax, her lips parting into the tiniest smile.

"I always wanted one," she said softly, her voice full of innocence. "All my friends at school have daddies. I wanted one too."

His chest ached. He was the stranger here, and yet, in her little mind, he was still the man she had been waiting for. The man you had told her would one day come for her. He could see it— the confusion, the shyness— but there was something else in her eyes too.

She'd been missing him. She just didn't know who he was.

Mattheo's chest ached, the guilt and sorrow clawing at him from the inside. "I wanted to be there," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I wanted to be with you, with both of you. I didn't know."

Aurora looked at him for a moment longer, and then, to Mattheo's shock, she smiled a little wider, still shy but no longer fearful. She reached out tentatively, her small hand gripping his for the first time. The warmth of her touch sent a wave of emotion crashing through him, and for the first time since seeing you again, something inside him shifted. Maybe this wasn't all lost. Maybe he hadn't missed everything.

Aurora giggled softly, her small hand still wrapped around his. She brought her other hand to his face, pressing her palm to his cheek. "You're my daddy," she said again, as if testing out the words.

Mattheo's throat tightened, tears stinging his eyes as he smiled-truly smiled-for the first time in what felt like years. "Yeah, princess," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm your daddy."

Aurora's little laugh was music to his ears, and when she finally released his hand, she took a step back, hiding behind your legs again but peeking out from around you with a shy grin.

“You know, when I look at you…” He trailed off, his throat tightening as he swallowed down the lump that had formed there. “I see so much of your mum in you. But I see me too.” He let out a soft, shaky laugh, blinking through the tears that threatened to spill. “You got my curls, huh?”

Aurora’s wide, curious eyes flicked between the two of you, her tiny fingers gripping the fabric of your pants. Mattheo felt a surge of protectiveness, an instinct that told him to reach out, to hold her, to assure her that everything would be okay. But he hesitated, unsure if he even had the right to touch her after all this time. She had been a stranger to him just moments ago, and now… now she was his entire world.

Her small voice broke the silence again, tentative but filled with the kind of honesty only a child could muster. “Do you love my mama?”

Mattheo’s heart lurched at the question. His gaze snapped to you, meeting your teary eyes. The question hung in the air, heavy with expectation. You quickly glanced away, biting your lip as you tried to keep your composure.

Aurora blinked up at him, waiting for an answer. “All my friends’ parents love each other,” she continued, her voice soft, innocent. “They kiss and hold hands. Do you love her?”

Mattheo’s throat tightened, and he felt his pulse quicken. How could he even begin to explain the depth of what he felt? The years apart hadn’t dulled it—if anything, the ache had only grown sharper. You had been his world before Azkaban, and every lonely, torturous day behind bars had been filled with memories of you, of your laugh, your smile, the way you used to look at him as if he was the only person that mattered.

He had loved you then. He loved you still.

But now, standing before you, the mother of his child, the weight of everything left unsaid between you was crushing.

He swallowed hard, his gaze shifting back to Aurora. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I do.” Mattheo’s eyes softened as he glanced at you again, his heart aching with everything he wanted to say. “I’ve always loved her,” he admitted, his voice low but firm. “I’ve never stopped.”

You looked at him, your lips trembling as another tear slid down your cheek. You were trying so hard to be strong, but the years of separation had taken their toll on both of you. And now, with Aurora standing between you, the bond that had once been so unbreakable felt fragile, like it could snap at any moment.

Aurora, still holding onto your pants, tilted her head, watching the two of you with that same curiosity. “Mama,” she said softly, “why are you crying again?”

You let out a shaky breath, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “I’m okay, baby,” you whispered, brushing a hand through her hair in a soothing gesture. “It’s just… a lot.”

Mattheo stood up slowly, running a hand through his curls, trying to compose himself. He felt a swell of love for you, something he had been suppressing in his anger. You had raised this beautiful little girl all on your own, carrying the burden of their absence in silence. You had done it for Aurora—for him. And even though he was furious that you had kept it all from him, a part of him understood. You were protecting her, protecting yourself.

He took a deep breath, his voice soft but unsteady as he spoke again. “I missed everything,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. “Her birth, her first words, her first steps... all of it. I wasn’t there.”

You flinched, guilt flashing across your face. “Mattheo, I—”

“No,” he cut you off gently, shaking his head. “I’m not trying to blame you. I just… I missed it all. And I don’t know how to make that right.”

Aurora, sensing the tension, leaned into you, her arms wrapping around your leg. “Mama, is Daddy staying with us?”

Mattheo’s heart clenched at the word. Daddy. He had never thought he would hear it—never thought it was even possible. But now, hearing Aurora say it so casually, so innocently, it hit him all over again. This was his daughter. His family.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, crouching down again to her level, his voice gentle as he tried to meet her eyes. “I’m going to be here. I’m going to make it right, okay?”

Aurora blinked, processing his words, and then her lips curved into a small, shy smile. She still seemed a bit confused, but there was a trust forming, something fragile but real.

She looked up at you, her tiny voice full of hope. “Does Daddy love me too?”

You sucked in a breath, your eyes flicking to Mattheo, waiting for him to answer. His throat tightened, but he didn’t hesitate this time.

“More than anything,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he held her gaze. “I love you, Aurora. I loved you before I even knew you were here.”

[surielstea]

“Forgive me, Darling.”

Based on this request.

Pairing: Rhysand x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Rhys undermines Reader in front of the Hewn City, Reader makes him grovel before she accepts his apologies.

Warnings: Smut | Minors DNI | 18+ | p in v | apology sex | dom sub dynamics | riding | oral (f receiving) | Reader making Rhys grovel | multi-orgasm | cream-pie | mating press

A. Note: This was really an excuse for me to write some Rhys smut… RhysandWeek got to me I fear, half of it is smut so enjoy 😼🙏

4.7k words

It was an effort to sit next to the High Lord tonight. Even with Winter Solstice so steadily approaching we couldn't stop being at each other's throats for the past week. The others in the Inner Circle were sick of our tedious bickering by now, and the rest of the Court might as well be too.

It was clear to the citizens of the Hewn City that we weren't getting along the best when we sat in our own separate thrones, while I typically opted to sit in Rhys' lap or he on the armrest while I took the main throne.

But it was the citizens of the Hewn City themselves that had cleaved our relationship right in two. While I was a natural sympathizer for these people, Rhys seemed to have half a thought about their well-being.

It drove me mad how easily he could cherish and love something, then turn around and loathe something else with the same fierceness. It was manipulative and vexing.

"Your grace," Keir drawled with a low bow and Rhys lifted a brow at Morrigan's poor excuse of a father.

"What is it?" The High Lord mused, the perfect mask of bored coldness in his violet eyes.

"The court was wondering if you'd be donating to the gift drive this season, all funds would go directly to the orphaned children of course," Keir said with a tone that sent shivers down my spine.

Rhys opened his mouth to say no, but I spoke first. "Of course Keir. We're not monsters," I say, tossing my mate a lethal glare.

"Are you mad? No," He looked to Keir. "I will not be donating, but you can tell them their queen will have a heavy chunk coming from her paycheck," Rhys bit back and the verbal assault immediately bruised her, tearing her down for speaking over him in a place like this was one thing but, in front of Keir? Using him as a device to get under my skin? It was a new level of low.

I bit back a snarl. "You're both insufferable," I stand. "And you bore me," I step down the dais with a careful queenlike elegance that came with only decades of practice. "I'm going home, perhaps finish some last-minute gift shopping," I shrug, my black gown shimmering like the stars in the sky with each move I made.

"I'll join you momentarily," Rhys said with a hand up as if to pause me. I didn't wait for him to finish before I winnowed back to Velaris, alone.

I was born in the Hewn City, and though I knew it was best if Rhys put on a mask in front of that court, it was hard to watch my mate who had one of the biggest hearts I'd ever seen be so cruel, be exactly what those citizens had expected him to be. A monster. A shiver went down my spine at the thought. It was a part of my role as High Lady to back whatever Rhys decided, but it was a part of his role to do the same with me. And when it came to the children of the Hewn City I drew the line, they had done no wrong, and half of them were too young to even realize that their king was a halfbreed, much less why that meant he was seen as lesser. They were innocent, doomed for failure since the beginning because of who their parents were. I sympathized with the orphans and knew exactly how much a donation would've mean to me because I used to be one of them.

Rhys winnowed into the sitting room, writhing shadows feathering off of his dark tunic as he whirled towards me, brows drawn.

"What'd you do that for?" He frowns at me and I mirror it.

"Children Rhys? Should I even dare ask when it might end?" I prop my hands up on his hips and he sighs, rubbing at his eyes.

"You know how I handle those things, I tell Keir no and then donate anonymously," He explained, annunciating every word like I was hard of hearing. The tone set me off. He was right, that's how we did it every year for solstice since Rhys became High Lord.

But tonight was my breaking point after weeks of needless arguments. "Yes, Rhysand. I know." I grit my teeth and his frown deepens as he hears me use his full name, something I always did unconsciously when I wanted him out of my face.

"Then why did you say we'd donate?" He lifts a brow and my shoulders are practically up to my ears with the tension building.

"Because, Rhysand, I'm so sick of you pretending to be someone that you're not," Again, the name makes him flinch. "I know how much you're capable of loving, and I understand you trying to protect us but I can't bear seeing you so ruthless to those people," I explain and he lets out a long sigh.

"You don't seem to understand the impossible situation I'm in." He closes his eyes, needing to rest them if only for a moment.

"What don't I understand?" I grab his jacket, gently gripping it as I stare up at him. "I've been beside you every step of the way, talk to me Rhysand. Or this isn't going to work," I gesture between us and his back shoots ramrod straight, at the underlying threat of taking a break from each other. He loathed the idea, and would rather argue for the rest of his life with me than not have me in his life at all.

"Don't say stuff like that," He murmured, his voice clipped like he couldn't quite breathe right.

"Then think twice before undermining me in front of a male like Keir," I scowl. "Hewn City or not, you're not allowed to silence me." I brush past him, my shoulder ramming into his bicep as I stalk down the hall to our bedroom, shutting the door with a resounding thud, but Rhys remains pinned in the same spot, cursing himself over and over again for his foolish behavior.

Over the next few days, Rhys had done everything in his power to apologize. Giving me countless gifts, and heartfelt monologues about how sorry he was, he even donated a good portion of his gold to the Hewn City orphanage. But I didn't forgive him, because I was certain he had yet to understand how much this truly meant to me. Besides, a small part of me liked watching him grovel.

At dinner with the rest of the inner circle later that evening, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Rhys had reached for my hand beneath my table twice now and I shook him off both times. We had both silently agreed on pretending everything was normal between us in front of the others, not wanting to worry them about the health of their high lady and lord relationship. So I put on a mask, as he often did, and pretended everything was fine.

"I'll see you in a few days for solstice eve," I hum as Morrigan gives me a hug while standing halfway out the door in the cold.

"I got you an amazing gift!" She beamed while backing away and I gave her an incredulous look. There was no arguing that Morrigans gifts weren't unique and personalized, but they were far from amazing.

"I'm sure you did," I hum. "Goodnight, Mor," I lean against the archway of the foyer and she gives me a wave before slipping out the door. Once everyone was officially gone I turned back to the sitting room where Rhys was sitting, staring at me curiously like I was a thing to be analyzed. "What?" I bark, my smile dropping.

"You keep calling me Rhysand," He stands from his seat, looking at me with furrowed brows, his wings drooping slightly, nearly dragging on the floor as he strides towards me but stops an arm's length away.

"That's your name, is it not? Or would you like to argue about that as well?" I arch a brow and his frown deepens.

"No, I just— It's Rhys. It's always been Rhys between us, in fact, you're the reason everyone calls me Rhys." He claims and I cross my arms over my chest, narrowing my gaze on him.

"This is what has been bothering you? This? Out of everything that has been going on, me saying your full name has gotten under your skin the most?" I scowl, unbelieving of his childish behavior.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, defeated.

"I know," I state.

"Then why?" His voice wavers. "Why can't I be forgiven?" He takes another step forward, nearly closing the distance between us if it weren't for his height.

"Because I don't think you've learned your lesson yet." I snarl and his brows crease, his familiar violet eyes glazing over.

"No please, I have darling," He cups my cheeks in his hands. "I have. I'm sorry." His hands were so gentle when holding my face as if I might break if he was any rougher.

I debated giving in for a moment, if only because my desire to feel his lips on mine again would be comparable to heaven— but I stayed strong, my own pride willing me to break away from his touch. "I know," I repeat, before walking down the hall and into our bedroom, closing the door behind me loud enough for him to get the hint that I didn't want to see him again that night.

A few days had passed and it was solstice eve, I was in the midst of getting ready for bed when there was a soft knock on my door. I didn't turn when the door opened, I knew who it was before he was even down the hall.

Rhys doesn't say anything, just stares as I take out my earrings and unlace my dress. I didn't mind him looking as I stripped down and changed into a soft, midnight blue nightgown, perhaps I was rubbing in the fact that he couldn't have me. Once I was finished I walked over to my vanity and began to comb through my hair.

"I can feel you staring, Rhysand." I finally spoke and I swore he growled at the name. I ignore it. He pushes off the doorframe and enters the room.

"What can I do it make it better?" I turn towards him to find him directly behind me, looking down at me with beseeching eyes. "I'm begging you," He whispers, our proximity so close that his nose was brushing against mine.

"You're begging me?" I raise a brow.

"Gods, yes darling. Do you want me to get on my knees and plead?" He suggests and I just stare at him as a reply, waiting.

His brows raise a fraction when he realizes I'm serious, and I cross my arms impatiently. It takes him a moment, but eventually, he drops down onto his knees.

His hands come to my hips and he looks up at me, his chin propped up on my stomach as he lets out a soft, "Please."

"Please what?" I place my hands on his shoulders, one of them finding its way into his dark, midnight-black hair.

"Please, forgive me." He murmurs. "Please, don't make us take a break." He continues, his hands on my hips tightening slightly. "And please, let me love you the way you deserve."

He had once told me he'd only ever fall to his knees for his crown, yet here he was, bending for me with only sincere affection in his eyes and regret forever making me feel like he deserved this.

I grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him up, crashing his lips onto mine. I kiss him, deeply, with the passion and desire that had been building up for the past week. I had forgotten how addictive he was and didn't realize how badly I needed him until he leaned into the kiss and filled the gaping void inside of me with warmth.

"I missed you so damned much, darling," He sighs and I smirk against his lips.

"Yeah?" I slip from his grasp and take a seat on the bed. "Why don't you come over here and show me?" I purr, letting my legs fall open as he prowls towards me and again, gets down onto his knees.

I smile devilishly at him as he begins kissing and nipping at my thighs, beginning to make amends with his mouth rather than words.

His covetous hands slip beneath my short nightgown, gripping my hips and pulling me to the edge of the bed. I lay back onto my elbows, propped up enough to watch him as he made his way up my thighs.

Ever so gently, he pulls at my undergarments and I lift my hips for access so he can further slip the panties down my legs. With reverence his eyes flick down to my glistening core, then back up to my eyes, his gaze holding a certain emotion I don't think I've ever seen the High Lord hone before.

I nod my head and he wastes no time before placing an open mouth kiss to my folds, then dragging it through my slit in a slow, savoring lap. I let out a soft moan at the feeling of his warm tongue finding my clit with a languid stroke. My fingers weave into his hair as he begins to suck on the bundle of nerves, sending me into a spiral.

I looked down at him but he was already staring up at me. But once he sees my lustful expression he can't seem to control himself before he dips down and spears his tongue into me. I release a breathy moan at the intense feeling. How could I have ever robbed myself of this for so long? Gods it was evil the things he could do with that mouth.

His fingers dug into the flesh of my hips as he devoured me like a man starved, his tongue-twisting and curling against a sensitive spot that sent me closer to the edge. I was unable to stop myself from grinding up onto his face, and he let out a guttural groan as I did so, because he knew then that I wanted him, that he was making me feel this good.

I maintained eye contact with him as he continued to drive me wild, violet irises filled with both apologies as well as desire. He draws one of my legs over his shoulder to deepen his access and I pull at his hair.

"That's it, gods yes," I gripe as his tongue toys with the sensitive area nestled deep inside of me.

My head falls back to look up at the ceiling as he brings one of his hands down and his thumb begins to roll over my clit. I whimper at the stimulation, my toes curling as he begins rubbing tight circles. I buck my hips at the intense feeling and he groans against the feeling of me tugging on his hair, the sound reverberating up my spine. "That's my girl," He purrs as my release steadily approaches. "Come on my face, fall apart for me my darling," He says, his voice tender as he coaxes your climax to draw closer.

I couldn't deny his demand, my pleasure too high to even debate it. My peak reaches and with a cry, my body convulses and an intense wave of pleasure crashes through me. He supports me, his arms around my thighs grounding me, his eyes never leaving mine as he removes his tongue from my entrance and softly laps up my dripping folds, his mouth shimmering in my essence. But it was only pride in his eyes as I came down from my high that I recognized, pride and, something far more primal than human.

"I forgot how good you taste," He whispers against my core, cleaning every lost drop from me with his mouth.

Slowly, he backed away, licking his lips that were glistening in my arousal.

"I want to ride you," I confess and his brows shoot up with carnal desire. Yes, that was exactly what I wanted.

I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down onto the bed, his head falling into the pillows as I flipped over him and began working at the buttons of his shirt.

His hands joined mine, helping me by thrashing it off. I smile and attach my lips to his tanned skin, my tongue running over the lines of his tattoo while he frees himself from the confines of his pants. My mouth waters at the sight of his hard cock already leaking with need. I bite at my lower lip as I grip his length, spreading his pre and using it as a natural lubricant. I pumped him once, then twice. My grip was rough and tight, his head fell back into the pillows as he groaned in pleasure.

"Oh, my darling," He sighs out as I press my thumb to his sensitive tip.

His hands come to my thighs as I lift onto my knees and begin dragging his cock through my folds, prepping him for an easy entrance. I swore he got harder the moment my arousal met his.

He looked back at me, his eyes low-lidded. "You look like a goddess," He breathes, his voice husky with restraint. I knew he wanted to push me down onto him, to take dominance and flip me onto my back. But he reigned in his control and kept himself at bay for now.

I smile devilishly at him as I aligned his throbbing cock with my entrance. His eyes flicked down to the view and I froze. "Look at me," I direct and his violet eyes flick back up to my gaze, and I watch his expression as I sink myself down to him so very slowly, inch by inch.

His face contorts into a mix of pleasure and agony. "This is torture," He hisses, his fingers digging into my thighs in an effort to keep restraint. "Please, darling," He whispered the plea and I couldn't help but fold under his yearning gaze.

"Please what?" I say through a soft moan, the stretch of him painful at first yet turned into pure pleasure moments later.

"Please, take all of me and move, now baby," He pants out and I smirk.

"I'm barely halfway down and I've got you this worked up?" I tilt my head demeaningly and he lets out a low, guttural growl.

"You know exactly what you're doing to me, so please, you can take it," He begs and I smile.

"I know I can, but can you?" I murmur, tracing lines along his torso, following his dark tattoo.

"Oh I can," He sighs, his eyes glinting with amusement and I realize he wasn't strained from needing more, he was in agony because his control was thinning. "But if you don't take all of me right now, I'm going to flip us over and fuck you until we both forget our own names." He warns and I smirk, leaning forward— in doing so making him slip deeper inside of me, the new angle eliciting a soft moan from me.

"Is that right?" I purr, my nails trailing down the side of his neck.

"Last chance, baby." His jaw feathers. "Sit down or I'm taking over," He snarls, gripping my hips tighter, prepared to make true of his threat. I smile, leaning closer and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

I do as he says anyway, not wanting to take any chances. I let gravity make my last movement and allow myself to take all of his length, every last inch until he was fully sheathed inside of me and I was seated on him fully.

He lets out a long, deep moan, his head falling back into the pillows. "Gods, such a good girl," He praises, taking a few deep breaths and regaining his control.

Slowly I begin to rock my hips back and forth over him and he jerks at the movement, his hands tightening on my thighs as he begins to guide me over him, showing me exactly how fast he wanted me to go.

He lets out a string of curses as I set a pace, rolling and grinding over him, my thighs already burning with the movements. "Keep your eyes on me, yeah?" he says and I nod, as he slowly lifts me up on him, then pushes me back down, sending me into a rhythm. I began to bounce up and down on him, his thick length burrowing deep inside of me with each descent.

I keep eye contact with him, tears welling in mine as he lifts me faster, my breasts bouncing with the movement, and his captivating eyes don't miss it. "So beautiful," He whispers softly, his voice hoarse and strained as a string of moans escapes me.

"You like that baby?" He purrs, his gaze only sultry. I reply with a moan and a wicked smile forms over his lips as he pushes me to go faster, slamming me down into his hips, his tip brushing over my cervix.

He was enjoying this far too much, he was savoring the way I sounded, the way my body reacted. So desperate for a second release. I lean down, changing the angle and allowing him to hit my most sensitive point with the thick head of his cock.

"Gods, you feel so good wrapped around me like this," He purrs, his breath hot against my neck as his canines scrape against it.

I continue to fuck myself on him, my vision blurring as he abuses that sacred spot inside of me. "I'm close," I grunt, clenching my hands into fists as he spears into me, lifting his hips to help me reach that high.

"Yeah? Going to come, love?" He purrs into the shell of my ear and I nod, tears now slipping down my cheeks despite all my efforts to be in control.

"Yes, I can't control it much longer," I mewl, burying my nose into the crook of his neck.

He smiles, wrapping his arms around me. "That's okay, come for me darling," He allows and I find release, I finally meet my second orgasm.

"Rhys," I moan loud enough for the next room over to hear. Not Rhysand, but Rhys. The male's length twitches at the sound he so desperately had been needing to hear for the past week.

He didn't let me come down from my high for even a moment as he flipped me over onto my back, taking full control as he guided my legs up to my sides, folding me into a mating press.

"I'm not done with you yet, darling," He drawls huskily and my heart pounds against my ribs hard.

He pulls out to his tip and for a moment I'm gifted a kernel of relief, but it quickly ended when he pushed into me, spearing hilt deep as his heavy balls slapped into my ass. Arousal dripped down my thighs as he continued the movement and I turned into a moaning mess.

"You're so tight," He grunted out between thrusts. "Say my name again," He orders and I open my teary eyes to see him above me, his dark wings spread over us. Gods, he looked like a fucking devil like this. "Rhys," I plea and he smiles wolfishly.

"That's my girl, taking me so well," He praises, continuing to piston inside my puffy, overstimulated cunt.

He reaches down and I swear my heart stops as he makes contact with my pink clit. I whimper, my bottom lip wobbling as he pushes me towards yet another orgasm. "Come on baby, squeeze my cock," He demands and I writhe beneath him, clenching every inch of his length as he brushes my cervix repeatedly. His words and groans are a constant stream of encouragement as I hurtle toward my third orgasm.

I let out a loud, broken cry as my climax rips through me, each one more intense than the last. "Please, please tell me you're close," I beg as he lets out a choked groan, his movements becoming more and more erratic as control slips from his grasp. "Fuck, I am baby, I'm close," He pants out and I mewl his name desperately.

"Rhys, Rhys," I murmur like a chant, my mind too fucked out to think of anything else, just him.

"Look at me, I want you to watch while I come inside of you." He purred and my stomach twisted at his filthy words. My hands come around to his shoulders and I dig my nails into the muscle, clawing them down his back at the intense, unrelenting thrusting.

With a feral, desperate groan he buries his nose into my neck and finds his release, his warm seed spilling inside of me.  He shakes and trembles at the weight of his climax, he collapses down onto me, his body heavy and spent. His face was still buried in my neck as he regained his breath. "Fuck, I love you so much," He confesses as the sounds of our breathing fill the room.

"I love you, too," I whisper hoarsely, my voice shot from screaming his name. He nuzzles into my neck, placing gentle kisses along my collarbone slowly guiding my legs down and pulling from my entrance. "I'm sorry baby, I know you wanted to be in control but I— I can't help myself around you," He murmurs and I smile, pulling him into me for a loving kiss.

"Don't apologize, felt so good," I murmur tiredly. "Maybe we should argue more often," I add and he frowns at the idea and I giggle. "I missed you."

His eyes light up with pure adoration. "I missed you too," He hums, easing into the bed beside me and gathering me into his arms. "Now let's get you cleaned up."

The rush of solstice has passed and everything has returned to normal— well, almost everything.

The Court of Nightmares was teeming with its usual negative energy, the air thick with it. I had been seated in my own throne again, not quite ready to take up Rhysand’s lap in front of all the subjects again.

“My Lord,” Keir bowed low before the dais, then turned to me and gave me a simple bow of his head. Rhys gripped the arms of his throne at the action but remained calm all the same.

“What?” The high lord snarled.

“The price of the renovations of the homes in the slums are steadily increasing, to something far greater than what we can afford with the money you’ve so graciously given.” He hums and I sit up. I grew up in the slums, I would’ve taken a man’s life for the opportunity to proceed with the renovation plans I had given Rhys a few days ago, would’ve taken a lot more than a life to give to that community, actually.

“Then we’ll triple the funds,” I state and Keir casts me a glance, then looks back to Rhys. I wanted to rip his face off. I was seated on a throne before his people, I had the power to tear this entire court down and yet he treats me with such disrespect and contempt.

“Why are you still here?” Rhys asked the steward. “My High Lady has just answered your issue, did she not?” Rhys tilts his head with creased brows.

“Of course, my lord,” Keir bows to the male, and something in his spine locks and I know, know that Rhys’s talons had captured Keirs mind and was prepared to shatter it, until Keir turned to me and bowed at the waist, then lower, nearly falling to his knees.

“Dismissed.” Rhys hummed, waving his hand and releasing the males mind.

I smile as I watch him leave, and settled a little deeper into my throne. Oh, I liked this a little too much.

A flicker of Rhysand’s darkness curled caressed up my neck, to trace the contours of my jaw. I turn to look at him and give him a wicked smile, he mirrors it and we turn back to the Nightmare of a court we ruled over, together.

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[tom-foolery-incorporated]

Bluetooth Connected

IDW Brainstorm x reader

Gender neutral AFAB, racially ambiguous, oral, clothes tearing, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, wireless dildo connected to Brainstorm’s spike, size difference

“Here come look!”

Brainstorm covered your eyes by placing a servo over your face. His other servo held onto your lap to keep you steady as you sat on his shoulder. The position was a little awkward but it was a bit better than Brainstorm holding you like a Panic Pete doll in his excitement.

You hummed a little cautious of what he was planning on showing you but still very curious.

Brainstorm has become somewhat infatuated with you. The little human aboard the Lost Light so much smaller than a minibot. It was a shock to everyone when he approached you one night at Swerve’s. He just rambled and talked while you listened. It was kind of endearing in a way.

He always seemed to find an excuse to pick you up, carry you around, spend time with you, or touch you in some way. It was honestly making Perceptor a bit nauseous watching his lab partner so lovey-dovey.

You returning his affection only made things worse. It seemed like little hearts were constantly floating around Brainstorm’s helm. It also didn’t help that Perceptor had found human pornographic magazines under one of Brainstorm’s project.

“It’s for research. When my partner and I reach that point in our relationship, I want to make sure I know what I’m doing!”

To Brainstorm’s credit Perceptor did find an actual human anatomy chart and a couple papers on human sexology with the dirty magazines but the magazines outnumbered the other items by a Long shot.

Perceptor would be working then feel the aroused pulse of Brainstorm’s EMP field as the teal bot was staring off into space. Primus help him.

It was no secret that Brainstorm wished to move your relationship past its current point. As lovely as your innocent kisses are, he couldn’t stop thinking about you spread wide on his spike. The sounds you’d make, how warm you’d feel around him, how tight your little body would be gripping onto his spike.

That was actually the biggest issue.

You barely came up to his knee plate and yet you were somehow expected to take his spike? It’s not that he doubts your abilities but he’d rather not have to go to Ratchet “I didn’t major in organics” of Vaporex to see if he can sew a human back together again.

“Ta-da!”

Brainstorm took his servo away from your face to show you what was basically a large dildo mounted on some smooth electronic components on Brainstorm’s personal desk in his habsuite.

You felt your body heat up in embarrassment. Why did he want to show you a sex toy?

“I know: too impressed to speak! I didn’t think it could be done, well I knew it could but I didn’t expect to finish it so fast!”

You slowly turned your head to face Brainstorm, a horrified and confused look on your face. He only stared back with excitement in his optics. You then looked back at the dildo.

It was the same teal and white as Brainstorm with a tapered tip and a thick middle that slimmed out near the base. It looked to have a sort of metal chord like texture to it.

Then it hit you.

“Is that your dick? Did you make a smaller version of your dick?”

Brainstorm’s engine revved in excitement at your realization. “Not only did I make a smaller you-sized version of my spike but it’s also wireless! You can take it and use it wherever you go.”

You squeezed your thighs together and covered your mouth with your hand. Brainstorm wasn’t the best at communication. He simply dove into his ideas and whims while holding you in his servo and it seems like him asking for sex was no different.

“Use?” You cautiously asked trying to make sense of what Brainstorm was insinuating.

“Yes! For vaginal, anal, and oral penetration or manual stimulation.” Brainstorm wiggled his optic ridge at the last part.

“Did you make me a dildo of your own dick?”

Brainstorm seemed almost offended by your description recoiling a little bit and putting a servo to his chasis. “Dildo? This is more than a primitive toy! As I said, it’s wireless so it’s connected to my interface panel without me having to modify my frame. Anything you do to it, I will feel.”

You flipped your attention away from the toy back to Brainstorm. His face plate was flushed blue with energon as his grip tightened on your lap. You could practically feel his spark thrumming in excitement.

“Could I try it?”

Brainstorm couldn’t help the delighted rev of his engine. The vibrations making their way through his frame and to your core. “I made it with just that in mind.”

He slid his mask off, sitting it down on the desk away from the toy before moving to kiss at your face. You guided Brainstorm so his top derma was pressed against your lips. The pliable metal surface all too familiar under your mouth. Your tongue peeking out from behind your lips to lick at his derma.

“Frag I need you so bad,” Brainstorm groaned against your mouth. He swiftly grabbed you off his shoulder before scooping up the toy from his desk and flopping on his berth with you on his chasis.

You squeaked at the sudden change in position earning an appreciative chuckle from Brainstorm. “Make more of those sounds,” he teased guiding you back to his intake.

You reached out your arms to hold his cheeks in your much smaller hands. Your lips rubbing across his dermas teasingly before finally giving in and pulling him into a passionate kiss.

His servos rested on your hips where he begun guiding you to grind your clothed pussy against his chasis. “Primus I can’t wait to feel that val-vagina,” Brainstorm corrected himself trying to use human terminology to talk about your body. You only choked out a laugh against his dermas at his verbiage.

Brainstorm pulled you away from his intake with his pride clearly bruised at your giggle.

“Is that not what your human valve is called?”

“It is but that’s like the clinical term,” you said rubbing his face plate tenderly. Brainstorm seemed to relax a little but was still a bit upset that he had gotten the phrasing wrong.

“You don’t have to try to use human terms, baby,” you said peppering kisses across his face plate. “It’s fine to call my pussy a valve.”

Brainstorm groaned having you cover him in such innocent affection while speaking about your own genitalia so casually. He’d remembered seeing nude models spreading their legs, bent over, and getting fucked in all sorts of positions within his ‘research’ magazines. Every time he imagined they were you spread out and gaping from taking a spike too big for your hole. All wet and leaking from cumming only to have your pussy plugged again by either his digits or his spike.

“I need you to get these off before I tear them off,” Brainstorm rumbled while pulling at your clothes. You considered for a minute the idea of Brainstorm tearing your clothes to shreds. While tempting you did not have an extra pair in his habsuite and Brainstorm would be all too eager to show off just exactly what he did to you.

You pulled your shirt up over your head as Brainstorm’s gentle digits ran over the skin of your chest down to your stomach. He pinched at the fat on your hips making you squeal and slap your hands down onto his chasis with your shirt still on your arms.

“You’re so soft,” Brainstorm only continued fondling your hips. “You did that on purpose,” you groaned tossing your shirt at Brainstorm’s faceplate.

Brainstorm only gave you a shit eating grin as he tossed your shirt aside. “No but I can’t say that your reaction wasn’t appreciated.” You huffed grabbing onto his servos with your hands as he fondled up and down your sides simply appreciating the flesh there.

“Don’t look at me with that face,” Brainstorm scolded tightening his grip on your hips. “I have half the mind to tear you apart on my real spike when you look at me like that.”

You couldn’t help the airy moan that came out of your mouth when you tried to speak. Brainstorm started to guide your hips to grind against his chasis. “Is that really all I have to do to make you moan?” Brainstorm teased. “Just say some dirty words and suddenly you’re leaking through your little human coverings?”

You hold onto Brainstorm’s servos as you moved your hips with the rhythm he set. “Perceptor told me he found your porn magazines,” you shot back with a mischievous smile.

Brainstorm’s servos stilled forcing your hips to stop. His optics were wide, he face flushed blue, and his lips parted like he was going to say something. For once you caught him off guard.

“Do you have a little human fetish?” You continued to tease while unbuttoning your pants. “You look so cute right now, Stormy. I wish I could take a picture of your face.”

Brainstorm’s expression changed from one of pure embarrassment to anger. He grabbed the waist of your pants pulling the fabric down your legs so fast you fell backwards. There was a slight tearing sound as he tossed your pants to the side. His servos grabbed your thighs making you spread your legs and reveal the wet spot that was growing in your underwear.

“Shut up,” Brainstorm growled as he dragged you closer to his faceplate. “Perceptor has no reason to speak to you.” His massive glossa ran over your clothed cunt. You moaned arching your hips up to his intake. “You’re mine,” Brainstorm posited his statement with another slow lick to your underwear.

You reached your hand out to hold onto one of Brainstorm’s digits as he began eating you out through your wet underwear. His dermas moved softly around your pelvis as his glossa sloppily licked at whatever he could find. “Doesn’t-fuck!,” you moaned out when Brainstorm began sucking on your pelvis area. “Doesn’t change the fact that you were jerking it to human porn on the job.” You couldn’t help but laugh at Brainstorm’s furious optics when they moved to look at your face. “Did you have this in mind when we first met?” You humped against his intake earning a pleased growl from the mech. His vocals vibrated through your entire body making you gasp out his name.

“Fuck! I’m sorry for making you wait so long! Should’ve fucked me right on the table,” you turned your head moaning and panting at Brainstorm’s treatment of your cunt.

Brainstorm moved away from your pussy grabbing the waistband of your underwear between his teeth and tearing them off your body. You had half the mind to scold him for tearing not only your pants but now your underwear but instead you were interrupted by a hot lick to your bare cunt.

“I should have,” Brainstorm agreed mulling over the taste of your pussy. “I should have spread out your little human valve right in the middle of Swerve’s. Humans stretch, if you can push another human out of this hole-“ Brainstorm rubbed his index against your pulsing hole before pushing the tip in making you arch your back and hiss in both pain and pleasure. “You could have taken my spike.”

“You would have ripped me apart!” You moan out while moving your hips against his digit.

Brainstorm looked all too pleased at you as he reached for the miniature version if his own spike. “I really would have,” he grinned. You heard a hiss like a release of air. You tilted your head back only to gawk in awe if the massive appendage before you.

His spike identical to the small version he was holding was leaking pink transfluid. Your mouth watered at the thought of licking him clean.

“Brainstorm, baby,” you said in an airy voice. “Please let me suck you. Fuck your dick looks so good!”

A shudder ran through Brainstorm that made his spike twitch. He released his grip on your legs allowing you to crawl over his chasis and to his spike. It was probably the length of your leg or just a little shorter. You couldn’t imagine trying to take him to the base but your hole pulsed at the idea anyway. Brainstorm watched appreciatively as you stood on your hands and knees just marveling at his spike. Your bare ass and pussy presented to him like a present.

“Go ahead, sweet spark,” Brainstorm moaned as he measured the smaller version of his spike against your cunt. “It’s all yours.”

You practically pounced on his spike your hands rubbing over the biolights as they pulsed the same blue light as his eyes. Your tongue traced up his shaft to his leaky head in worship. Brainstorm gasped out curling his hips forward into your eager touch. Your tongue slurped up as much of his transfluid as you could. Brainstorm nearly dropped the miniature version of his spike at the feeling of your soft mouth working his spike. It was everything he’d ever dreamed of. Those fantasies and restless recharge cycles spent thinking about your cute lips wrapped around him, your soft pussy leaking in front of him, everything was finally coming together.

Your hips wiggled so cutely in front of him he couldn’t help but press the tip of the miniature spike to your hole.

You gasped pushing your hips back at the feeling.

Brainstorm whined being able to feel both your leaky cunt and your hands at the same time. “Is it too much, baby?” You murmured with your lips trailing his spike. Brainstorm moaned out your name as he pushed the tip of the toy inside of you.

“Keep-“ Brainstorm felt his body glitch in pleasure. “Keep sucking.” He was panting at the simultaneous feeling of your pussy wrapped around him via the miniature of his spike and your lips on his actual member.

You obeyed Brainstorm’s plea kissing and sucking on the tip of his cock while slowly moving your hips against his miniature. “You taste so good, Stormy,” you moaned while licking the transfluid off your lips. Brainstorm’s servo grabbed the back of your head pushing you back down onto his spike. You squeaked out a surprised noise as your mouth engulfed the head of his spike once more.

He slipped more of the miniature into you his intake open and drooling at the feeling of both your pussy and mouth on him. Your tongue licking and teasing his slit while the wet walls of your cunt gripped him.

You squeezed your eyes shut feeling your hole being spread open over the thickest part of the miniature. You whined around his spike trying to push your hips back against the toy. It was then with a wet pop that you were able to take Brainstorm’s miniature spike to the base.

You felt stretched beyond belief. Your hole having never taken something so big. You sloppily licked around Brainstorm’s spike feeling drunk off of his spike. You needed more of him, you wanted more of him. Your hips rose and fell over the toy as Brainstorm held it to keep it steady. You were so soft, so wet. He couldn’t believe the feeling if your soft little human valve wrapped around him while you licked and worshiped his spike.

His eyes followed your pussy as his miniature slid in and out of your greedy hole with every rise and fall of your hips. The wet slapping of your drooling cunt against the metal of the toy was enough to have Brainstorm shivering and humping your mouth with his actual spike.

You moaned, hearts practically in your eyes, letting Brainstorm take from your mouth what he wanted.

“You’re so good,” there was a slight glitch in Brainstorm’s vocalizers. “I don’t think I’d be able to stop. I’m going to keep your valve stretched out like this all the time.” You shivered grinding your hips at the base of the toy. You released your mouth from Brainstorm’s spike with a wet pop as you wrapped your arms around the metal appendage. His humped against your torso while you bounced on the toy. The stimulation was proving too much and Brainstorm couldn’t hold back the cry of your name as he covered you in his transfluids.

Your face and torso were flooded with the glowing pink substance. You stood still in shock not expecting there to be so much cum. You looked over your shoulder at your panting lover. His optics half lidded and his intake open. His vents rushed air in and out trying to cool him down and the sight of your face covered in his release didn’t help.

He could still feel your pussy wrapped around him. Fluttering walls making him whine in overstimulation.

You smirked at his noise as you brought your hips up only to slam them back down. Brainstorm let out an almost pained moan but did nothing to stop you.

“Feel good?” You teased leaning forward so Brainstorm could get a better view of your sloppy cunt slobbering all over the miniature of his spike. Brainstorm nodded and for once was without words.

You eagerly bounced on his toy taking whatever you wanted from him. His optic ridges pulled together as he winced. It was starting to hurt having you fuck him after his overload but the feeling of your walls so wet and tight around him was too wonderful to stop.

“Mmmm,” you moaned arching your back. “I cant wait to use this again. I might keep it in me all day.”

Brainstorm swore under his breath his servos grabbing your hips to guide you up and down the toy. “You’d look so cute trying not to cum in front of everyone,” you teased. “No one would have any idea that your little human was using you like a toy.”

Brainstorm’s grip was bruising. You shivered knowing you’d have the imprints of his servos on your hips for days to come. Your hand wandered down to your clit rubbing the tight bundle in circles. The room was filled with the sounds of panting, gasping, and the wet plapping of your pussy as you fucked yourself on Brainstorm’s miniature.

“Fuck!” You cried tears coming to your eyes. “I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum all over your spike!”

You screamed Brainstorm’s name as a rush of fluids exited your body. Your squirt dripped down Brainstorm’s teal plating as you rode out your high. Your words were a jumbled mess of praise and Brainstorm’s name. He felt his spark flutter in pure bliss seeing his lover covered in his transfluid riding out their high on top of him.

“So good,” You muttered before feeling your knees go weak. Brainstorm’s servos kept you steady and balanced as he slipped you off the toy. A string of your slick arousal still connected your pulsing cunt to the miniature. He slowly rested your body against his helm as he carefully set the miniature aside.

You panted letting your body rest against his helm with your legs draped over his chasis. Your pussy still throbbing from your orgasm.

“I love you,” Brainstorm panted while stroking up your body with one of his servos. You turned your head pressing kisses to the side of his face plate. “Do you think you could make one of those but it’s my pussy instead?”

You had to hold on tight to Brainstorm’s faceplate as he jolted up in the berth. His eyes wide in excitement and realization. “I bet I could!” Brainstorm exclaimed his mind already running wild with ideas. You giggled holding onto his helm already excited for what he had planned.

[coldzonkprofessorturtle]

An Affair to Remember

Alright, let's get into Affair the Series, which has been giving me brainrot the past few weeks so feels like a good time to get into an analysis of why I find it so fascinating. Eventually I'd love to do a deeper dive into Thai GLs and that industry (that's a whole other thing though) but after having seen my share of them (Gap, Show Me Love, TSOU, The Loyal Pin) I've really found myself falling into the rabbit hole with Affair the Series and the way it depicts friendship, love, and acceptance.

Deep dive below and also thank you gif makers for your work 🙏🏽

(also will go over events from episodes 1-5, so spoilers ahead if not up-to-date)

So first off, I have read the novel, which is the first time I've finished one of those for a GL and quite frankly, the translation wasn't that great but the story still came through. I won't refer to it much and will base this on the show as I think they've done a fantastic job with the adaptation and fingers crossed continue to do so.

Where in most GLs the core conflict is external. The main couple can't be in love typically due to familial/cultural pressure or a man interfering (that still exists to an extent here) the main conflict in Affair is simply that Wan and Pleng love each other too much but they do so in different ways.

When we meet Wan and Pleng they're 17 years old and have spent their entire lives together. They're sisters but not and while Wan seems to have a social circle, Pleng really has no other friends outside of Wan. The spoiled rich girl and the maid's daughter. Couldn't be more different if they tried and yet by circumstance their lives are as intertwined as it gets.

At 17, they have different ideas for their futures. Pleng is musically talented, wins every contest and is financially set. She can live the life she wants. If she wants to be a musician then so be it. Her parents love and support her and there's no pressure. Wan on the other hand has an overbearing mother (and a resentful father), no prospects for her future but at least she has Pleng.

Despite her parents, Wan loves wholly and openly. She knows she loves Pleng and while she doesn't yet know it she does know that Pleng loves her too. I would argue that Wan truly knows herself, which is why she comes across as so self-assured in their younger years. She's slowly trying to guide Pleng to understand herself too.

Pleng, however, has never had to sit with her emotions in the same way. Take this as differences of personality, class and upbringing. Now that they're 17 and entering adulthood, Pleng has to start engaging with the world (and her emotions) rather than hiding behind the rich, insular lifestyle she's had up to this point.

As the idea of boyfriends comes up, Pleng starts to lash out. She's jealous, she's pushy but really she's just in love with her best friend and doesn't know it. Everything starts happening too fast. Wan meets a boy at an art gallery, Aunt Wi pushes Pleng to help Wan get with Ek, Pleng's dad is extremely stressed and she doesn't know to what extent and throughout that Pleng is dealing with her feelings that for some reason just won't go away. Feelings that Wan keeps bringing up in her over and over.

Pleng is a mess. She doesn't know how to connect with her peers, she knows something is wrong with her dad, she sees that Wan is seemingly moving forward in a way that she's not (dating a boy) and whether she realizes it she continues to isolate herself.

From Wan's perspective she couldn't care less about dating Ek. She's already completely devoted to Pleng (in ways that Pleng doesn't even know).

They're 17, hormonal, gay, and incapable of seeing each other's perspective. Wan wants Pleng to let her in. Pleng can't help but push everyone away.

As soon as Pleng starts to really come to terms with her feelings about Wan. That's when everything falls apart. Her dad kills himself, her mom goes into cardiac arrest, all of her family's assets are seized and she's now orphaned and staying with Wan's parents who clearly and vocally have no space for her. Pleng who was already struggling to find her footing before that fateful night now has absolutely nothing to stand on.

The break point is when Pleng finds out about Wan's academic achievements and that Wan had been hiding that truth about herself their entire lives. Wan has always been intelligent and capable but hidden herself behind a veil of ineptitude. Wan in loving Pleng puts her on a pedestal to her own detriment. She has no issue blighting her own light so that Pleng can shine but from the moment we meet 17 year old Pleng in the show we see her pushing Wan to better herself. Wan thinks loving Pleng means her own success doesn't matter whereas Pleng loves Wan and all of her potential.

They both love each selflessly but while Wan would burn the whole world to keep Pleng warm, Pleng loves Wan despite her own existence. So when Pleng leaves she writes,

"Your parents will feel at ease. And you'll finally get to live your life as your true self... I know you love me but I also want you to love yourself. And be proud of who you are."

For Pleng, her leaving is the ultimate way to show her love to Wan. A clean break. She runs away so Wan can thrive but here's the thing Wan needs Pleng to keep her grounded. Pleng does too but she can't see it at this point. Too much has happened and so, in her desperation she removes herself. She is her father's daughter after all.

So when 13 years pass and Wan has spent that entire time holding on to whatever she can to keep herself close to Pleng (becoming a doctor, riding a bike to work, marrying Ek, separating herself from her parents); Pleng has become a ghost of herself. Wan has imbued herself with all the things she thinks/knows Pleng would like while Pleng is stuck in a cycle that she can't get out of: play music, make a bit of money, pay rent, rest, repeat.

Pleng never reaches out to Wan because why would she? Her loving Wan means staying away and on top of that there's a sense of shame of what her life has become.

So when they finally meet again it's too much. Wan is successful but she's still clearly in love with Pleng and while it was all Wan's doing, in a way her success is a direct result of Pleng's influence. In removing herself, Pleng slowly begins to realize not just that she took Wan's smile with her but the why and how. Wan's changed and devoid of the joy and innocence that Pleng loved most.

They slowly fall back into their natural rhythms but Pleng still can't accept her own presence in Wan's life. Wan is back to pushing (albeit more aggressively then before - time was wasted) and in pushing Pleng, Pleng pushes back. If they take their relationship that one step further, what then? What if it falls apart? Why not just stay in a cycle where nothing shifts? What if there's another ringing shot in the distance and everything changes in a moment?

If there's one core trauma to Pleng as a character it's her desperation to not feel like a burden to anyone. Especially Wan. And then she finds out that Wan (though separated) is still married to Ek and she can't accept that she could have ruined Wan's potential happiness. Not understanding that Pleng herself is Wan's happiness. Pleng feels like a disruption because at the root of it the thing she wanted above all for Wan, "I also want you to love yourself. And be proud of who you are" is not something that Pleng accepts for herself.

I'll leave it there and hope the show navigates the situations that are about to come as well as they have so far but kudos as Affair manages to oh so gracefully skirt what could otherwise be an incredibly toxic relationship. Somehow they manage to give these two characters so much grace despite their flaws. And truly that's also a huge credit to Sonya and Lookmhee's abilities.

It's chaotic and messy but in coming back together these two might just realize that's how they both best shine.

[mrsnancywheeler]

finnick odair x sweet & oblivious!partner hc's

based off this request

masterlist

finnick usually considered how sweet you were one of the most endearing things about you

except when it was towards certain people who didn't seem to understand it was just your way, being so sweet, in a tooth rotting way, that they assumed you must be flirting with them

additionally you always assumed they were doing the same back even if their flirting was egregiously overt

someone could wink and comment on how nicely your jeans fit, yet you'd assume it was genuine, smile, and thank them even tell them where you got the pair

finnick was constantly in your ear telling you that people were hitting on you, which you'd laugh off and deny

you'd try and make an effort to be more conscious of it when you could see how much it upset finnick that other people would act like you weren't with him

finnick of course never blamed you, it was just how kind you were that would draw everyone in

he adored the sweetness though

the way you'd dedicate lengths of time to find or make something he liked, spend hours with mags and annie to keep them in good company, the way you'd softly take care of him if he wasn't even slightly feeling well, when he was sad you'd cradle him, kiss him, say the loveliest things he imagined a person could no matter how cheesy

"you don't have to doubt us, finn, I'd stay with you past the time when everything's dust, I'm never going to let you go"

"you're my everything, the sea, the sun, the moon, the air, the wind, the grass, the dirt, it's like the angels decided we were meant to be."

"I think I'd be yours in every lifetime and you would be mine, we'd always find each other."

you'd call him handsome, say he was hand sculpted by angels, what a pretty boy he was, literally any time you had the chance

your kisses were so soft, hugs so warm, finnick felt like he genuinely could lay with you for eternity

you'd write him cheesy little poems that would have him blushing and kissing you until you were giggling and kicking your feet as he peppered you with kisses

finnick couldn't understand how someone as sugary sweet as you were could ever love someone as damaged, as ruined as he felt

but if you even saw a glimpse of those feelings you'd fall into pure prose of how worthy he was of love and you could pour buckets of it on him every day

even if he had enough money to buy a new closet for any piece of ripped clothing you'd insist on stitching things back together for him, it's what you parents had once done for each other so you adored doing it for finnick too

nsfw - finnick also was enthralled by the times your obliviousness came into clutch for him, he'd see how far he could go before you even realized what he was trying to do to you, all the comments he could make without you realizing the intentions, it was always adorable when you finally did manage to catch on

you'd bake him his favorite sweet treats, make breakfast and feel guilty if he ever didn't wake you up when he woke and ended up making it for both of you

finnick loved it and seeing the way you insisted on doing anything else to make up for it

finnick would move the heavens and the earth for you and all your kindness, he could never do enough for all the things your big heart would do for him and others

maybe you thought he was made by angels, but he was sure you were one, in the flesh, his own guardian angel intent on showering him in love

[reidmarieprentiss]

I Love You

Summary: Spencer tries to redeem himself after ruining everything he had with you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: light smut (18+), pain of breakup, voicing that pain

Word count: 8.2k

a/n: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee part two to i love you (i would write part 3) —hi was gonna wait to post butttt im having a bad monday so i wanted to see these fellas have their happy ending

masterlist part one

July, 2008

“Hey,” you said softly, your eyes searching his, filled with emotions.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

A silence hung between you, thick with unspoken words, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if both of you were trying to navigate the delicate terrain of this moment, unsure of where to begin.

“Come in,” you finally said, stepping aside to let him enter. Spencer nodded, stepping into your apartment with familiarity and trepidation. As you closed the door behind him, you couldn’t help but notice how he seemed almost hesitant, as if afraid to disrupt the space you had built for yourself in his absence.

You both moved to the living room, where he sat on the edge of the couch, his hands fidgeting slightly in his lap. You took a seat across from him, giving him the space he seemed to need.

“I’ve been thinking about what to say to you for months,” Spencer began, his voice tentative, eyes focused on his hands. “But now that I’m here, I realize that no amount of words can really make up for what I did.”

You remained quiet, letting him speak, knowing that this was something he needed to get out.

“I was jealous. Insecure. I let my fears control me, and I ended up pushing away the one person who meant everything to me,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke. “I know I hurt you, and I can’t take that back. But I need you to know how sorry I am. I’m so sorry for doubting you, for accusing you, for letting my insecurities get in the way of what we had.”

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the regret that weighed heavily on him. It tugged at your heart, but you weren’t ready to let go of the pain just yet.

“Spencer,” you began, your voice steady but soft, “I appreciate you wanting to fix things, to be willing to admit your feelings. But what happened… it wasn’t between us. It was just you. I wasn’t a part of any of the decision-making, or the understanding. The only part of our relationship that I was present for towards the end, was the breakup. You left me out of everything and made up your own stories and facts about me, your loving, devoted girlfriend. I put all of my trust into you, and I only wish you had done the same for me.”

Your words hung in the air, heavy with the truth that had been buried for too long. Spencer’s face paled as he absorbed what you were saying, the weight of his actions settling on him like a burden he could never fully shake off.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I know I let my fears and insecurities take control, and I didn’t give you the trust and respect you deserved. I created a narrative in my head, one that wasn’t based on reality, and I let it destroy what we had.”

You nodded, your heart aching but resolute. “Spencer, relationships are built on trust, communication, and partnership. You can’t love someone and keep them at arm’s length, making decisions about them without including them. That’s not how it works.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with regret. “You’re right. I failed you in every way that mattered. I don’t know how to fix that, but I want to try. I want to earn back your trust, if that’s even possible.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of the past year pressing down on you. “It’s not something that can be fixed overnight, Spencer. And honestly, I don’t know if I’m ready to even try right now. I need time to think, to figure out what I want.”

Spencer nodded, his expression solemn. “I understand. I’m willing to wait, to give you all the time you need. I just needed you to know how sorry I am, and how much I regret everything I did.”

The room fell silent again, but this time it was a silence of understanding—a mutual acknowledgment of the pain and the need for space. It wasn’t a resolution, but it was a step toward something, even if that something was simply closure.

“Thank you for coming here, Spencer,” you said finally, your voice softer now. “I needed to hear this, and I think you needed to say it.”

“I did,” he agreed, standing up slowly. “I’ll go now. But if you ever want to talk, or… anything, I’m here.”

“No… you don’t have to leave,” you said quickly, surprising even yourself with the words.

Spencer paused, looking at you with confusion and hope. “What? Why not?”

“You took a three-hour train to be here,” you continued, your voice softer now. “We can… still be friends. Friends spend time together. Right?”

Spencer’s eyes searched yours, as if trying to gauge whether you truly meant it. “Right,” he finally said, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You nodded, feeling a small sense of relief. “So, stay. We can talk, or just… be here. No pressure.”

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly sat back down, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “I’d like that,” he admitted, the words carrying a sincerity that made your heart ache.

And so, you both sat there, the remnants of what you once had still lingering in the air, but now with a new understanding—a step toward healing, toward something different. Maybe it was the beginning of a friendship, or maybe it was just a way to start mending what had been broken. Either way, it felt like the right thing to do, and for now, that was enough.

—

As you both settled into the couch, the initial tension began to dissipate, replaced by a more comfortable atmosphere. Spencer shifted slightly, trying to find the right words to break the ice, but you beat him to it.

“So,” you began with a teasing smile, “have you read any good books lately? Or are you still just hoarding them?”

Spencer chuckled, the familiar sound bringing a sense of warmth to the room. “Hoarding? I prefer to think of it as curating a personal library.”

“Sure, sure,” you laughed. “And how many of those ‘curated’ books have you actually read?”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “More than you might think! But okay, I’ll admit, the collection has outgrown my reading pace a bit.”

“A bit?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “I remember you saying that about three bookshelves ago.”

Spencer smiled, feeling more at ease. “Well, you know how it is. So many books, so little time. But I did finish that mystery novel you recommended.”

“Oh, you mean the one where the butler actually didn’t do it?” you grinned, leaning back against the couch.

“Yes! I was convinced it was him the entire time,” Spencer admitted, shaking his head. “They really got me with that twist.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “I knew you’d like it! I told you it wasn’t as predictable as it seemed.”

“Okay, okay, you were right,” he conceded, a playful tone in his voice. “What about you? Been to any good concerts lately, or are you too busy performing in them?”

“Touché,” you said, giving him a mock glare. “But actually, I did go to one recently! It was kind of nice to be in the audience for a change, you know?”

Spencer nodded, a genuine smile on his face. “I can imagine. It’s probably a different experience when you’re not the one on stage.”

“It really is,” you agreed. “I got to just enjoy the music without worrying about anything. It was a good reminder of why I love it so much.”

The conversation flowed easily after that, the two of you slipping back into a comfortable rhythm, sharing stories and light-hearted banter. It felt natural, almost like old times, but with a new understanding and a lighter, more cautious energy. It wasn’t the same as before, but it was something, and it felt good to just be in each other’s company again.

—

Spencer left later that evening, feeling lighter but not completely at ease. The conversation had been a step in the right direction, but he knew there was still a lot of work to do to truly prove to you how sorry he was. The road to rebuilding your trust was going to be long, and he was prepared to do whatever it took.

As the door closed behind him, you found yourself sitting in the quiet of your apartment, reflecting on the unexpected turn of events. Despite everything, Spencer had always been a significant part of your life, and it seemed that, in some ways, he still was. The emotions of the day swirled in your mind, a mix of old memories and new beginnings.

Instinctively, you reached for a notebook and pen, letting your thoughts flow onto the pages. Spencer had been your muse for years, inspiring some of your most heartfelt songs. That hadn’t changed, even after all the pain. Now, as you started scribbling down ideas, you felt that familiar spark—his presence still lingered, giving rise to new melodies and lyrics. The words came naturally, you weren’t sure where this new song would lead or what it would become, but for now, it was enough to let the music carry your emotions, just as it always had.

—

Spencer knew that rebuilding your trust would take time and consistent effort, so he began with the little things, the everyday gestures that showed he was thinking of you. 

He started texting you whenever something small reminded him of you—a funny sign he saw on his way to work, a quirky fact he knew you’d appreciate, or just a picture of his coffee when it was served in one of those oversized mugs you always loved. The messages were brief but thoughtful, his way of staying connected without pushing too hard.

When you didn’t answer his calls, he left sweet, friendly voicemails. “Hey, it’s me,” he’d say, his voice warm with a hint of nervousness. “I just wanted to hear your voice, but no worries if you’re busy. I hope you’re having a good day. Call me back if you can. If not, I’ll catch you later.” His tone was always light, never demanding, just letting you know he was thinking of you.

Every time you finished a show, you’d return to your hotel room to find a beautiful bouquet of flowers waiting for you. The notes attached were always simple, but they made your heart ache a little less. I know you were amazing tonight. I can hear the crowd from across the ocean. –Spencer was your favorite one, always signed with just his first name, a touch of the familiar that made you smile despite yourself.

Spencer also made it his mission to read every book you had ever recommended. Late at night, after finishing a chapter, he would call you to share his thoughts. “Hey, I just finished that mystery novel you suggested,” he’d say, excitement evident in his voice. “You were right, the twist was incredible! I didn’t see it coming at all. I’d love to hear what you thought when you read it.” Sometimes you answered, and sometimes you didn’t, but he always left a message, continuing the conversation as if you were right there with him.

These small, consistent gestures slowly chipped away at the walls between you. They weren’t grand declarations, but they were genuine, thoughtful, and persistent—a reflection of Spencer’s commitment to making things right, one step at a time.

—

September, 2008

You had a show tonight in Amsterdam, and the city seemed to glow with a charm that made you fall in love with it a little more every day. The weather was perfect, with a gentle breeze and sunshine that reflected off the canals, making everything feel just a bit more magical. You couldn’t have asked for a better setting to prepare for your performance. You were soaking it all in, convinced that this country might just be one of your favorite stops on the tour.

But that sense of contentment was abruptly interrupted when you left your hotel that morning for a walk with Emerson, your head of security. The usual routine—just a quiet stroll to clear your mind before the day’s whirlwind began. But today, there was something different.

As you stepped out of the hotel, your eyes adjusted to the bright morning light, and then they landed on a figure standing next to Emerson. It took a second for your brain to catch up with what your eyes were seeing, but when it did, your heart skipped a beat. 

Spencer.

He was standing there, looking slightly out of place but unmistakably beautiful. His hands were shoved in his pockets, his posture a mix of nervousness and resolve. When he saw you, his eyes softened, and the hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

“Spencer?” you said, surprise and confusion mingling in your voice as you stepped closer.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice tentative but hopeful. “I was in the neighborhood. I thought… maybe I could catch your show tonight.”

You glanced at Emerson, who gave a small nod, signaling that Spencer had already been vetted and that his presence wasn’t an issue from a security standpoint. That left you to decide how you felt about him being here—unannounced, thousands of miles from home.

“You were in the neighborhood, huh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow with skepticism and amusement.

“Mhm,” Spencer nodded, his expression serious for a moment before a small, teasing smile tugged at his lips. “Just passing through.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his attempt to play along. “You didn’t come here to see anything? Anyone in particular?”

He pretended to think for a moment, then shook his head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “No? Why would I do that?” he teased, his tone light but carrying a hint of the vulnerability you knew he was trying to mask.

You rolled your eyes playfully, feeling some of the tension ease between you. “Well, since you’re here, you might as well see a show tonight. I hear it’s going to be a good one.”

Spencer’s smile widened, the relief evident in his eyes as he realized you weren’t upset. “I’d like that,” he said softly. “I’d really like that.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the light banter easing some of the weight that had been hanging over your relationship. There was still so much to talk about, so much to work through, but for now, the fact that Spencer was here—willing to put in the effort and show up—meant something. And that was a start.

—

Emerson found a small table just within view, keeping a discreet yet vigilant eye on you and Spencer as the two of you settled into a cozy café along the canal. The picturesque setting, with its cobblestone streets and gently flowing water, seemed to work its magic, casting a warm, romantic glow over everything. You could see the old-world charm of Amsterdam reflected in the brown of Spencer’s eyes, and the peaceful atmosphere made it easy to forget, if only for a moment, the unresolved tensions between you two.

As you both sipped your coffee, the conversation naturally flowed, light and easy, with a hint of the playfulness that had always existed between you. 

“This place is amazing,” Spencer remarked, looking around with genuine appreciation. “I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere quite like it.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” you agreed, feeling the warmth of the sun on your face. “But I have to admit, I’m a little biased. I’ve always had a soft spot for places like this—where everything feels timeless.”

Spencer smiled, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “Timeless suits you,” he said, his voice soft but filled with meaning.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks, the compliment catching you off guard. “You always know just what to say, don’t you?” you teased, trying to downplay the effect his words had on you.

“Only when it comes to you,” he replied, his tone slightly more serious but still playful enough to keep things light.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his flirtatiousness. “Careful, Dr. Reid. You’re getting dangerously close to charming your way back into my good graces.”

Spencer leaned in slightly, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mix of intelligence and mischief. “Is that so? Because I was under the impression I had quite a bit of ground to make up.”

You raised an eyebrow, matching his playful tone. “Oh, you definitely do. But I have to say, this impromptu visit to Amsterdam is a pretty solid start.”

Spencer’s smile widened, emboldened by the fact that you hadn’t shut him down. “Well, I’ve always been a fan of spontaneous gestures. Especially when they involve canals and coffee with a beautiful woman.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Spencer, you’re laying it on thick today.”

“Just trying to make the most of the moment,” he said, his voice softening as he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

For a moment, it was easy to forget that you hadn’t made up your mind about where things stood between you. The romantic setting, the easy conversation, and the lingering affection between you made it feel like everything was just as it had been before. You allowed yourself to bask in the moment, enjoying the way Spencer’s presence made you feel—light, happy, and maybe even a little bit hopeful.

As you both continued to flirt and laugh, the city of Amsterdam seemed to wrap you in its embrace, making it easy to pretend, just for a little while, that all the hurt and uncertainty were far behind you.

—

While you were whisked away for sound checks and concert preparations, Spencer found himself with some time to explore the charming streets of Amsterdam on his own. The city was a maze of narrow alleys, quaint shops, and hidden gems, each turn offering something new to discover. As he wandered, Spencer stumbled upon a small, local florist tucked away on a quiet street corner. The shop was brimming with vibrant blooms, their sweet scent filling the air. It was then that an idea struck him.

—

That evening, as you took the stage, you felt a different kind of energy pulsing through you. The anticipation of the performance always brought a thrill, but tonight was special. You knew Spencer was somewhere in the crowd, watching you with those thoughtful eyes of his. It was hard not to shine a little brighter, knowing he was there, sharing this moment with you.

Even with thousands of faces in the crowd, you could sense him out there, unwavering in his attention. Knowing he was watching, supporting you, made you feel invincible. For the first time in a long while, you fully embraced the moment, letting the music and the crowd's energy fill you up.

When the concert ended, the thunderous applause echoed in your ears as you walked off the stage, your heart racing—not just from the performance, but from the anticipation of seeing Spencer again. The night wasn’t over, and you couldn’t wait to see what it had in store.

—

The ride back to your hotel from the venue was charged with a new, palpable energy between you and Spencer. The city lights flickered past as you sat together in the backseat, his hand gently holding yours, and you didn’t pull away. You let him hold onto you, both of you savoring the quiet connection that had started to rebuild itself.

When you arrived at your hotel, Emerson gave you a goodnight with a knowing wink before leaving you and Spencer alone. As you opened the door to your room, you were greeted by a breathtaking sight—every surface in the vintage, pristine room was covered in flower bouquets. The rich scent of fresh blooms filled the air, making the moment even more surreal.

“Spencer?” you called out, still taking in the unexpected surprise.

“Yes, Y/N?” he replied, his voice soft, almost nervous.

“You did this?” you asked, turning to face him with wide eyes.

“No, it was all Dylan,” he teased, trying to keep his tone light.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “He would never. He’s allergic to flowers.”

“Emerson?” Spencer suggested, his voice growing more uncertain as you began to slowly walk toward him.

“Nope,” you shook your head, a playful glint in your eye. “They have strict rules to follow. This would break a lot of them.”

Spencer swallowed hard, his mind racing as you closed the distance between you. “Then it seems like you have a secret admirer,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

“I wish I could properly thank them,” you said, your voice just above a whisper as you stopped right in front of him.

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat as he looked down at you, his heart pounding in his chest. “How… how would you thank them? Just so I can pass the word on if I find them,” he asked, his voice barely steady.

You leaned in closer, your lips almost brushing his as you whispered, “I don’t think I can say… it’s explicit.”

His eyes darkened with desire, the playful banter between you intensifying the tension. Spencer’s breath hitched, his mind reeling as he struggled to keep his composure, realizing that perhaps, just perhaps, this night was about to become even more unforgettable.

“Maybe—shit,” Spencer stammered as you began kissing his neck, your hands skillfully unbuttoning his shirt. His words faltered as he tried to maintain the playful charade. “Maybe, if you showed me, I could tell them…”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, a smirk playing on your lips. “Spencer, drop the act, or I’m kicking you out.”

He swallowed hard, his playful facade crumbling under the intensity of the moment. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, his voice a mix of submission and anticipation.

Spencer leaned down to kiss you, his intentions clear in the warmth of his gaze, but you stepped back just in time, a playful smile dancing on your lips. He paused, momentarily thrown off by your sudden evasion, but then a glint of mischief sparked in his eyes.

You slowly dodged him, weaving around the vases of flowers that filled the room, sneaking glances at him over the tops of the beautiful petals. Each bouquet served as a playful barrier, giving you just enough of an edge to keep him at bay. Spencer, undeterred, followed you with the focused intensity of a predator stalking its prey, his movements deliberate yet light-hearted.

The room was filled with the scent of fresh blooms, but all you could focus on was the chase—the way Spencer’s eyes tracked your every move, the way his playful demeanor had resurfaced after being buried under months of tension. It was as if the playful spirit of your relationship had finally defrosted, melting away the distance that had grown between you.

As you ducked behind a particularly large vase, you caught a glimpse of him moving closer, his eyes locked on yours. He was enjoying the chase, and you could feel the thrill of the game building between you. You darted to the side, but he was faster, anticipating your move and closing the distance.

“Got you,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he finally cornered you against the wall, his arms bracketing you in. His smile was wide, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he leaned in close, leaving no more room for escape.

“Promise?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, yet filled with vulnerability. 

Spencer’s eyes softened even more, understanding the weight of that single word. His expression grew serious, all the playfulness giving way to something deeper. He reached up, gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“I promise,” he said, his voice steady and sincere. “I won’t let you down again.”

With those words hanging in the air, the distance between you finally closed as Spencer leaned in to kiss you. His lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative at first, as if he was savoring the moment, afraid to rush what felt so fragile. The warmth of his breath mingled with yours, and for a brief second, everything else faded away—the flowers, the room, the world outside—leaving just the two of you, wrapped in intimacy.

As the kiss deepened, the tentative touch gave way to something more urgent, more desperate. Spencer’s hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his fingers pressing gently but firmly into your skin as if grounding himself in the reality of you being there, in his arms. You responded in kind, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, the soft strands slipping between your fingers as you pressed your body against his, seeking more of the warmth and comfort his presence brought.

The taste of him was intoxicating, a blend of familiarity and longing that you hadn’t realized you’d missed so much. His lips moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm, taking their time to explore every curve and contour of your mouth, as if memorizing the sensation all over again. The kiss was filled with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long, now finally unleashed in the safety of this shared moment.

Your breath quickened as the heat between you grew, the banter from earlier now replaced with an intensity that left you both breathless. Spencer’s hands slid up your back, his touch leaving a trail of warmth in its wake as he pressed you against the wall, his body a solid, reassuring presence against yours. 

Every inch of you was aware of him—the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the subtle tremor in his hands as they roamed your body, the way his lips claimed yours with a possessive need that made your pulse race. The air around you crackled with the electricity of unspoken desires, the kind that had been dormant for far too long.

You felt the world around you blur, your senses overwhelmed by the feel, taste, and scent of him. Spencer’s lips left yours only to travel down your jawline, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed soft, lingering kisses along the sensitive curve of your neck. A shiver ran through you, your body responding instinctively to the sensation, your head tilting slightly to grant him better access. His name slipped from your lips, a breathless whisper that held a world of meaning, of need, of budding trust.

He paused for just a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours as you both caught your breath. The look in his eyes was one of pure, unfiltered emotion—love, desire, and a hint of the vulnerability that came with baring one’s soul to another.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, “I need you.”

The simple statement, filled with so much more than just physical desire, resonated deep within you. It wasn’t just about the touch or the kiss—it was about everything you had shared, everything you had lost, and everything you were beginning to find again. In that moment, you knew that this was more than just a kiss—it was a step toward healing, toward rebuilding what had been broken, and toward rediscovering the love that had always been there, just waiting for the right moment to bloom again.

“You have me,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions swirling inside you.

“I do?” Spencer asked, his eyes searching yours, filled with hope and disbelief.

“You do, Spencer,” you affirmed, your words laced with all the sincerity you felt in that moment.

With that, any lingering hesitation vanished. Spencer’s hands, warm and sure, found yours as you both slowly made your way toward the bed. The room seemed to pulse with the energy between you, every step heightening the anticipation that had been building all evening.

As you reached the edge of the bed, Spencer paused, his gaze locking onto yours, his eyes reflecting the depth of what was about to happen. He pulled you close, your bodies fitting together perfectly, and in that moment, it was as if everything fell into place—every word, every gesture, every unspoken promise.

Gently, he guided you down onto the soft sheets, the world narrowing to just the two of you. The mattress dipped slightly under your combined weight, the sensation grounding you both in the reality of this moment. Spencer hovered above you, his hands framing your face as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and filled with the unspoken vows of what you were rebuilding together.

His lips moved against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as though he was savoring every second, every sensation. His fingers trailed down the side of your face, brushing over your jawline before gently tracing the curve of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. 

You felt the warmth of his body pressing against yours. The fabric of your clothes created a tantalizing friction between you, the anticipation building with every subtle movement. Spencer’s hand slid down to your waist, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin just beneath the hem of your shirt, igniting a trail of heat as he slowly lifted the fabric, his touch both hesitant and eager.

As he leaned in closer, his breath ghosted over your skin, leaving a tingling warmth in its wake. The weight of him above you was a comforting reminder of his presence, his body cocooning you in a protective embrace. His lips moved to your jaw, then to the delicate curve of your neck, where he pressed soft, lingering kisses, each one sending a wave of warmth cascading through your body.

You arched slightly beneath him, your hands finding their way to his back, feeling the muscles tense and relax under your touch. Spencer’s hand continued its exploration, moving from your waist to your hip, then down the curve of your thigh, his fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns that left you breathless.

The world outside the room faded away, leaving just the two of you enveloped in this moment of rediscovery. Every touch, every kiss, felt like a promise—of forgiveness, of healing, of a love that had been tested but refused to break. Spencer’s eyes met yours, a silent question lingering in them, and when you nodded, he smiled—a tender, genuine smile that spoke of the hope you both held for what lay ahead.

His lips found yours again, and this time the kiss was deeper, more urgent, as if you were both trying to make up for lost time. The intensity of the moment wrapped around you both like a warm embrace, pulling you closer, dissolving any remaining doubts.

The soft fabric of your clothes slowly gave way under his touch, his hands sliding beneath to explore the warmth of your skin. Every brush of his fingers sent a wave of sensation coursing through you, heightening the anticipation that had been building between you.

You arched into him, your breath hitching as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a heated path in their wake. His name escaped your lips in a breathless whisper, urging him on as he continued his slow, deliberate exploration. The way he touched you, the way he kissed you, was as though he was rediscovering every part of you, savoring the familiarity and the newfound intensity that came with the rekindling of your connection.

Your hands found their way to the buttons of his shirt you never got to finish undoing, your fingers trembling slightly with the urgency of your desire. As you worked to undo them, Spencer’s lips moved lower, his breath warm against your skin, each kiss igniting a deeper longing within you. The fabric of his shirt slipped off his shoulders, revealing the familiar contours of his chest, his skin warm and inviting under your touch.

With a gentle but insistent push, Spencer guided you back down onto the sheets, his body hovering over yours, the weight of him pressing into you in a way that made your heart race. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, everything else fell away—there was just you, him, and the intense connection that pulsed between you.

His lips found yours once more, the kiss growing more heated, more insistent, as the boundaries between you blurred. His hand slid down your body, tracing familiar paths with a renewed intensity. When he reached your core, his touch was confident, knowing exactly how to apply just the right amount of pressure, a skill only a lover who truly knows your body could master.

A soft moan escaped your lips as Spencer’s fingers continued to work their magic, the sensations sending shivers of pleasure coursing through you. His mouth moved from your lips to your chest, leaving a trail of heated kisses down to your nipples. His breath was warm against your skin, each exhale sending a new wave of anticipation through your body. Your hands roamed over his back, fingers digging in slightly as the intensity of the moment built between you.

Spencer’s touch was both firm and gentle, guiding you through waves of pleasure with an ease that spoke to the depth of your connection. Every movement was purposeful, designed to bring you closer to that edge, yet slow enough to savor each moment. He was meticulous, attentive, ensuring that your every reaction was met with just the right response.

The rhythm between you was perfect, a dance of mutual desire and trust. As you moved together, the sensations intensified, each one drawing you closer to the brink. Spencer’s name slipped from your lips in a breathy whisper, a sound that spurred him on, his own need mirrored in your eyes.

Finally, when the tension became too much to bear, you let go, surrendering to the flood of sensations that washed over you. Spencer kept his rhythm steady, guiding you through the waves of pleasure until you began to shake, your body trembling from the intensity. When you pushed his hand away, overwhelmed by the sensations, he relented, his touch immediately softening.

“Spencer…” you looked up at him with desperation in your eyes, your voice breathless, “please.”

He gazed down at you, his expression softening with affection and understanding. “Okay, baby. I got you,” he whispered, his voice soothing, full of promise.

“I know,” you replied, your trust in him evident in those two simple words.

Spencer smiled at you, the warmth in his eyes reflecting the deep connection between you. He leaned down, brushing a tender kiss against your lips before positioning himself. His movements were deliberate, careful, as he lined himself up with you, ensuring that you were both ready for what came next.

The anticipation hung heavy in the air as he entered you slowly, each inch sending a new wave of sensation through your body. He paused for a moment, allowing you both to adjust to the feeling, before he began to move with a steady, unhurried rhythm. Every thrust was measured, deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every second of being with you in this way.

Your hands found their way to his back, your nails digging in slightly as he picked up the pace, the urgency between you building once more. The sounds of your breathless moans and his deep groans filled the room, blending with the scent of flowers and the lingering intimacy that wrapped around you both.

With every movement, Spencer's focus was entirely on you—on your pleasure, your needs. He watched your reactions closely, his gaze never leaving your face as he adjusted his rhythm to match what you needed. His own pleasure was secondary, a distant thought compared to the overwhelming desire to see you completely fulfilled.

Spencer’s name slipped from your lips in breathless whispers, the sound fueling his determination to bring you as much pleasure as possible. His touch was both gentle and firm, knowing exactly when to push you further and when to hold back, drawing out the moment, making it last.

As the tension built once more, you could feel the waves of pleasure building inside you, Spencer’s steady rhythm guiding you to the brink. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, a gesture that was both intimate and grounding, reminding you that he was right there with you, sharing in every moment. 

When the release finally came, it was overwhelming, a powerful surge of sensation that left you breathless and trembling in his arms. Spencer helped you through it, his movements gentle and reassuring as he guided you down from the heights of pleasure as he held you close, as if you were the most precious thing in his world.

His own release followed soon after, his grip on you tightening as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensations. The sound of his ragged breathing filled the room, mingling with your own as you both rode out the waves of pleasure together.

In the quiet aftermath, Spencer pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace. Your heart beats slowly returned to normal, the world around you gradually coming back into focus. The room was filled with the scent of flowers, the warmth of your shared intimacy, and the comforting presence of the person who knew you better than anyone else.

Spencer’s fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, his touch soothing and gentle. “Are you okay?” he whispered, his voice soft, full of concern and love.

“I’m not sure,” you teased, a smile playing on your lips. “I don’t think I can feel my legs.”

Spencer groaned, a flush of mild embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “Y/N…”

You laughed softly, the sound light and free. “I’m okay, Spencer. Really. Are you?”

He looked down at you, his eyes warm and filled with a contentment that made your heart swell. “I’m happy,” he said simply, his voice carrying the weight of everything he couldn’t quite put into words.

Your heart soared at his confession, a wave of warmth spreading through you. “Me too,” you whispered, feeling a deep sense of peace settle over you.

And for the first time in what felt like too goddamn long, you fell asleep in Spencer’s arms, your bodies intertwined, the world outside fading away as you drifted off into a restful, contented sleep.

—

Spencer did have to return home, and you had to move on to your next tour location, but neither of you parted without lingering kisses and heartfelt promises. 

Standing at the door of your hotel room, Spencer pulled you close, his hands gently cradling your face as he pressed one last, tender kiss to your lips. The moment was bittersweet, filled with the knowledge that your paths would diverge once more, but also with the hope that this wasn’t goodbye.

“See you later,” he murmured against your lips, his voice full of sincerity.

“See you later,” you echoed, your hands clutching at his shirt, reluctant to let go.

With one final embrace, Spencer slowly pulled away, his fingers trailing down your arm as if he couldn’t bear to break the connection entirely. He gave you a soft smile, one that spoke of the unspoken feelings still lingering between you, before turning to leave.

As you watched him walk away, your heart felt lighter, knowing that this was just a temporary farewell. There was a quiet confidence in the promise you had made to each other—a promise that despite the distance, you would find your way back to one another. And as you prepared to move on to your next tour location, you carried that promise with you, feeling more connected to Spencer than ever before.

—

November, 2008

“Y/N, how would you feel about taking a break between the next two stops?” Dylan suggested casually, though his tone held a hint of something more.

You immediately perked up, curiosity and concern flashing across your face. “Why? Did something happen?”

“No, nothing like that,” Dylan reassured you with a warm smile. “You’ve just been working so hard, and there’s a scheduled two-week break where you don’t have any obligations.”

“Seriously? How did that happen?” you asked, surprised and a bit skeptical. It wasn’t like your schedule to have such a gap.

Dylan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with affection. “Because your assistant loves you and wants to make sure you stay healthy.”

Your face lit up with gratitude. “I love you too. There’s really a whole two weeks of nothing?”

“Well, not nothing,” Dylan laughed. “I still need you back for sound checks before your next show. And at least one or two posts each week.”

“Deal,” you agreed without hesitation, excitement bubbling up inside you. “When can I leave?”

“After tonight,” he replied with a grin, knowing exactly where your mind was headed.

Without thinking, you ran over to Dylan and planted a big, affectionate smooch on his head, overwhelmed with gratitude. You hadn’t seen Spencer since Amsterdam—two long months filled with phone calls and texts that were nice but could never quite fill the void. It was hard, and you couldn’t lie to yourself about that. You missed him, missed the way he made you feel when you were together.

And Spencer? He was trying his best to be patient, reminding himself that you were busy, that you were on another continent, and that the occasional game of phone tag had nothing to do with how you felt about him. But it was tough, and he was counting the days until he could hold you again.

As you packed up your things, the thought of seeing Spencer after so long filled you with a renewed energy. The anticipation of being together again, even if just for a short time, made the time apart seem worth it. And you knew that the moment you were back in his arms, everything would feel right again.

—

You knew Spencer wasn’t on a case—he always made sure to tell you when one came in, just in case you needed to reach him and he was unavailable. So, without hesitation, you booked a flight to New York. You barely had time to drop off your things, shower, and repack before you were on a train heading to Virginia, your heart racing with anticipation.

Spencer wasn’t expecting anyone when he heard a knock on his front door. He approached with caution, wondering who could be visiting at this hour. But when he opened the door, his breath caught in his throat.

“Y/N??” he exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Boo,” you said playfully, a grin spreading across your face.

Without a second thought, Spencer opened the door all the way and pulled you into a tight hug, the relief and joy in his embrace unmistakable. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to see my favorite genius,” you replied, your voice muffled slightly against his chest.

“But you’re on tour,” he said, pulling back just enough to look at you, concern and confusion etched on his face.

“Oh yeah, I quit. Canceled everything,” you said nonchalantly, trying to keep a straight face.

“What?? You can’t do that! Your fans! Your—” Spencer began to panic, but the sight of your teasing smile stopped him mid-sentence.

“I’m kidding, Spence,” you laughed, lightly tapping his chest. “Dylan scheduled me for a break.” You bit your lip, smiling up at him with excitement and mischief.

“How long do I have you for?” he asked, his voice softening as he searched your eyes.

“Forever? Hopefully,” you teased, but there was a sincerity in your tone that made Spencer’s heart swell.

“Y/N…” Spencer was speechless, overwhelmed by the sight of you standing there, in his doorway, after so long. He was so, so in love.

“Just under two weeks,” you added, your smile growing as you saw the love and happiness in his eyes.

“That’s more than I could’ve hoped for,” he whispered, pulling you back into his arms, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. And in that moment, with you in his arms, the world felt perfect once again.

—

While Spencer was at work, he recommended that you read a book he loved, something to keep you occupied while he was away. With nothing else on your agenda, you decided to take him up on the suggestion and finally had a chance to relax. Settling into a comfortable spot, you cracked open the book, curious to see what had captured Spencer’s heart.

As the hours passed, you became completely engrossed in the story, savoring every word. It was a romance novel, something you hadn’t expected from Spencer, but it touched you deeply. The characters’ journey mirrored so many of your own emotions, their struggles and triumphs in love resonating with everything you and Spencer had gone through.

When you finally turned over the last page, satisfied yet yearning for more, you noticed something scrawled in messy pen on the inside of the back cover. Your heart skipped a beat as you began to read the familiar handwriting.

My love—

Words will never be able to capture how truly sorry I am for everything I have done, for everything I have put you through. I am beyond grateful you gave me a second chance, not just with you, but at happiness, fulfillment, and love. I love you. There is only one piece missing now from our ever-evolving puzzle.

Will you be my girlfriend?

Sincerely, your desperately in love, Spencer

Tears welled up in your eyes as you reread the note, the sincerity and vulnerability in his words hitting you right in the heart. You couldn’t help but smile through the tears, your heart swelling with love for the man who had poured his emotions onto the page, who had been brave enough to ask you for a second chance at happiness.

When Spencer returned home that evening, you didn’t wait for him to ask how the book was. You simply walked up to him, holding the book in your hands, and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest.

“Is that a yes?” Spencer asked softly, his voice full of hope and love as he held you close.

You looked up at him, your eyes still glistening with tears but your smile radiant. “Of course it’s a yes, Spencer,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I would love to be your girlfriend.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his embrace, you knew that this was just the beginning of a new, beautiful piece in your love story.

—

Bonus

“Billie, this is Spencer. Spencer, this is Billie,” you said, introducing the two with a warm smile.

Billie smiled at Spencer, her eyes curious as she took him in. “Hey, nice to finally meet you! I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said, her tone friendly and genuine.

Spencer returned the smile. “Likewise. It’s great to meet you too, Billie. Y/N’s told me a lot about you as well.”

Billie chuckled, glancing at you with a playful grin. “All good things, I hope?”

“Only the best,” Spencer replied, his gaze shifting to you with a fondness that didn’t go unnoticed.

You couldn’t help but smile at the easy exchange, relieved that two of the most important people in your life were finally meeting. The moment felt natural, like two pieces of your world finally clicking into place.

“So, Spencer… you thought I was Phoebe Bridgers?” Billie asked with a teasing grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Spencer’s cheeks flushed slightly, but he managed a sheepish smile. “In my defense, the photo was pretty blurry,” he replied, his tone light but sincere.

Billie laughed, shaking her head. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment. But I’m glad we’ve cleared that up.”

“Only a year or so too late, but he just upgraded his prescription,” you teased, flashing Spencer a playful grin.

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head. “Better late than never, right?”

Billie laughed along, the lighthearted banter putting everyone at ease. “Well, I’m glad you can see things clearly now,” she joked, giving you a wink. 

“Did she just wink at you?” Spencer asked, his voice a mix of playful suspicion and amusement.

“Spencer!” you groaned, laughing as you nudged him lightly. “Don’t start!”

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tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @noelliece

[strwberrytae]

Beyond Desire | 05

→ pairing: taehyung x reader → rating: 18+ only - m for mature - sexual and graphic content → genre: drama / romance → words: 9.9k → disclaimer/trigger warning: this is a piece of fiction based off of the fifty shades of grey series. this is not a parody. there are mentions of strong dominant and submissive lifestyles based on research and personal experience. there are also various psychological issues that are addressed throughout the series; including anxiety, self-destruction, blood, bruises, panic attacks, childhood abuse, non-consensual sexual acts and self-harm. this is a work of fiction and not to be taken as a promotion of the series, fifty shades of grey. this is an original piece of work. edit is created by me. enjoy! feedback is greatly appreciated.

→ a/n: thank you everyone for their patience! so much! I started this series years ago with the intent to continue it. life and lack of motivation got in the way, but it's made it's way back into fruition! this was frantically edited multiple times, though there still may be some errors. I hope you enjoy!

→ chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 [series in progress - must read previous chapters]

→ summary: it’s never easy falling for your best friend when you have so much history. it’s especially difficult when you both share the same sexual desires and lifestyle. taehyung is a dominant CEO of a well known company in Seoul and you are an up and coming editor. while both of you come from a troubled and dark past, you lean on each other for support and comfort. what happens as your feelings blossom and grow over the years? what happens when you fear Taehyung may be falling in love with someone else? will you confess your feelings or remain in the shadows?

The next morning, Joon Jae awoke at 6am as you realized he did every morning for work. You laid in his bed, so tired but awake. Your restless mind forbade you to sleep peacefully throughout the night. It was unclear how you felt, truly. Such an interesting feeling. 

All you knew is that you were stuck with the familiar dread of emptiness that you had experienced many times before. It felt as if you became a vessel overnight yet again whenever you've done this; letting men completely take over and dominate you in ways against your wishes as if it's perfectly normal. Not to say that’s what the BDSM lifestyle entails. In the past, you’ve had a bad run of Doms who didn’t truly grasp the concept of consent. Men who think they're dominant, on the contrary, they're just abusers. Looks like Joon Jae is just another one. The only thing to do now is play along until you figure out how to escape this - safely.

Joon Jae emerged from the bathroom, rubbing his damp, onyx hair with a towel and a satisfied smile on his face. 

“Morning gorgeous,” he greeted with his award winning smile. The term of endearment felt everything but. The word curdling in your ears. Turning over to face him, you put on a face as well as you always could; as if you hadn’t been utterly violated by this man the night before. 

“Good morning, sir,” you purred sleepily. The bitterness coated your tongue as the words came out. Whether or  not he caught on was not clear - most of them didn’t. As Joon Jae walked over to his black wooden dresser, you continued to lay on your side. Something caught your interest in the corner of your eye. Your gaze fell to your wrists. The handcuffs.

Upon your wrists were bruises from last night; a deep red color fresh in hue. It would certainly darken to purple throughout the day. You began to nibble on your bottom lip as you nervously checked under the blankets for more markings. Peppered on your hips remained fingerprints. They were not markings you were proud of - not like this. Bruises from the right person made you feel empowered, cherished. This was abuse of power - hatred. Your loathing for them grew rapidly; even though they've only just became a part of you.

“Why are you so quiet? Did I wear you out that much?” Nonchalantly, you place the cover back down as if you were only fixing it. Turning your head to face Joon Jae, he pulled on his boxers with an idiotic smirk on his face. His form was still beautiful, yet you were so disgusted by him now. Your eyes couldn’t help but to wander over his body; inspecting him. There was nothing - not a bruise or scratch. Here you lay in his bed completely marked and emotionally wounded by him and he gets to go to work without having to hide a single thing. Typical.

Letting out a big sigh, you sat up in the bed; making sure to cover your body with his gray silk sheets. Ever so slowly do you run your fingers through your hair and gracefully lick your lips to look as innocently seductive as possible. It was time to put on a show, and you were used to this performance. A sly smirk stretched on your face as your eyes became softer. After all, you still have some dignity left. That is something he can’t rob from you.

“And here I thought a little mystery to a woman was appealing. Does my silence bother you, sir?” Your voice slithered with seduction; hoping your little innuendo granted you his kindness with your performance. Joon Jae was a man after all, and you knew how to handle his type - call him Sir, Master. Obey, say please, submit. No matter what, or else. This was a man that got off feeling like he was the greatest thing on this Earth. A man who loved knowing that his submissive was actually afraid of him, displeasing him. To you? He’s the most disgusting person you have ever met. 

The dark haired man sauntered over to you, grabbing hold of your chin with his index finger and thumb. A soft yet firm gesture to make you look up at him without protest, yet it felt so putrid.

“Was that sarcasm in your voice that you heard,” he questioned in a quiet tone. And there it is. His lips were barely moving as he spoke; an indication telling you that he didn’t find your comment too cute after all. You subdued your flirtatious attitude and retreated back to what you knew best - submission.

“No sir,” you whispered in a soft voice. He hesitated before letting you go. After a moment of cringing silence, a smile appeared on his face as if he was just messing with you. Using fear to make you submit, and then flipping a switch - how sadistic.

“Good girl. Get up and get dressed. I’ll drop you off at work.” Fighting back every morsel inside of you, you swallowed your pride to obey. You need to come up with a plan when you’re in a safer place. As such, you responded as you always do, following his instructions with a charming smile on your face. 

Just as you suspected, the extra dress you brought with you came in handy as you anticipated staying the night. Your naked reflection in the mirror sent chills down your spine. Bruises peppered your skin with revulsion brewing inside of you . There were bags under your eyes as lack of sleep dragged them down. To put it mildly, you looked like hell. No matter how many times you've seen this sight from past failed relationships, the pain you felt in your heart still aches at the same intensity. You’re yearning for love grows more desperate. For real love.

A week’s time flew by as an absolute blur. To say you had quarantined yourself was an understatement - scared to face the world in your vulnerable state. You had completely submerged yourself into full submissive mode. It was all you could do to survive. The fear of what Joon Jae would do to you had clouded your mind as your dark thoughts took over. No matter how hard you tried to think of ways to part ways with him without retaliation, it was useless. There was a desperation coursing through you to reach out to Taehyung. No, you couldn’t. He would drop everything to aid you - fix the problem. It would be a burden. Instead, you carried on with your week as usual. 

Dealing with Taehyung was easy. Whenever he asked to see you for lunch, you were busy in meetings. Important meetings with clients were underway thanks to Jisoo making you as booked as possible per your request. Taehyung knows how dedicated you are to your work, and he has all eyes on any projects you’re working on. Nothing out of the ordinary for the new Commissioning Editor, right?

In all honesty, you were legitimately busy besides the tedious work you’ve added to your pile. Your contract with GQ Korea Magazine, Joon Jae’s magazine, was reaching its end which means long hours, lots of editing, and lots of problem solving. You promised them that by the end of the month, you would increase their profits via online and social media by forty percent. Your coworkers told you that it was too risky to promise such a big turnaround, yet that didn’t sway you. 

Typically, Kim Publishing worked with writers of novels, short stories, and more of the like. Occasionally, they worked with other companies that seeked better publication and production of their materials - online revenue. Working on this project ensured that while you were trying to remain distant from the world, you could see Joon Jae throughout the days without being entirely alone. Safe.

When he demanded your presence at night, you showed up at his apartment and gave him anything he wanted. Joon Jae did not hold back his passion for pain in forms of pleasure when you were together, but you had finally voiced for him to be cautious with marking you too much. Taehyung’s father’s charity ball was approaching, so requesting to avoid bruising wasn’t exactly unheard of. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop him from putting bruises in places he knew no one could see. 

As time progressed, you found yourself reaching a breaking point. Typically, you loved seeing marks tattooed on your body as a reminder of your nights of lust and dominance over you - but not with him. Every time you saw your Dom, you felt like you were going to be sick. Faking orgasms was getting harder each day. Although, as Joon Jae was a purely self-absorbed man, he didn’t really notice. 

At last, it was the day before the ball. Arrangements were made to leave work early so you could go home, and practice your song one last time before you had to perform it at the charity ball. You just wish you had the energy to be remotely excited about it. This was supposed to be your night to release your true feelings through the sound of music towards Taehyung. Although, here you were, in a relationship you couldn’t get out of. You're almost positive that Taehyung’s relationship with Yuri has only blossomed wildly this past week. Naturally.

When you arrived at your apartment, it was shortly after noon. Any other day, you would have grabbed lunch by now, but you've completely lost your appetite. It’s been like this all week. You've been surviving on ramyeon and espresso coffees all the while. Luckily, Joon Jae was going to be out of town today for an event, and wouldn’t be back until the ball tomorrow. You were relieved to finally have a whole day to yourself without twitching at the thought of him arriving at your doorstep any minute or ringing your phone. 

Once inside your apartment, it felt warm from the sun beaming inside of it. Perks of having a home with large windows in place of exterior walls. For once, you felt like you could breathe as you closed the door, greeted with silence. Your feet dragged you to the bedroom as you dropped your contents one-by-one on any surface you passed by on your way. Walking in a zombie-like state as your body starts to feel like putty, your body relaxes with each step. A hot bath would be absolute heaven right now; perhaps a glass of wine too. 

As you take off your cardigan, you hear something shift behind you. You turn around, gasping from shock before easing into instant relief and butterflies. It was your best friend standing there so casually.

“Jesus, Taehyung. You have to stop doing that. You almost gave me a heart attack. Honestly.” You clutch your chest with your hand over your rapidly beating heart. Although who knows if it’s because he scared you, or if this is just how your heart always beats around him. Likely the latter. 

Taehyung stood there, examining you. He didn’t say a word, but instead walked up to you blatantly looking you over you with a fiery gaze. And yet, in the same gaze seemed to be softness with concern. You had to subdue the inappropriate thoughts that instantly came to your mind. With a sense of security, and belonging that was not earned, your submissive side called out to his dominant side as he towered over you. He reached to cup your face, but you flinched ever so slightly by accident. This caused him to worry; melting to a sheepish stance. 

Taehyung’s touch had never bothered you before. He knew it was always platonically welcomed by you. At this moment, a look of hurt appeared on his face. With caution, Taehyung slowly proceeded to cup your face again, gently turning your head side to side as he looked you over. It was no secret that he was truly concerned about you. 

Out of shame, you couldn’t dare look him in the eyes as fear began to fill you; fear that he would see right through you. Taehyung released you, standing before you with a softer demeanor yet he still held a dominant presence. His aura made you want to run into his arms, but you refrained.

“Y/N, how long has this been going on,” he inquired in a low, calm tone. You pulled your oversized cardigan back over your shoulders to bring you extra comfort; suddenly feeling cold and uncomfortable. Just as your anxiety crept in, you noticed that Taehyung seemed fidgety in the slightest. He tried his best to hide it, but you can see his hands twitching inside his pockets.

“What do you mean,” you asked quietly as an attempt to hide your little secret. Swiftly, you move away from him to head towards the kitchen for the glass of wine that you desperately need right now. You could easily sense that Taehyung wanted nothing more but to stop you in your tracks. He suppressed the urge to interject as it wasn’t his place. His arm stopped abruptly as he removed his hand from his pocket, re-routing to “adjust” the hem of his shirt. He followed you to the kitchen casually. 

As you grabbed a bottle of merlot, pouring a reasonable amount for yourself, you took a deep breath. Following suit, you poured another for Taehyung as you know he would desire to join you. The first sip didn’t calm your nerves as much as you would have liked but the second one helped a little more. Taehyung took a respectful sip from the glass and maintained eye contact with you. His stare burns into your skin as you become flush with heat.

“Y/N. Answer the question,” he said in a firm voice. This time you looked up at him immediately without hesitation. Your submissive instincts take over as easily as they always do around him. Taehyung wasn’t dressed for work. Casual attire in loose jeans and black t-shirt; something that always looked good on him. You sighed softly as you realized just how much you missed him this past week. 

You’ve barely spoken, and you skipped out on your weekly therapy appointment with Yoongi. That’s probably why he was here. Therapists are supposed to keep client confidentiality unless you’re Kim Taehyung who seems to always get what he wants. It was ridiculously infuriating sometimes. It’s not like Yoongi flat out tells Taehyung information but he’s really good at pointing him in the right direction. Why does he even bother? Knowing that the inevitable conversation was about to take place, you took your glass and went back to your room. Taehyung flattened his pillow-like lips, and made way to follow you yet again. For someone that had so little patience, he always seemed to be wildly patient with you. 

“I told you I was busy this week,” you retorted with a shrug as you took another sip of wine, “I didn’t even have time to meet with Yoongi. Once this contract with GQ is done, I’ll meet with him, okay? If that’s your worry. You don’t have to interrogate me. Now, if you don’t mind, I was planning on taking a bath. Why don’t we catch up tomorrow at the party?” Your defensiveness took over like a prey-worthy animal in a corner - oversharing when caught. 

There was desperation in your voice that you could not hide so easily. Taehyung couldn’t hold back,  and reached out to grab your arm. He pulled up one of your cardigan sleeves in a quick motion, revealing the bruised lining around your wrist. You panicked to pull the sleeve back down and dropped your glass of wine. The red liquid spilled on the wooden floor as glass shattered around your feet. In the face of a small scare, you had never been so grateful as to not have carpeting. Red wine stains are the worst.

“Shit,” you whispered. You rolled your eyes as you took a step to get towels - frustrated with yourself. Taehyung stopped you in mid-step. His touch and rapid motion do not trigger you. The air stills. In the face of his dominance, you feel safe. Safer than anything and anywhere else in the world. His warm touch makes your legs weak.

“I’ll take care of it,” he lets out a sigh with worry. You bite your bottom lip, and look down at the ground to avoid his beautiful eyes - gentle almonds filled with care.

“It’s happening again, isn’t it,” Taehyung asked with calmness in his voice, evident with disappointment but primarily worry. He let out a frustrated sigh. Knowing exactly where you keep your cleaning essentials, Taehyung grabs the items effortlessly. His focus truly never leaving you.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N? You promised that you would tell me if someone was taking advantage of you again so I could help you. How can I help you if you shut me out? Don’t you care about yourself? This is...” And then it happened, you shut down. Taehyung stopped himself from proceeding forward as he realized his overreaction wasn’t making you feel any better. What you really needed right now was comfort, not a lecture. 

The atmosphere stilled with silence as you fell into submission. Speechless with no words clouding your mind, and too timid to look him in the eyes. Everything went blank. He was right. Leaving him out of this was doing more harm than good, and yet here you were shutting down instead of running to him. Honestly, you didn’t know how to pull yourself out of your head. It was suffocating. Taehyung knelt before you as you spiraled. A soft breath escaped his lips.

“I’m sorry, Taehyung,” was all you could manage to say. A bashful response as you felt that you had  disappointed him. Internally, the inner demons you harbored convinced you that he was angry with you and would leave your side. Your best friend tilted his head to try to look at you. A soft, tender gaze looking at you with the sweetest smile on his lips. He reached to brush the hair falling near your eyes. Tears prickled your eyes as you melted into his touch.

“No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things. That’s not what you needed. I put my worry and needs before yours when you’re clearly not in the right state,” he let out a soft sigh with worry evident on his face. 

“What can I do to help you trust me?” He took your silence as an answer, and looked over your covered body. He took notice that you managed to cover every possible inch of you, even on a warm day. Words remained silent on your lips.

“How bad is it,” he continued kindly, “Please. Share your pain with me. Let me in.” Just like that, he unraveled you. Every wall came crashing down as the desperation in his voice made you yearn for him. Suddenly, the words flowed from you so easily; from your first date to the first time he punished you, to the hard limits he abused. 

“I was going to text you the first night it happened but...I was too scared. I submitted to him in more ways than I wanted to. I felt so pathetic,” you looked at him with tears in your eyes, “Please don’t be upset with me.” Taehyung’s nostrils were flaring. He was trying so hard to contain his anger towards the man that abused his power over you. After a couple of deep breaths, he stood up and held his hand out to you.

“Come on. I’ll draw you a bath. We’ll talk about this once you get some sleep. You look like you haven’t slept all week,” he said in a low, soothing voice. As much as you wanted to protest, the mention of sleep made your eyes heavier. Delicately, you took his hand and nodded. With his arm around your shoulder, he led you to your bathroom. He knew where everything was and drew you a lavender scented bath - your favorite. After grabbing a towel, he turned to leave but stopped.

“N/N...can I see them? The marks,” you froze in place as his question made your cheeks burn. The marks on your body ranged from your wrists to the back of your hips, and the round mounds behind you. The crimson hue to your skin reached your ears. Taehyung has seen you naked before but that was by accident. One shower incident, not knowing he was inside your home as you danced to the kitchen to grab a snack. One very embarrassing incident - and he laughed. 

You know it’s nothing sexual, yet it’s still inadvertently intimate. Even stripping down to your underwear, you’d be so exposed to him. Surprisingly, you considered showing him, to be seen by someone else and feel validated that these marks are just as putrid as you see them. This boundary… Is it appropriate to cross it? He is your best friend after all - the person you trust most.

“The marks? They’re in private places, Tae. I don’t think Yuri would like that very much.” Taehyung stiffened and for once, he seemed slightly embarrassed. Maybe it’s because he’s not used to having a girlfriend and didn’t think about that. He took a step closer and handed you the towel.

“Yuri doesn’t control me,” he said in a stern voice but then softened, “You’re my friend and I- I need to see them. I need to know.” There was sincerity in his eyes. It almost seemed as if he was scared. Is he punishing himself for what happened to you? You've only seen this side of him once before. 

You were in the hospital after a bad session with one of your past Doms. Taehyung was away on a business trip for a week and when he came back, you were asleep in the gurney with several bruises and a cut lip. He thought you were asleep, but you could hear his tears and his apology for leaving you; promising he would never let this happen again. On the outside, you looked like you would be fine but he knew you wouldn’t be - not mentally. Perhaps this would be proof to him that this was real yet again. With a soft nod, you slowly began to undress.

Out of respect, Taehyung kept his distance; taking a step back as you did so. First your cardigan, then your knee length dress that hugged your curves - leaving you in your bra and underwear. Surely that would be enough for him to see the bruises that peppered your body - now shades of yellow, green, and brown. His eyes started making their way across your skin. You bit your bottom lip, and watched his gaze. It gave you chills in a way of vulnerability but also, arousal. Thankfully your bra was padded, otherwise he would be able to see how much his eyes affected you. Your nipples were erect, and your underwear damp with need. 

Desperately you wanted him to touch you - hold you. You wanted to feel his hands caressing your body in ways it’s never felt before. Somehow you knew that his touch would heal you. It would make you feel no pain, only happiness. Something fierce turned in you, and it took every ounce of your being not to speak up. Taehyung did something that surprised you. His coffee-brown eyes seemed darker or maybe it was in your imagination. 

He took a cautious step closer to you. His eyes remained on your hips where the worst bruises rested. On each side, beneath the black fabric that hugged your hips, bruises in shapes of fingerprints - marks of Joon Jae’s nails that had pierced your skin. Your breath became shaky as he stood before you. It was like he was hypnotized by your marks, yet you couldn’t read what was churning in his mind. He extended his hands and slowly reached for your hips. His fingertips brushed over your skin. His eyes moved to yours to look for a sign, expecting you to wince from pain or hesitation of his touch. Little did he know that his touch relaxed you beyond compare. 

“S-see...it’s not that bad,” you whispered as you met his gentle gaze. Something shifted in his eyes as your eyes locked, something you've never seen before. You weren’t sure what it was. Yet, he just stood there - unwavering his eyes.

“Taehyung-”

“I should go. I have to take care of something before the ball. Thank you…for showing me,” he said softly. You nodded as he released his gentle hold on you, leaving you cold and in need of his touch again. 

“Min-hyuk will pick you up at 7 tomorrow night. I’ll be wearing a black mask. Come find me when you arrive, okay?” A lighthearted chuckle escaped you as he handed you the towel to cover yourself.

“A black mask in a sea of other masks? I don’t think that’ll be too hard.” He smiled back at your little joke, and left you alone in your bathroom. As soon as you heard the door closing faintly in the distance, you felt like you could breathe again. Your body was on fire as you could still feel his touch. It felt like electric waves coursed through your veins just in a few seconds. 

Turning to the warm bath that awaited you, the bath he drew for you, you sighed. When you discarded your bra, your nipples perked just as you knew they would. It was no surprise that when you eased your underwear down your legs, a string of arousal clung to them as your core remained swollen. As usual, the bliss of your own fingers, imagination, and a soothing bath will have to ease your ache for yet another night.

Not a single word out of Joon Jae today. It wasn’t unusual but since he was returning today from his trip, you figured you would have had a message from him with instructions for tonight. Although it’s not like you’re complaining. His silence is your saving grace.

As you sat in the back of Min-hyuk’s car, you watched the traffic as it rushed by. He looked in the rearview mirror to glance at you. Your mask wasn’t in place yet as there was no reason to hide your identity just yet. There was never a need for a divider between you as he was your friend as well.

“Miss Y/N,” he said from the front. Your gaze met his in the mirror and smiled in turn.

“Yes Min-hyuk?” Min-hyuk’s eyes flickered between you and the road to drive safely. He watched the road as he spoke.

“You look very beautiful tonight. I hope you smile a lot tonight. You deserve it, N/N.” His words made your heart skip a beat. Min-hyuk was like family to you. Almost like an uncle but more of a dear, old friend. He told you once that he hopes his daughter grows up to be like you, and that was the greatest compliment he could have given. Although, for both of their sake, you hope she becomes much better; stronger and wiser, just like her father. Min-hyuk stopped the car as he pulled into the Kim’s driveway. Grabbing your mask to put in place, you leaned forward to get closer to Min-hyuk. You gently placed your hand on his shoulder to kiss his cheek.

“I don’t know what I would do without you, Min-hyuk. Thank you.” He smiled back at you whilst trying to remain professional, he averted his gaze straight ahead. Various people in all colors and shapes cascading into the radiant home. So many elegant gowns with elaborate details to match the masquerade theme. A gentle thought crossed your mind and you couldn’t resist.

“Why don’t you go home? I can easily find a ride home. Besides, I’m sure your daughter would love to see you at a decent hour.” There was a sparkle of hope and admiration in his eyes that you couldn’t help but to adore. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll let Taehyung know I relieved you. I’ll take the scolding.” It was obvious that Min-hyuk tried masking his excitement but you could see right through it. With the slightest of smiles but the fullest heart, Min-hyuk got out of the car to open your door. You got out and stood by his tall, broad form.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he responded. Smiling at him, you squeezed his forearm gently.

“Have a good night, Min-hyuk.” With that, you sauntered off into the night to join the rest of the mysterious guests of Min-ho’s masquerade ball.

The Kim’s home, that had always been your safe haven, had transformed into a modern renaissance extravaganza. It was simply stunning. Hues of red and gold filled the room with chandeliers to add to the expensive tone. Jesters and performers of all kinds were scattered around the room to entertain guests as they walked by. From jugglers to a man swallowing a ball of fire as if it was water quenching his thirst. 

A smile appeared on your face in appreciation of how well the Kim’s always throw a party. It was over the top and yet they always spent more money than they pocketed in profit. It’s never about the money for such events, especially a charity event. This night is for underprivileged children in broken homes and drug addictions. A cause they have always been passionate about. It was admirable - and why you’re a part of their family today. 

Feeling confident as you glided into the mansion, you felt proud of your dress. You felt sexy. It was conservative yet not. The dress caught your eye ages ago, deciding to keep it for a special occasion. A golden dress with glimmering accents that made you feel radiant. Your bare skin peeking through the nude toned mesh material, from afar looking see-through in a teasing way. Sequins reflecting every light you pass under as if you were a walking piece of jewelry - not too tacky or gaudy. A delicate turtleneck with exposed shoulders to reveal your soft skin in contrast to the floor length gown. Caressing your hips and between your breasts was a sheer fabric that lightly exposed your skin, just enough to show you were not wearing a bra or underwear - not enough to give everyone a show. Fortunately, the material cupping your breasts was thick enough to hide the perk to your nipples as the dress was mildly stimulating. The ensemble you chose didn’t go unnoticed by the others at the party. People casually glanced your way, yet your head remained high as confidence coursed through you

A gold mask laid on your face well enough to hide your insecurities. It matched your dress in its sparkle and shine. There is just enough makeup for a natural, bronze look to pair evenly with your attire. With grace, you scanned the room as you walked through. The Kim’s decorated their home to look like a casino to allow people to gamble for a cause. People of all sorts spread throughout the home at blackjack tables, poker, craps, roulette, but also the dance floor. Smooth jazz played in the background as the live band and black tied man sang at the microphone. 

For the first time in a while, you felt unafraid and sure of yourself. At least until you saw something that made your confidence drop into the pit of your stomach. Taehyung entered the room with a silver dressed goddess on his arm - Yuri. She wore a silky dress that clung to her petite body. It was apparent that Taehyung bought it for her. It had his taste written all over it. Even you could tell that Yuri was a simple girl that didn’t like extravagant things. The dress suited her and you can’t deny that you don’t envy her for it. Although you love the dress you're in, a part of you wants to be in that dress instead - or perhaps, on Taehyung’s arm. Thankfully, Taehyung’s elegant mother approaches you, and gives you the distraction you desperately needed.

“Y/N! Oh my… You-,” she let out a sigh and smiled sweetly with tears in her eyes, “You look absolutely stunning, dear.” Sooyoung reaches you, immediately giving you a kiss on each cheek after a warm hug as she always does when she sees you. She looked stunning in her black dress. She always looked beautiful in such a warm way that made you feel nothing but comfort.

“Thank you, Sooyoung. You look beautiful beyond words as always. The party seems like a success as I knew it would.” Sooyoung smile, humbly brushing off your compliment. Letting out a pleased sigh, she looked around and nodded.

“You’re too kind, dear. It turned out very well. I can’t say I’m not proud.” At that moment, Taehyung and Yuri turned towards you to meet Min-ho, his father, to exchange a few words. You tried your best not to acknowledge the situation. Fortunately, a waiter walked by with a tray of champagne. Quickly taking a stemmed glass, you downed it without a problem. Sooyoung smirked and took a sip from her own that she gathered as well.

“I’m sorry to hear about Joon Jae, although I’m sure you’re a little relieved,” she said as she lowered her glass. This caught your attention. You cocked your head slightly as you lowered your glass to hold elegantly in your hand.

“Joon Jae? What do you mean?”Sooyoung almost looked amused at your question.

“Why do you sound so surprised? It’s been all over the news all day - the arrest. Surely, you heard about it,” she waited a moment before continuing, “Embezzling thousands of dollars for years is bound to catch up with a person. I must say, I had a bad feeling about him. At least now you don’t have to part ways in an uncomfortable way. Assuming you would be parting ways, that is.” Embezzling money? What on earth is she talking about? You tried your best not to seem too surprised. Instead, you nodded to agree with her. Thankfully, a couple approached her to grasp her attention; giving you an opportunity to get away. 

Out of your small clutch purse, you pulled out your phone. Your instinct told you to just search on Naver for Joon Jae’s name to see what came up. To your surprise, his name appeared instantly in a headline - “Ahn Joon Jae Hordes Thousands from GQ Korea Magazine”. Within the first paragraph, it described his crime; stating he stole money from the company through false stocks and bonds. An anonymous tip warned the authorities yesterday afternoon and he was arrested the moment he landed back in Seoul from a business trip. Something about this raised an alarm inside of you. You looked up from your phone to find Taehyung. He was deep in conversation with another couple with Yuri clinging to his side. 

A part of you felt upset by this, yet another part felt touched. The ultimate fear inside of you of the consequences from this couldn’t help but to surface. There was no doubt it was Taehyung. The situation was too perfectly timed. He had to take care of something alright, you thought. Joon Jae was a powerful man. Could Taehyung’s power overshadow his or would this come back to haunt you? Your thoughts were interrupted by a man in a tuxedo in a black and silver mask. This man was Ki-young, Taehyung’s older brother.

“Can our girl dress to impress or what? N/N, you look freaking amazing,” the golden retriever said cheerfully. It was obvious from his ecstatic mannerisms that it was your unrelated brother. Right away, you could recognize his date from your previous dinner together. She wore an elegant blue dress that complimented her dyed blonde hair accompanied by a silver mask. Ki-young leaned forward to give you a kiss on the cheek and you reciprocated.

“You always know how to make a girl feel special. Hello Yoona. You look beautiful. I can see why Ki-young is so cheerful tonight.” The young woman blushed, and squeezed Ki-young’s arm as she held onto him.

“Thank you. I have to say this isn’t your everyday crowd, but it’s a lot of fun being here dressed like this. So many elites and chaebols are here,” she whispers excitedly, “But seriously, N/N. That dress is to die for. Your boyfriend must be a mess seeing you like this. Where is uh...Joon Jae, right?” Ki-young looked a little guilty towards you, or at least knowing of the situation. You simply smiled kindly.

“Joon Jae isn’t here tonight. I came alone. I couldn’t let this dress go to waste,” you teased lightly, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with Min-ho for a moment. Have a good evening you two.” As much as you wanted your exit to seem nonchalant, Yoona looked at Ki-young with apologetic eyes. She could sense she unintentionally made you uncomfortable. He assured her that she did nothing wrong with a simple kiss to her temple.

Indeed, you did go to find Min-ho for further instructions on your performance tonight. You couldn’t face Taehyung; not yet at least. Besides, he was busy entertaining Yuri, so you didn’t want to interrupt them. In fact, the more you thought about it, knowing you were truly alone tonight, all you wanted to do was sing your song and make your exit. Going home, putting on some pajamas, and watching a chick flick with a big glass of wine sounded delightful - maybe a whole bottle. 

Min-ho was found standing with Sooyoung as they spoke to another lavish couple. As you approached them, you tried sneaking glances at Taehyung. Luckily, he never noticed. Your fictive kin  parents took notice of you as you approached them, and said their goodbyes to the couple they were speaking with.

“N/N, dear, you look stunning. I’m so glad you made it,” Min-ho said with delight. You leaned forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. He had such young features for a man his age; so comforting and bright. The Kim’s were truly a good looking family, even including Taehyung being adopted into the family. Their wealth and status never faltered their kindhearted nature. They always remained true and pure. You couldn’t have asked for a better family to stand by your side throughout your years.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you took another quick glance at Taehyung, whom you found on the dance floor with Yuri. Sooyoung took notice as she always does - as most mothers do.

“So, your performance. Are you well prepared?” Min-ho smirked as the instruments in the background came to an end. The guests clapped respectfully for the band. Butterflies tingled to your very core.

“It looks like it will be about right about now,” he remarked with a wink as he walked towards the stage. The intoxication of the champagne seemed to hit you like an IV tap - giving you enough courage to carry on. Sooyoung stepped closer to you and put her hand on your arm for comfort.

“Don’t be nervous, dear. It’s going to be beautiful,” Sooyoung reassured in her sweetest, motherly tone. With a sigh, you put your hand over hers before she let go.

“I’m...going to sing something different. Something with more meaning. I don’t think the world is ready for the mess I’ve been writing these days,” you joked with a nervous laugh. It was a decision you were perfectly happy with. Most of the songs you sang had a dark and somber meaning between the lines. This selection was specifically driven towards a more light yet still romantic setting. As you sat down each night to practice this song, something felt right. This song made your heart hurt in the most healing way - the old, jazz classic, Everytime We Say Goodbye.

“It is my pleasure to introduce a beautiful, young woman who has been nothing less than a daughter to me and my wife over the years. It turns out that she has wonderful talent, and now she’s going to share it with all of you. We’re delighted to witness such a gift. Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N L/N.” When you heard your name, your heart pounded in your chest. Your eyes on the microphone as you approached the small stage area.

It’s been so long since you've performed in front of people. Well, you had piano recitals in school, but you didn’t have to open your mouth to sing. Ever. This was new territory and surprisingly, you didn’t feel like you were going to throw up. Although, it did feel like your heart was beating in your throat. A part of you felt relief that Soo-young convinced you to stand outside of your comfort zone. It was especially invigorating as no one really knew you could sing. And now, the people closest to you and a room of elite strangers were about to see your vulnerability on display. 

The crowd lightly applauded as you took your graceful strides forward. When you got up to the stage, you were greeted with a sea of elegant men and women in extraordinary dresses and masks - a beautiful sight yet excruciatingly intimidating. Even though this was an upscale lifestyle you were used to seeing, you still didn’t feel as if you fit in. But now, with this song, you could escape to a world that was always your safe place. It should be a terrifying thought but the only set of eyes that make you weak in the knees are his.

The piano keys begin playing in the background in a harmonious fashion. Nervous fingers twitch at your side to the melody to follow along the rhythm. Instantly, as you close your eyes to take it all in, it takes you back to your childhood. When you and Taehyung were having your darkest of days. Playing jazz albums on the vinyl player he kept in his room, this song in particular - Every Time We Say Goodbye. Tonight, the beautiful melody was sung by you.

We love each other so deeply That I ask you this, sweetheart Why should we quarrel ever? Why can't we be enough clever,  never to part -

It wasn’t until you drew out the last note that you finally opened your eyes. Closing your eyes allowed you to feel the music and travel back to the time you held so near and dear to your heart. When you opened them, your focus was on the pair of brown eyes that always made your heart flutter. It took no time to find them as if your auras were calling out to each other. The melody remained slow as your voice led the flow of the chords. So tender and raw with a hint of deep love with each note that escaped your lips. A fabrato purred in your throat with each ending word naturally.

Every time we say goodbye, I die a little Every time we say goodbye, I wonder why a little Why the gods above me, who must be in the know - Think so little of me They allow you to go -

The song flowed in perfect harmony with your voice as people began slow dancing along. Eyes respectfully tried to remain on you as your presence was captivating in every way. In particular, Taehyung was watching. There was a soft smile on his lips. You couldn’t tell if he was surprised or in awe or just content to be near his beloved. Yuri said something to him that you couldn’t make out. He then turned his attention back to her. It was only for a moment and his gaze was back on you as they continued dancing with one another. 

When you're near, There's such an air of spring about it I can hear a lark somewhere begin to sing about it - There's no love song finer But how strange the change from major to minor Every time we say goodbye Every time we say goodbye -

The song came to an end with a big weight lifted off of your chest. The room cheered. In Particular, you took notice of Ki-young and Min-ji clapping and cheering louder than anyone else in the room - such supportive siblings. You couldn’t help but to smile with a tinted rose in your cheeks. Graciously, you curtsied to the crowd. Walking off the stage, the band began playing the next song to keep the mood for the party. You decided to go towards the dance floor to find everyone; well, Taehyung. Interrupting your search with eagerness, Ki-young, Yoona, and Min-ji walked up to you. Min-ji was the first to give you the biggest hug her petite body could handle.

“Y/N L/N! Oh my god! I didn’t know you could sing like that! Babe, you sounded like an angel!" As you hugged her back, you couldn’t help but to giggle. Her enthusiasm made you feel warm. Min-ji was always such a bright spirit and you loved her for it. 

“Thanks Min-ji. I’m sorry I didn’t greet you before going on. You look ravishing as always.” Min-ji gave you a look and then the same to Ki-young.

“Can you ever take a compliment without giving one back,” she asked with a laugh, “but thank you. You know how much I love a good party.”

“You love anything that involves you dressing up, Min,” Ki-young interrupted with a kind smile. Min-ji turned to him with a cheeky smile showing that he was right on the nose.

“You know me all too well, big brother.” At that moment, Taehyung arrived by your side and gently placed his hand on your lower back. An instant chill ran up your spine as you caught a glimpse of the coy smile he gave his siblings; his scent filling your nose. Smoked cherries - spicy and sweet. Ba-dum, ba-dum. Be still my heart.

“Ki-young, Yoona, Min-ji, do you mind if I steal N/N for a moment?” The trio smiled and willingly let him whisk you away. He didn’t waste any time to take you further onto the floor, readying himself in position to start dancing with you. He held you close and your instinct was to find Yuri to ensure this didn’t bother her. She couldn’t be seen anywhere.

“Where’s your date,” you asked casually. Taehyung looked at you without an emotion you could read and held your hand a little tighter in an endearing way - a comforting way.

“She’ll be back soon. So, when were you planning on telling me that you could sing like that? I've  known you practically your whole life and I've never heard you. Curious.” The word slithered out like a snake who just caught his victim. The way he asked seemed as if he was slightly insulted that he didn’t know. A playful scoff came out. The man acts as if there can be no secrets between you two. Little does he know. He discovered something about you that he couldn’t read in a file. Poor thing. You looked into his eyes and remained coy.

“You don’t have to know everything about me, you know?” He laughed lightly in amusement. Lowering himself to meet your ear so only you could hear, his breath tickled your skin.

“You and I both know that’s far from the truth. I must know everything about you,” his voice  hummed deliciously in a way that made you shiver, “For what it’s worth, you have a beautiful voice, along with how you look tonight. You sang our song. Should I be flattered or was that just a coincidence?” His gaze returned to yours as he parted from the side of your face. Prayers couldn’t prevent your cheeks from changing colors. His irises seemed darker somehow. It made your heart race.

“It depends. Are you flattered, Taehyung?” Wait. Are we flirting? It’s been a while since we’ve been playful towards each other; at least since before Yuri came into the picture. A smirk formed on his perfectly shaped lips - hypnotizing.

“Flattered enough that I want to hear you again. Would you sing for me,” he asked in an enticing voice. It was then that you realized how close you were dancing together. His touch felt like fire against your lower back as the material of your dress was dangerously thin. You could feel how firm his chest was as your torsos were sandwiched together. The smell of his body wash and light scented cologne makes your head spin. Surely he could feel how fast your heart was beating. Or perhaps he could smell how aroused you are. Your cheeks flushed deeper as you looked up at him.

“You know I’ll do anything you ever ask of me. I’ll do anything for you, Taehyung,” you said in a submissive tone. Saying his name when you spoke to him was your own way of being submissive to him, but you're not sure if he ever noticed. Something changed in his expression. It seemed as if time stood still. Suddenly, Taehyung’s attention averted towards the entrance. Yuri was headed out in a rushed fashion - almost as if she was running away. His attention was no longer in your presence as he watched her descend towards the doors.

“Perhaps a raincheck. Excuse me.” And in an instant, Taehyung left. Initially, the feeling of disappointment coursed through you yet your empathy took over. Whatever it was, it would be awful of her boyfriend to just stand there and watch her leave. And yet, how quickly he ran to her without hesitation made your heart drop ever so slightly. You got your dance and sang your song. May as well make your exit. Regardless, it was all you wanted from this evening. 

Sooyoung and Min-ho are sitting at a table engaging in conversation with other elites. With a deep breath to regain your composure, you make your way over there to say goodbye. They both look up at you with delight.

“Sorry to leave so early but I think I’m going to go,” you interrupt politely. Min-ho went to speak but was pulled into another conversation by a peer. Sooyoung looked disappointed by this.

“But the evening has just begun, darling. Won’t you stay for the auction? It’s coming up soon.” Ah, the auction. Bidding on items and events isn’t exactly your cup of tea. Your contribution was your voice and you couldn’t bear to be there any longer. Walking over behind them, you kissed each of them on the cheek.

“Enjoy your evening, okay? I’ll come over soon to share a meal.” Sooyoung opened her mouth to protest, however, you left before you could hear another reason to stay. For once, you wanted to be selfish. You needed to be selfish. Besides, nothing sounded more appealing to you than spending the remainder of the night with yourself. Perhaps tonight, you’ll start learning how to move on; starting with the biggest bottle of wine that you can find.

It was nearly midnight and you were sure the party had come to an end by now. A content sigh escaped you as you walked out of your bedroom in your most comfortable loungewear. Face washed and your routine night care had been complete - leaving you feeling fresh. Eagerness coursed through your veins as your bare feet led you towards the kitchen. A steaming cup of tea awaited you. 

With your cup in hand, you walked over to your couch whilst taking tiny sips to soothe your soul. A fuzzy blanket laid lazily just calling out your name. Now that the ball was over, a weekend ahead of catching up on rest seemed like a dream. Just as you were about to turn on an episode of one of your favorite dramas, there was a knock on the door. Panic made you freeze; alert yet confused. Who would be at your door this late at night?

Fear rose in your chest as you slowly got off the couch. Please don’t let it be Joon Jae… Your phone in hand ready in case you need to make an emergency call to someone, anyone. Thoughts mumbling internally as you approach the tiny security screen near your door, you take a peak to see your visit. To your surprise, it was the last person you were expecting to see. Instantly, you opened the door.

“Taehyung? What are you doing here?” His hair looked slightly teased. His suit jacket was gone leaving him just in a button down shirt, the top two buttons undone and his tie unraveled around his collar. He looked up at you in a way that caused your heart to skip a beat. Had he been crying?

“She’s gone. I guess I’m more of a monster than I thought…” His voice sounded so defeated. It broke your heart into two. Nothing stopped you from reaching out for his hand to lead him inside.

“Ah... Come inside,” your soothing voice whispered. When you closed the door, he stood in place. Looking around your apartment as if it was the first time he had ever been here. Lost and dazed. What the hell happened to make him so disheveled? As much as you wanted to wrap your arms around him, you decided to keep your distance. Instead, you went to the kitchen to grab a cup of tea for him as well. He looked like he desperately needed one - something comforting. When you returned to him, he hadn’t moved an inch. He slowly reached for the cup, wrapping his hands around it without taking a sip.

“What happened? I haven’t seen you like this...in a really long time. Are you okay?” Somehow, you felt as if you could feel his pain. Your attachment to him truly took a hold. The empathetic connection you shared was all consuming, as if you had the power to fix everything.

“She wanted to see. She wanted to know how far I could go. It wasn’t even my furthest. I proceeded with caution, started slowly. But she looked at me as if I abused her. I trusted her to tell me to stop and she never did. Why didn’t she use her safe word? I...I don’t know what I did wrong.” Blood boiled inside of you. Although he spoke without much context, you knew exactly what he meant. Yuri must have challenged Taehyung to show her his true dominance. Why like this? Yuri was new to the world of BDSM. Trust is the utmost important aspect of the realm. To defy this trust is the worst you can do - whether as the dominant or the submissive.

Remember when you interviewed Yuri a while back, she asked you questions about this lifestyle. It wasn’t a life for her. She didn’t understand. You don’t just become submissive. You either are or you’re not. Maybe you should have warned Taehyung but he needed to see for himself. In the moment, all you could do was keep to yourself. Now wasn’t the time for “I told you so”. He needed a friend, a confidant.

“You’re not a monster. Don’t ever think that way. You have strong feelings for Yuri and I get that. I really do. You gained feelings for someone who doesn’t understand this life, which isn’t easy. Being a dominant or a submissive isn’t a sin. It’s not weird or unusual. It’s an intense relationship that involves trust in so many forms. You need someone who can give you the best of both worlds - a submissive and a deep connection outside of the bedroom. I’m...sorry that person wasn’t Yuri. Give it some time. Maybe she just needs to think about it and she’ll come around. If you’ll accept her trust again, that is.” Taehyung’s gaze never left yours as you spoke. Something softened in his eyes.

“I don’t think I could trust her again. Who is to say she won’t do it again? Maybe…I need someone that can give me that trust. Someone...like you.” Your jaw dropped and lips dried as you lost your breath. Eyes widened at his words, your head frantically started replaying his words to make sure you heard them correctly.

“I-I...I don’t know w-what you mean. You’re not thinking clearly. Why don’t we sit on the couch?” Fighting every fiber of your being to think too much into the situation, you turned to go towards the couch. His hand reached for your wrist to still you. His eyes were dark, lingering enough to make your skin heat with anticipation.

“I’m thinking more clearly than I have in my entire life. Y/N, why didn’t you tell me how you felt?” Time stood still. What did he mean? It couldn’t be. The song perhaps? How did he know? Thinking back, you recalled getting an unusual text from his mother after you left the ball.

It will all be better soon. I promise, dear.

Sooyoung. What the hell did she say to him? The breath in your lungs became dense as the room became smaller. The deepest secret between the two of you had been revealed without your permission. A string of emotions rushed over you as you tried to find a way to escape this.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re...just friends. That’s it,” you stuttered timidly as you tried to play it off with nervous laughter. Taehyung didn’t look phased.

“If you wanted to be more, all you had to do was ask. I thought I was clear about that.” Then that’s when you started putting the pieces together. Did he think you just wanted to be his submissive? You couldn’t help but to laugh lightly - insulted.

“Taehyung, I’ve told you a thousand times. I don’t want to be your sub. I value our friendship far too much for that. I don’t know what your mother told you but I think you got the wrong idea. Don’t read too much into things.” Feeling the perfect opportunity as he loosened his grip, you removed your wrist from his hand. The fear of him feeling your heightened pulse made you retreat from his warm touch. Surely she said something subtle and he took it the wrong way. He’s suggested such a dom-sub relationship for years; no strings attached. It was a line you could never cross as you knew you would get attached and want more. A real relationship. Love.

“I’m sorry, Taehyung, but that’s not a line I can cross with you.” Your gaze into his eyes were soft - sincere. Rejecting his offer yet again to avoid a potential broken heart, it was the best solution. It had to be.

“So you’re not in love with me then,” Taehyung replied in a low, sultry tone. Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes widened in alarm. Shock got the best of you, making you drop your teacup causing it to shatter against the floor - the only sound that remained in the room besides your thoughts.

Fuck...

[fae-morrigan]

Superfam and Found Family: What it Means to Choose

I have seen a lot of my beloved mutuals talk about adoption as a theme in the superfam, and thats true, thats very much a thing, but thats more a subsection of the larger idea with the superfamily: You get to choose your family, and define your relationship to them.

Clark and Kon come to mind. They've been discussed a lot lately, huh? Namely people saying Clark does not treat Kon well. This is false, by the way, they get along great.

But let's sort of dig into the actual story told by their relationship here: Kon was created by Lex without Clark's consent. Clark had no say in how part of his DNA would be used to create a new life.

(This is coincidentally why it irks me that certain fans will act like Clark is a monster for even HYPOTHETICALLY not wanting a relationship with Kon. Guys, you sound like pro-lifers. Lets watch it!)

Despite this, Clark accepts Kon with open arms. Now, as myself and others have pointed out, Kon's technically... he's not a clone, he's a test tube baby. Technically, biologically, he's Clark & Lex's son. D.. diversity win...?

But thats not how Clark and Kon choose to define their relationship. They instead decide, hey, we were raised by the same people, we're brothers.

Kon is not an outsider to the Superfam, even as he is an outsider to this world- He is welcomed with open arms once it is clear he needs a home. And with Clark and Kon, they get to choose how they define their relationship, not Lex, not anyone else.

Then, John Henry and Nat. John Henry is not Natasha's father, but their relationship is very complex and often veers into that territory, for the simple reason that he shows up for her in that capacity when Natasha's own father fails her.

Even while their relationship has its ups and downs (read 52 guys for THEM), they manage to forge a relationship based on mutual respect, enough to the point where during Steelworks, she is not just his niece, but his partner in building a better tomorrow. It is a fatherly/daughterly relationship built on mutual respect largely independent of their blood relation, built on the security that Clay failed to provide Natasha with.

Of course, to talk about adoption, Clois adopting the twins. I think Phillip Kennedy Johnson handles the topic of adoption EXPERTLY with Otho-Ra and Osul-Ra, specifically as a metaphor for transracial/transethnic adoption.

Clark's relationship with the twins is built throughout the Warworld saga, and does not start... great (they discuss looting his corpse lol), and often they. But Clark understands that the kids are traumatized, and seeks to guide them to a better situation.

Now I would be irresponsible to not mention that, during this time, Clark is still struggling with Jon's age up. He mumbles, disoriented during their first meeting, that the kids are the same age as his son (no they are not). In a less tightly written book by a worse writer, it'd be a thing where Clark completely uncritically finds 'replacement kids' in the twins... Which is NOT what happens here, because PKJ is the GOAT.

In the end, his relationship with the twins is built not only independently of his struggles with Jon, but the way he connects with them helps Clark realize that whats done is done. They need him to be Clark, not a man hanging onto the past he will never get back. To move forward, they must do it together, it won't work if the twins remain on Warworld and he remains mentally in Hamilton. Its why it is SUPER important, also, that in the end, Clark doesn't ask them to come with him- rather, they ask to go with Clark.

(Sidenote: The twins lost not only their parents on warworld, but an older brother, too. Clark isn't the only one who finds a healing way forward via the Ra-El relationships, but that's gonna be another post!) And their hero names, Red Son and Starchild, are from their original culture (the Phaelosians), a culture that was systematically robbed from them when Warworld trafficked them into service. Rather than forcing them to conform to the house of El and their legacy, they help the kids reconnect.

These are his children. They found each other in the scariest place in the universe, and together, they find a way past the things they've both suffered through.

I'm afraid I don't know much about Kara (kara mutuals, reading recs appreciated! i've only ever read WOT and a few issues of the most recent Supergirl run) but I do know that her relationship to Clark is inherently different than it was supposed to be, and she has to roll with it and redefine it accordingly. She was supposed to be older than him, be able to take care of him, but by the time she actually finds him, he's the one doing that for her.

(I dont really have a panel here I fear, so look at the pretty art from Woman of Tomorrow. If someone wants to say more on Kara, you're welcome to hijack my post for a bit!)

Kenan is an example of this theme going kind of sideways and being examined from another angle- He's forced to choose between his two found families, and with either choice, he stands to lose something. Either his connection to Superman, or his connection to home:

Kenan already has a messy relationship with family, considering the soap opera level drama his parents inflict on him in his solo. Now, separated from his culture by circumstances he can't control, Kenan's relationship with the Superfam is forced by circumstance, even as it isn't unwanted. He's forced to make the most of what he has.

Then you have Clark and Jon, where the 'and define your relationship to them' part of my thematic statement REALLY becomes important.

I've seen it argued many times that giving Jon the Superman mantle weakens the theme of found family, but I'd argue it strengthens it, because Jon not having a choice in becoming Superman is EXPLICITLY framed as a bad thing.

Jon's not ready to be Superman. He doesn't even really WANT to be superman. But because of the circumstances of his birth, the world, and his father, push him into it. Clark never asked Jon to be Superman, during the Son-of-kal-el + Warworld era. He assumed he would be.

It tarnishes Clark & Jon's relationship, actively preventing Jon from connecting with his father and the WORLD fully in the way they both want. This is a key theme of Superman: Son of Kal El, from the very moment of Jon's actual birth:

All throughout post-age up Jon is the idea that Jon is just as burdened by the expectations placed upon him by his blood as he is comforted by what the mantle represents.

(I know I use this panel like every analysis but its a GOOD PANEL, SHUT UP) And there's of course the fact that... y'know. Well. Y'know.

Y'KNOW.

I think there's a potentially strong story in either Jon walking away from the mantle entirely, or redefining it to be his own. But first, he's going to have to suffer for the fact he wasn't ready for what many people call his DESTINY, including his abuser.

And where does this leave Jon and Clark?

Here.

The last note before Absolute Power of these two is this bittersweet moment where Jon still isn't fully heard. Where he still doesn't get a full say in what he and Clark's relationship will be. And judging by THIS interview from Mark Waid, this particular idea is about to finally come home to roost:

Lastly, there's of course the Most Found Family Thing Of All that i basically see NO one talk about: The fact that the Irons and the Kents just. Share all their big life events with each other. They're literally not related to each other by blood at all, but throughout PKJ's Action Comics, they ARE family!

Teamwork makes the dreamwork guys!

The superfamily is a wonderfully diverse cluster of relationships and examinations of the way family finds each other. Even moreso than the Batfam, which is often defined by their father-son relationship with Bruce in fanon, the Superfam displays a wide array of the various ways non-nuclear families can build each other.

This is all to say you guys should read PKJ's action comics run. It rules.

(This is also to say Superman 2016 sucks ass.)

[sugusearrings]

( ' cursed ' )

i knew, deep down, i knew we'd fall apart, you'd break my heart. don't worry i'll be fine, you were only the love of my life i'll be here when you decide that you should still be mine made a song for ya, tore my heart out took the photographs, cut me out. keep my mouth shut, i keep my head down 3 words i'm cursed, i'm alone now.

— summary: things are just complicated with your best friend's older brother. but you decided to move on from the misleading games. but sukuna isn't sure he's ready for you to do so just yet. — genre: fluff to angst? — playing: cursed by wesghost —note(s): it's been so long since i written anything!! but this was based off these this short and this one i wrote months ago. i've been meaning to write it into a little mini-series. maybe. it was slightly rushed but i took advantage of the spark of inspiration i had at six in the morning. might be some spelling errors i tried my best to look for them. and in this au, sukuna is yuji's older brother even though he is his uncle. i wrote it before that information was out. — warning(s): au sukuna but he's still grumpy sukuna, toxic behavior, possessiveness, manipulation (kind of), getting a little physical, and lots of cursing, suggestive sexual interactions, and sexual comments. —word count: 1,198

His brow twitched. He also made a mental note to kill his younger brother.

It’s not unusual the door was open to his brother’s bedroom. It wasn’t unusual his friends were always over, unfortunately.

The girl with the short hair that was loud and just as dumb as him, the emo looking kid that just read his book, and then there was you.

Sukuna always found you weird. You liked all this cartoon stuff and into the same movies as his younger brother, Yuji. You were not his type at all. At one point, he thought you two were dating. Until he realize his brother’s crush was on some other girl.

You would be sitting on the floor next to Yuji or with Nobara.

But who the fuck was that kid?

He looked like he hasn’t slept in days and was taller than the rest. He looked like he’ll piss himself with the slightest noise. He watched him flinched when Nobara started yelling at Itadori about something.

What the fuck was he doing in his house?

Sukuna noticed how close you were sitting next to this damn kid. His brow twitched again. You were giving him those eyes. The same doe eyes you would give him when you would be laying on his bed. That’s when he knew. This was Yuta. Your supposed crush.

That’s when he couldn't take it any longer, his emotions got the best of him. He slammed the door close.

On the other side of the door, you flinched.

“The fuck is his problem?” Nobara scoffed going back on her phone. Yuji shrugged his shoulders.

“Sukuna’s always in a mood.” He answered simply looking back at the tv screen.

Your eyes just stared at the door, just having a feeling it just wasn’t a mood swing.

“Are you done being a baby?” Sukuna didn’t turn around hearing the sound of your voice in the kitchen. He continued to make himself something to eat.

“Speak to me like that again, I’ll kick your ass out.” He responded bluntly. You rolled your eyes at his empty threat. You walked over to the counter next to him, leaning against it. You gazed up at his much taller frame.

“You would never do it though.” That’s when he finally faced you. His right brow rose gazing back down at you.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He walked past you, making sure to bump into you in stumbled back causing you to stumble back. That’s when you felt your blood boiling and glared at him.

“What the fuck is your problem, Kuna?” You snapped. Sukuna just shrugged his shoulders acting nonchalant.

“Sukuna,” He corrected you, “and nothing s’ wrong. I don’t give a fuck remember?” He gazed down at you again. That’s when you bit the inside of your cheek so hard, you always drawn blood.

“Exactly so I don’t understand why you’re acting like a bitch.” You barked back. That’s when his crimson eyes widen. He slowly placed down whatever was in his hands.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me.” You challenged him as he began to walk closer to you. You oved back into the side of the fridge. “You’re acting like a bit — "

Your words were cut off by his tattoo hand wrapped around your throat. Your eyes grew wide with the tip of your ears burning up. His hand moved your head to look up at him as he glared down at you. He was so close you can sell the cologne lingering, along with a faint smell of weed.

“Keep it up and let’s see how your little boyfriend would like it if he knew how I handled that rude mouth of yours.” He squeezed your throat, not too much but enough to give a warning. But you were able to register what he said rather quickly.

“. . .are you jealous of Yuta, Kuna?”

“. . .”

He dropped his hand from your throat. He was going to turn away but you grabbed his arm to stop him. You were tired of him running and shutting down when calling him out on his feelings.

“You said you didn’t want anything serious, remember?” You whispered loudly.

“Why are you whispering? Scared he might hear?” He chuckled. He moved back to towering over you. Your back pressing against the side of the fridge now. “Not like I give a damn, I like when you’re loud.” His lips curled into his infamous grin.

“You are jealous!”

“There’s nothing to be jealous about. Okkotsu is scared of his own damn shadow.” He scoffed. “Not sure how he got your attention —"

“He’s nice.”

“The fuck does that even mean?” He replied clearly irritated with your answer.

“That means I like nice guys, Sukuna. Don’t play stupid.” His hand went back on your throat to squeeze it. You let out a sound you weren’t sure if it was a moan or a squeak. But it made Sukuna smirked.

“Nice guys, hm? Do you know this nice guy has a long term ex-girlfriend?” He questioned. But you nodded confidently.

“Yes! Yuta told me everything!”

“What an idiot.” Sukuna grumbled rolling his eyes. You looked up at him confused.

“Well unlike you, he doesn’t hide anything from me and he doesn’t like to play stupid games.” You tried to defend your crush but that made Sukuna chuckle. How adorable this was to him.

“Sure thing, brat. He just wants to be ' open and honest ' with you.” he slowly let go of your neck. But his thumb placed on your bottom lip, slowly tracing it. “But are you open and honest with him? About us?” His tone was low and sultry. It sent chills down your spine. You quickly looked away.

“Sukuna — "

“What happened to Kuna? You forgot about the name you gave me when you’re struggling to take it all in?” You knew what he was doing, trying to cast his spell over you again. This was the game you two played since the summer. But you pulled away. This game was draining. Emotional, physical, and mentally draining.

“You wanted nothing serious — "

“Shut up. I know what I said, woman.” He cut you off. His hand cupped your chin with his thumb back on your bottom lip. You fluttered your lashes up at him with his lustful gaze staring down at you. Somehow your hand was placed on his chest. “Come to my room.” He whispered just making you squeeze your thighs together. He leaned down further to have his lips inches away from yours.

“Name?”

Yuta’s voice was heard calling for you snapping you out of Sukuna’s spell. You shook your head and move your hand from his chest.

“I have to go — "

“Name.” Sukuna reached for your hand but you didn’t let him grab it.

“Everything’s okay, name?”

Both you and Sukuna looked over to see Yuta by the entrance of the kitchen. His dull blue hues didn’t even glance at you but directly over at Sukuna. Sukuna stared right back, with no emotion either. The tension was thick and here you are in the middle of it.

[saberlight1]

the red means i love you — frank castle

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

warnings: violence! like a lot of violence.. and detailed accounts of said violence, reader goes insane, mentions of murder, trauma, reader is a past widow for the red room, Y/N usage, kidnapping, established relationship, fluff, standard the punisher warnings.

authors note: hii theree! so this one is kind of insane, i may have went just a tad bit overboard, but y’know. thank you anon for this request that this fic is based on! this story is heavily based on the song, ‘the red means i love you’ by madds buckley, so give it a listen if you’d like. much love to you all, i hope you all enjoy this !

masterlist

You panted, your hand pulling the machete out of the last man’s chest. Your vision was still hazy, and you didn’t exactly feel like you were in your body.

But, that’s how you always felt when you killed.

As you gathered your bearings, your eyes began to dart around the room— and you realized how many men you had just taken out.

“Motherfucker,” You groaned as the pain began to set in due to the knife that was currently in your thigh. One of them must of done it when you were distracted, and your adrenaline was far too high for you to register it.

You no longer had that problem, it hurt like a bitch. But, you’ve had worse— a lot worse, and you could handle it. So you did was you were trained to do: push the emotions and pain away get the damn job done.

You had to. For Frank.

You see, he was taken by God knows who. You and Frank had no shortage of enemies, so you weren’t exactly sure who you were even invading, but you didn’t care. You knew they had Frank.

You were getting him back. You didn't care how many lives you had to take, you would do it all without second thought.

One of them had his sawed-off shotgun, they tried to shoot you with it. So you knew he was here. You just didn’t know exactly where.

And you’d go through hell and back to get to him.

So with a sharp inhale, you began to walk over to one of your victims, snatching the shotgun from his cold grip. A new sense of rage washed over you when you held the cold metal in your hands— they tried to take Frank from you.

You couldn’t let that stand.

Anger flooded your bloodstream as you began to stalk over to the hallway in front of you, cocking the shotgun along the way. You looked damn insane—you were covered in blood, a knife sticking out your thigh, your machete in one hand and Frank’s shotgun in the other.

One thing was for sure: you were out for fuckin’ blood.

You kicked open the first door you saw with your good leg, and inside were 3 men. Before they could even get a chance to react, you let the first round of bullets fly at one of them, the man dead instantly.

You narrowed your eyes at the two remaining men, putting the machete in your belt, you cocked the shotgun and aimed directly towards them. “Where the fuck is Frank.”

“I–I don’t know what you’re talking about,” One of the men stuttered out.

You scoffed, shooting that same man in the shin. “You think I’m fuckin’ playin’ around? I said, where the fuck is he?! What did you do with Frank?!” You shouted angrily, cocking the gun once more.

The man cried out, falling to his knees as his partner put his hands up in surrender. “He’s in the building..” He murmured, but you could see the man you shot reaching for the gun that the other had so obviously in the back of his pants.

Rolling your eyes, you shot the man who was still unharmed in the head. “Fuckin’ useless. I’ll find him myself.” You muttered to mainly yourself before grabbing your machete once more and stomping over to the last one.

“No, no, no!” He begged, backing away as far as he could from you. “Killing me won’t do anything. You’ll never get through all of us. You and Castle are as good as dead,” He spat and you only gave a sinister smile in return before you dove the machete into his chest.

After he was dead, you took your machete and wiped it clean of the blood before storing it back in your belt. You walked out the room without another thought as you continued your walk down the hallway, Frank’s shotgun tight in your grasp as you pointed it for precaution.

The next room you walked into contained 5 men, and then 3 after you let your itchy trigger finger take over.

3 guns were pointed at you in a instant, and you smirked in delight. "Drop them now!" He nodded towards your weapons. With a smirk still on your face, you let your machete clattered to the ground, but still kept Frank's shotgun in your hand. If you were going to die, you wanted it to happen with at least something that tied to Frank.

Staring them all down, you tried to wait for one of them to make the first strike— but eventually you got bored.

You hit one of the men over the head with the shotgun as you kicked one of the other one’s knee in. Without thinking, you grabbed the knife that was still painfully lodged in your thigh and pulled it out-- causing a sharp roar of pain to leave your lips. And with a menacing stare, you used that very same knife to slash the third man's throat.

In a flash of motions you turned to the next man and shoved the knife into his throat, causing him to stumble back with fearful eyes before dropping dead.

That left the last one that you practically bitch-slapped with the gun. He stared at you with wide, rage filled eyes before he grabbed you by your neck, throwing you into the table next to you. Your now open wound on your thigh got caught on a nail on the way, only tearing it open further. A cry of pure pain left your lips at the act, but you recovered quickly, turning to the man with a evil glare.

You let out a yell as you tackled him to the floor, letting all of your anger out as you brutally laid punch after punch to his face until he was unrecognizable. You let out another broken cry as you left one last hit to his bloodied face.

Ragged breaths left your lips as came back down to reality, shakily standing up. Your knuckles were bruised and cracked, and you knew it would hurt like a bitch later, but as of now, you really didn't care. It would all be worth it in the end. So, without another thought you grabbed your machete and the shotgun and headed out the room.

There was only one room left. It was at the very end of the hallway, and you silently prayed Frank was in there. At this point, after all the people you had just killed and fought— you were fucking tired, and quite frankly; fed the fuck up.

You cocked the gun with nothing in your brain other than bloodlust and kicked open the door harshly. “Where the fuck is he?!” You bellowed as you stormed in, gun raised. You had tunnel vision, seeing nothing over than the targets before you.

8 or 9 men were scattered around the room, and before you knew it bullets were flying everywhere. With wide eyes you dove down for cover behind a fallen table, and on the way down you were grazed by several bullets. Your hand flew up to the blood you felt trickling down your ribs, a low groan leaving your lips. You fought tears of pain as you pulled yourself together, reminding yourself of the goal: Get to Frank.

“Come out, now!” One of them yelled, and it only fueled your anger further.

“Fine.” You growled, standing up and shooting the first two men in front of you. Standing up, you ran to the side of the wall where their bullets couldn’t hit you. You let out a small laugh to yourself— you had to admit, you kind of missed this.

The chaos of it all.

You were raised in the chaos of this— you were brought up in the Red Room, killing people all around the globe. Yelena Belova, one of your fellow past widows, had broken you out some time ago and you tried to give the life up, but it seemed it was in your DNA.

Who were you to fight that?

You shook the thought away just as quickly as it arrived— you had more pressing issues right now.

You pulled the pistol out of your boot, peaking around the corner and picking off 3 men, leaving now 4.

“You fuckin’ crazy bitch!” One of them roared, running at you with a dagger.

“Fuck off!” You screamed back, blocking his attempted strike by grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm, the man now yelling out in pain. He dropped the dagger that was clutched in his hand, while you caught with your free hand, not hesitating to plunge it into his heart.

“Y/N?!” You heard that familiar voice yell, causing you freeze. His call made a soft smile spread across your features, but at the same time ignited that dedication to get to him now.

You grabbed Frank’s shotgun, cocking it and getting your pistol in your other hand. And with a devilish glare, you turned the corner and proceeded to pick off the rest of the men that remained.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you realized they were all dead. Turning on your heel, you ran to room in the back that was connected to the room you had been in, throwing open the door urgently.

“Frank,” You practically whispered. He was bound a chair by chains, his face bruised and bloodied.

“Holy shit.” He murmured, taking in your current state. You didn’t know what you looked like, but you were sure it was nothing short of horrific. You were covered head to toe in a mixture of your own blood and your victim's, wounds and bruises littering your entire body. "Christ, woman, what the fuck happened out there?" He asked with a worried tone.

You aimed your pistol at his chains. “Don’t move.” You spoke gently, yet firm. He nodded, giving you the okay to take the shot. Once you did, he was up and bringing you into his arms almost immediately.

The weapons in your hands clattered to the ground in an instant as you let yourself melt in his arms. You were exhausted. Due to your search for Frank and also just your pure anxiety in being away from him, you had barely slept in the past couple days. That definitely came back to bite you in the ass, and on top of it all, you were in a lot of pain. The kisses Frank was leaving to the side of your head made you feel a lot better, though.

You pulled back just a bit to cup his jaw, your eyes scanning his injuries. “Are you okay?”

He let out a dry chuckle before turning his hand slightly to leave a kiss to your palm. “Baby, you are in no position to be askin’ me that right now.” His hands came up to cradle to your face, and you nestled your face into his palm. "Are you okay?"

You managed to give him a smile. “I'm better now.” You let out a shaky breath. Now that you had found Frank, the pain really began to set in. You wouldn’t let yourself feel all of the pain until you knew you were safe— and you now knew that Frank had you. “They’re all dead.” You told him. "I killed them all."

“Damn,” He licked his lips, staring down at you. “And here I was thinkin’ no one was comin’ for me.”

“You should know by now I’ll always come for you.” You expressed, leaning up to connect your lips. You didn’t care if you were covered in blood, or that Frank had been tied to a chair for 2 days— you missed him.

You loved him. And you would set the world on fire for him.

Once you two pulled apart, he stared into your eyes. “I fuckin’ love you.”

You giggled softly, gazing up at him lovingly. “I love you, Frank.”

[disruptivevoib]

Long Ramble about CCCC and my overall feelings on what the album means and such

Something I find important about CCCC is like.

The fact that all three of them are, in some way, trying.

Heart is emotion, he is prone to himself and being reactionary, in the moment. Prone to the past of learned behavior and trauma. Reactive and rapidly changing. He isn't going to make pure sense because he isn't based in logic or in societal ideals or views. He is an instinctual response to the environment and circumstances. His manipulation is not intentional. He has very little control of himself in the end. Its why Mind talks about claiming to relish entropy yet clearly needing help. But, Heart in earnest wants them to be okay and safe. He believes that Mind's control will drain the life from them. It will make things monotonous and the same. Too much order.

Mind in turn, believes Heart is manipulative with intention. He wants to control Soul or wants to just drag them all down with him into this depressive state. Mind is logic, he is the reasoning out of your emotional instinct. Your inner critique, and when unchecked, that inner critique goes from a guiding hand for your emotion to one that debates and bullies it. Invalidating its responses. Ultimately, though. Mind just believes he is helping. He is doing what must be done and telling the "hard truths" to Heart. And that Heart is being the petty child. Which- I mean. Sort of sure. But Mind is definitely fucking petty and childish. He's stubborn! Prideful! So ofc he is. Admitting you're wrong? No.. why would he EVER do that.. nuh uh.

Which is what makes Light so crucial. Mind asking Heart for help- but also. There is Soul.

Who while ambiguous in purpose, is mostly that background voice. Your inner narration. If Mind is Logic and Reason then Heart is Emotion and Instinct,, Soul is all that lives between it. And he is constantly silenced or spoken over or around. He does not get a word in edgewise until TSE. He may show up in the background occasionally but as much as Heart and Mind claim to want to keep him alive and help him, they also fail to actually acknowledge what he says.

Which is that they both are right and wrong. That this fighting is doing directly what they both feared it would. Soul is desperate by the end. He is angry and resentful because.. well. Self hatred due to intense self awareness and reflection is rather ig. Common. Im not a professional here but from personal experience, you get so tired of rehashing the same shit with yourself over and over. It all feels pointless.

The only out, by the end of it all to Soul is that if they cannot be Whole, whats the point? He is desperate. He does not want to die but he feels theres no other solution.

And. About Whole, Soul throughout the album seems to want that. At the beginning, to be Whole or Harmonious is to be mentally healthy, maybe even "normal" by society's standards. To be able to put a mask over your problems and be, again, "normal". It takes the entire album for Soul to realize that this:

1. isnt possible

And

2. There isn't anything evil or wrong with him for that.

Mental health is a struggle. But you are not evil and should not be othered because you struggle. You also do not need to be fixed for being a little different and people's opinion of you is not what matters most so long as you are happy (and not hurting others. Lol).

Thats what Two Wuv is entirely about as a song. Its a "fuck you. Fuck this! I thought I needed to be this! But I DON'T. Stop telling me who I am! How to be! I'm gonna be me!"

His entire arc is parallel to Heart and Mind's and is crucial in the culmination of becoming yourself again and accepting yourself.

But, as mental health will always be, this period of respite and self acceptance is not always forever. And as life continues or as you lapse back into a depressive episode.. you cannot help but forget what it is like when you're not this way- and hell! Vice versa too! Some people have this disconnect between the periods. Where the things from the depressive state seem dramatic or obtuse to you while you are doing better. And from the other end, you just want to be happy again.. but you get so lost in it all you can struggle to feel like you've ever been happy.

The album is about the human experience. It is about self-sabotage, mental illness, self-hatred and reflection and it is, maybe more importantly about self-acceptance and healing. Having a bit of mercy on yourself. Accepting that you are imperfect and that this is okay. And whatever flaws you may have that need to be mended or worked on, can be. And that who you are, for example, if you are queer, is okay. And no one has the right to take that identity from you! That the internalized ideas of how someone should be are not always correct or right. Not for you, at least. Stuff like that.

[begrudging-fudanshi]

So i stared reading windbreaker after i saw your post about it , it's wholesome manga with amazing fights

in your opinion Why didn't nii satoru reveal Sakura's past until now ? Why was Sakura alone ?

Hell yeah. Welcome to the fandom. I'm glad my propaganda has been working.

To be honest, I've been thinking about this series way too much over the last couple weeks, so this is probably going to be A Lot. I am dumping a lot of accumulated thoughts in here and simultaneously trying to keep a bunch of other thoughts from cluttering it up. If any of this feels disjointed, it's because I've been trying (I swear) to not make this like 10,000 words long lmao.

(CW: Wind Breaker manga spoilers + discussion of child neglect, trauma, feelings of worthlessness, parental loss, grief, and a suicide attempt in the context of the series. Hope you're ready for some pain.)

I'm going to answer your questions in reverse order, because I think they're actually very closely connected.

Sadly, my read on Sakura's past is really dark. Based on what we know so far, there's a lot to suggest that Sakura has been badly neglected for a long time, both physically and emotionally. Based on his lifestyle and the way he talks about himself, I really struggle to believe that he's received any genuine affection or care in many years, if ever. (I'm so glad he was able to go to Furin.)

The flashbacks at the start of episode 1 of the anime suggest he was taken in by relatives who didn't want him, and I think they basically set him up for failure in every way. They seem to have done the bare minimum required of them by the law, like sending him to school, but I can see no evidence that they did much of anything else. Like, what kind of asshole sends a 15-year-old kid to live alone in a barren apartment with literally nothing to wear except his school uniform? Caring people wouldn't let a kid live like that. (That said, I have a bad feeling that his lifestyle seen in chapter 56 is an upgrade compared to what he had before.)

Given this, it's clear Sakura really means it when he says he's always done things by himself. I think this is why he looks so torn up when his friends show him real kindness and why he's so sensitive to anyone showing affection. I also think this means that he really wants to forget his past. This is a big part of why we haven't seen it revealed yet: Sakura isn't ready to revisit it, himself.

---

Something interesting about Wind Breaker's backstories is that they all (as far as I and my notes can remember) follow a consistent pattern. They're not just lore dumps that tell us about the character's past. They actually follow each character through a process of changing their beliefs about themselves, often based on their view of the past. This is why they're all in the first person. Some of these changes happen in the present while others are part of flashbacks, but either way the process is basically the same.

In each backstory, the character starts out believing something about themselves that gives rise to a contradiction that keeps them trapped. This belief somehow keeps them from living their best life and, often, stops them from changing their ways to make their best life possible. However, someone else helps them challenge that belief, giving rise to a revelation that lets them change how they see themselves. This change enables them to see new possibilities and lets them move forward towards the life they want.

For example:

Umemiya believed his parents would blame him for their deaths, so he couldn't let himself grieve them nor believe that he deserved to live. His guilt blocked out his memory of the event, keeping him from remembering what really happened. However, a nameless(?) Furin student and Shitara helped him realize that his parents saved him and were happy to see him survive. Thus, he was able to grieve and imagine a future for himself other than his self-destruction.

Kaji believed that his rage was uncontrollable and couldn't even see himself as human. Hiragi helped him realize that he could manage his triggers and change his behavior to be able to find acceptance and live his life.

Tsubaki believed that she couldn't like pretty things or express herself how she wanted. Ito and Yui helped her learn to dress up and present herself the way she liked, allowing her to accept herself and transition. (I know she's not canonically transgender but that's still the best way I can see to describe it.)

After Yui's death, Ito believed that she might never have truly loved him. Tsubaki, Sakura, Suo, and Nirei help him realize the secret meaning of the tree that she planted in his garden, letting him live his life without worrying if she was truly happy.

What's important here is that the character must be ready to have their beliefs about themselves challenged so they can understand their full truth. Otherwise, their story of their past would be incomplete. (Consider what Umemiya's backstory would have sounded like if he still believed he was a murderer.) In fact, we already have an example of this that I'll get to, next.

Because Sakura isn't yet in a position to challenge the beliefs holding him back, he can't reveal his past, either. He has friends helping him, but it's going to be a while before they've truly shaken his most unhelpful beliefs.

---

That said, this process has actually played out with Sakura once before and I think it tells us a lot. It shows us exactly why he's not ready to reveal his past.

In chapter 1, Sakura starts out believing that he's meant to always be alone, leading him to initially reject the people of Makochi. Then, Kotoha helps him acknowledge that he does want to be accepted and convinces him to give it a shot. However, while this is great progress and very necessary for Sakura's growth, this isn't a complete resolution. He still has an even more deep-seated belief that has to be addressed.

In addition to asserting that he's meant to be alone, Sakura also lays out another belief in chapter 1 that I argue really gets to the root of his deepest trauma. He doesn't quite say it explicitly, but it underpins both his belief that he's meant to be alone and that he's worth nothing but his fists.

The closest he comes to naming it is when he describes Furin. He says it's "The lowest of the low, hated by all others, worth nothing but their fists … It's a battle to determine the trashiest of the trash. That suits me perfectly."

I have to admit, the first few times I heard and read this, I completely missed how fucked up it is for a 15-year-old kid to say this about himself. I think I've gotten so used to taking shonen protagonists' confident declarations at face value that I just didn't question it, in the same way I've learned not to question, say, 12-year-old Gon deciding to become a pro hunter and travel the world fighting adults. The way it's presented very deliberately (and, I think, cleverly) blunts the impact as well, making use of shonen stylistic conventions to disguise it as stereotypical shonen protagonist bluster. This mirrors how Sakura masks his deeper feelings about himself.

However, as I read through the rest of the manga, it became clear that this is what Sakura actually, deeply believes. He's 15 years old and he truly sees himself as trash—in other words, worthless. The only way he can imagine finding worth in himself is through his strength. Even then, this is only for Sakura himself. He can't let himself imagine anyone else ever valuing him for any reason, so he must find self-worth all on his own. To put it more sharply, he can't imagine deserving unconditional love. Based on what little we do know about his past, this belief stems from a lifetime of emotional neglect.

The thing is, Sakura's belief that he's worthless is actually, paradoxically, a coping mechanism. As horrible as it is, it helps him rationalize his life in a way that lets him keep living despite his neglect and isolation. If he's truly worthless, then he's never had a reason to expect being loved or accepted by anyone—he's always been meant to be alone. This is how he can tell himself that he doesn't care and has given up. This lets him bury the pain of his isolation and pretend it doesn't truly hurt. By believing that he has always been worthless and unable to be (to deserve being) loved, he has had no reason to get his hopes up for the future, nor any reason to question why he's been treated so badly in the past. He can accept it (has to accept it), even if he hates it, because it was always inevitable.

Notice how Sakura reminds himself that he's given up right before punching the Spaltips' leader in chapter 1. This is the story he tells himself to contain the hurt. He does something similar in chapter 56, reminding himself that he's supposed to be alone as he grapples with his friends' kindness. He bludgeons himself with this reminder as a way to push away thoughts about his past. He then shifts his focus to thinking about his growing care for his friends rather than his feelings about himself. Once again, Sakura makes himself turn away.

The trouble is, this belief is his only means of holding back an unfathomable amount of pain inside of him. It's the only way he knows how to live with all the myriad ways he's been treated like shit. To doubt his own worthlessness, therefore, is to expose himself to overwhelming grief. Because, if he isn't worthless, he then has to ask himself why he had to suffer for so long. That kind of question is too awful for him—for pretty much anyone—to face on their own. This coping mechanism protects him, but it also traps him and prevents him from finding relief.

This comes to a head in chapter 1, as the townspeople surround him and the old woman tries to tend to his wound. As she reaches towards him, he screams at her to stay away. This act of genuine kindness fills him with terror. It's not just that he fears eventual rejection—Sakura fears the idea he could be accepted at all. Remember, he's just "failed" to win the fight and, worse, ended up having to be protected because he got hurt. Sakura could accept Kotoha's kindness earlier because he "earned" it by stopping her attackers, but now there's someone trying to help him for what feels like no reason. For Sakura, who must believe that he was never meant to be loved or accepted, being shown kindness for no apparent reason feels like an existential threat. It threatens to undermine the walls that he's built inside of him to keep going. This is why he allows Kotoha to help him instead—he can still rationalize her help as transactional.

This rationalization provides his means of escape. To accept his place in Makochi, he only has to accept that he doesn't have to be alone. He doesn't have to believe that he can be valued or loved unconditionally, nor that he deserved anything better. Instead, Sakura finds a way to "earn" his acceptance: The chapter culminates with Sakura accepting Bofurin, which he shows by leaping over all the others to kick the Spaltips' leader in the face.

By showing his strength, by upstaging the heroes and claiming his place among them, Sakura proves (to himself) that he is strong enough to be accepted. Rather than accept that he could always have been valued and accepted unconditionally—that he always could have been loved—Sakura would rather believe he's earned his acceptance based on his strength.

In this way, Sakura can continue to believe in his own worthlessness, saving himself from having to face his past. Because of this, even as he's learned that he can be accepted, he still maintained his belief that he was meant to be alone from the start (again, see chapter 56). This lets him continue to justify his past suffering and minimize his own pain.

This comes back around in chapter 162, when Sakura's classmates talk about his low self-esteem. Despite their efforts to show him that he's loved and valued, Sakura ultimately still believes he's only worth his strength. We see how he rejects Umemiya's praise, unable to understand how he could be praised when he "failed". Sakura can't believe he could be valued when he couldn't even single-handedly save the town.

But, as long as he believes this, his past will remain a mystery, not just to his friends and to us as readers, but even to Sakura himself. Just as Umemiya's repression kept him from realizing that his parents loved him, Sakura's repression keeps him from realizing that he has always deserved to be loved. He cannot acknowledge, can't even recognize, the pain he's endured in his life, because he still has to believe it didn't matter. Because of this, he can't let himself grieve or admit that he has always deserved better. He's still trapped believing he must always prove his worth through his strength alone.

Of course, changing this isn't going to be easy. He will get there. His friends will help him through it. Still, it's going to be rough. I think it'll be a while yet before he's ready to tell us about his past.

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Addendum

All of that being said, something I really love about Wind Breaker is how hopeful it is and the way it shows Sakura living despite his past. To that end, I want to note one last thing: Sakura can still smile, despite everything else. No matter what he tells himself, he still feels hope.

I mentioned above that I didn't recognize Sakura's low self-esteem at first because it's masked with stereotypical shonen protagonist confidence. I think this is very deliberate by the author. We're supposed to see Sakura as cool, confident, and badass in the beginning, only to realize that he's also hurting inside. (Emphasis: that's also, not instead. These aren't mutually exclusive.) Sakura's cocky grin is part of a mask he wears, but it's not a lie.

While I believe Sakura has suffered a lot, it's important to emphasize that he's not broken or doomed to drown in grief. What I've laid out here is what I believe is going on beneath the surface, and I do believe he's going to have to face his trauma eventually, but let's not forget that our boy can still smile after all of that. The fact that he can smile doesn't mean that he's not hurting, but the fact that he's hurting doesn't mean he only feels pain. Let's not do him dirty by miring our view of him in grief. Instead, as we acknowledge how much he's suffered, let's also be happy at just how far he's come and hopeful for how far he'll go in the future.