#and in it all she chooses hope. also not to mention her desire to help others above all else

[moe-broey]

Me, losing my absolute mind over the fairies and the greater implications of it all and the intricacies I swear to fucking god are there I swear to fucking GOD there's way more to them than meets the eye and I'm going to fucking get all the alts I fucking can so I can study The Lore and I'll fucking get to the fucking bottom of it all --

.............. you know what. A nap does sound nice.

[plethorawrites]

Hey, so imagine Jason with a reader whose parents are simply the most loving beings in the universe, like R's father taught him basic things that neither Bruce nor his biological father could (like how to fix a broken sink, how to assemble a cabinet and even love advice) and R's mother was practically like a mother to him (visiting them regularly even when her daughter is not home, bringing soup when they know he is sick and helping him choose Valentine's Day gifts for the reader).

This may be the cutest prompt I've ever received. I love soft Jason soooo much!! (I fear I am not out of my obsession stage yet.)

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Jason Todd obviously grew up with few to no parental guidance and when he got it, it was more often than not negative like manipulation and abuse or neglect.

So, when he meets his girlfriend's parents he's understandably extremely nervous. From what you've told him, they're sweet. But he knows perception can change quickly and let's be real, he's not the good, kind-hearted person anyone would want for their daughter, in his opinion.

That said, when he does meet them for the first time and your mom envelopes him in the biggest hug he's received aside from you (a chronic cuddler, which he's come to appreciate.) he's a little stunned for the moment. It takes him a minute to even remember how to speak to introduce himself.

This man, all 6'2 and 240 pounds of him, actually seems shy for a moment, trying to make a good impression. You find it adorable when his cheeks blush after your mom compliments him on all the nice things you've told them about him. He didn't even know you bragged about him to people, let alone the extent of it. Like yeah, sure, you showered him in affection all the time, but that was at his apartment or yours.

The fact that you had actually mentioned him often enough that they knew about some of his quirks— his disdain for fish because Bruce made him eat it all the time as a kid at fancy events until he couldn't stand it anymore and his desire to meet for dinner not lunch since he had an obscure sleep schedule because of his "job" was astounding to him.

Even though they couldn't know what it was, you still boasted about how he was very passionate about it and you were proud of him for how hard he worked. That, admittedly, made him blush a little harder.

"She says you've got late hours, I hope dinner won't interfere," your mom would tell him considerately.

He shook his head. "No ma'am. I don't work until later."

She beamed. "Well good, then, because we've been dying to meet you."

Even the things about him that he assumed most parents wouldn't be thrilled to hear about, yours didn't seem to mind.

"You grew up in crime Alley, right?" Your father was questioned, in between the salad and entree.

Jason swallowed. There it was, he assumed. The disapproval he was anticipating. "Yes, I did," he replied, nodding.

"It's a difficult area to grow up in," your father noted. "A very close friend of mine was born over there. He's as tough as they come. Very resilient and reliable."

Jason was taken by surprise. "Uh- yeah, yes. I suppose you learn to be loyal when you don't have many people to trust." He internally cursed himself for saying that. It was too dark and pessimistic.

"An admirable quality," your mother said sincerely as you squeezed his hand under the table. "It must have also exposed you to a lot of different types of people and given you a very broad outlook on life."

He just nodded, swallowing some of his water.

Your father had similarly commented that he seemed to have a great work ethic, which Jason clearly appreciated and considered important. Your dad also, at the end of dinner, when you were out of ear range, made a quiet remark to Jason about how he seemed to make you very happy and that's all he ever wanted for his daughter. Jason had been expecting shovel talk or threats. At the very least, judgemental stares, the way he was used to, but instead your parents were absolutely lovely.

And it very clearly wasn't some temporary ruse, either, like he thought it might have been. They really were good people, just like you. When you moved in with him, your parents helped the two of you pack your old apartment and unpack in his. Your mom even insisted on cooking dinner since the two of you were exhausted from all the moving. He would never say no to her cooking, since aside from Alfred's, it was the best he'd ever had.

It was only a few weeks later, in the middle of summer, when your air conditioner broke down. It was Gotham, so obviously it was hot as hell. And of course no one was reliable when it came to actually coming to fix it. Your father, however, was used to fixing things and came over when you casually mentioned it to him after it was broken for a week or two.

He was about halfway through with it when Jason came home and he immediately felt bad just letting him, so your dad pointed towards some tool and asked him for some help.

"I don't really know how to fix an AC. Vehicles are more my thing," he confessed, lifting a wrench to his hand.

Your dad shrugged. "Not that hard. I'll show you."

Jason glanced at where you were sitting at the table with a glass of lemonade, giving him a light shrug. "Okay, sure," he muttered, rolling up his sleeves.

Jason liked to think the two of you had a pretty solid relationship, as far as honesty and commitment went. He loved you, he was almost positive by the time you'd been dating 15 months that he wanted to marry you.

But you still, occasionally, fought the way all couples did. And when you did, it was usually because he struggled to keep plans or left you waiting up for him, only to come home desperately needing stitches.

The worst it ever got was when he deliberately lied to you, swearing he'd stay out of something dangerous and going straight into danger the second he could. Even though nothing that bad actually happened, you were more than a little angry. In fact, during the screaming match you had, he could swear he saw the exact moment your heart broke when you told him you thought he cared more about being Red Hood than he did about you.

You left for hours. Four of them.

And when he heard a knock at the door, he was hopeful it was you, having forgot your keys. Instead, it was your mom. His heart dropped, wondering what she was doing there—planning to yell at him for how he treated you, grabbing some things for you so you could stay away for several days, breaking up with him on your behalf.

All she did was invite herself in, making some coffee (just the way she knew he liked it) and sitting on the couch with him. He was confused and silent, until she spoke up.

"She's not saying what the fight was about," she told him. "I assume it's your work. The uh-... nightly aspect of it?"

He blinked a little. Something about her tone was more suggestive than he liked. "It- partially, yeah," he admitted. "I didn't mean to break my promise."

She nodded. "I know," she muttered. "And I don't think she's mad, just...scared. She doesn't want to lose you."

"She won't," Jason replied instantly.

Your mom's lips quirked into a small smile. "Then tell her that," she suggested, adding that: "Trust is fragile. It takes a long time to build it and a single action can shatter it." She patted his knee, standing up and he stood too, walking her to the door.

"Why do I have a feeling you know what the fight was about, even without her telling you?" He asked quietly if not with some suspicion.

"You're a very good man, Jason," she told him. "But it doesn't take a genius to know why those hours you work are so obscure." Before he could question or deny what he felt she already knew, she was giving him a small kiss on the cheek, the way she often did to greet and say goodbye. "Call her," she said. "I'll make sure she picks up."

So he did. And you did answer, like she promised.

You made up, like always and it wasn't even six months later that he was calling your parents, asking for blessing to propose to you. Of course they said yes and we're thrilled to do so. Your mom even helped him pick out the ring. Which took hours, half because he couldn't decide and half because she kept starting to cry.

When he finally did find the right one, she naturally helped him plan the proposal, too. He wasn't always the greatest at romantic gestures. At least not grand ones. He was always better at the subtle shows of affection—remembering dates and details or taking care of you when you're sick. He doesn't want to do anything overwhelming, but filling the apartment with twinkling lights and telling you—with several tears in his eyes—how much he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, is plenty for you.

"Yes?" He repeats, almost in disbelief that you'd agreed so quickly to marry him.

"Yes, yes, obviously," you repeated, sniffling to keep from crying as you gave him your hand, letting him slip the ring on your finger.

His arms immediately enveloped you, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around like you weighed nothing. Setting you down, his lips found yours for a deep, long kiss, before pressing his forehead against yours and nuzzling your nose.

"I love you so much," he repeated, even though he'd said it three times already.

He already saw plenty of your parents, at least four or five times a month, but it seems like he sees them nearly everyday when the wedding planning starts. Your mom is more concerned with invitations and linens or vows while your dad really just shows up for cake tasting, or trying the catering companies. Not to mention to judge and criticize the venue options.

Still, they're there more than his own father figure is, sort of like they have been since he met them. They're there on your wedding day, crying in the front row when he uses his love of literature to craft was perhaps the most beautiful wedding vows ever recorded. They're there to take care of your apartment when you're on your honeymoon, coming to water the plants and collect the mail, not to mention stock the fridge before you get back.

They're there for your birthday and his, as well as Thanksgiving and Christmas. They're there to help prepare for the baby when you eventually have kids, your mom by soothing Jason's nerves and your dad by helping him paint the nursery or assemble furniture. They're there after the baby is born and visit whenever you need a babysitter for a few hours or even days to spend time together.

They're there, he realizes. They're there and he loves that, not just for you or for the baby, but for himself too. For the little kid inside him that never fully felt like any adults around him truly had his best interests at heart.

[iris-qt]

𝟻 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛

✧ ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

✧ ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

✧ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ | 3.1ᴋ

✧ ᴀ/ɴ: ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ @girllblogging777 ꜰᴏʀ ᴀꜱᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ'ꜱ ꜰᴀᴠ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛʏ ʙᴏʏ

✧ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ꜱᴛʀɪᴋᴇꜱ ᴜᴘ ᴀ ʙᴇᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪꜱ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ɢɪᴠᴇꜱ ʜɪᴍ 5 ᴅᴀʏꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ. ʜᴇ ᴛʀɪᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀɪᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ꜱᴇᴇᴍꜱ ᴛᴏ ɪɴᴛᴇʀʀᴜᴘᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍ.

Day 0

If dying of embarrassment were a thing, Mattheo Riddle would be deceased.

“In Potions, I think I saw you actually drooling over her, mate.”

Enzo chuckles at Theodore’s quip, adding, “I knew it was bad, but not that bad.”

Mattheo groans, hiding his face in his hands as the three boys are sat around a table in the Slytherin common room, the flames of the fire dying out at the later hour, gentle rain tapping the low windows that offer an inky view of the Black Lake.

“She answered a question no one knew the answer to. You have to admit, that’s pretty impressive,” Mattheo says desperately, raising his head from the table, hoping for a glimpse of sympathy from his friends.

All it succeeds in doing, however, is inciting further fits of laughter from them.

“With friends like you guys, who needs enemies,” Mattheo lowly mutters, crossing his arms and glaring.

“No, but since when were you into smart girls, Riddle?” Enzo asks in between laughs.

Mattheo sighs, leaning back in his seat. He gazes over at his faint reflection in the low windows, lost in thought. The truth is, Lorenzo made a good point. Mattheo was always into girls that would give him their undying attention and a few nights of fun. Then, he’d move on. It was a mutual understanding between them. He’d never truly play with their emotions, but he’d make his intentions clear. 

Take it or leave it.

And usually they’d take it. 

But you were truly something else. A genius on the pitch and in the classroom. Academic and athletic weapon, not to mention your biting humor that always seemed to make his heart beat faster.

“Tell you what, Matt. Let us help you,” Theodore leans forward, traces of amusement still evident on his face.

Mattheo raises an eyebrow at Theodore’s offer, waiting for him to continue.

“I propose a deadline. You have 5 days to ask her out before the Hogsmeade trip on Saturday.”

Mattheo sighs, his gaze settling suspiciously on the smiling boys.

“And if I fail?”

“You buy us as many sweets from Honeydukes as we desire,” Enzo grins, “and you know how much I love candy..”

Mattheo stands up, choosing to create an air of confidence around him, although he’s panicking about the prospect of confessing to you. 

“You have yourself a deal, boys.”

Day 1

His plan to confess as soon as possible so as not to feel the desperation of losing time reached a roadblock as Mattheo woke up remembering he had a Quidditch game that morning.

Against your house. (sorry slytherin readers forgive me)

He didn’t want you to be in a bad mood from a loss, but he also didn’t want to seem like a loser in your eyes. He would never be one to lose purposefully, as he knew you’d loathe that, so Mattheo resolved to play fair.

The game progressed onwards as his house took the lead, but he had to admit he wasn’t much help despite his efforts. Seeing your hair flowing in the wind against the lush green hills, your determined face, your shining skin…it was distracting to say the least..

Suddenly, you loop upwards, narrowly avoiding a bludger that zooms past you and heads straight towards Mattheo.

He barely avoids it, the bludger chipping away part of his brand new broomstick.

“Shit..”

“Keep your head in the game, Riddle,” you smirk, flying up next to him.

“Hard when those bludgers are attempting to behead me,” he grins back. Talking to his favorite person was his new favorite hobby, even if you could be intending to insult him..

You ended up catching the snitch and winning your house this integral game, shooting your team to the House Cup Finals. You landed on the grass, smiling gleefully, your face glistening with triumph and sweat despite the quite chilly weather.

Mattheo landed on the ground next to you, grinning at your expression. He wholeheartedly thought you deserved this win. He’d seen you practicing at the crack of dawn and the fall of the moon. He knew how hard you worked as captain. He saw you on his morning walks, and from the towers of Hogwarts when he’d smoke over the rail, watching your figure shooting through the air in the velvet darkness.

Lost in the ecstasy of the atmosphere, Mattheo resolved to let his feelings be known right then and there. What greater chance for you to agree to a date when your spirits were raised so high?

He approached you, broom in hand, and you turned around to look at him with an ecstatic grin on your face; one he couldn’t resist to mirror.

“Good game, Riddle,” you stuck your hand out, slightly sympathetic for the boy’s loss despite his oddly bright expression.

“Good game, y/l/n. I actually wanted to ask you something..” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck. Despite the adrenaline pumping through his veins, nerves were slowly eating away at his windpipe, restricting him from choking out the words he’d desired to tell you.

But he had resolved to do it.

And Mattheo Riddle was many things, but not a coward.

You raised your eyebrow at him, waiting for him to speak further.

“I was wondering if you would go with-”

He was interrupted by your surprised yelp and laugh of joy as your teammates lifted you to their shoulders, yelling and cheering your name. 

You put your hands up in victory, the golden snitch still struggling in your grip.

“We’ll talk later, Mattheo!” you shout at him, waving your hands to get his attention. 

Not that you had to.

You had forever stolen his gaze.

Day 2

So, his original strategy had proved to be a failure. The whole of yesterday, your house wouldn’t leave you alone. When you took a quick trip to the hospital wing to patch up some quick little cuts, your housemates followed you, cheering. When you were walking through the halls, you were surrounded by at least 8 congratulating classmates. In the night, you were at the party celebrating your win. Always busy.

Mattheo never got the chance to just confess as soon as possible, but no matter. This was just day 2, and he still had plenty of time. He had put up with more of his friends’ teasing regarding his harbored crush, but he’d be willing to brave the storm of his friends’ jabs if it meant eventually seeing it die away when he finally had you by his side.

If you’d accept him that is..

He groaned as he walked through the busy halls of Hogwarts during a break period. 

Love was too hard.

He walked into the courtyard to find his friends, but his eyes immediately landed on you. You were quickly skimming a Potion’s textbook, no doubt studying for the sudden test that had been sprung on by Slughorn. He can’t imagine you had much time to study due to the match and celebrations. It was unlike you to look so harried and unprepared. 

He knew this couldn’t be the right time, but he had to test the waters. Perhaps you were still in a good mood?

What he didn’t know was that you’d always be happy to see him. Even if you were having a meltdown, you'd grin at the sight of him.

And that’s exactly what happened.

Mattheo walked up to you, smoothly sliding onto the stone bench beside you. He was immediately met with your smiling face as your attention was diverted from the book.

“Y/N unprepared for a test? Never thought I’d see the day,” he nudged your shoulder playfully with his own as you gave him a mock glare.

“I’m hoping I’ll suddenly procure a photographic memory and just capture the words on this textbook in my brain,” you say, putting the book super close to your eyes as you pretend to absorb all the knowledge.

Mattheo laughs, “I wish I could help but I’m not the best person to ask for, well, any school subjects, to be honest.”

You snickered as you regarded him, eyes alight. 

“Oh yeah, what was it you were trying to ask me on the pitch yesterday?”

Well, he couldn’t back down now.

“I was just wondering if you’d like-”

“Y/N!!!” your best friend comes running through the halls toward you, waving a bundle of parchment with hastily written words. “I just took the Potions test and this is what's on it.”

Your eyes widen in delight as you peer over at her parchment. Your attention being completely drawn away, Mattheo gets up with a sigh and stalks off toward his friends, feeling dejected.

He doesn’t notice the sorry glance you throw his way, upset that his words got interrupted once more.

Day 3

You couldn’t sleep that night and you awoke feeling puffy and down. It seemed as if Mattheo Riddle had been avoiding you the rest of yesterday and you knew it was because he had something to say to you but kept getting interrupted. 

Something important to tell you and something that made him nervous.

That couldn’t mean…

Of course not.

But you’ve had feelings for him for a long time, and the prospect that he could feel the same excited you. Perhaps you should cave first and confess because if that’s what the poor boy had been attempting, after being interrupted twice you doubted he had the guts to do it again. Besides, it’d be a weight lifted from your heart. 

You knew he took early morning walks as he’d often retell his experiences to you when you used to sit next to him in class:

“...and then this bigass bird took a fat shit on McLaggen’s head, and that's when I knew it was going to be a glorious day,” he finished proudly, smiling.

“Now, that’s a good omen if I’ve ever heard of one,” you grinned as you both indulged in quiet laughter, hidden at the back of the History of Magic Classroom.

Who knew such a dull class would quickly become your favorite.

He must’ve not taken a walk today because you couldn’t find him. 

Now, cruel fate had moved him as far away as possible in that classroom with no chance to sneak a quick conversation in. He seemed quite upset today in the one class you’d seen him in, keeping his head low and dozing off a few times. Twice you’d seen him steal a glance at you then look away abruptly.

You found him later that day, walking through the dark hallways after dinner. It was quiet and empty as the rest of the students had made their way to their common rooms or the library. He was looking down and was wiping something from his nose with the back of his hand. It looked like…

Blood.

“Riddle?” you called out softly, and his ebony eyes trained on you in a panic.

He had never intended for you to ever see him like this. Dejected and bleeding.

You stand there, hugging yourself amidst the chills of the vast, stone halls, clinging onto your sweater. 

“A fight?”

He nods, not being able to meet your eyes.

You gently grab his arm, beginning to pull him in the direction of the Hospital Wing. Maybe you could confess in there while he was getting patched up, although that may not be the best time for it. 

Perhaps now to lighten the mood of this awkward walk?

If he rejects you, at least teasing you about it would make him more cheerful.

“Hey, Mattheo…I just wanted to let you know that-”

Before you could get very far, however, a bloodied Gryffindor boy strides toward you guys, calling Riddle’s name in an icy tone. 

You both whirl around, and Riddle grits his teeth, upset to see the boy he had just fought with.

“You thought you could just escape?” the boy stops 7 feet away, balling up his fists

“You were out cold, so yeah, I assumed I could.”

“Rematch, Riddle.”

He looks back at you, something glistening in his eyes.

“Go, y/l/n.”

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes, “You think I’m just gonna leave you here, bleeding?”

“Go.”

You realize there’s no stopping this fight and, frankly, you didn’t want to see Mattheo beating someone up. You walk straight to the nearest professor’s quarters and alert them of the fight, framing it so it sounds like Mattheo was ambushed and simply fought back as self-defense. After doing so, you slip into your room, lying awake, hoping he’s ok.

Day 4

Mattheo was cutting it close, but this week had been a doozy. He hoped today would be an ordinary day in which he could finally, peacefully confess his vibrant feelings for you.

That morning, Mattheo finds you in the library next to a stack of mythology books. He walks up, a smile already forming on his face at the familiar sight of your gorgeous, focused face.

“I wasn’t aware there was a Mythology class at Hogwarts,” he smiles, leaning against your table. His face was covered in cuts and bruises while his nose seemed haphazardly bandaged.

You look up at him disapprovingly, eyes tracing his injuries.

“It's called reading for fun, Mattheo. You should try it sometimes.”

“No, thank you.”

You shot him a sardonic smile, leaning back in your chair.

“Listen, y/n, I wanted to thank you for shifting the blame off of me for the fight but-”

“No problem, I had to do something,” you shrug.

“But…I could’ve handled it myself. You tainted my reputation and it made me seem like I’m weak and scared of authority.”

You raise an eyebrow, a look of disbelief blossoming on your face.

“You’re seriously annoyed with me for helping you NOT get in trouble?” you stand up from your seat staring him in the eye. “Your stupid pride and reputation is worth more than that?”

He furrows his brows, perplexed by your reaction.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he sighs. “My reputation is all I have” is what he meant to share, but vulnerability was not his strong point.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t,” you stand up, grabbing your books, and walk out, not looking back once.

Mattheo watches you go, feeling as if whatever grip he had on you had lessened. He could feel you falling through his fingers.

Day 5 ₊˚ෆ

Mattheo would’ve accepted his defeat if this was any other bet. Confessing to y/n was a harder task than it seemed. 

The thing is, this wasn’t any other bet, and Mattheo Riddle was as adamant as ever to let you know how he felt about you. Being in your presence was a hot bowl of soup on a sick day. It was a warm glass of spiced butterbeer after playing in the snow. It was a blanket after being warmed by the fire. It was a comfort he never allowed himself to indulge in.

He wanted it in a stronger dose. He needed the comfort of a relationship with you. And today, he intended to get it. 

He awoke early as usual since he couldn’t sleep past six: his thoughts always woke him up far too early. Getting dressed and heading outside, he sees you reading your mythology books under a big oak tree, bundled up in a deep grey trench coat. As he approached with his silent steps and hands in his pockets, he realized it was Norse mythology today. Despite him acting clueless, he also enjoyed reading myths for fun.

He stopped a few feet away from you and you looked up unsurprisingly, as if you knew he was approaching the entire time. With a quick glance at the empty spot next to you, you signal Mattheo to join you in the misty morning air. You couldn’t help but feel as if this replicated the foggy morning scene in one of your favorite movies, Pride and Prejudice.

He settled next to you, shoulders touching.

“I hope a bigass bird shits on your head,” you murmur in a playful tone, recalling his tale, looking at him with a fake gleam of scorn in your eyes. Not entirely fake as you were quite annoyed about yesterday night in the library.

He laughs at that, tilting his head to look at you in all your morning glory.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he whispers, looking at you with utter adoration, although you don’t characterize it as such. “I just…I feel as if my reputation is all I have.”

He looks away at that, across the grounds, embarrassed to admit anything so close to his heart.

You nod understandingly, touching his pinky with your own.

“We’re cool, Riddle.”

He takes a deep breath and keeps barreling on, ready to confess to you and pour out his heart. 

“Listen, y/n. I kept getting interrupted but I-”

“RIDDLE!” Draco is making his way towards them, looking frantic. You and Mattheo both stand up, looking concerned at his expression. He wears cloak with the hood up and looks panicked, striding towards them in a half run until he is standing before them, panting.

“What happened, what's wrong?” Mattheo urges, shaking Draco’s shoulders.

Draco yanks off his hood to reveal his baby pink hair and you and Mattheo stare at him for a moment.

And then burst out laughing.

“Do you know who did this?” Draco is fuming, balling his fists as he glares at the both of you.

“No, mate, but you have yourself a nemesis,” Mattheo says, gasping for breath. Draco grabs his arm beginning to pull him away, muttering something about helping him get revenge. You’re not letting Mattheo get away again, so you grab his other arm, engaging in a game of tug-of-war. Mattheo shakes off Draco and shoos him off with a wave of his hand and a small glare as Draco gives in and walks away, sulking.

“Where were we?”

“You were on a vulnerability rampage,” you smirk, releasing your grip much to his displeasure.

He smiles shyly as he looks off into the distance, finding your gaze a burning sensation. 

“I really, really like you, y/n. And I’ve been trying to let you know for a while now.

You smile as you angle your neck to force Mattheo to look into your eyes. 

Oh, how you loved his ebony doe eyes.

“Well, it’s a good thing I really like you too, Mattheo.”

And Mattheo Riddle grinned as he finally had the girl of his dreams, and they both engaged in an all-out rampage of Honeydukes, paid for by Lorenzo and Theodore, of course.

[imaluvsj7]

緑 ──── KISS AND MAKE UP ; nishimura riki

SYNOPSIS: riki and reader make up after the argument over text but not only for the argument but also riki learns a little more about relationship PAIRING : idol riki x reader GENRE : fluffy, angst ; WC : 1,379

WARNINGS : to understand the plot better you need to read my riki boyfriend text smau which I have linked here and also all the way down. Not proofread thoroughly, english is not my first language. That's it I don't think there is anything sensitive they have some good talk about relationship.

AUTHORS NOTE : clearly my feminist didn't come over, but honestly to all the girls out there please choose a kind ask generous guy and don't be mother to any guy who takes everything from them I tried to put my message through this fic sorry not sorry if it offends anyone. I hope to make the mother wizard liz girls get it!!! DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

written in second person pov:

It's been two weeks since you have talked with Riki, one of the reasons was obviously you were upset with him but mainly because you don't know what to even talk about.

He has been sending flowers, food, and little gifts to apologize with a note saying he is sorry. Not only that but he is constantly sending you messages and voicemails. First it was explaining himself and apologizing but now it's all about him apologizing and asking to talk to you in person.

Today you finally thought of responding to him and meeting him because soon he has to prepare for their comeback, which also means there will be a tour announcement. You don't want him to go on without solving everything.

Walking towards the park you guys always meet since him being an idol wasn't an easy task to roam with his girlfriend everywhere. Thoughts have filled your brain that desires to turn around and run away but you kept your decision firm.

Walking towards the bench you guys usually sit you find him eagerly waiting because of his bouncing leg. “Hi” he turns his head and looks at you, soon standing up and nervously trying to stabilize himself.

“H-hi ___ you came hah I was waiting for you to arrive you know to talk and make up I know you wanted to talk and we talk but I wanted to talk so much” he shuts up as realized he was rumbling. “Sorry I am just nervous”.

“It's okay riki let's sit and talk please.” Soon you both sat while there was silence for a few seconds but he was the first one to break it. “___ I know it was my mistake,I said in the heat of the moment. I know it's just an excuse but please I'm genuinely sorry I didn't mean to say that.”

“Riki it's not only about part of me going to your company but also how you didn't understand why I took stand for jake, I explained to you but you didn't even once responded to that text or even mentioned it once, talking about me understanding your idol industry yeah sure I don't experience them I don't understand the same emotions but I have seen you guys working.

I always sat with you whenever you went through rough patches in your idol life. I tried my best to understand never backed away and how can I let someone disrespect Jake when all he was was being too comfortable with him.

Jake was clearly uncomfortable with her actions and he set the boundaries by dismissing her but then she went all defensive talking about how bad Jake was during practice hours so she is trying to help him. She isn't even your guy's choreographer and not only that also went too far saying Jake is acting too tough when all he did was speak for himself.

How can I let someone talk to him like that? I walked inside when she was talking in a disrespectful tone with him and all I did was hold her accountable for her actions and words. As soon as the manager called you and said I was being disrespectful you started giving me silent treatment even after Jake explained to you the whole situation you didn't approach me.

And even after understanding the whole situation you went ahead and said those words.” — you take a breath after letting out all the thoughts and emotions you had suppressed in the two weeks. “I know it was my fault soon after the text Jungwon hyung called everyone to talk about the matter and after discussing with them I realized my mistake and the things I said.

Before the discussion the manager told me Jake hyung did stand for himself and because you're not a part of the company you don't need to come over because of your disrespectful behavior. I knew and even defended you that you definitely did that because of some reason but as soon as the manager said I need to distance myself from you I went blank and felt angry and I just took that out of you even after Jake told me everything.

I was just angry about the situation and in the heat of the moment I thought if Jake did speak up for himself you didn't had to meddle in between which was my fault, I understand what you're coming from baby I was just furious from mangers words and I just took that on your I’m really sorry. I know that's my mistake and I swear I'm ready to do everything to make it right. I just don't want to lose you. I know it's pathetic and corny to say the sentence after doing wrong and all guys say the same thing but I mean it please I will do whatever you want me to.”

“Reflect on yourself then, reflect on your words and actions, it's not only about now it's about everytime we go through anything. I don't want a guy who acts tough and is emotionally unavailable when it's required. I want you to act mature when we have arguments and by that I don't mean you need to always be right or wrong I mean be a generous guy who understands the situation, who knows how to talk and knows how to communicate when it's required.

And it won't be achieved in the next day or the next moment. You need to work on yourself everyday, especially during every argument, it's not only about now but always. Do you understand what I'm saying?” — he quickly nods while looking at your hand and you nod, giving him permission to hold your hand.

“I know I'm definitely not the best guy and I love how mature you're ___ despite being the same age as me but I will try my best to understand your words and work on them, I know I am bad at some point of the relationship and that will never be an excuse to treat you bad but rather I will work of them I will understand situations before acting up. Just please hold my hand to guide me when we are in such situations.”

“I will riki but just know I'm not your mother who is raising a child, I will guide you depending upon the situation but you need to enhance your knowledge about relationship and how to make it work you're old enough to understand some aspects when things go wrong. I will guide you but I'm not your mother to stay emotionally strong through everything you do. I want a partner riki, not a baby.”

“Then lean on me as a partner and walk out when you need to play the role of mother. I don't want to act like a manchild or mommy's boy but as your beloved. Lean on me when we both know the direction and walk out when I push you forward to lead us on the path, lovely.”

Looking at you with teary eyes he asks “I know forgiveness isn't about the text but my behavior so it will take time and I want you to take time, but let's not break apart.” — he pleads with eyes filled with tears. “Who said we are breaking apart you dumb dumb of course not we will make it work” — you said while wiping his tears and hugging him while he breaks down in little sniffles.

“I was scared I thought you're going to break up after you stopped responding to me.” “Well that was because I wasn't mentally prepared to talk, you know.” “It's okay you're my precious so I am a little emotional.” “You sure it's little.” “Stop being mean, I will cry more.” — you laugh lightly at his whiny state while he still has his head in the crook of your neck. Soon after hugging for about ten minutes he pulls his head up and asks.

“So I can please kiss you.” “Well I don't think so.” “Sweetheart please please please.” “Sure you big baby.” — He quickly leans in while meeting your lips and locking them softly while he holds your hands tightly, silently promising himself to do better.

꩜ .ᐟ NOTE : haven't made my taglist yet so please ask in the reply to be added in my permanent taglist for more bangers,,, also I hope this doesn't turns out boring but people genuinely understand my point and for more context read part 1 here!!

꩜ .ᐟ TAGS: @taeminsboogers @mimisxs @nishimurarikisthings @avacelestepereira @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor

˙ . ꒷ 🍰 masterlist taglist. 𖦹˙—

࣪

[wintfleur]

hi roro! love your works!! they’re so good like, I come back and read them over and over😭 can you do a fic where the reader is regularly in landos streams and the fans just adore them and it’s so cutie? thank you so much! if not just ignore this omg 😂

ꔫ baby we’re on camera

°. — pairings ( lando norris x fem! reader )

°. — summary ( lando loves teasing his girl on stream )

°. — details ( g; fluff. w; slightly suggestive at the end ig? wc; 2.6k )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( omg I’m soso sorry about how long this took for me to get out, I absolutely loved the idea I just don’t know why it took me so long to write! I also read the part where the reader is regularly in the streams wrong, but I do hope you enjoy it! And thank you so much for the kind words! 🫶🏻 also thank you to my lovely bestie @chrisevansonly for helping me come up with some of the ridiculous usernames! )

main masterlist f1 masterlist

“Where is y/n” Lando reads aloud as he leans back in his chair, the neon yellow username catching his attention in his moving chat. A smile immediately appeared on his face at the mention of his girlfriend of a few years, a few people in the chat noticing and commenting on it. When he first started streaming, he always used to get shy whenever his chat would mention you, sometimes choosing to not comment on the messages. 

Only because he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by over sharing. He loved talking about you, he could talk about you for hours, but he would respect your desire for privacy. But over the years of your relationship the two of you became more open about your relationship, and you often found yourself appearing on his stream; and his chat absolutely loved all the cute moments that would happen when you do. 

“She went out with some of her girlfriends” he nodded as he softly drummed a beat on the armrests of his chair with his fingers. His mind took him back to the morning where he kissed you goodbye and watched you walk out of the apartment; you looked so pretty all dolled up to go out with your friends. Lando suddenly missed you very much the more he thought about you. 

“Actually, she should be home any minute now” he mumbled, loud enough for the microphone to pick it up. He leans forward and picks up his phone, hoping to see a text from you saying that you're on your way home, but instead he just sees his wallpaper of you posing dramatically with a golf club, no text in sight. His lips twitch up to a smile at the sight of his silly wallpaper, he loved your silly side. 

“Actually, I have no idea when she's going to be home” Lando chuckles as he sets his phone back down. He hoped that you came back soon, he had noticed it started to rain and he always got worried about you driving in the rain. You were fully capable; he was just always worrying about you. 

“Did she go out with the other wags?” Lando read out loud a chat message, he had noticed a few other messages asking the same thing. He didn't understand why a lot of his fans were so obsessed with seeing you with the other wags. He answered with a smile “No no she went out with some childhood friends that came to visit; she was really excited to see them.” 

“Guys I'm not going to call her; I don't want to interrupt her fun” Lando shakes his head with a small chuckle. Sometimes it felt like his chat was clingier than he was with you, and that's nearly impossible because he's one clingy boyfriend. Lando focuses on one of his monitors to change the music, his eyes were on his monitor, so he didn't see the chat explode with messages about you and he didn't see you open the door and peek your head in. 

You had gotten home about 10 minutes ago and usually the first thing you would do is greet your boyfriend, but this time you had to change out of your damp clothes. The rain had definitely surprised you and your friends. You quietly opened the door, your fluffy sock covered feet softly padded against the floor. Lando glanced at his chat and saw everyone saying, ‘hi y/n!’. Lando quickly turns his head, and a big smile appears on his face at the sight of you “Baby, you're back!” 

“Yeah, I got back not too long ago, had to change first” you explained to your boyfriend as you stepped closer to him, looking down at your outfit consisting of, fluffy socks, gray sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt. You tried not to glance at the camera too much, you were still a little nervous about being in front of the camera, so you kept the conversation going. You hand your boyfriend who was smiling at you, the brown bakery box filled with delicious pastries “I brought you something, i just knew i had to get you some when i tried them.” 

“Thank you, baby, these look delicious” he gives you one more big smile before he takes a bite into one of the sugary donuts. He lets out a dramatic groan of satisfaction as he leans back in his chair, they were absolutely delicious. You roll your eyes and let out a small laugh, leaning slightly against his chair. You look away from the chat that was moving way too fast for you to read, and back down at lando who was absolutely devouring the pastry. “Just don’t eat all of them, i don't want jon to hate me.” 

“Who cares if he does…because I love you” Lando smiles cheekily, tilting his head up to place a kiss on your cheek. You close your eyes and let out a surprised giggle, wiping off the excess sugar that got on your cheek from his lips. Lando gives you a wink when you open your eyes and goes back to reading his chat. His heart filled with warmth at all the messages saying how cute the two of you are, and how some said they wished they had a sweet girlfriend like you; those made him want to smirk, knowing that there was no one even close to being like you. You were perfect in his eyes. 

landolotts  you guys are so cute, y/n is so lucky…

ittybittypiastri  where did she get that sweater? Link? 

dannyricscowboyhat  lando can pull??? How???

hornerishot  omg moms back! 

oconsunderatedbby  can y/n/n stay? We've missed her! <3 

quadrantstar   we've missed you y/n! 

“The chat wants you to stay, so do i” Lando looked up at you with a smile on his lips, his tone trailing off to a soft whisper. His eyes silently begging you to stay, he understands why you wouldn't, but he still was hopeful. You noticed the look in his eyes, and you couldn't say no to him, not with how he was looking up at you. “Okay, let me go get a chair.” 

“You have one,” Lando smiles playfully, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you down to sit on his lap. Your eyes widened for a second at his boldness and Lando worried for a moment that he was too bold when he felt you stiffen in his lap, but the both of you relaxed as you leaned back against him and laced your fingers with his, that now rested on your thigh. 

You decided not to look at the chat, knowing that their messages would make you feel more flustered. You clear your throat and tilt your head to the side to get a better look at lando, who was already smiling at you “So what were you and chat up to?” 

“We were just chatting and trying to decide what game to play next” Lando said with a cheeky smile as he looked away from you to read the chat, a giggle leaving his lips at some of the messages. Most of them were funny and sweet, of course there was the occasional weird one, but Lando chose to hold his tongue, not wanting to go off on weird chatters while you were there. You already weren't the most comfortable in front of the camera, he didn't want to make you feel more uncomfortable by calling out the weird freaks in his chat. 

“You should play Fortnite” you suggest with a big smile, you have enjoyed watching your boyfriend stream the game. The two of you having even more fun when you played it together off stream. Lando playfully rolls his eyes and tilts his head to the side, dramatically shaking his head “You only want me to play that because you like teasing me about how bad i am.” 

“That I do” you quickly agreed with a laugh. Lando gasped dramatically and his hold on your waist tightened as he pulled you back closer to his chest, as he continued with his dramatics, little did chat know he was already booting up the said game “Are you hearing this chat?” 

The chat was moving fast, as many of the chatters commented on how cute the two of you were, and how natural the banter was. A lot of the viewers agreed that he should play Fortnite, saying that ‘mom’ always has good ideas. Lando had also wanted to play the game, but now he wanted to play it more because you suggested it. He spoke quietly, his tone sending shivers down your spine as his eyes were focused on the screen. “I’ll play just for you baby.”  

The couple spent the next hour playing Fortnite, well lando was playing and you were still perched in his lap and giving him some tips, you had younger siblings so of course you knew how to play the game. After Lando got frustrated about losing for the third time in a row, he was quick to suggest you have a go at the ‘stupid game’. 

So, you sat straight on his lap, your eyes focused on the game, determined to place further in the game then he did. Lando had both of his arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as he watched with a smile at how cute you looked with his headphones on your head and the cute look of focus you had on your face. He had to stop himself from leaning down and littering your neck in kisses, he could vividly imagine your reaction if he did. ‘Baby were on camera’ you would mutter shyly with that flustered smile on your lips, that he loved so much. 

You weren't familiar with the new map that well, so you let lando pick a place for you to drop. When Lando started to tease you for your sneaking you were quick to defend your game play, sassily telling him that you're not playing for kills but playing to win. The chat loved the chemistry that the two of you had, Lando teasing you about how he's better and you with your witty responses. 

“Lan'' you muttered in a warning tone when you feel him slip one of his hands under the front of your sweatshirt, his warm hand flattens on your stomach, you know his touch is anything but innocent. Lando has a toothy grin on his face, his fingers now tracing shapes on your skin as he spoke innocently “What? Is my touch distracting you?” 

“You wish” you scoffed playfully, not wanting him and chat to know that his touch was in fact distracting you. Lando smiles triumphantly at your reaction, knowing that you were lying, and he was in fact distracting you but nonetheless he stops his movements. Lando rests his chin on your shoulder again and quietly watches you play. His eyes glancing at the chat ever so often, his heart filling with warmth at all the sweet chats about the two of you. 

As the game goes on, Lando's quiet tone turns into a tone of excitement when he realizes that there are only three people left, including you. The chat spammed loll’s and laughing emojis as Lando excitedly tried to give you tips and you telling him to shut up because you couldn't hear yourself think. Lando pouts grumpily and leans back in his chair, now wanting your attention even more. You were too caught up in wanting to win the game to notice your pouting boyfriend. 

And win is exactly what you did, you hid until the other two started fighting and that's when you jumped out of the bush you were hiding in and killed them both. As soon as the #1 victory royal showed up on the screen you turned your head to smile excitedly at lando. Lando laughs and places a sweet kiss on your cheek, his hands rubbing our side under your sweater “Good job baby” You giggled as you say thank you, also thanking the chat that was congratulating you for your win. 

When you feel one of his fingers secretly dip into the band of your sweatpants, you take your hands off the keyboard and mouse and nonchalantly get up from his lap. Making your way over to the shelf that was by his desk and out of sight from the camera to ‘grab’ ChapStick. Lando’s frown from you getting up, turns into a smirk when he realizes why you did, having felt you clench your thighs together before you got up. 

“All right, chat I'm gonna head off. Gotta go properly congratulate my girl for winning” Lando watched your figure as you got up from his lap and moved to the other side of his room out of the view of the camera with the bite of his lip, he glanced back at the camera with a smirk. His tone was suggestive, and a loud laugh leaves his lips when you turn around and throw the small plushie he had on one of his shelves that you had gotten him at his head. Lando catches the bear as you give him a look of shock and embarrassment “Lando! Chat he's joking, please ignore him”! 

“Trust me, chat I'm not joking” Lando winks with a cheeky smile at the camera, very much enjoying how flustered you got and the way the chat started to go crazy. You groan in embarrassment and grab your phone off his desk “That's it, I'm leaving!” you wave your hand for the chat, not wanting to bend down to be in the frame of the camera, knowing that the chat would definitely be able to see how flustered you were “Bye chat!” 

Lando watched you walk out of the room with a grin, you give him a playful glare before closing the door behind you. Lando had planned on streaming for longer, but he couldn't ignore that ache he felt in his heart when you left the room, he wanted to spend more time with you. He loved watching you become more comfortable in front of the camera, in front of his chat in the short amount of time you joined him. Lando picks up his head set that you had set down on the desk when you took them off, lando hums along to the song that was playing as he closes his tabs before leaning back in his chair and reading the chat “Alright chat, it's time for me to head off.” 

Lando tried to keep up with his chat, the messages zooming by, most of them were about you. Talking about how they enjoyed your presence and begging Lando to convince you to come back on the stream soon. Lando smiles “I'll let her know chat” Lando hears the familiar sound of his phone going off with a notification. He was quick to pick up his phone, a mischievous grin spreading over his lips when he saw the notification. 

y/n 💞: in bed…waiting for that proper congratulations ☺️

Lando quickly shuts off his phone as he feels a warm blush spread across his face and neck. He clears his throat and giggles nervously when the chat breaks out in a bunch of question marks with your name, obviously seeing how flustered he had become from seeing the notification. Lando nods and waves at the chat, eager to end and join you in your shared bed “See you guys soon.” 

Lando ends the stream and quickly rushes to shut off his computer, he grabs his phone and quickly gets out of his chair and makes his way to the door. He stops in his tracks once he remembers something and rushes over to his desk to pick up the brown box of donuts. Lando opens the door, careful not to drop the delicious pastries and his phone, rushing down the hallway. Calling out for you. 

“Baby wait for me!”  

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I really missed writing for Lando, I have a lot of ideas and req’s for him that I want to write! I’ve just been kinda focused on my hockey AU! But I will try to find a better schedule so I could work on that and my f1 fics! I also have another idea for another lando streaming based fic, it’s going to be so cute! )

°. — taglist ( @iloveyou3000morgan @copper-boom @ophcelia @cixrosie )

[jaal-ama-daravv]

dissecting the Emmrich graveyard scene below for how down bad they are for eachother

dissecting the alternate romance path dissecting the argument scene (lich path) dissecting the emmrich romance scene (lich path) emmrich x rook cinematic

find my original post here

we begin -

"I would hate to lose you whilst I am still mortal"

this line is directly after Rook questioning all the flirting and what that means for them should he become a lich. which Emmrich responds witht he above. this is a tough one for me to break down as either way Emmrich retains his soul, emotions, and thoughts if he becomes a lich. I believe this line is tied to the fact of being afraid Rook will not want him anymore once he explains his desire to be a lich, as alluded to throughout the rest of the scene.

this one is kind of self explanatory. Emmrich states that nothing will change if he becomes a lich, apart form the no death thing, but would still consider Rook in the decision.

then we are met with a sigh - this is a sigh of desperation. 'how do i choose my words so carefully that Rook see's my desire and doesn't shun me for it' - hence Emmrich goes on to explain what being a lich would mean in hopes rook will still desire him. (this becomes a big factor throughout the rest of the lich romance - desire)

'considerations'

as above, and again now with considering rook. now the first conversation cuts out after this. it is my belief that these considerations are considering Rook and their perspective, whilst also including the fact that it is later revealed that Emmrich might die during the rite, therefore losing Rook whilst still mortal. I believe this line is both a statement of care for Rook, and his fear od death.

throughout the quest, Rook asks Emmrich a bunch of questions, more so just filler content so Rook can understand lichdom and the process.

then Emmrich shows you something that is probably the closest thing to his heart before Rook. his parents graves. keep in mind that Emmrich had these made, and he engraved 'they walk eternity hand in hand'. Then the next shot is Rook and Emmrich walking side by side to the shrine.

walking eternity hand in hand is also mentioned in the lich romance scene,"find you in another world" aka the fade. this man has believed in soulmates for decades.

subtle conversation tactic of, 'what would you want me to be, rook'. here you either say happy with someone who cares about him, or break up with him (i do nOT reccommend).

simple to the point, emmrich is looking for subtle validation here for rooks feelings

and the fact that there is only one correct option is wild too.

If you choose, "Whatever you want", you reply by saying Happy. which very close to the romance committment line of "Happy with someone who cares for you."

Emmrich is looking for that connection so so badly, hence why only one option

Emmrich's gaze towards Rook as he asks them what shes wants, and baring his soul to her.

after committing - Emmrich does not look away from rook once.

rook is fucked. rook is head over heels in love and smitten with this man. keep in mind that throughout the rest of the game, there are conversations with companions where Emmrich will straight up shut them down when pressed about them 'moving too fast' or 'do you know what you are doing'. Emmrich is very clearly defensive about these things, which is so hot.

in my playthrough, they are necromancers, well aware of how short life is, especially facing the apocolypse. ofc they are going all in.

this man is gonna go home and jump up and down on his bed

do i need to explain this? the shrine of passion and devotion, the ETERNAL SHRINE.

anyway im really, really down bad for this dynamic and them. im also in love with my rook so that doesnt help.

ill most likely do a break down of each scene

[iambilliejeanok]

🩷Lust and Tradition🩷

Summary: Gojo Satoru finds himself obsessing over his arranged wife’s innocence. He ends up finding himself doing things to her that even frightens him at times. Y/n who never even knew what sex was until she married Satoru, must now navigate how she should manage her own uncontrollable lust to please her husband, who simply has no mercy when it comes to having her obey him and his strange desires. How can she continue to behave like a lady when he makes her feel like a whore at times and just how long can Satoru play this out until he finally manages to break her.

Warnings: 18+, no minors please, very explicit, shameless smut, nsfw, cunnilingus, oral sex, tongue fucking, vaginal fingering, mentions of vaginal and anal penetration, dacryphillia, spanking, power play, arranged marriage, nipple play, kinky, edging, smut from the beginning to the end.

Gojo Satoru is a man who admires tradition and order. He’s excited to have a wife now, even though you were chosen for him, he still managed to fall for you rather quickly, especially because he finds himself obsessing over your innocence. Your family had groomed you into being a lady perfect for just him. Your favorite color, food, hobbies and abilities were all manipulated to whatever it was that he preferred, all in hopes that the Gojo clan would choose you of all the beautiful women who were also hopeful to marry him. The day finally came and your family praised you more than you ever heard them in front of his elders and Satoru loved everything they had to say about you, but for some reason or another, it was only one piece of information that really stuck with him. You’re a virgin. You’ve never even kissed a boy and the thought of it drove him absolutely crazy. A year into your marriage and you’re fully aware of just how insane he is. He always strays away from penetrating your vagina because he wants to hold on that for as long as possible. If he’s going to take away your innocence and ruin your tight little holes, you’re going to have to beg him for it and if you’re lucky, and he feels convinced, he might give in and grace you with the pleasure of his thick girth tearing you up while you claw cry and scream for him, but he won’t make it easy for you. Only a woman who can entertain his sick and twisted kink for however long he desired can have the pleasure of having his dick anywhere inside of them and since you are his wife, this is going to have to be your fate. Unfortunately for you, the day hasn’t come yet and I say unfortunately because savoring your innocence doesn’t necessarily mean you’re not getting any sexual pleasure. Trust me, he will certainly ensure that you’re getting a lot, even more than what you want sometimes, but once everything is over and done with and you’re face is burried against his warm chest, stifling your moans while trying to recover from the pleasure he let on you, you can’t help but feel a tiny bit unsatisfied. Your vagina is still aching for him, and you can feel it burning so hot as you fantasize of finally having his warm, thick cock massage those aches away. You don’t care about just how painful it might be, you’re too horny to worry about any pain and would happily take on whatever pain you might feel in the name of just feeling him inside your most intimate part.

You squirm against him after those sessions of “innocent pleasure”, as he calls it, that he graces you with when he’s in a good mood and he always notices your uncontrollable lust. He will pretend he doesn’t mind it, but you know he does and you’ll pay for it soon, because despite he’s own pervertedness, he is a traditional man in every sense of the word and will not hesitate to give his wife a decent spanking for her indecency and impure thoughts. The mornings will go on as usual and you’ll start them by waking up before him and preparing his clothing for the day and some breakfast too, unless he decides to start off your mornings by indulging himself with your body. He confuses you sometimes, because he strongly forbids you from entertaining any “filthy” thoughts of him touching you and after a year of being his wife, you still struggle to understand why you’re not allowed to have him how you want to. Afterall, he’s your husband and you are his wife, but according to tradition, all you can do is listen to him and never disobey. So even after he violates your entire body, expect for you vagina, in a way that is most delicious and pleasurable and drives you to tears at times, you cannot question why he doesn’t seal the deal and finally make you his. He leaves after breakfast to work and you’re left feeling like you’re burning at the stake with lust after he took you on the table once again this morning. He does this often and you’re afraid you really might loose it sometime.

The evenings are more intense than the mornings and last much longer and each night you swear you might lose your mind, Satoru taking pleasure in sucking on your nipples. He could do this for hours, he does often and will make you cry just from this, your nipples so sensitive from his prolonged sucking and squeezing. You jump and whimper with every nip he gives your perky buds, trembling on his lap as you cum, despite how painful it gets and you’re too timid to ask him to stop, biting your lip hard yet still failing to stifle your whining and whimpering, gripping his hair without care of causing him pain and your panties are soaked by the time he finally decides to move on.

After ridding you of your last piece of clothing, he places you down whoever he’s taking you, and sometimes, opts to kneel in between your legs just to torture you all the more. He spreads your folds apart so wide that you can’t help but squirm with desire, your vagina aching so intensely that it hurts more than you can bare, but when you voice this to him, he tells you the same thing every time, that he will kiss it better and the ache will go away, which it never does, you know you need him deep inside of you, you need his thick cock to caress and massage you in place his kisses won’t reach, and it frustrates you to tears that he doesn’t give you just that.

You lose yourself as he sucks and slurps on your clit, and if you’re lucky, he’ll lap the entrance of your achy hole, Satoru completely lost in the taste of your arousal and you’ll use this opportunity to grind your hips against his face harder, but to no avail, since he pulls back. Sometimes you’ll feel his tongue penetrate just the entrance before he goes back to sucking on your clit, and you can’t stop yourself from whining and whimpering. You know how good it feels to have him tongue fuck you, since he reserves for you that much relief on special occasions. He once fingered your achy vagina on your birthday, deep and hard. You came so hard and so much that day that you cried, and he had to hold you tight until you calmed down. You hold onto that memory dearly and you’ve never wanted your birthday to come sooner, hoping that he’ll give you that same experience again, but until then, all you get is his hot mouth in your clit, sucking you into a fit of orgasms so intense they make you violently shake and shiver. While he’s eating you out, you try and remember how his fingers felt inside of you, but it’s been so long that the memory fades a little with every passing day. You can still remember the delicious pain of the stretch of his middle and ring finger when he first shoved them into you and you’ve been craving to feel that ever since. You remember how they felt stroking your walls. You immediately reacted, holding onto him like your life depended on it as you cried out in pleasure right in his face. He makes you squirt often from simply eating you out, but his fingers inside of you made you squirt harder and more relentlessly, you came at his will and couldn’t control it and the way he spoke to you, coupled with his never ending thrusting digits drove you to a magical bliss you could never forget.

“Its not right for you to behave this way sweetheart. It’s unladylike and impure. I married a pure lady and I expect you to remain this way. That’s why I have to do this, so you don’t give in to this impurity. Please understand my love”, he says to you as he holds you tight in his arms after spanking you particularly hard, hushing you from crying and wetting his shirt. “B-but for h-how l-long?”, you ask in stuttered breaths. “Until I see fit”, he immediately answers, looking down at you with disapproval in his gorgeous cloudy, blue eyes and you quickly hide your face in his chest again crying even harder, his arms squeezing you tighter. Maybe if he actually made love to you with his dick like every other normal husband out there, you wouldn’t be such a horny mess and therefore, he wouldn’t have to spank you like this. You could even settle for his fingers. You just needed him inside of you.

Despite your burning and sensitive skin from being spanked good, he still spreads your cheeks apart to eat your little hole out the way you wish he’d eat out your vagina. You might whimper from the pain of his big hands gripping your sensitive skin to keep you open, but when his tongue, that you love so much, penetrates your tighter hole, you forget about the pain, scooting back onto him in hopes that he’ll go deeper, and for this hole, he does just what you need him to, shoving his tongue as deep as it can go inside of you, with a rhythm hard enough to make you cum so good you have to try to crawl away from him. He doesn’t let you though and holds you in place as he continues to slurp and suck the rest of you, prolonging your orgasm until your begging him for a break. You love it when he eats your ass out. You love everything he does to you, and just wish he’d finally fuck you. You’d even let him fuck you in both holes and sometimes when you really really feel yourself on the brink on insanity, you promise him you won’t fuss and whine or complain if he does fuck you. He can fuck you as hard as he wants and you’ll take it, begging and pleading for him to make love to you and the longer you talk like that the more furious he gets, wrapping his hand around your neck in frustration. It takes him a moment to calm himself down, because when you beg him like an ill mannered whore, it angers him enough that he despreslty does want to fuck you. Fuck you until you’ll shut up and not ask for him like this again. You truly have balls to speak such filthy words to him and it’s times like this when the spankings leave you sobbing in his arms.

Please understand, he’s just obsessed with your purity and wants to stretched it out for as long as he desires, restricting himself to what he can do with the rest of your beautiful body and despite the teary meltdown you have after a punishment, you still thoroughly enjoy everything he does to you and look forward to it at every passing moment, especially when he holds and comforts you until you stop crying. You’re too ashamed to confide in any of your sisters or friends about your sexual feelings or even about what you’re experiencing, afraid that he will grow upset with you sharing such intimate details of your commitment to him with others. And he’s not interested in sharing his own dark desires with his peers, because he knows he’s fucked up in this regard. Other men take pleasure in sleeping with their wives, and even though he longs to feel that hot, liquidy, virgin tightness swallow him deep inside of you way more than you could ever imagine, he won’t allow himself to fuck you, becauses he’s much too eager to see you break down until you’re really behaving otherwise from how you were raised. only then will he finally fuck your, as a reward for allowing him to bring you to this point and he will make sure that it will feel better than his two fingers on your birthdays or his tongue that he fucks both your holes with when he’s feeling generous.You see, he’s had his eye on you long before his marriage date was even set and already discussed with his elders that it would be you and no one else. Since he first laid eyes on you until now, he grew an unatural, sick desire to break you until you were nothing near what your parents raised just for him. His desire scared him sometimes too, but it turned him on to a point where he’d come in his pants just thinking about it and the first time it happened, is when he knew he had to accept it.

You listen to your friends talk about their own experiences and it’s always a mission for you to hold your tongue, because even the way you feel is only for him and no one else to know. From all the squirming you do under extreme desire from not feeling satisfied with just his tongue work after he plays around with you, he leaves you with a good spanking before heading out to work. Bending you over his knee at the dinner table, or holding you close against him in the bathroom before he hops in the bathtub for you to wash him, generously showering each of your cheeks with hard smacks, your ass jiggling from the force, turning him on all over again as you cling to him, trying not to make too much noise from the fiery sting his hands cause you. Your ass never gets a break, because he does this to you almost every single day and each day feels ten times worse than the day before. He’ll give you a long break from his merciless punishments sometimes for your own relief of course. He’s not a heartless monster. He’s simply a man of tradition and takes disciplining his wife seriously, to “keep you pure and innocent just for him”, so even besides your shame, your fear towards him is freshly awakened after he spanks you, so you keep your mouth shut, and quietly go on about your day, patiently waiting for him to come back home to somewhat sedate the angry ache between your legs, silently praying to the gods that he might allow you to experience him fully tonight because you just don’t know how much longer you can go without doing something you might deeply regret. He can’t help but think about you wherever he goes, and today, he’s been smiling to himself about how much of a good girl you’ve been. He always forgives you for behaving like a whore, after all, he knows just how tough this is for you, it’s hard for him too. He’s thinking of surprising you with a nice dinner he plans on cooking himself and maybe he’ll fuck you just how you want him to, but only in your tight little asshole, and you’re going to endure it, just like you promised him you would.

[ro-is-struggling]

For Your Eyes Only || Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: The three times you and Spencer managed to keep your relationship a secret and the one time you got caught.

Warnings: Garcia!Reader (but the reader's race/ethnicity is not specified, she could be adopted idk), mutual pining, love confessions, reader being a little insecure at one point, suggestive tones, implied smut, possible 14x01 spoilers, canon typical violence, angst with happy ending, fluff

English is not my first language

Word count: 11700 (I'm not even sorry)

Notes: This is based on a dream I had after binging the show so I’m sorry if it’s weird lol

Things between you and Spencer had always been complicated. You first met when you were young and inexperienced when you ended up crashing at your sister Penelope's place after losing your job and apartment all in the same week. She had offered to help you until you could get back on your feet, inviting you to live with her so you could save some money to move into a better apartment. And living with her also meant living with her second family, the BAU, so just a week after you moved in, Penelope organized a get-together with all her friends and co-workers so you could get to know each other.

Spencer stood out to you from the very beginning. He was shy and awkward and too young to be part of the team. You were a little intimidated by him at first. Despite his calm demeanor, he had an intense gaze that sent tingles down your spine every time his eyes fell on you. You felt a little self-conscious under his watchful eyes, feeling as if he was studying you. You knew he was not only a profiler, but also a genius with more than one college degree. There was no way you couldn't feel awkward under his gaze. 

That was until he opened his mouth, rambling excitedly about some random piece of information that he seemed to know a lot about, but that no one seemed to want to hear about. No one except you. You found his enthusiasm adorable and his voice soothing. He was a fascinating person who immediately piqued your desire to get to know him better. So that's exactly what you did. 

It was clear from the first moment that you shared a special spark. Within minutes of meeting you were already off in your own little bubble, chatting as if you had known each other all your lives. Spencer had never felt so comfortable with a complete stranger before, although he supposed it made sense given that you were Penelope's sister. The apple doesn't fall that far from the tree and all. You became friends in record time and fell in love even faster. But, as mentioned before, you were both too young and inexperienced to do anything about it. You didn't quite know how to deal with the feelings you were experiencing, so you did nothing.

You were always afraid that things wouldn't work out well between you, that somehow Spencer would get bored of you and leave you. You didn't want things to be awkward for your sister, you knew that if you two broke up she would feel the need to choose sides and you couldn't let her get into a fight with her friend and coworker because of you. And Spencer... Well, he had almost no experience in love or dating. It had taken him longer than he wanted to admit to even understand his feelings for you and once he did he didn't know what to do about it, so he did nothing. And when you finally went out to live your life on your own, he watched you walk away, burying his love for you in a box with a thousand locks, hidden deep in his heart so he could forget you. But he never forgot you and you never forgot him.

Timing was never right with you. You were perfect for each other, but there was always something that got in the way, as if fate itself didn't want to see you together. Even though your feelings for Spencer never died, you had given up hope that anything would ever happen between you. Apparently it wasn't in the cards for you to be together and you accepted it, settling for living with the what-ifs as your only consolation. At least that was until a new opportunity presented itself in front of you at Penelope's 41st birthday party. An opportunity you were not willing to pass up.

You were once again crashing on your sister's couch that year, only this time it was until you found an apartment in the city near her. Penelope's job was risky and in the last few years she had been targeted by psychopathic killers on several occasions. You hated the idea of her living alone and since you were now in a financial position to choose where to live, you decided to move close to her so that you could come to her aid in case of an emergency. You had to admit that your timing wasn't great since she was in the middle of planning her birthday party, so you postponed your apartment search until after the event, concentrating all your energy on helping her first. Luckily David Rossi offered to host the celebration at his mansion so you didn't have to make any more mess inside Penelope's apartment which was already a mess because of you. And planning such an event was always much easier when it wasn't your house that was going to be turned upside down. 

Spencer was in his mandatory retirement when you arrived, concentrating on his new found love of teaching. For that reason, Penelope hadn't had a chance to talk much with the boy wonder so when he showed up at Rossi's house for the celebration and saw you there he was greatly surprised.

You were laughing with Penelope and Emily and didn't notice his presence until you heard JJ call his name. When you looked up your eyes met his, those beautiful hazel eyes that you still saw in your dreams. It felt as if time stood still for a moment, the world around you disappearing as you became lost in each other's gaze. Memories of moments shared with Spencer came back to your mind in flashes, once again awakening those feelings you thought you had buried deep in your heart.

Spencer looked different, that was the first thing you noticed. He had changed, not only physically but also emotionally. He looked more serious than you remembered and seemed to have matured quite a bit. You didn't expect anything different knowing everything he had been through lately, the change was only natural. However, when he smiled you recognized the Spencer you loved so much. His essence was still there, a part of his innocence and charm still shone in his eyes. That made you smile, you were glad to know that despite everything he was okay.

Penelope was the one who snapped you out of your trance, giving you a subtle nudge in the ribs to bring you back to reality. She knew about your feelings for Spencer, you had never told her, but you didn't need to for her to figure it out. You guys were actually pretty bad at hiding your feelings, which is why she couldn't believe how you still weren't dating. God knows she hadn't stopped trying to push you in the right direction at every opportunity —Penelope loved to play cupid—, but so far nothing had ever worked.

Even though your sister successfully brought you back to reality, you were not able to give Spencer even a few words of welcome. You were still too overwhelmed by his presence, so you preferred to play it safe until you found the right words to express yourself. In the end you didn't get a chance to have a proper talk until late in the evening once everyone present began to show signs that they had had a few too many drinks. You went out into the garden to get some fresh air, getting away from the laughter for a moment to clear your head. Spencer followed you out and before you knew it you were engaged in a casual chat, catching up on things with a level of comfort that was unbelievable considering the level of tension that could be felt in the air when you were together. 

It was always easy to be around Spencer. Despite all the pent up feelings between you, you were able to maintain a good friendship. You didn't see each other very often, but whenever you met again it was as if you had never been apart in the first place. That's how strong your connection was.

"I missed this," you admitted after a few seconds of silence, your gaze fixed on the horizon, lost in thought. "I missed our talks."

"Me too," Spencer nodded, admiring your profile as if he were trying to memorize every little detail of your face. "I missed you." His voice sounded more muffled that time, heavy with the sadness accumulated after years of your absence. The mood in the air changed completely from casual and funny to sad and serious, letting you know that the time for explanations and excuses had come. 

"Why did you leave?" It broke your heart to hear the way his voice cracked as he spoke. You knew about his fear of change and his abandonment issues, he had opened up to you about it a long time ago. You left to take that job three states away knowing full well how much your leaving was going to affect him and now you were regretting it. It wasn't as if it hadn't hurt you too, but at the time you thought walking away was the best option for both of you. 

"I..." You didn't know what to answer. You had a long list of made up excuses you'd thought of over the years, but when you looked up to face him you didn't have the heart to lie to him. Spencer wasn't stupid, he could tell when you were lying, so what was the point? He deserved to know the truth. You deserved the truth. "I got scared and I ran away, just like I always do." You muttered, ashamed of your past actions.

"Scared of what?" Spencer frowned at you, confused by your words. You didn't respond verbally, you just looked at him and that was enough for him to understand what you meant. He could see it in your eyes, the fear, the insecurity. He couldn't believe how he hadn't noticed it before. Suddenly it all seemed so obvious to him that he wanted to yell at his past self for not doing something sooner.

"What we had... I-I never felt anything like that before and it scared me." You finally confessed after so long, keeping your eyes on the floor since you couldn't bring yourself to look Spencer in the face. It felt good to finally tell the truth, even though you felt a little exposed and vulnerable under his intense gaze. But it was worth it if it would finally bring closure to your story. 

"I wish you would have told me." This time it was your turn to look at him with confusion. "I liked you too."

You froze in place, Spencer's voice echoing in your head as you tried to process the situation.

He loved you too.

All this time you had spent wondering how things would have been if you hadn't been such a coward when you actually could have found out if you had just opened your mouth at the right time. Spencer loved you too and you had done nothing but waste time.

But then the cynical voice in your head asked the question you were so afraid of. Why did he love you? There was definitely nothing extraordinary about you, you were the most common and boring person that existed on the planet and he... he was the perfect man. He was sweet and sensitive, effortlessly beautiful and as if that wasn't enough he was also a literal genius. You couldn't understand how someone like Spencer could find someone like you interesting or worthy of his love. Being friends was one thing, but being a couple was a world apart. You were convinced that you were not compatible, despite all the love you had for each other. There was no way a genius like Spencer wasn't going to get bored of you in a matter of weeks. It just didn't make sense. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could react to this new revelation, you were interrupted by your sister's voice announcing that they were about to cut the cake. You didn't even get a chance to look at Spencer before Penelope dragged you back inside, too tipsy to realize she was interrupting a very important moment. 

You had to put on a smile as everyone sang happy birthday to Penelope, feigning happiness when you felt anything but that. Confusion was the predominant emotion, but you also felt regret and a crushing emptiness in your chest that made it hard to breathe. You wanted to be there for your sister, but your mind couldn't stop replaying Spencer's words, having trouble processing the situation. 

You couldn't believe that all this time he had reciprocated your feelings. All the time you had spent mourning for what couldn't be, all the tears you had shed for him, it had all been wasted. You felt like a fool, though you couldn't deny that sabotaging your own happiness out of fear or insecurities was something you did more than you'd like to admit. It was hardwired into your brain, an automatic response that you could almost never stop. And now it was once again too late to do anything about it.

Spencer looked happy as he laughed with his friends, unaffected by the revelations that had just come up in your talk minutes before. It confused you a little, wondering how he was able to go on as if nothing had happened after hearing your confession. But then you noticed a detail that tightened the lump that had formed in your throat.

'I liked you too.' 

He had spoken in the past tense. He loved you, implying that he no longer did. Spencer had moved on from his feelings for you, putting an end to your story. And the worst part was that you had no one to blame but yourself. You were the one who had pushed him away, the one who had run away from your feelings instead of facing them and now you were paying the price.

Your mind was lost in horrible thoughts, imagining how many women had occupied that special place in his heart since you left. That special place you so longed to occupy, that place that should have been yours... that was yours without you knowing it. You wondered who had dethroned you, who had been able to erase you from his heart to take that place. 

Imagining Spencer in the arms of another woman made you feel sick. You knew he could date anyone he wanted —you'd had your fair share of failed relationships yourself over the years—, but for some reason this was the first time it felt real. You hated to think that another woman had come to occupy that special space in his heart, that she knew what it felt like to kiss him or wake up next to him. The thought of Spencer feeling safe and at home in the arms of someone who wasn't you crushed you. You knew you had no right to feel that way, but you couldn't help but feel jealous that someone else had the chance to experience what you fantasized about every night before bed.

Suddenly the room began to feel small, the walls closing in on you as the laughter around you grew louder and louder. You needed to get out of there, to get away from all the noise so you could calm your mind overwhelmed by the swirl of emotions that weighed you down. So you took advantage of Penelope complaining about the lack of ice to escape from there, jumping up from your seat as you offered to get more. 

The kitchen sheltered you from the noise of the party, giving you the peace and quiet you needed to try to work out your problems. You took a moment to take a deep breath, repeating to yourself over and over that everything was fine. It was a big lie, but you were more than willing to fake it til you made it. You poured yourself a glass of water and drank it in one gulp, hoping it would help loosen the lump in your throat. 

'Keep it together, this is Penelope's night!' the voice of reason echoed in your head, trying hard to keep your emotions in check.  You knew she was right, even though you were pretty sure your sister was too drunk at this point to notice the change in your mood, that didn't mean you had a free pass to ruin the party. You had to find a way to put aside what you were feeling for her.

"Is everything alright?" Spencer's voice startled you and you almost dropped the glass you were holding. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. It's just thought that you were taking too long and I wanted to make sure you were okay." 

"Oh yeah, sorry. I needed a moment away from all the noise." You forced a smile in an attempt to let him know you were okay, but the smile didn't reflect in your eyes. You could barely hold eye contact with him as you spoke, which made him think you were hiding something from him.

"I guess they are pretty loud, huh." He walked over to you, leaning back against the edge of the island in the middle of the kitchen. You tensed as you felt his closeness, feeling the warmth of his body against your side as the scent of his cologne assaulted your nostrils. It was as if he was doing it on purpose, as if he knew the effect he had on you and was using it to torture you. But when you looked up at him you were met with his usual innocent expression, with big eyes looking at you curiously as if he was studying you. 

"Yeah and it's been a while since I've been around them, I have to get used to the chaos again." You lied, lowering your gaze. You could no longer stand the intensity of his hazel orbs staring at you as if he could read your thoughts. You knew that was impossible, but what he could certainly do —and very well— was read your behavior. You were sure you were being very obvious and it was only a matter of time before he realized what was really going on with you.

"What's on your mind?" Spencer spoke in a soft tone, breaking the silence that had formed in the room. You bit your tongue, debating whether you should answer his question honestly or not. You wanted to lie, but you knew it was pointless. He would know you were lying, if he didn't already.

"Nothing, I was just thinking about us... about how strange life can be sometimes." You let out a bitter laugh, thinking about how different things might be if only you had done just one thing differently years ago. "D-do you think things between us would have worked?" Your voice was small and unsure, looking up at him hesitantly. You weren't sure if you were ready to hear his answer, but you couldn't contain your curiosity. 

Spencer looked at you, studying your face for what felt like an eternity. You felt small under his gaze, but you maintained eye contact this time. You needed to know the truth, to read in his eyes the sincerity of his words. Only then would your brain know peace.

"I don't know," he finally murmured. "I guess we'll never know."

Spencer's eyes did not leave yours, nor did yours leave his. You felt him moving closer to you, the warmth of his body enveloping you as he tilted his face toward you. You copied his actions without even realizing it, desperate to feel closer to him. It was as if you were in a trance, lost in the beautiful hazel color of his eyes. 

"Yeah, I guess we won't," you said absently, letting the scent of Spencer's cologne flood your system and wash away what little reason you had left. Your eyes traveled to his lips, reflecting the thoughts that occupied your mind. There was nothing you wanted more at that moment than to close the distance that separated you and join your lips in a kiss. You were desperate to know what it would feel like to kiss him, you had been dreaming about it for years. But you knew it wasn't appropriate, so you used your last bit of strength to hold back. 

When you looked back into Spencer's eyes you noticed that something had changed in them. He was looking at you in a different way, with a sparkle you had never noticed in his eyes before. It was... desire. He wanted you as much as you wanted him. He wanted to kiss you too, but he was holding back just like you. You were once again dancing around each other, hiding what you truly felt, waiting for the other to make the first move. You were tired of it and you weren't going to make the same mistake again. 

So you leaned into Spencer, letting him know that you wanted this as much as he did. Time seemed to slow down, making you feel like you were moving in slow motion as you drew closer to shorten the small distance that separated you. The tension in the air was strong, almost unbearable, as you lost yourself in Spencer's eyes, anxiously waiting to feel his lips on yours. 

Your heart raced as you felt his warm breath mingling with yours, the tips of your noses brushing and awakening a wave of electricity that coursed through your entire body. You shared one last glance before letting yourself be carried away by the moment, joining your lips in a long awaited kiss. 

It was shy and experimental, a simple brush of lips that did nothing more than leave you wanting more. Spencer caught your upper lip between his, caressing it with a tenderness that made your knees weak. It wasn't a full kiss, but it was still better than all your fantasies because this one was real. 

You broke apart almost immediately, opening your eyes once again to study each other's expression. Neither of you needed to speak to know what the other was thinking, it was enough to see the glint of happiness shining in your eyes to confirm that you both felt the same. So without wasting another second you brought your lips together once again, only this time in a more confident and passionate kiss. 

You let his lips guide yours, allowing yourself to get lost in the euphoria of the moment. Spencer's hand cupped your cheek, holding your face against his gently to deepen the kiss. His fingertips sparked a warm tingle on your skin and you leaned into his touch, clinging to his lips as you tried to keep up with him. Your lips closed over his lower lip, your tongue caressing it gently asking his permission. He granted it and you didn't waste a second exploring his mouth. He tasted like cake, the sweet blend of chocolate and cream still present on his tongue. 

You didn't want the moment to end. You didn't want to separate yourself from Spencer's lips ever again. You had fantasized about this moment for so long and wanted it to last forever, but unfortunately for you that wasn't possible. You were in the middle of a party and it was already taking too long to get back to the others. If you didn't pull apart now someone was going to find you like this and you didn't want to face the awkward moment, so you reluctantly broke away from Spencer. 

"That was..." he trailed off as he struggled to catch his breath.

"Late." You finished the sentence for him, letting out a chuckle. That kiss was long overdue and you couldn't believe it had taken you so long to get to this moment. "We should get back to the party." You said, making no effort to pull away from him. You were still so close to each other that your noses brushed and your breaths mingled in the air. And that's how you wanted to stay for the rest of the night, even though you knew you couldn't.

"Yes, we should." Spencer nodded, but instead of pulling away from you, he shortened the small distance that separated you even more, bringing your lips together in a quick kiss. You reciprocated immediately, allowing yourself to get lost in him once again.

"I mean it!" You exclaimed, parting from his lips for a second before being drawn into them once more. 

"Me too!" Spencer murmured against your mouth, making you giggle into the kiss. 

You allowed him to distract you with his kisses for a little while longer, taking advantage of the privacy the kitchen provided to explore a little more of whatever it was that you two had. That room was your little refuge, your little bubble in which there was only you and the tension in the air that had followed you all these years. It was your safe place, one where you didn't have to explain what you felt in front of anyone. You only had to look into each other's eyes to understand what you were feeling. Going through the kitchen doors meant facing the real world and that only made everything more complicated.

"I don't want to stop." You confessed finally, leaning your forehead against Spencer's as you looked into his eyes.

"Me neither." 

"Maybe... maybe we should try this out, see where it takes us." You didn't know why you were nervous to speak, you could see in Spencer's eyes that he wanted the same thing you did. You supposed it was because you weren't used to expressing your feelings in clear, concrete words. You hated feeling vulnerable even though you knew you were safe with Spencer. "I want to give us a chance, if you want that too, of course."

"I do! That's all I ever wanted." Spencer gave you one of his big, adorable smiles of his, the kind that made his eyes crinkle and radiated nothing but happiness and positive vibes. It warmed your heart every time he smiled at you like that, genuine joy written all over your face. It was hard not to return the gesture, his smile was so contagious. 

You shared one more kiss, the perfect seal of your deal. Even though you were running out of time, you took a moment to enjoy it, trying to memorize every detail, every sensation, for the future. Spencer took your face in his hands, pulling you closer to him and tilting your head so he could deepen the kiss, making the most of every second you had together. 

It left you completely breathless and a little stupid to be honest. So much so that you almost forgot you had gone there to get ice in the first place. He had to remind you before you left the kitchen empty handed, feeling secretly proud of his skills. 

"Wait!" you called out to him before Spencer disappeared behind the kitchen door. He turned to look at you with a raised eyebrow, wondering if there was something he had forgotten.

"What is it?"

"We should keep this between us, for now at least."

"Oh." He mumbled and didn't need to say anything else for you to realize he was disappointed. 

"It's not that I don't want to tell people," you rushed to say, taking a few steps towards him. "It's just that... you know how annoying Penelope can get with stuff like this. I want to explore our relationship without having her asking me about it all the time." You tried to explain, hoping he understood where you were coming from. 

There was nothing you wanted more than to go out there and shout how happy you were about all this, but your sister couldn't find out about anything yet. She had bugged you to go out with Spencer from the very beginning so you could only imagine how annoying she was going to be when she found out her wishes had been granted. You knew she meant well, but she could get a little intense at times and you'd rather have the freedom to explore your relationship with Spencer without feeling pressure from your sister every second. Besides, if things between you two didn't work out the way you hoped, you didn't want things between her and Spencer to get weird at work. You needed time to process your feelings so you'd be ready to deal with the intensity of your sister's love when she learns the truth. 

"I promise it won't be for long, just until we make sure we... work together, you know." 

Luckily for you Spencer was not angry with you. On the contrary, he agreed with you when you brought up Penelope's attitude to these issues. He wasn't one to share much about his private life anyway, so he didn't find anything unusual about keeping your relationship a secret for a while. He liked the idea of having you all to himself behind everyone else's back. It was as if you had your own separate world, your own little piece of paradise on earth. And that was exactly what he needed at this point in his life, a haven where he felt safe at all times.

So you shared one last kiss before emerging from your little bubble to face the real world, struggling to hide your happiness from a room full of profilers. It was not an easy task, but for that night you had alcohol on your side to help you.

Spencer knew from the beginning that keeping his relationship with you hidden from the team was going to be difficult. They were not only excellent profilers, but also his best friends and knew him too well to notice when he was hiding something. He liked to think that he was relatively good at lying since it was a tool he used from time to time in his work. However, lying to a suspect or an unsub was not the same as lying to his friends. He expected suspicion and curious looks from his teammates at some point in the near future, though he had to admit he was surprised at how quickly JJ seemed to realize something was up. 

It was late at night and the team was stuck in the office finishing up paperwork. Spencer couldn't wait to get out of there to be with you. Tonight was date night and even though you didn't have anything too fancy planned —just dinner at Spencer's apartment, you had learned the hard way that it was best to play it safe with his crazy work schedule—, but still,  he couldn't stop counting down the minutes until he could see you. Things between you were going great and he felt on cloud nine every time you kissed him or held his hand. He couldn't believe that after so long of dancing around each other things had worked out and now he wanted to spend every spare second of his day by your side to make up for lost time.

As soon as Emily allowed them to go home, Spencer was quick to pack up his belongings. He wanted to be the first one through the glass doors, to disappear before any of his colleagues could delay him any further. However, he wasn't quick enough since JJ managed to intercept him before he reached the elevator.

"I've been meaning to ask.... Is everything alright with you?" she asked him, lowering her voice so the few agents passing by wouldn't hear them. 

"Yes." Spencer hesitated to answer, sounding more like a question than a statement. "Why would there be anything wrong?"

"I don't know, you tell me." JJ folded her arms, waiting for an answer. When she got nothing more than a confused look from Spencer, she added, "You've been acting weird lately, like you're hiding something. You got a new phone! And you're always the first to walk out the door." JJ sounded genuinely worried about him and Spencer immediately felt bad about having to lie to her. Although he knew she would understand.

"Whatever it is that's going on you know you can talk to me, right?"

"Nothing is going on, I'm fine!" He tried to convince her friend, speaking in a calm and slow voice in an attempt to reassure her.

"Spence, do I have to worry?" JJ insisted, remembering what had happened the last time he had kept something from her.

Spencer could read the genuine concern in her expression and hear it in her voice as she spoke, so he tried his best to give her an answer that made sense but at the same time didn't give away his little secret. "There's nothing to worry about." He affirmed, giving her friend a warm smile. He appreciated that she cared so much about him, but this time it wasn't necessary. "I got the new phone so I could stay in contact with my students when I'm teaching. Apparently accessibility is a big part of the teacher/student relationship now days and I need to pay more attention to my emails."

That wasn't a lie in its entirety. The truth was that he had bought a newer phone so he could keep in touch with you. He didn't want to at first, but you managed to convince him that more modern technology would make it easier to keep your long distance relationship afloat when he traveled away for work, but it would also help you keep things hidden. Spencer knew that if you wanted your relationship to move forward you had to spend time together as a couple to actually know if you worked well together. And after having to cancel your first date three times because of a case, Spencer decided that maybe it was a good time to upgrade a little. The benefit of being able to communicate better with his students when he taught was an added bonus that had played almost no part in his decision. 

JJ looked at him with narrowed eyes, trying to search his expression for something to tell her if he was lying to her. She still felt he was hiding something, but when he smiled at her she saw pure happiness in his eyes. Then she realized that maybe there was a good reason behind his secrecy. "So I don't have to worry then?" Spencer shook his head and she smiled. "Good."

They walked together to the elevator, changing the topic of the conversation to something more trivial as the metal box transported them to the exit. As they parted ways, Spencer pulled his phone out of his pocket and hurried to let you know he was running late, but he was on his way. You responded with a picture of his apartment door, letting him know that you had arrived at his place. He then gave you permission to use the emergency key under the welcome mat so you wouldn't have to wait for him in the hallway. After all, it wasn't the first time you went to his apartment and it definitely wouldn't be the last. 

Opening his front door and finding you there with the takeout food ready to eat gave him a sense of joy he hadn't experienced before. The worries of his job, the gruesome crime scene photos and the wicked look of the unsub they had caught, all vanished from his system the moment you greeted him with a smile, telling him how much you had missed him. You were in your own little world when you got together, one that had no room for the stresses of work or everyday life. There was only peace, happiness and love. Suddenly the outside world ceased to exist, it was just him and you exploring the feelings you had hidden for so long. It was incredibly liberating in a way and made it all worthwhile. He could get used to that feeling.

Spencer wasn't the only one who had trouble keeping your secret hidden. You might not work with excellent profilers, but you lived with Penelope Garcia herself, which was almost the same thing. You thought that maybe the fact that your sister had such a demanding job or that Spencer traveled from state to state on a regular basis would play in your favor —you had no big plans to hide from anyone and Penelope was hardly ever home to pick up on anything anyway—, but you were wrong. Penelope didn't need more than a quick glance in your direction to raise an eyebrow accusingly. 

"You're seeing things." You tried to defend yourself when she confronted you about it. "I think you need to take some time off, the stress is getting to you."

"Oh no, you can't lie to me. There's something going on with you, I can sense it." She insisted, chasing you into the living room and standing in front of the TV so you couldn't avoid her gaze.

"You can sense it?" you repeated in fake disbelief. You were sure she could, she knew you too well not to realize you were hiding something from her.

"Yes! You're glowing, you have this, this... happiness aura you didn't have before. What's going on?"

You rolled your eyes, though you had to bite your tongue to keep from smiling. You did feel like you were glowing and, although it was inconvenient, it was nice to know that others could notice it too. It was the happiest you had been in a long time and it was all thanks to Spencer's company. 

"Nothing is going on, Penelope." You tried to convince her. "I promise."

She looked at you for a moment, squinting her eyes as if deciding whether it was a good idea to believe you or not. Finally she said, "You would tell me if there was something going on with you, right? You wouldn't keep it from me, would you?"

"Of course not! I promise you that when something good happens to me, you'll be the first to know." You felt terrible as soon as the words came out of your mouth. You didn't like lying to your sister, but it was for the best. Your relationship with Spencer was too new to be announced to others, you wanted to be able to enjoy a little more of the privacy and intimacy you were able to have by keeping everything a secret. Penelope would learn the truth eventually, but for now you wanted to keep things as they were. You were sure she would understand.

Penelope didn't say anything, she just sat down next to you and turned up the volume on the TV to watch whatever you had on together with you. You thought you were in the clear, that you had effectively eased her curiosity with your promise, but then your phone vibrated. The screen lit up with a new notification, drawing two pairs of eyes to the device resting on the coffee table. You reached out to grab it, immediately recognizing the contact who was texting you, but Penelope was quicker.

"Who is... 'S plus heart emoji' and why are they asking you if you can go over to their place?" She looked at you with an accusatory raised eyebrow and you almost let out a growl of frustration. How could she be so lucky? You and Spencer hardly ever texted, you always talked on the phone, and the one time he texted you she was there to read it. Fate hated you.

"That's... Sophie, my friend from work." You lied, hoping you sounded convincing enough so Penelope wouldn't ask too many questions. "She's going through a tough break up and I'm helping her whenever I can. Her ex boyfriend is an ass and I told her that whenever she felt bad and had the urge to talk to him she should call me instead."

Penelope couldn't argue much against that, leaving you alone the moment you mentioned broken hearts. Once again you felt guilty about lying to her, but all your worries disappeared when you set foot in Spencer's apartment. The smell of wood and old books hit you as soon as he opened the door, making you feel at home. It wasn't the first time you were there, since you were still living with Penelope most of your secret meetings had to be at his home to avoid being discovered. You were already more than familiar with the place and the beautiful scent that you could identify as the very essence of Spencer. It was your favorite smell in the world since it reminded you of him. 

"I don't think she's onto us, but she definitely knows something’s up." You told Spencer as you snuggled on his couch. You didn't have any plans in mind, you just wanted to feel each other's warmth close by, taking advantage of Spencer's day off to relax together like a real couple. You had your head resting on his chest, listening to the soft beating of his heart as he wrapped his arms around you, his nose hidden in your hair, inhaling the floral scent of your shampoo. It was his favorite scent in the world, associated with happiness and love since he recognized it as your very essence.

"Would that be so bad?" he blurted out without thinking before speaking, letting his heart take over his lips. "Getting caught, I mean. Would it be so bad if the others knew about us?" It was a question that had been bouncing around in his head for a while now. When you had sat down to talk through the implications of your arrangement, you decided it was best to keep things under wraps until you found out if you worked as well as a couple as you did as friends. The point was to keep things from getting weird with the rest of the team —especially Penelope— if things between you two didn't work out. Spencer thought it was a good idea and agreed to wait to announce your relationship to the others. But now that some time had passed since that day, he couldn't help but wonder how much longer you'd keep hiding it.

It wasn't that he didn't like it, he loved your secret dates and sneaky texts. Your relationship had become a kind of refuge, a sanctuary where he could go to escape the outside world. Yet he couldn't help but wonder if maybe the reason you wanted to keep things secret was that you weren't sure how you felt about him. Spencer was ready to let the world know he loved you and thought you felt the same way, but lately he wasn't so sure.

"I mean, w-we were supposed to do this until we figured out if we worked as a couple, right? I-I d-don't know about you, but I think this works, right?" Spencer added, stumbling over his words because of nerves. He didn't want to sound like he was pressuring you, far from it, he was willing to wait as long as he had to for you, but he needed some kind of confirmation that you felt the same way he did in order to ease his anxious mind. "I'm not trying to pressure you or anything, we don't have to tell people if you're not ready... I just-"

"Spence," you interrupted his ramblings, lifting your head from his chest so you could look him in the eye. He looked terrified in the most adorable way possible, looking at you with wide eyes as he waited for a response. "It works." You stated with a smile and felt him relax beneath you. "We work great together. That's not why I want to keep us a secret anymore."

"Then what is it?" You let out a sigh as you tried to find the right words to express what you felt. It wasn't that you didn't want to tell the world how happy you were with Spencer by your side, god knew that keeping your mouth shut was a challenge that was getting harder every day. But you knew that the moment you did, you would lose the special kind of intimacy you had now that no one knew about you. You knew that the moment you made your relationship public you would have Penelope bugging you with her questions, wanting to know every detail after pushing you to date him since day one. And you knew the other members of the group wouldn't be far behind. You and Spencer were like the babies in the family that was the BAU so it was inevitable to have them hovering over your shoulders looking over your shoulder with every step you took.

"I just... I know the second we tell people they're gonna be all over our business and I hate that. I love what we have and after all the time it took us to get here, I just want to enjoy this a little more, have you all to myself." Your answer seemed to be enough to erase the doubt in Spencer's eyes. He smiled at you in relief and you reached up to kiss him. 

The lingering doubts in his mind vanished as he felt the way your lips moved over his, your tongue caressing him in that slow, sensual way that drove him crazy. He let your kisses soothe him, losing himself in you and in the warm sensation that your closeness always aroused inside him. You worked your magic on him, replacing every negative thought in his mind with love and comfort just with the touch of your lips on his. It was amazing how quickly you could invade his mind, making him forget the world around him in a matter of seconds. It was an ability that only you possessed and it showed how madly in love with you he really was.

“Besides, you can't deny that keeping it a secret makes things more... interesting.” You whispered against his lips as you pulled away in need of air. There was a mischievous sparkle in your eyes that revealed exactly where your mind was going and he couldn't help but blush. Flashes of the nights you had shared together appeared in his mind, the sound of your agitated voice pronouncing his name like a mantra as you came undone under his touch replaying in his ears. 

"Those late night calls while your colleagues are only a few feet away, sleeping on the jet or separated only by the thin walls of a motel room." You teased him, your voice low and sultry as you settled into his lap. The atmosphere in the room changed quickly, the tension heavy in the air as you playfully teased Spencer, scattering kisses up and down his neck. You could feel him tensing beneath you, his hands flying to your hips, clinging to your skin in warning.

"Those pictures that I sent you while you were still at work," you purred in his ear, grinding your hips against his. Spencer closed his eyes, letting out a long gasp as he remembered the episode you referred to. Nothing could have prepared him for those messages, seeing you lying on your sheets wearing only one of his unbuttoned shirts and a red lace bra was too much for his poor heart. He had been lucky that his colleagues were distracted, otherwise he would not have been able to hide the clear reaction of surprise and desire that your messages had awakened in him. 

"I thought we were just going to hang out today." Spencer said, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. He tightened his grip on your waist, guiding your slow movements and pressing you against his growing erection.

"I got bored." You pouted. "I wanna play."

Spencer couldn't resist your charms even if he wanted to.

You didn't realize that agreeing to go to a bar with the BAU team was a mistake until it was too late. When Penelope invited you, you thought it would be a good idea to get out of the house for a while and it would give you a good excuse to be close to Spencer. You were prepared for the tension and having to hold the urge to kiss him in front of everyone, at this point it was part of your routine. What you weren't prepared for was how many women seemed to find your boyfriend attractive.

You couldn't blame them though, Spencer looked especially sexy in that black suit with his hair slightly messed up. The knot of his tie was loose and his shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing the skin of his forearm. Your eyes got lost following the path of his veins, remembering the way they stood out more clearly every time his hand closed around your neck or your hips when you were alone in his room. It was honestly torture to have him in front of you looking so sensual and not being able to do anything about it. Even worse was having to watch every woman in the bar try her luck with him, coming up to flirt whenever he was alone. And there was nothing you could do about it, not without revealing your little secret at least.

"You should have listened to me, little one." Your sister's cheerful voice startled you. You looked away from the woman chatting with Spencer at the bar to turn your gaze to Penelope, who was looking at you with a smile that said I told you so.

"Huh?"

"If you had listened to me when I told you to go for it, you wouldn't have that look on your face right now."

"What look?" You played dumb, taking a long sip of your drink. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You were staring at boy wonder talking with that woman over there." Penelope rolled her eyes, tired of hearing you deny your feelings for Spencer. It had been clear to her from day one that you were right for each other and she couldn't understand how you still weren't together.

"I was not!"

"Are you kidding me? If looks could kill, that poor woman would be on the floor right now."

"Very funny, Penny, but I wasn't looking at them." You tried to lie, avoiding looking your sister in the eyes for fear she might read the truth in your gaze. Keeping your relationship with Spencer a secret was one thing, but hiding your jealousy was something you apparently couldn't do.

"If it makes you feel any better he doesn't seem that interested in her." Penelope continued speaking, completely ignoring your previous comment. "You should go talk to him, I'm sure he'd rather be with you anyway."

"No. You know what I'm gonna do?" Penelope shook her head, watching you drink what was left in your glass in one sip before rising from your seat next to her. "I'm gonna buy another round."

You walked away from the table before your sister could protest, heading to the bar to get more alcohol. You were going to need a lot more to be able to handle this whole situation, otherwise jealousy was going to eat you up inside. You bumped into Spencer on purpose as you walked past him, successfully getting his attention.

"Careful with those, the rest of the team is pretty drunk and I'm going to need your help to make sure they get home safely." Spencer said, appearing at your side only a couple of minutes later.

"I can handle my liquor, I'll be fine." You sounded colder than you intended, mistakenly taking your jealousy out on him. Spencer noticed something was wrong with you right away, frowning at your sudden moodiness.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes!" you lied to him, answering without even looking at him. But you immediately regretted it, realizing that it was stupid to lie when you were doing such a bad job of hiding your jealousy. "No, it's not! That woman was flirting with you."

"No she wasn't!" Spencer said and you looked at him with narrowed eyes, deciding if he was serious or if he was playing you for a fool. It didn't take you long to figure out that the confusion in his expression was genuine and then you couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh.

“You can’t possibly be that naive! Half the women in here have been eye fucking you since we arrived.”

“So what? I don’t care about any of them.” The casual tone in which he spoke was almost as annoying as the women in that bar. You knew he was right, you didn't doubt his feelings for you, but you still hated having to watch all those strangers approach him thinking they had a chance. Spencer was yours and you were desperate to let them know, but you couldn't and it was driving you crazy.

"It's annoying, that's what!" you complained, crossing your arms and pouting. "I can't even hold your hand to let them all know you're mine." Spencer's hand traveled to your cheek, taking advantage of the fact that you were far enough away from the rest of the team to be seen. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the warmth of his skin against yours. You missed him and honestly didn't know how much longer you could stand it in this place without being able to touch him or have him near you.

"But that's part of the fun, isn't it?" He echoed the point you had made when he had come to you with a similar concern. You suddenly felt the urge to hit him, and you would have if it weren't for that adorable smile on his face. You couldn't stay mad at him when he looked at you with that face.

"You're lucky you're cute." You warned him, pointing an accusatory finger at him and making him laugh.

"C'mon, I'll stay with you the whole night if that makes you feel better." Spencer promised you, helping you carry the drinks to the table with the rest of your friends.

He kept his word, sitting next to you and not moving from his spot, but that didn't make you feel any better. You could still feel the curious glances of the women around him, wondering if he was single, hoping to get a chance to talk to him. You hated it and the alcohol in your veins wasn't making it any easier. You weren't necessarily drunk, but you did feel a little more liberated and uninhibited. You were a little tipsy and something you did a lot when you were in that state was touching and hugging anyone who was unlucky enough to be next to you. That combined with the jealousy that overwhelmed you was a recipe for disaster. 

You started with simple, inconspicuous things, taking Spencer's hand under the table and bringing your leg up on top of his. No one could see you, but it gave you a sense of closeness that calmed your anxious mind. But as the night progressed those hidden caresses turned out to be more and more about satisfying your need for him.

You needed to feel his warmth embracing your body, his lips on yours as he showed you how much he loved you. But, since you knew that wasn't possible —at least not until you left that place—, you settled for resting your head on his shoulder as you chatted, snuggling against him as if you were the only people there, too distracted by the ridiculous way your drunken friends danced on the dance floor. It was as if you were in your own bubble, enjoying your night together as a couple without anyone knowing. It was nice to share that complicity, to look into each other's eyes and understand each other without having to use words. 

"Are you feeling better?" Spencer asked you, taking his eyes off the dance floor to look at you. You smiled and nodded, feeling your heart fill with love as you lost yourself in the changing color of his eyes. You had to try hard to contain the urge to kiss him that came over you at that moment. And you were lucky you did because otherwise Emily, who appeared out of nowhere, would have discovered you.

"Hey guys, have you seen my phon...?" Her voice trailed off when she saw the pose you were in, her eyes immediately noticing your hands clasped together on the table. You pulled away from Spencer as quickly as you could, but you still weren't able to stop a smile from forming on Prentiss' lips - though you were grateful that she had tried to contain it. 

"Nevermind, carry on." She said, disappearing as quickly as she had appeared in the first place. You let out a growl of frustration, hiding your face in your hands as you promised yourself that you were never going to drink again.

Your heart dropped when you heard Emily's voice on the other end of the line telling you that Penelope and Spencer had been kidnapped. You hadn't even cut the call and you were already running out of your apartment, rushing to your car and on your way to the FBI headquarters where two of the most important people in your life worked. Your brain was on autopilot, reduced to controlling your movement and basic life functions. Your mind was blank, too shocked and scared to even try to process what was happening. You knew that the moment you started thinking about what might be happening to your sister and the love of your life was the moment you would lose your sanity, so you tried your best to keep your mind free of all thoughts. You had to stay strong for them, concentrate all your energy on your desire to see them safe and sound again and maybe the universe would listen. 

You lost all sense of time as you paced around the office where Emily had allowed you to wait while they worked, promising to get back to you as soon as they made any progress on the case. You felt like a caged lion, pacing back and forth while muttering to yourself that everything was going to be okay. Both Penelope and Spencer had had this job for so many years, that had to count for something, right? If anyone had the tools to survive a situation like that it was them. 

You felt like you were going crazy locked in that dark office. But then the door opened, revealing a very shocked, but safe and sound Penelope. You ran into your sister's arms, letting tears roll down your cheeks as you clung to her, relieved to feel her sweet embrace once again. You went back to your childhood for a moment, remembering the one time you had shared a hug like that in the past. You had just learned of the fatal fate your parents had met and through tears and sobs you clung to your sister. You cried together for what felt like an eternity, and in that embrace you vowed to always be there for each other. Just as you were doing at that very moment.

“He told me to run, so I did… I left him there, how could I have left him there?” Penelope sobbed into your shoulder, feeling responsible for Spencer's future. Through tears, she managed to tell you how she had managed to escape thanks to him, how she had had a small window of time to run and how she had had to ignore the sounds of the commotion Spencer had created in order to escape —even the sound of gunshots. You'd be lying if you said your stomach hadn't dropped when you heard her say that, immediately fearing for your boyfriend's safety, but you knew that wasn't the time to panic. Penelope needed you to be strong, so you swallowed your emotions so you could comfort her. 

"Penelope, listen to me." you said, pulling away from her so you could look her in the eye. "None of this is your fault, okay? Spencer made his choice, he's a smart man, you know that. He probably has a plan, he knows what he's doing. He's going to be fine, the team is going to find him and bring him back." You tried to reason with her and yourself, seeking to comfort your sister while calming your nerves with your own words. 

"But what if they don't get him in time? W-What if... what if they hurt him before we can get to him?"

"That's not gonna happen, not as long as you're out there using that brilliant brain of yours to help your team to find him." You assured her, giving her a warm smile as you wiped away her tears with your thumb. "You need to stay strong for him right now, alright? You have to help him get back home." It was a plea for help hidden in words of encouragement, a subtle way of begging her to bring Spencer back into your arms. It wasn't fair to ask that of her after all she'd been through, you knew that, but you were desperate. 

You knew she was just as desperate as you were, though, so she nodded at your words, wiping away her tears and letting out a long sigh before putting her glasses back on and heading back to her office to do what she did best. 

Once again you were left alone, pacing around the empty office with your thoughts as your only company. You hated the waiting, the uncertainty and the fear tightening in your chest and making it hard to breathe. You wanted to believe that Spencer would be okay, but the truth was you didn't know. There was no way to be sure the team would get to him in time and the mere possibility that something bad could happen to him was driving you crazy.

Your eyes were glued to the screen of your phone, reading over and over again the last texts you and Spencer had shared as you prayed they wouldn't turn out to be your final conversation. He had warned you that he would be a little late and apologized for ruining your first dinner in your new apartment. You had been quick to reply that it wasn't a problem, assuring him that the extra time would help you finish preparing dinner. Your last message telling him you loved him and to be careful still remained unread and you couldn't help but wonder if he really knew how much you meant it. You hoped he knew how much you loved him and how happy you were to have him in your life. He was the best thing that ever happened to you and you refused to accept that your story would end like this after all you had gone through to be together.

Just as you were about to go to Penelope to ask her if they had any progress on the case, your phone vibrated with a message from her. You almost dropped the device to the floor when you read the words 'Spencer is fine', feeling your muscles relax as a wave of relief swept through your body. You didn't even answer her, opting to go find her to ask her what she knew. However, you discovered that she wasn't in her office, so you went to the conference room where they used to have all their meetings. Then you saw through the glass the crowd of people gathered in the bullpen, among whom you distinguished the figure of Spencer being hugged and kissed by his friends.

You ran out of the office into his arms without a second thought, breaking some speed record in the process. When you called his name he turned to you and your vision blurred with tears as you noticed the purplish red tone on the skin of his temple and the corner of his lips. You hated to see him hurt, even though it was minimal considering the complexity of the situation. You knew things could have turned out much worse, but you still couldn't help but be upset at the image of the love of your life beaten and hurt.

“Thank god you’re okay, I was so worried.” You murmured against his chest as Spencer pulled you tightly into his arms. You let the warmth of his body envelop you, slowly calming your nerves. He was there. He was okay. He had come back to you and that was all that mattered to you.

"I'm okay," he assured you, placing a delicate kiss on the crown of your head. The scent of your hair brought him back home, filling his insides with that warm feeling that only you awakened in him. He was fine, he had you in his arms and that was all he needed to regain his composure.

You pulled away briefly so you could look at him, taking his face in your hands while your eyes scanned his wounds. It was nothing serious, just a couple of bruises that would disappear in a few days. You let your fingers caress his skin delicately before shortening the little distance that separated you, joining your lips in a kiss. You didn't think about the fact that you were in the middle of the office or that the entire BAU team was behind you watching the scene, the world around you wasn't a concern at that moment. You only cared about Spencer and the way his lips moved against yours, showing you how happy he was to be back in your arms too. 

It was a delicate, yet powerful kiss. You didn't want to put too much pressure on his lips so as not to hurt him, but you didn't need it to let him know how much you loved him and how worried you had been about him. For a moment you had thought that you weren't going to get another chance to do that, to kiss him with everything you had, to tell him that you loved him one more time. It was something that terrified you, so now that you finally had him back with you, you didn't want to pass up the chance to join your lips one more time.

However, your beautiful magical moment was interrupted by the high pitched voice of Penelope, who was admiring the scene with surprise.

“Oh my god! You two!”

You abruptly pulled away from Spencer, finally realizing what you had done. You were grateful to have your back to the team, so the only one who could see the panic in your eyes was your boyfriend, who smiled at you in amusement. You knew the situation wasn't so terrible, but this wasn't how you had imagined telling others about your relationship with Spencer. 

"I fucked it up, didn't I?" you whispered so only he could hear you. 

"Yep."

"And they're all staring at us, aren't they?" Spencer looked over your shoulder for a moment, passing his gaze over the group of profilers who were admiring you with surprised and happy expressions on their faces. Then he returned his gaze to your face and nodded, earning a grunt from you as you hid into his chest, seeking refuge from the inevitable comments and questions that were to come.

"I can't believe you two! How could you keep this a secret?" You heard Penelope complaining behind your back, speaking increasingly faster and in a high-pitched tone. "How long has this been going on?"

"You don't really want to know." You told her, emerging from your refuge in Spencer's chest to face your sister. She let out a gasp, clearly surprised by your response.

"How long?" she insisted, almost feeling betrayed that you kept something so important hidden from her for who knows how long.

You and Spencer shared a look before you let out a sigh. "Since your birthday party at Rossi's place." You confessed and Penelope's jaw dropped, unable to believe that you had been able to keep your relationship a secret for so long. "Oh and also, since we're sharing, I don't have any friends named Sophie." You added, amused by your sister's expression.

"Oh I'm so mad right now, but I'm also so happy for you guys! You’re so lucky I love you! Come here!" Penelope enveloped you in a tight hug before you could object. She planted a loud kiss on each of your cheeks, repeating how happy she was for you, before letting the rest of the team congratulate you. 

"I knew I saw something between you the other day!" Emily stressed, remembering when she had caught you together at the bar. Now that she knew the truth it was obvious that you were together, but at the time she hadn't given it much thought. You guys had been dancing around each other since she had joined the team so many years ago, so she thought it was just you being you. She was happy to be wrong though, you two deserved to finally be happy.

You were enveloped in the warm love of your friends, who showered you with positive wishes for your future. It was a nice ending to such a horrible day, exactly what you needed to finally quiet your troubled mind. It definitely wasn't the way you imagined revealing your relationship with Spencer, but you were happy it had happened. It reminded you that as long as you had Spencer by your side and your family close by life was beautiful no matter the adversities.

[alavestineneas]

and if you are there, why do i feel alone in this room?

pairing: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!reader summary: The woman—a siren, some kind of sea beast lurking in deep, salted waters—sits near him with the ottoman under her feet that still seemed to deny her the comfort of rest, her eyes glinting with mischief when she notices his stare. Taunts, even, forge obliviousness to the spells she casts. Strange, otherworldly—redundant. Everything about her, down to the light gown and a headdress that showed little of her face, Feyd-Rautha was not used to seeing. warnings: mentions of death, violence, implied/referenced child abuse, religious symbolism, mentions of sa (!), blood and other parts of body, very non-healthy relationships chapter 1 - chapter 2 !this work is part 2 to the i can feel the soil falling over my head; no people are here, just the void in my chest! word count: 7,3k

author's notes: hi beautiful people! today, I have finally finished this chapter! be aware that this piece of literature is explicit and touches on some very heavy themes, including sa and child abuse. Please be mindful of it! As always, your opinions, suggestions, and critiques are welcome in the comments. Love you, and have a tasty read!

There are a lot of books stored in her memory, locked in the neurocytes safely. They are tucked into the cortex with love and tenderness that YN otherwise taught herself to suppress as a sign of her weaker self. But papers were non-living, so she felt like it was less dangerous for her to show warmth towards them; after all, if the objects can not acknowledge your love, does it really count as real? She read everything, mostly in an attempt to prepare herself for something she did not know the face of; she read to build the shield around herself, in desperate hope to be able to help at least her future self. YN read even now, although her foolish childhood desires were long gone, just to get a glimpse of the girl she was before the monsters escaped the pages.

The book she re-read the most was nothing special, nothing suiting the image she moulded herself into—a giant, relatively old encyclopaedia of animals inhabiting the furthest corners of Known Imperium. The letters inside, although faded a little, were left almost untouched by eyes—maybe it was what drew her in in the first place—to cherish something seen as unneeded. YN learned the small paragraphs almost by heart; she liked the idea of someone taking enough time to observe something as small as a roden to know its habits. She liked the idea of it happening to her one day. As it always is, it did not.

She chose her favourite animal without that much thought. Although even the notion of having something beloved was foolish, YN was made to choose; she and her sisters played the game of forest most often. The game was simple: pretend to be a creature you are not, forgetting the countless rules they had to follow. Pretending they have claws and teeth; pretending they can protect themselves not through intrigues and hidden motives but through open, bold force. Irulan was always a Katanga Lioness; she liked it because of the proximity to their house's symbol. YN did not; the grey pages of her beloved book described them as "observed to also scavenge on carrion of animals that were killed by other predators or died from natural causes''. What king of the animals steals the work of others simply to feed themselves? She did not tell Irulan that, of course—why would she?

YN chose a mountain lion for herself. Sure, she may have made a mistake thinking it was just another type of lion, but the game went too far to change anything, so she stuck with that. She even grew to love it—the drawing of the mountain lion on her character sheet, the way it prowled through the forest in her mind's eye. It had many names and many homes. Adaptive. Captivating.

She does not know why it came into her mind suddenly—maybe it was the dim light of the closed arena. The air circulated here freely, cooling through the complex systems of vents, even though it seemed to be deprived of any life—just a mechanical circle of the same molecules moving around her seated figure and returning to the hidden openings again and again. YN looked straight ahead; the two men were still sparring.

From her bench, they looked like one—two bodies moved so swiftly that one was unable to differentiate where the lines of their limbs ended. YN squinted her eyes; she was alone in the seating area, and still, she dared not move closer. The taller, thinner figure possessed skin so white it looked almost translucent underneath the cold light—YN wondered if she would be able to see the structures in his body through his clothed stomach. He moved well, almost too well for her not to press her lower row of teeth to the top one, hiding the tongue in a cave of pearl bones—she had hoped he was worse with his bare hands. YN had counted four hundred and five seconds before he made a mistake in his steps; it was a lot more than her own results, but for a man, he was good.

Feyd-Rautha had style; she had to give him that. He fought like a serpent would: calculated, precise. His fists knew the most effective targets, and his legs knew how to escape the blows of his opponent. If YN was to guess, he relied on muscle memory less than a usual fighter would, preferring to dwell in the moment instead. It made for a good show, sure, but it was not practical. She smiled to herself; of course, the na-Baron could not know what the real battle was like. How unfortunate for him—how delightful for her. YN still can't believe he let her watch his training every morning—was he really that stupid not to realise her motive? Was he too confident to consider having weaknesses?

Regardless, she saw what she needed to do - for three hours every day, she set unmovingly on the third bench in a small fighting ground, imprinting his every move in her mind. There are so many moves you can use and so many tricks you can do before she learns them all. YN did not care for the cold gaze thrown in her direction when Feyd-Rautha collapsed on the ground, taking a moment to rest before lurching onto his opponent again. She can wait.

Mountain lions are stealthy predators.

-

The days she spent here changed into months, their slow steps morphing into each other until time became a blur, a concept she did not grasp. Feyd-Rautha was a hard one to warm, but before she would mould him into something she wanted, YN needed to heat his DNA to a certain magnitude; otherwise, he would simply break. She would've gladly accepted this turn of fate too, but right now, keeping na-Baron alive is far more convenient for the Bene Gessarit. For her.

A concubine. A slap in the face: it seemed like life was determined to dissolve the small bits of her dignity in its endless pool of secrets. She was not a wife to Harkonnen na-Baron; no, she was to be his whore. If she was not too tired, she would've felt a pang of fear on her rising with oxygen lungs; a concubine's position is even lower here compared to one of a lawful wife's. YN remembers the words of her teacher as she prepared her for the union: Harkonnen concubines are killed after their first night in a position; if one is lucky enough to escape the fate by being with a child, she bears him until it's time for the baby to be born. One of the greatest honours for a Harkonnen is to take the life of his mother as soon as he enters the world.

She was to join na-Baron for breakfast today—a proposal YN waited long to receive, but part of her wishes she never did. It was worded like an invitation; YN knows it was not. Harkonnens rarely spoke when they did not give orders—a creature of habit, she supposed. So, she did what she had to: follow the slave to the chambers designated for the meal. The hem of her dress shone with a colour so foreign to the fort around her; YN needed to make herself stand out. Men are much like children, she learned—the more colourful the toy, the more likely they will want to play with it.

The walls were heavy here. They didn't bend in the shapes she was used to, preferring to stand tall. They didn't have to hide their strength underneath a complicated facade—quite the opposite. They paraded it, wearing it like the honour it is. Staying unremorsefully unbending. Maybe it's the air or a different measure of gravity; maybe it's her habit of soaking up the surroundings and letting them poison her insides, growing rotten in between the folds of her stomach tissue, but her legs are metal, stone-cold, pulling YN deeper and deeper into the floor. She tries so hard to ignore the three creatures in the corner.

They are hairless, much like the man in front of her, and dressed in matching black. YN would've mistaken them for Harkonnen royalty if it were not for the iron collars on their necks and the glowing black eyes that seemed to follow her every move. She would've been happy to have some company and not be forced into solitude with na-Baron if it were not for a still convulsing body on the floor. A body she did not recognise, but it could've easily been her own.

The creatures seemed to enjoy the involuntary moves of the soon-to-be corpse; they closed their eyes in delight and bared the sharp, black-coloured teeth in sheer pleasure as they lurched into the white flesh. They ripped it apart with only their hands, not bothering to use the prepared knives for more than a big incision from head to stomach. The sounds of chewing and gnawing filled the room, echoing off the walls and sending electric impulses down her body. YN was used to the metallic smell and the bright colour of arterial blood, but this was not a simple death. It was a show, and she was the long-awaited watcher.

Feyd-Rautha seemed unbothered by the sight near him. His hands, covered in thick streaks of blood, were deep to his elbows in the body. He dissected the corpse with precision, his eyes focused and his grip steady. He looked calm, even peaceful. Na-Baron was in good humour today. ''I must say, your arrival has graced us with much more than just the dowery; nothing could've made this union more auspicious—such a rare bird you are, daughter of our generous Emperor. A princess, yet treated no better than a common slave.''

Here it was: the thing she was thinking about all the way to this strange, garbage planet in the dress that pokes bleeding holes in her abdomen with each glass she downs. From his lips, it sounds even more bitter; even savages found the way the Emperor sold one of his daughters so easily strange. "Both of our houses have traditions far beyond our understanding," YN shrugs, scaring her thoughts away like annoying flies. Here, in a room so far from the comfort of her home, they moved too fast, bringing nausea to her throat.

She is here to secure the bloodline of House Harkonnen, to ensure the balance needed in the Imperium. YN does not notice how suddenly her gaze darkens or how tightly the hands that rested on the chair are now holding the pleated velvet of her ruby-red gown. Oh, the baby. The tiny creature inside her womb, the future head for the Baron's crown to be placed upon. The yet unconcieved child she could not feel love for. She was given no other choice but to risk its life before even giving it a chance to obtain its gift.

''Then you will find my present to be quite fitting.''

YN watches in silence as na-Baron reaches inside the rib cage of the corpse. He reaps out an organ with one swift motion, almost like plucking a harmful sprout from the garden. The organ is broun and rosewood, a weird mixture of shades that make it harder for her to focus on anything but the thing in his large hand. The gift he meant to give was a human heart.

She feels his walk long before she sees a figure departing from its place at the table; she guesses the end point of his manoeuvres too easily. It's almost funny—a cruel, senseless joke; how obvious the slight tremor in her hands is; how heavy her eyes become at the sight of Harkonnen black. The body positions itself near; if she squints, she can hear the hot breathing somewhere between her shoulder blades. His hand snakes around her neck quickly, positioning the organ right in front of her mouth. YN can detect the smell hitting her nostrils before she closes the receptors in them. She wants to scream, but the notes die in her throat. Who would she scream for? She hears the creatures hiss and whisper—the heart is a good part, from what she can make out. It did not need to be wasted on people like her.

''Will you not accept it?'' Feyd-Rautha's words are mocking, but his dark blue eyes stay virgin to the laughter. They drill small spots on her neck from behind with such force that YN can almost feel the burnt smell of her sweat-covered skin.

She takes a breath. Her own heart shrinks, its vessels beating with intensity twice as much as needed. Still alive, she notes absently. Still breathing. The feeling is natural and easy; the forced calmness in her body tingles the muscles, braiding her nerves into a pattern similar to the netting. Then, she opens her mouth.

"If I shall lick the blood of your hands, Feyd-Rautha, dare to make it your own."

That's it.

Maybe the Emperor was right to spare her none of the Sardaukars and a quarter of her dresses. She did not need more; she was not expected to survive long enough to use half of her clothes. YN chucked under her breath. Dead over diet preferences—how profound.

After a moment, the pale face behind her also twists, allowing the blackened teeth to escape the grip of thin lips. Like this, na-Baron looks less human and more like the evil he was said to be. He throws the heart to the creatures—they catch it greedily—and places a bloodied hand on her shoulder, the droplets of crimson going unnoticed on the brightly coloured cloth. ''Very well, then. Let us eat.''

YN nods. She looks around almost instinctively; nothing could make her eat a thing after the sight she just witnessed, but she refuses the na-Baron once; she is not about to do it again. The food is a lot, but her plate is almost empty: only a small amount of salad is here, sadly staring into the hunger in her eyes and a now featherless creature in an unnatural pose, suggesting its non-poetical death. The bird is small, almost delicate; its wings are pitifully glued to the body. YN does not want to let her mind draw the comparison, and does not allow her brain to admit a direct analogy; she dissects the bird with a dull knife and puts a piece in her dry mouth. The creature tastes good—almost too good to be expected in this brightly lit hall.

Most often deer is the mountain lion’s staple diet. However, they can survive preying on small animals as well.

-

The night covers Giedi Prime rather quickly; it never lingers, politely waiting for its masters to finish their daily affairs; it hits like a coward, from behind, trapping those not careful enough to hide before its arrival. The harsh, toxic waves of lazy winds hit the walls of the halls coldly lighted with a few sphears; they look like deep forest clearings, forming a system of endless options, ultimately leading to one, inevitable, end. His work chambers aren't big; he does not visit them often for them to be. The solitary metal desk before him is filled with letters, drafts of laws, and official documents, all waiting for his approval. It exhausts Feyd-Rautha to no end, the sheer stupidity of most of the advisers here; almost half of the documents were riddled with errors and inconsistencies. The forever present in his head dull migraine grows stronger when he opens the shortest letter; he almost busts his skull open when the pain heavies.

He ponders too much—the type of thoughts you can feel running on your tongue but never escaping. He is not used to being in the mist; all of his life is so painfully contrasted that no doubt of its nature can survive the sharp edge of his mind. There are things he can escape—forget, even—but some linger in his ribcage too long for them to vanish. Soon, they grow into his lungs with small, unbreakable threads, becoming him. He used to try to get them away from his heart, as if it held some value. Now, he is smarter, older, and more indifferent, he lets them pierce yet another piece of human flesh with no sorrow.

Of course, he remembered her face. The same face that haunted his sleep ever since she dared to appear before his eyes. Feyd-Rautha, naturally, found her little frolic that day. He spent an entire evening studying her work, analysing every move she could've made with her blade to achieve such outcomes. Sure, some things he would've done differently, but the sheer brutality of an animal he would not have guessed the girl possessed charmed him. Feyd-Rautha was a proud man, but he, too, held a love for beautiful things. For that, he hadn't told the Baron of the sight he discovered in the reading room. For that, he is now willing to pretend to believe her eyes when the fear fleshes in them.

Feyd-Rautha curses; she sickens. Like a bone stuck somewhere down his throat, not letting him live without a pang of mocking. She lurks, and whispers—Feyd-Rautha wants to smash her pretty head against the wall just to reveal the secrets she hides from him so he can finally understand the hold she retains. He is no stranger to the desire to own, or devour, but the fear in the back wall of his stomach is an alien in his body. He tries to hide it—to paint over it with anger or violence—but it remains a constant presence, gnawing at him from within. It's no use; the woman is a shark, designed to sense the fright. Maybe that's what brought him in in the first place—the steel eyes so similar to his own in a narrow hall all those years before. Maybe he was so used to the danger that he craved it subconsciously, looking for it to make him feel like himself again. A reoccurring childhood nightmare he can't escape; he doesn't want to escape.

Feyd-Rautha finds the chair to put his weight on and waits until the tingling, spinning sensation spreads from his temples down his neck, finding its way into his bloodstream and passing his organs one by one, until none are left uncorrupted. Of course, he expects it. The woman slipped into his brain and now chews her way into it like a parasite downs the rotten body. He knows he should be terrified, but instead, he feels a strange sense of relief. Feyd-Rautha can hear the whispers of his own mind fighting to remain the only owners of the secrets and desires buried within. He feels his eyelids heavy; a second later, the whites of his eyes are staring at the ceiling, the blue eye lenses dissolving in light.

Water. The first thing he feels is ice-cold water dripping onto his face, filling his lungs, and sending a shock through his arms. This body does not feel like his; it's too small, too narrow. His eyes are trying to adjust as fast as they can, jumping from one blurred spot to another until finally catching a glimpse of the surroundings. His brain does not have time to process the picture; his nose is filled with fluid again, and his open mouth is gasping for air but only taking in more liquid. He tries waving his hands around, but the stronger grip is firm on his nape, pulling him further down into the depths. The hand yanked him out just as he was about to fall into darkness again, the sound of water changing to loud screeching.

''How dare you hit me, devil child? Let the water wash away your dirt. Repent; beg for forgiveness for all of your rotten nature.''

The voice is unknown to him; it is harsh and filled with fury. The woman's face is twisted in anger; splashes of water on it match his. He can't tell if they are from his antics or tears. The woman's grip tightens, her nails digging into his skin. The black clothes on her figure make her status known - a Bene Gessarit witch. Feyd-Rautha tries to lurch forward and hit her back, but her strength is overwhelming. He feels panic coursing through his veins instead of oxygen—a sensation he did not think he could experience anymore. He wants to bark a response to show her that he is not afraid, but his voice catches in his throat.

Feyd-Rautha has no time to wonder what the woman wants; she brings his face to the bathtub again, and he opens his mouth involuntarily, frantically begging not to do it anymore. He says everything she wants to hear; he cries out and promises to wash his sins away. The voice does not sound like his at all. He is desperate to end this nightmare now, but some force holds him here. The woman is not satisfied; her ears are deaf to his pleas.

His face ends up on the water surface a moment later, his nose hitting the wall of the bathtub as the woman holds him down. He feels his body go limp with utter horror; this time, the shouting woman won't stop. Her voice grows quieter, replaced by the sound of small waves hitting the brim and spilling; from right to left, the water turns red, and his tongue tastes the iron he knows from sliding blades into his mouth.

''Echidna, what the fuck are you doing? Let her go; she is going to choke!''

''Get that spawn to me, for I will not let her ruin my life anymore! I must finish what I have started!''

Feyd-Rautha's head is filled with oxygen once again; his lungs take a desperate breath in, sending too much air to his blood system. He falls on his back, the world spinning. He does not care for the weeping woman in black or the chaos unfolding around him. His only thought is that everything is finally done and that the white floors are a magnificent place for drops of liquid to fall from his normally bald head's waterfall of hair.

He wakes up suddenly, the sensation long gone. His steps are heavy again; the body he inhibits no longer feels like a cage. The voices have left him for now, and the only thing on his forehead left is small drops of sweat and a pathetic, frightened, beating heart. The cold breeze from the darkened sands surrounding the city wishes to prove otherwise—it heavies and plants its spikes into his reddened cheeks. The horizon gleams at him, almost taunting; not a single star is to be seen under the imposing clouds. He will kill her; maybe he will even enjoy it. Feyd-Rautha can handle a lot, but not the shame of being seen. Not the guilt of being caught wanting.

There are only three ways to hunt a mountain lion: tracking, waiting in ambush, and with dogs.

-

The gliding motions of heavy fabrics across the wooden floors created a strange pattern of a song now centuries old. Here, in a room so long that the wind travelled through the hollows, her careful steps seemed to almost fall silent. Nothing was there for the preying eyes to see. YN closes her eyes; with that, even for a moment, the world stays still. She knows where the hollow staircase will lead her; she feels it in her stomach with every step she takes. YN knows nothing about the future, but the past lives deep in her memories, haunting her every move. She knows she shouldn't have done it. Travelling through one's mind is a sin she can't escape; she will pay the price for it in her blood, but the Bene Gesarit did not send her here to survive, so it's of no use to be afraid now. It makes no difference for the dead if you weep at their grave or not.

The burning sphere of light in the hall stops spinning; the doors open without any noise, although if the pounding eardrums had not stunned her hearing, she could've noticed the faint thuds. YN waits; there are no flashes of her happiest memories or the faces of her loved ones in her drained mind. No, in what seems to be her last moments, she thinks of what she could've been if the world had not given her a sword to turn into.

Feyd-Rautha appears in the hall; his steps aren't rushed, and his expression is stone-cold. She eyes him shamelessly: nothing. She sees nothing; she senses it deep in her crying bones. He drags her by the hair like a mother would with her misbehaving child; roughly, he pulls her towards the exit, his grip tightening with each step until the door behind them closes and her knees meet the cold ground with a nasty thud. The bruises will stain them soon, not that it matters now.

''You should've known better than to cross me,'' he hisses, his voice gruff. It's cold, chilling—the way his lips part to reveal a sinister smile. ''Now, you can think yourself vanished, little witch.''

YN does not answer—what fool would beg the deaf? The blade against her chin is sharp; she knows how attentive he is when it comes to inflicting pain. It pokes right into the Omehyoid muscle, a dull pain shooting through her body. If she has got to die, it may as well be from his skilled arms. How beautiful he is in the twisted pleasure he finds in her suffering. Unearthly, almost too perfect to be made of simple flesh and bone. Something was unnerving, unforgettable in the net of veins under his pearly skin; it was as if he were a work of art, meticulously crafted to bring physical pain and optical pleasure in equal measure. A silver glint under the defined cheekbones, a redness of lips filled with blood vessels. For a second, YN wonders what it would be like to bite into it, like an apple that lay too long under the golden sun; would the blood slip as generously as the sweet nectar? Handsome as poison, as a black sun on his forsaken planet, as death.

''Go on. Kill me, then; let me escape you once and for all.''

Under the deep sea of his eyes, something moved; his eyes dipped into her, part by part. Like the slow, deliberate dance of a predator stalking its prey, his gaze lingered on her, calculating and intense. YN lowered her head to push the knife a little deeper into the flesh. A strange thought lingered in her brain; she found herself on her knees in front of him, almost willingly. She has worshipped God all her life; who, if not her, can recognise his creation? The Devil. Lucifer. Satan. The man with horns so big they once touched the skies; a corrupt angel, fallen from grace so long ago he couldn't remember way back if he tried. They have warned her about him, but is it her fault that God has disowned her earlier than she could? Did it really matter to her, before whom to kneel, as long as she felt a sense of power and control in her submission?

All that mattered now was that he wanted to hurt her. He wanted her.

She sees the recognition flicker on his face. Caught. The blade slides quickly across her exposed neck, the blood sprouting out in a weak, painfully quick stream. Feyd-Rautha kissed her, biting her bottom lip till the stream of boldly coloured blood trickled down his chin. He did so like an animal would, baring his teeth and dragging them across the pulsating vein on her neck. YN's laughing cry echoes in the empty room; she is forced to admit that he felt good.

Never approach a mountain lion; most mountain lions prefer to avoid confrontations, so never approach them and make them feel cornered.

-

The woman—a siren, some kind of sea beast lurking in deep, salted waters—sits near him with the ottoman under her feet that still seemed to deny her the comfort of rest, her eyes glinting with mischief when she notices his stare. Taunts, even, forge obliviousness to the spells she casts. Strange, otherworldly—redundant. Everything about her, down to the light gown and a headdress that showed little of her face, Feyd-Rautha was not used to seeing. The beautiful substance of her hair caught the light from the sun like a mirage in the desert, reflecting in his eyes with painful hits. The jewels, too, have found their way onto her clothes, but they were hidden beneath the layers of fabric. They shined brightly, impertinently, framing her figure in a glow that seemed to come from within.

To his surprise, the skills woman possessed spread out to politics as well, with her witch training proving useful in court. Feyd-Rautha did not miss how his advisors grew more uneasy when she entered the room, her careful eyes scanning their faces for even a hint of betrayal or deceit. Like a proud discoverer, he ached to share his new-found wonder with the blind audience, but something in him protested in a mare thought of showing the precious jewel of his eye to the cluster of unworthy. So, Feyd-Rautha did the only thing he knew how— all of his secret observations were done from afar, masterfully hidden behind the facade of casual indifference.

As he drags yet another blade across the surface of the whetstone, he thinks about her delicate hands on his neck, her ringed fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. Harkonnen men rarely wed; they just take what they capture—men and women—and turn them into slaves. Some, if particularly sweet, are reserved for fucking. There are no special songs for that; there isn't a specific word in their native tongue for wife, either. It doesn't matter; YN is nothing of the sort. A concubine, a possession, a tool for pleasure and procreation—the Harkonnen way was simple.

''Are you done eye-fucking me now, or do you need more time with your blade?'' she sneers, her voice mocking. Only she could get away with such bold defiance in his presence, but she does not seem to care for the unusualness of it.

YN motions for him to come closer, her eyes studying the way his legs move. Feyd-Rautha has no control over them; the steps make themselves. She plays the game very well; the chase fuels something primal within him. Thirst. Hunger. It was the Harkonnen training talking to him—the wild, ancient sensation taking over his insides and imprisoning his mind in a cage of helpless desire. It spread its tentacles down to his fingertips, nesting in his abdomen. He positions himself in front of her, his body betraying him as he leans in closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Feyd-Rautha's hands repeat the ritual almost instinctively, rolling the hem of her deep purple dress up to her waist.

''Stop for a second,'' she whispers against his ear, her breath warm and inviting. ''Can I give you a piece of advice?''

Feyd-Rautha can feel the anger creeping into his body; he does not like to be refused. ''No,'' he grumbles, turning her around forcefully. "I don't need your advice," he snaps, his grip tightening on her arm.

YN does not seem to care for it. ''Don't do it. It will only lead to trouble.''

''What?'' He stops, his eyes narrowing as he absorbs the woman's words. The doubts that had lingered in the back of his mind suddenly grew louder, echoing through his mind. He releases her arm, his expression stoic. ''You are insane, woman. What are you talking about?''

''You know what I mean.''

The unease boils in his stomach. How could she know? He was careful not to slip anything; she wasn't able to cast her spells anymore either. But her knowing gaze tells him otherwise. ''You can not know the future,'' he pronounces.

''I don't need to know the future to see the truth, Feyd-Rautha. Your judgement is clouded by rage, and your mind is not as sharp as it usually is. You are not as invincible as you think you are.''

She is bluffing, he thinks. He hopes she is. Feyd-Rautha almost wished there was no cloth covering her face, nothing to hide her expressions as she lay beneath him. He catches her flamed eyes and the way they circle his face in one swift motion before settling on the ceiling above. It unnerves him, but he refuses to show it. She is no master here; she is simply a servant. That is not what power looks like, if he ever recognised one, and Feyd-Rautha knew power.

''Get out, now.''

Nothing was portrayed on her face as she curtseyed; nothing was there when she turned and walked to her rooms, leaving nothing but the ghost of the human body's warmth.

Mountain lions are more at home in brushy areas than in open prairies.

-

And then, he disappeared. Like the sound of the morning birds falling silent in the cacophony of voices of the city on her home planet, there was no trace of na-Baron in the entire Harkonnen fortress. YN thought she was slowly but surely going mad; no one but her noticed the usual place by the window empty, and no one but her seemed to care enough to know where he went. She caught strange looks from a few, and frankly, she thought they were right. She looked like a mad woman, her hair quickly plated and her dress hurriedly laced, her eyes darting around the room in search of any sign of Feyd-Rautha's massive figure. Noon was dragged into the evening, and then night, for three, long days until she heard the long-awaited news: na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen had tried to usurp his uncle and had failed.

She has told him so. A fucking brainless ram, with stubbornness bigger than his cock—why did he think he could outsmart the Baron? He will pay for his dumbness with his blood, perhaps even his limb—the thought brought nausea to YN's throat. She was lucky the Baron did not consider her important enough to be knowledgeable of such schemes; she lowered her head in the desert, hiding from the sand storms of Harkonnen politics; she waited for two long weeks until the announcement was made; Feyd-Rautha was forgiven. The celebration in honour of this news is to be today; she is to attend it. Not like his concubine, YN supposed, but more like the princess she still was.

Now, she took her time. YN chose a gown she wanted long enough to make even a tireless slave yawn, savouring each moment before their meeting. She was a victor now, in their small game of cat and mouse. He was a cat, but the mouse could still outwit him with grace and style. YN smiled at the wondering attendants; she looked good, and she was going to meet him.

The walk from her chambers to the Grand Hall wasn't too long; she would've walked a thousand more stairs if it was needed. The doors opened without a sound, revealing nothing but a mere celebration of yet another year under the reign of Harkonnens. The lines of slaves changed one another, the uneven circles of people dancing appearing and fleeing to the cheerful tone of strings. She was set somewhere between two Harkonnen lords she had no chance of knowing; she felt a sense of unease creeping up her spine as she tried to maintain a polite smile. Their gazes didn't look right; something sinister lurked inside them—hiding a secret she had no chance of knowing.

One of them turned to her, a chilling smile spreading across his face. "How are you finding the evening, lady YN? Or, what should I call you?,'' he mastered a fake confusion. ''Perhaps, darling? Concubine has a cheap wing to it; quite unworthy of a face so lovely as yours, don't you think?"

Dirt. The thing that crawled under her skin at his words was like dirt, making her feel unclean and exposed. She forced a laugh, trying to brush off his comments, the crown of her hair moving with muscles underneath her skin. "I am a princess, my Lord. Address me as such."

It would be enough every other noon, but today. The man's face twists, as if he just remembered something; he turns, the wine in his goblet splashing on the tablecloth. ''I think na-Baron wouldn't be too angry if I stole a princess for the night," he sneered, his eyes darkening with malice.

''Does it matter to you either way?''

YN watches as the smirk, so similar to Feyd-Rautha's, appears on the men's lips, although it doesn't feel the same. She fights back disgust as the man nods, biting into a hefty chunk of prey. His eyes, once focused on her, drifted away. YN chose to follow them; the string of fat streaming down the man's mouth onto the silver tablecloth made her nauseous. She looked from one unfamiliar face to another, until the cold feeling in her abdomen crept its way onto her chest.

There he was. His figure is unusually crouching as he sits on the podium reserved for members of the dynasty. The dark blue eyes are red now; the thin blood vessels in them are torn and emptied. His body seemed to suck the light out of the hall inside, casting a shadow over the room. There are no scars on his smooth face, but the sunken cheeks and hollow eyes spoke of a suffering that went beyond physical wounds. YN almost wished she saw him dead; whatever this was, it was surely much worse. He raised his eyes slowly to meet hers; something flickered in them before turning back to their empty state. Feyd-Rautha parts his dry lips to say something to her—she can't understand a word he draws with his breath.

From the place nearby, the Baron's voice booms, his low, almost whisper-like vowels mending into one. His face, covered with layers of skin and dead cells, twists into what was meant to be a welcoming smile—the corners of his paper-thin lips dance, lowering themselves only to jump higher, and his eyes travel from one corner to another, unable to be still even for a moment. He speaks of things YN knows nothing about court intrigue, power struggles, and alliances that shape the fate of their world, heavy with hidden meanings and unspoken threats. She does not listen until he gestures towards her, a scent of spice and decomposing flesh lingering.

''Sergeant Voss has served me well, and his loyalty at the right time is not to be forgotten. Here, I bestow upon him the highest honour of all; what was once mine, is now his. Do not let go of her if she screams, Sergeant; the girl is a fine one.''

No. YN almost does not recognise the hand as her own as the man drags her to the bed that appeared out of nowhere, freezing with horror as the people around her continue to watch in silence, their eyes devoid of any emotion or empathy. The tradition, she notes, is the one she learned so much about bedding in front of the entire court as a symbol of unity. She choked on her own tears as the man smiled at her pleas for help; they seemed to make him even more pleased.

YN looks, frantically, to the place she saw Feyd-Rautha sitting just a moment before. He would help; surely, he would not let them do it to her—his servant, his concubine, his. But the seat is empty. The scream echoing through the hall does not register as hers right away; he has sold her. For his own freedom, for a chance to be free from the consequences of his own stupid actions. Surely, the Harkonnens could not get rid of her openly—it would mean war—but she was not immune to the man who now owned her. His hands travelled her body with such audacity that YN wanted to cut them off—to cut her chest just so she could not feel the fingers digging into her skin. A sole reminder she was a woman first and a human second.

Mountain lions are solitary hunters.

The man undressed himself quickly; all of the soldiers were trained to do so. She should run; she should fight back, but the pair of unmoving hands pinning her wrists down was a stark reminder of her helplessness. The man lowers himself closer, his hot breath against her neck making her shudder in fear. She can feel him against her skirts; she can feel the weight of his body pressing down on her. The adrenaline is pumping through her veins; she will survive. Whatever it fucking takes, even if her body is bruised and broken, she will survive.

They prefer to ambush their prey from behind by swiftly and cleanly breaking the neck.

She bites—her teeth launch towards his cheek, feeling the warm flesh give way beneath her. She sinks them deeper, making holes big enough to draw blood. It's hot, and sickening on her tongue, but she does not have time for these thoughts; her next blow is in his stomach, with his knee jammed into his gut. She can feel his body convulse in pain, giving her a chance to throw him on the bed, his broad back facing her.

If they haven’t broken the neck, they will suffocate the animal.

There is nothing around that could serve as a knife; her captors made sure of that, and the sheets are too thin to wrap around his neck. She looks around the room, desperate for something to use, but the space around her is empty. YN curses as the man regains his composure and begins to struggle against her hold. Her elbow meets his nose with a sickening crunch, causing blood to spurt out. She takes a breath in; her hand wraps around his neck, forming a tight hold as she goes into the headlock. She chokes him, so desperately trying to live. And the man trashes against her grip, his white face turning a deep shade of purple before finally going limp in her arms.

Shame.

A thing that followed her after every life she took is now absent. Maybe the Giedi Prime's cruelty did have its effect on her; YN feels nothing but a sense of emptiness as she stands over the lifeless body.

''Do you have any more men to gift me to, Baron Vladimir? The night is still young.''

Her voice has changed. It holds a certain hiss now, a rasp that wasn't present before; it has matured and bloomed into half an octave deeper tone. It bites through the noise easily, cutting sharply.

The Baron laughs. His eyes gleam with amusement as he gestures towards the door. "Plenty more where that came from, my dear, but it's enough for today. Here,'' he throws something in her, a smirk ghosting on his lips. ''You've earned it.''

YN catches it and inspects the object in her hand. A small, golden broche catches the light, glinting in the dimly lit room. A head of the Bighorn ram stares back at her, the symbol of House Harkonnen. The taste of victory mingled with the metallic tang, leaving a bittersweet sensation in her mouth. Joy courses her veins—she isn't afraid. Finally, she is not afraid. Finally, she can look at her blood-stained hands without humiliation. Is it her fault she was born a better knife than a person?

Bighorn sheep are not a primary food source in most areas. However, when a lion does kill a sheep, they typically will continue to do so over and over again, until the herd is depleted.

tag list:

@oh-you-mean-me @juliskopf @moonsoulk @mamawiggers1980 @ashy-kit

[queenie-avenue]

What about period comfort with Isabella bc her darling gets rly bad cramps where she can’t get out of bed which is a perfect excuse for Isabella to take full autonomy with feeding, choosing clothes ect

Basically taking care of her

The pains of being a woman.

💌 ⤻ THE MAFIA BOSS, VITTORIA CONSTANZO

—> headcanons of how Vittoria will take care of you during your period.

⤻ reader is a female, period pains, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, typical yandere behaviour tbh, medical procedures done without consent, mutilation of female genitalia, mentions of stockholm syndrome at the end

note: i changed isabella's name to vittoria, that's why the name is different. also, sorry for taking so long for this! i hope you enjoy!

💌 ⤻ archives.

— Vittoria won't even let you lift a finger when you have your period! She's a woman too, so she understands how painful it can be to experience cramps and all the other side-effects of simply being a woman!

“Oh darling,” She cooed as she leaned in to press a kiss to your lips. “I know, I know it's painful.” She peppered your face with kisses as she placed a hot towel over your abdomen. “It's just for a week, okay? And then we can go back to all the activities we're missing out on.” She whispered into your ears seductively as she massaged you.

— Honestly, Vittoria is a sadist. She doesn't hide it much from her peers and comrades in the mafia, but she doesn't normally show it to you. But you do notice at times when she tries to hide that smile on her face whenever you tear up because of your cramps. Can you blame her? She loves kissing those tears away.

— Will loosen up the ribbons on your arms to reduce the hassle, but she doesn't underestimate you, so you're always locked up whether you like it or not.

— Despite being so busy as a fashion designer and mafia boss, Vittoria still takes time be with you. Especially when you’re suffering like this, she makes extra time to take care of you while Valerio attends her meetings.

“Who cares about that meeting, my Belleza?” She whispered into your ear as she loosened up your ribbons, turning you around like a puppet to give you yet another massage.

— Althought Vittoria wants you to have a healthy diet — considering the fact you can't afford to gouge on fat-filled foods thanks to you not being able to exercise at all — she has hired a strict dietitian. But during those few days to a week you're suffering, she'll allow you to have anything your heart desires.

— Loves feeding you food. She normally does it already but during your period, she just loves how more submissive you're being towards her.

— Like yourself, it seems like she will also get emotional whenever you are, seemingly growing more jealous and eager to be with you. After all, you can barely move with your cramps, what if someone else helps you and you fall in love with them instead of her?

— During her periods, she also expects you to care for her, like how she cares for you. At least, how much you can care for her when you are stuck in a room.

— If your periods hurt that badly though… she may force you to get a hysterectomy. Vittoria's a sadist, but she loves you too much to see you hurt that badly every month.

You fought against the chains she had placed on you — replacing the soft ribbons she had given you the privilege of having — as you stared into her blue eyes, yours tearing up as the anesthesia slowly began to kick in, knocking you out and allowing Vittoria to mutilate and rip out your poor womb.

“I couldn't bear to see you in such pain, my love.” She whispered as she soothed your back after the procedure. “It's not like you need a womb anyway.” She said. “If we want children, we will adopt.” She announced, like it was set in stone.

But you would never want to have a child with a monster like her.

Yet, you were resigned to forever be her love; her darling Belleza.

[eff4freddie]

After She Left | Five

Words: 6k

Preparations for Jackson's first ever prom are well underway, and even Ellie is helping out. As Jackson's only teacher it is, of course, your job to run the show and you'd be more than capable if one parent didn't keep distracting you.

Chapter warnings: Illusions to smut, slow burn, angsty memories of being a teenager, 'She' finally arrives. Minors DNI.

A/N: Ok, second act kicks off after this chapter. You'll get a glimpse of what that means now. Hope you enjoy!

Four | Series Masterlist | Six

Your dreams were changing. Used to waking with a chill, the echoes of loss and the face of your sister blurred in the grey clouds streaking across your dreamscape, you’d started to wake now with a warmth, a vein of light. You felt it on your skin like the first spring day out of a long, cold winter. You’d wake trying to grip its tail as it slipped from you.

The prom thing was your idea, and you only half regretted it. You’d had the idea when Isaiah had asked you what school for you was like, so fascinated by the before times, the kids trying hard to imagine classroom upon classroom filled with students all of the same age. You’d tried to explain that school wasn’t anything, really, that sometimes you didn’t even go because it was so boring, and they gawped at you, disbelieving. You felt a little sliver of shame at having wasted it, reminded yourself that was what you were supposed to do at age 14.

You’d mentioned prom, and there had been a ripple of interest throughout the room.

‘So, there was dancing? But it wasn’t the whole town, it was just you and your friends?’

‘Well, there were teachers and parents as chaperones, but…yeah, there were so many of us that it was just each grade. We got all dressed up, we had our picture taken, we had to choose dates.’

‘You went with a boy?’ Celina piped up from the front row, her nine-year-old face scandalised by the idea that you would willingly expose yourself to boy germs.

‘Yeah, well, some girls had boyfriends in their grade.’

‘Did you have a boyfriend?’ someone asked, the judgement almost silent, and you knew without looking that it was Ellie.

‘No, I didn’t. I had a crush on a boy, but it didn’t really…’

You remembered him, even now, an actual apocalypse not enough to erase the shame. You’d let your friends talk you into a promposal, standing in the bleachers as he ran track with an enormous sign that you’d spent far too many hours painting at your bestie’s kitchen table. It had heart-shaped glitter. You were especially proud of that detail.

You hadn’t realised that the entire track team would also see it, that you would need to specifically point him out in the crowd. Never had you imagined that he would dodge away from your finger, pretending to hide behind another boy, dodging your desire for him while his teammates laughed. It was enough to shrivel your heart into coal. You’re not sure you ever recovered.

You said none of that in your Jackson classroom. Instead, you focused on the decorations, that there was always a theme, that you heard the high school two towns over got Nelly Furtado to play live at theirs, but you weren’t convinced that was any more than an urban legend. They had no idea who Nelly Furtado was. You didn’t try to explain.

‘So can we have one?’ Mika asked, finally looking up from his comic book. You hadn’t thought he was paying attention.

‘A prom? Well, I’d have to talk to the town council.’

‘Tommy’s my uncle, I got an in,’ Ellie said, her face lighting up with the power of being connected, such nepotism so rare as the last vestiges of civilisation withered.

The kids grinned up at you, and you realised that maybe this was something they needed. Jackson already did Christmas, blew eggs, painted them with bees wax and dye from mashed beets and honey, and held a hunt on the first weekend of what the town council’s best guess was April. You could get the kids to decorate with paper flowers. It would be really cute to watch them decorate the mess hall, and there was probably some kind of educational value in it, too.

--

From his post, Joel watched Guillaume and Jonah, his new patrol partner, disappear into the treeline. He watched them, a little nugget of shame festering in the depths of his belly, but mostly – if he allowed himself to admit it – he was happy to have been moved to shifts on the wall. It meant he wasn’t back so late for Ellie, that he could be home to help with her homework or make her help him make dinner, and he didn’t feel so paranoid all the time when he could see the horizon. He didn’t mind the early starts, preferred the quiet up there, liked being able to turn and survey the town as much as the wilds outside it.

If he turned and leaned over a little, up on one foot on the top rung of the ladder, and leaned a little to the right he could make out the path heading up to the schoolhouse. When Billy asked him what he was doing, he explained he wanted to make sure his girl got to school OK. He generally, for the most part, broadly speaking, was referring to Ellie.

Tommy had been nice to enough not to give him shit for it, even after a bloody-nosed Guillaume took it upon himself to point out that Joel was a liability out there. Tommy had appeared on his doorstep the next morning, his brows crowding together, but Joel had spent most of the early morning on the wall, had imagined you lying in bed as he made sure to keep the nastiness away from you, and he was more ready than his little brother expected to hang up his boots.

‘M’getting older, Tommy, we talked about that,’ Joel reminded him, and Tommy nodded.

‘Still the best shot we got, and the best survivalist.’

‘Don’t mean I can’t advise if anyone asks it of me,’ he said. ‘S’not even that hard, just gotta keep your wits about ya.’ He thought for a long moment. ‘Maybe it’s gettin’ harder, now I think about it,’ he conceded.

‘Well, so long as you’re agreeable,’ Tommy said, shuffling awkwardly.

‘What would’ya have done if I wasn’t?’ Joel asked, a crooked grin forming on his face.

‘Would have taken you off patrol, but mighta felt a little bad about it,’ Tommy answered, earnest. Joel scoffed.

‘You’d pull rank, Town Councilman?’

‘Yes’sir, I would,’ Tommy said, no less earnest. Joel nodded at him.

‘Good,’ he affirmed, and saw the way Tommy expanded under the praise of his big brother. ‘You do what’s right for Jackson, always,’ Joel said, and Tommy agreed.

It was cold up there, though, the windchill on his face and his fingertips causing his whole body to tremor in his coat. It was Spring, but it was turning out to be a cold one, not a lot of warmth getting around the mountain. Joel shuffled his feet, trying to get the feeling back in his toes a little. He hadn’t brought his big coat, thinking the sun would be enough to keep him warm, but now that it was nearing the end of the day, the sun disappearing below the mountain ridge, he was counting every minute until he could clamber down and warm up.

He knew you’d be at his place already, working with Ellie at his kitchen table now that the heat had gone out of the day. He was going to try and make his beef stew tonight, had practically begged the kitchen staff to let him have a side of the meat. He hadn’t resorted to violence, but he would have.

He just wanted to thank you for everything you were doing for his daughter. Wanted to nourish your body the way you were nourishing her mind.

Billy called up to him from the bottom of the ladder. ‘Come on down, Joel, night shift’s here.’ Casting one last glance at the treeline, he vaulted down the ladder to rungs at a time.

--

You’d held a democratic process to determine the theme for the prom, but Ellie had dominated it anyway, either unfamiliar with, or just straight up unwilling to, compromise. As the day grew closer you gave up any pretence of tutoring her, working instead on cutting out yellow paper stars at Joel’s kitchen table.

‘Why does the moon change?’ Ellie asked, one day, and you’d paused for a second. You weren’t sure how bad FEDRA school was by the time she was in it, but that seemed fundamental.

‘Well, I mean, you know we’re a planet, right? That we’re like, a big round ball? Floating in the sky?’ Ellie levelled an impatient gaze at you, and you swallowed.

‘Do you think I’m an idiot?’ she asked, and you thought very hard and very fast.

‘I think you’re brilliant and FEDRA school is terrible,’ you said, diplomatically. She softened, her cheeks pinking up a little.

‘Can’t argue with you there,’ she said, quietly.

‘I mean, how much did they teach you about planets?’

‘Sweet fuck all,’ she said, plainly, and you wanted to tell her not to swear but she was in her own house, and it felt like the horse had bolted long ago in any case. ‘But I read about it as much as I can.’

‘The moon?’

‘All space… being that high up where nothing can, no-one up there who can…it’s just so cool. Were you alive when they landed on it?’

‘Ellie, that was the 60s,’ you complained, waiting for her to do the mental maths and wondering how old she thought you were, or if all adults were just ‘old’ to her, a kind of non-descript age in which you are both responsible for everything and also mere moments from shuffling off into death.

She stared at you blankly. ‘I wasn’t born for another like, twenty years,’ you said.

She nodded. ‘Oh.’

‘A lot of people didn’t even believe we really did land on the moon,’ you said. You picked up another piece of paper, your pile of stars nearly double the size of Ellie’s. She wasn’t being careful, her general distractedness was making her slow.

‘What? But wasn’t it on TV?’

‘Yes, it was, but they said it was faked.’ Her eyes blew wide at this, and you realised she was considering it. ‘Ellie, there’s no way it was faked. There are footprints up there that’ll be there forever.’

‘Guess we’ll never know, now,’ she said, quietly, and you suddenly wondered whether the space theme was such a good idea, after all, whether you were tormenting the kids with something they would never see, never have even the smallest chance to explore.’

‘Ellie…’ you said, but she wasn’t looking at you anymore, concentrating hard on her paper star.

‘It’s ok, it’ll be fun to pretend for the night,’ she said. ‘There’s a lot of pretending, won’t be too hard.’

You wanted to ask her what she meant, who she thought was pretending, but you heard heavy footsteps on the front porch and knew Joel was home. You felt your cheeks flush, your hands picking up a little tremble that make it hard to grip your scissors.

‘Hello, ladies,’ Joel said, and when you looked up, he was grinning at you both from the doorway, his hands criss-crossed over his chest as he leant on the frame. It was a domestic enough moment that you had to fight the impulse to go over to him and welcome him properly, into your arms. Ellie barely acknowledged him, because she was 14.

‘What are we making?’ he asked, picking up one of Ellie’s ‘stars’ and genuinely requiring clarification. You winced a little at it. Perhaps it could go towards the back.

‘Prom decorations,’ Ellie said, and she still seemed a little down. You watched her, carefully, trying to determine if she’d already lit her fuse.  

‘Oh, I won’t interrupt,’ Joel said, raising his hands, feeling something in the air. ‘You stayin’ to eat, Teach?’ he asked, and he hoped his voice didn’t make him sound too eager, didn’t give him away.

‘I don’t want to be a bother,’ you said, just like you always did.

‘Oh my God!’ Ellie sighed, throwing her star down in front of her and pushing her chair back. ‘Just say yes, you always end up staying anyway.’

‘Ellie!’ Joel barked at her, and she huffed, her shoulders so high they nearly touched her ears.

‘It’s true, you guys do all this polite bullshit and for what? Just say what you want and then you can get it. It’s not so hard.’

You looked over at Joel, who was staring at his likely hormonal teenager with a perplexed look on his face. You took a second to gather yourself.

‘I would love to stay for dinner, Joel, but one of these days I want you to let me cook for you both.’

Joel paused, considering this. Eyes still on Ellie, who was still quietly fuming, he nodded his head, once. ‘I would like that, Teach,’ he said, his careful tone that of every bewildered teenage-girl-Dad the world over. ‘Ellie, I want you to go wash up before dinner, then I want you to peel the carrots.’

She stood up, stomping to the washroom. You concentrated hard on the paper in your hands, hoping it was enough to stifle your smile.

‘I want to know what the fuck that was about,’ Joel said to you, but smiling.

‘I want to remind you there’s nothing worse than being a teenage girl,’ you replied.

--

You stood, wobbling on the end of a step ladder, hanging up the stars. Tommy found some string lights and put them up around the mess hall, and Johnny and his assembly of post-apocalyptic musicians set up in the corner. You and Tommy had already pushed all the tables back against the wall to make a dance floor. As you worked, he regaled you with his favourite memories of his own prom, most of which seemed to involve trying to get up the skirt of someone called Tammy Schmidt. She’d never let him anywhere near her, and you told Tommy to his face she was right to do it.

‘You would have been Tommy and Tammy,’ you said, and he started to giggle. Actually giggle.

‘That was the appeal!’ he said, sheepish. ‘I figured it sounded like those made-up celebrity names.’

‘Brangelina,’ you said, and he grinned.

‘Tomammy,’ he replied, and you rolled your eyes.

After everything was set up you went home to get dressed, pulling out a little black number foraged from the bottom of Maria’s wardrobe. She had complained she was never going to get back into it, and you had waved her off. It made you feel silly and out of place and pretty and ridiculous, and you liked the way it swished when you walked. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d swished anywhere. It felt so normal you weren’t sure you could trust it.

When you arrived back at the mess hall the lights had been dimmed, and Johnny and his band were starting to warm up. With the lights down and the paper streamers and stars you could forget for a moment it wasn’t a normal prom, a real one. You felt a surge of pride in your belly, looked around at the tangible good.

You heard the doors to the mess hall swing open, followed by shrieks and laughter and multiple sets of rapidly advancing feet.

‘Oh my god it’s so amazing!’ Mika said, his face illuminated by the warm glow of the string lights, of the smile stretching his cheeks.

‘This is cool,’ Dina said, quietly, up the back, and you grinned. Something in you, some teenage part of you, was quietly relieved.

More kids arrived, some trailed by their parents, and you busied yourself setting up the orange juice and cola station. The kitchen had done little sandwiches and finger food and you wanted to make sure the kids ate, worried you’d send them home on empty stomachs and sugar pinging through their veins. That their parents would never forgive you, and that they would be right.

As soon as the band started up you stepped back, letting the kids swarm the plates and start to dance. You wanted to join them but you also felt a pull back to the edge of the room, kept thinking you were seeing snatches of your sister in the half-light, of you as a girl. You weren’t sure what the feeling was, some kind of melancholic nostalgia, some kind of longing for something that didn’t make sense to you. You’d never even liked prom that much, had mostly just gone because everyone else was. But it was different seeing one from the other side: from the other side of adolescences, from the other side of the end of the world. It felt precious and sad and joyful, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to turn away from it or bottle it up and store it safe under the bed.

You kept wondering if this was what your 14-year-old self ever envisioned for herself, if she could have envisioned anything so apocalyptic at all.

The doors swung open again, and you exhaled the breath you didn’t realise you were holding when Ellie strode in, almost skipping, her face titled up to the ceiling to see all her decorations hanging in the rafters. ‘Holy shit!’ you heard her exclaim, and you cringed a little, trying to avoid the eyes of the parents. You would have to speak to her about that, eventually.

You turned to pour yourself a juice, the acid tingling at the back of your teeth, before you heard heavy footsteps behind you, even over the thrum of the music and of Ellie grabbing Mika and swinging him around the dancefloor.

‘Hey, Teach,’ Joel said, his baritone rumbling out from his chest. You suppressed a shiver.

‘Joel,’ you turned to him, allowing the surprise to show on your face. ‘What are you doing here?’ You were ignoring that he was standing in black suit pants and a white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, maybe a size too big, you couldn’t be sure. He’d done his hair, or had made an attempt at it, maybe running water through it and in the humidity of the room it had started to curl. You were alarmed at how distinctly you wanted to lean forward and sink your teeth into his neck, to lave at the skin there, to feel his pulse with your tongue.

You swallowed, the juice catching in your throat and making you splutter. Suddenly Joel was beside you, an enormous warm hand between your shoulder blades as you fought, doubled over, for breath.

‘Easy, easy,’ he was saying, and you wanted to slam your eyes shut and imagine him whispering exactly that as he slid inside you, as he rocked into you and felt your cunt quiver around his length. Jesus Christ, you were going to spontaneously combust.

‘Sorry, went down the wrong hole,’ you said, fluttering your hand in front of your face in the hope it would ward him off somewhat. As you straightened, he let his hand slide down your spine and away just as he reached the small of your back, and you felt your spine arch towards where his touch had been.

Fucks sake, you needed to get it together. You were like some horny teenager at, well, prom.

‘Tommy had something he needed to do at home, something with the baby.’

‘Is he OK? Is Maria Ok?’

‘Yeah, they’re fine, the baby just has a sniffle and I believe Maria’s exact words were “you’re not going out there to watch teenagers marinate in their hormones while I sit at home being snotted on by your crotch fruit”.’

You gaped at him. ‘Maria did not say crotch fruit.’

‘Might have put my spin on that bit,’ Joel said, grinning.

For his part, Joel was watching your eyes so that he wouldn’t look down at your dress, a little black flitty number that came up to your knees and down close enough on your chest that when you leant over trying to get your breath he had to move away to resist the urge to stare at the swell of your breasts, instead coming to stand beside you and placing his hand on your back just to try and keep himself standing. You were so fuckin’ pretty, done your hair all up nice. He wanted to swivel you around, tuck you into his chest and nibble on the nape of your neck, put his nose in your hair and inhale as he flipped that silly little skirt over your rear, letting one hand wonder over your cheeks as he slid further down, cupping and probing, into the slick between your legs.

Christ on a cracker, he needed to get it together. He was behaving like Tommy at, well, prom.

‘Place looks great,’ he said, his voice slightly strangled. You gazed up at him, taking a second to comprehend his words.

‘Thanks, Ellie did amazing work with the stars,’ you said, and you knew he knew you were lying, and you also knew he was a good enough Dad that he was going to let you get away with it.

‘She certainly has her own style,’ Joel replied, eyeing one particularly wonky cutout you had strategically placed in a dark corner.

You turned to watch the kids dance, Ellie’s hair bouncing around her face as she twisted her hips, holding Mika’s hand as she did.

‘She’s really gravitated towards him,’ you commented, and you looked over at Joel just in time to see a cloud pass over his face.

‘He probably reminds her of…’ he said, but then he trailed off, recalibrated. ‘He’s a sweet kid, so it makes sense,’ he finished.

‘Oh, speaking of sweet, Billy loves having you on the wall,’ you said, smiling at him and watching him blush.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, and you swore you could see genuine anxiety on his face.

‘Big Bad Joel Miller helping out? Billy getting to tell you what to do? He’s like a pig in shit.’

Joel could feel the heat on his cheeks and was powerless to stop it. ‘Big Bad Joel Miller,’ he echoed, feeling the words on his tongue, seeing how they tasted. ‘Not sure about that.’

‘You must know there are stories,’ you said, leaning into him a little, goading him a little, wanting to see if you could get him to crack and tell you something about himself.

‘Don’t pay any of that much mind,’ he said. ‘Don’t reckon any of ‘em are close to the truth.’

‘Well, no they can’t be,’ you agreed, quickly, feeling like the conversation was slipping from you and not really knowing why.

‘Not sure there are words for some of the shit I’ve…seen,’ he said, and he saw the shift in your face, the shock before you covered it, and he knew that he’d scared you a little, but there were things he didn’t want to talk about, shit that he’d had to do to get Ellie here, to get her to be able to forget the cost of it all. Big Bad Joel Miller. No one had any fucking clue.

He looked over at you, at the way you had sunk into yourself, and he cursed himself. You were too sweet, too warm, and he’d gone and thrown a wet rag on your fire. If you knew about him you wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him. He took a step back, too. You’d made him forget for a second, that he was no good to anyone. Especially not to someone like you.

You were lost in your thoughts, watching the kids again but not really seeing. It wasn’t even what Joel had said, although you felt the way he was pushing you away, and you went willingly. It was that as he spoke you realised, finally realised, what the feeling was that had been pulling at you all night.

You were fucking lonely. 14-year-old you might have been OK with the QZ stuff, with what you had to do to survive, with keeping your sister alive along as you could, with making sure her death meant something, even just until they cleared her body away. 14-year-old you might have even been OK with the teaching, although that would take some convincing. But the fact that you were alone, that you were nearing 40 and hadn’t ever really loved anyone other than your family, hadn’t ever really had anyone love you. OK, so you hadn’t married Jonathan Taylor Thomas, in the circumstances maybe for that you got a pass. But that you weren’t with anyone, that you had wanted love for yourself and never got it, that you had wanted to belong in that most specific way and you hadn’t, hadn’t ever really come home. 14-year-old you was screaming and howling and gnashing her teeth. You’d failed her, failed the both of you.

You were horrified to feel a tightness across your throat, the heat building behind your eyes. You needed to get away from all these people, needed to go and pity yourself in peace.

‘I just need some air,’ you said, barely above a whisper, pushing past Joel with your face turned away lest he see your eyes growing redder and wetter by the second.

‘Teach…’ he called after you, but you were gone, heading straight to the door, not seeing Ellie turn to follow Joel’s voice, to see you making a break for it, turning back to him with her hands in the air.

Joel felt his stomach drop, staring back at Ellie with panic written all over his face.

‘What did you do?’ she mouthed to him, and he shrugged, helpless. He’d pushed you away, had shut you down, had been rude and cruel and cold. But he had no idea how to mouth that to his teenage daughter across a dance floor. ‘GO AFTER HER’ Ellie whisper-screamed at him, and it jolted him, got his feet moving before he’d even given it another thought.

You were standing under the awning a couple of paces from the door, leaning on the railing and sucking in the chill of the air. You realised when you heard the door swing open that you’d cornered yourself, cursed yourself for getting all your years in the QZ.

‘Teach,’ he said, and you hung your head. ‘M’sorry, I didn’t mean to…’

‘Wasn’t you, wasn’t that, I just…I needed to breathe for a second.’

Joel paused, watching the way your shoulders rose and fell, sharp and insistent, as you gathered yourself.

He took a step forward towards you, saw the way you flinched and turned away, and stopped, deciding instead to sit on the steps, giving you space but not too much, distance but enough that he could reach out for you if you wanted him to.

‘I did a lot of things to get here,’ he said, after a while. The hair stood up on the back of your neck. ‘I ain’t ashamed of ‘em, I’d do ‘em all again to keep her safe, you understand?’ he asked, and you nodded, still with your back half-turned. ‘Never regretted getting her here, both of us, to safety and to family.’ You nodded again. You knew all of this, had lived all of this, but you didn’t stop him, couldn’t turn to look at him, just let him talk because you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. ‘What bothers me, Teach, is that Big Bad Joel Miller might be too old to do ‘em again.’

You felt a pull towards him, turned your body to peer at his face. He was staring down main street, avoiding looking at you, too.

‘What if I can’t keep her safe?’ he asked, almost to himself. You swallowed, moving towards him, sucked into his gravitational pull. As you sank down beside him on the step, he shuffled to make room for you, but you didn’t want distance, leaning further over so that your shoulders touched. He was so warm even in the chill of the night. You wanted him to take your hands and blow warm breath onto them, smile and put them on his chest to warm them even though the cold of your skin stung him.

‘She’s so capable, Joel,’ you said. ‘You did that. She’ll keep herself safe, soon.’

‘She’s just a kid,’ Joel said, but he wasn’t attacking, just stating a fact.

‘I wasn’t much older on outbreak day,’ you said, simply.

‘Lotsa girls her age weren’t so lucky,’ he replied, quiet.

Blood smattered all over a pink and purple tee-shirt. Curls caked in blood and mud. He swallowed.

‘I know that,’ you said, after a while. Joel watched your face. He saw that it was true, that you knew.

‘S’what was it, if it wasn’t me being so rude to ya?’ he asked, after a long silence that would have made his bones itch if he’d been sharing it with anyone else but you. You shied away a little, and he watched as you started to recede. ‘Hey,’ he said, reprising the conversation from the night at the kitchen table. ‘I want you to tell me what’s up,’ he said, and you smiled, faintly, recognising what he was doing.

‘Prom, I guess. Memories. I don’t know.’ You paused, tried to form the words. ‘It’s all about promise, isn’t it, being a kid and being in high school and doing all of these…rites of passages. There’s an assumption about how things will go. We all make ‘em, made ‘em. Guess it’s hard when they didn’t come true.’

Joel nodded. He wanted to pull you into his lap and rock you, gentle and soft in the night, feel your warm breath on his neck as you pushed your fingertips through the buttonholes of his shirt.

‘Most of the time I’m OK,’ you went on, trying to repair it, slink back under your shell, your slimy snail body suddenly exposed to the elements.

‘Everyone’s OK til they ain’t.’ Joel said. He turned to look at you, swivelled his body to yours so that your knees rested against his. His eyes were so deep and dark in the streetlights, his brows saddled as he petitioned you. ‘I don’t mind it, Teach. You can be all of it with me.’

You felt your heart gallop in your chest, heat suddenly in your belly.

‘So can you, Big Bad Joel Miller,’ you told him, smiling but earnest, wanting him to believe it was true. ‘I’ll take whatever you got,’ you said.

There was a moment, Joel knew, when he could pull back from it. That this was that moment, when he could turn away from you, could crack a joke or make some excuse to head back inside. Could get up and bolt for the gate, swing it open and face whatever demons were out in the darkness so as not to have to face his own. He knew this was the moment of no return, for him.

He looked down at your lips, painted red for prom and so soft, so plump. Your skin soft and glowing so gently in the light. How many more times was he going to have to resist you by porchlight? How many times could he?

‘Joel…’ you whispered, edging yourself closer to him, leaning in without even really thinking about it, watching him mirror you and Joel knew the moment had passed, that your little whimper of his name was branded on his chest, that he would parade it around town for you, would bare it to anyone who wanted to lay their claim.

Your hair was soft, so soft, in his palms as he pulled you into him, his lips crashing into yours, your mouth opening to welcome him, tongue dancing across his. He groaned, from deep down in his belly, for the want of it, for the way his tummy flipped at his first taste of you.

You were pretty sure you were dead. It was the only explanation. But if this was heaven then so fucking be it, because Joel was cupping your face in his hands, and his kiss was insistent and gentle and he was guiding you through it, teasing you open as you felt the hinge of your jaw creak under the pressure of your want for him. You weren’t sure you were breathing. You weren’t sure you cared.

He was pulling you closer, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you into him, the weird angle meaning both sets of knees were in the way. You considered vaulting over the top of him, riding him on the steps of the mess hall while a bunch of teenagers supposedly under your charge danced under paper stars, but you had the wherewithal to hold back, to pry yourself from him, to lean your forehead on his and catch your breath.

Granted, you didn’t have a lot of experience. But you’d never had a kiss that felt like that.

‘Teach,’ Joel said, so quiet and just for you, and you could hear that he was out of breath, that his chest was heaving, that he was fighting it back just as hard as you. He lifted his head and gazed at you, the look of naked desire on his face such that you wanted it to be photographed, painted, hung in a gallery and studied by future generations.

Then, alarms. And yes, you thought, that felt about right. Everything had just shifted off its axis, after all, it made sense that the universe was now screaming.

Except it sounded weirdly familiar. Kind of like the one that you pulled when there was a problem at the gate.

You turned your head down main street as you saw the flood lights come on. You were up, Joel just behind you, as you and your little swishy dress headed towards it, front doors ripping open around you, men and women pulling on jackets over their pyjamas, arming themselves for war.

‘State your business!’ you heard Billy yell from the top of the gate, his rifle trained at a hard angle just beneath him. Jesus, they were close, you realised. Nearly right up on the iron.

You couldn’t hear the reply, vaulting up the ladder without thinking, without a weapon, leaving Joel to defend the gate.

‘State your business!’ Billy called again, and you came up beside him, peeping over the edge to report back on what you could see. There were three of them, that you could see from here. You scanned the treeline, the floodlights turning the trees into fingers scratching harsh at the night sky.

‘Where they come from, Billy?’ you asked, and he gestured with his head over to the right. You picked up the binoculars and scanned.

‘Can’t see any others,’ you reported back, going to the other side and holding up three fingers to the crowd.

‘We’re just passing through,’ the man called back, ‘saw your lights and thought…we’re injured.’

‘Injured how?’ Billy called. You could hear murmuring beneath you, a plan being hatched.

‘One of us is a woman. We were ambushed. They took everything we have, nearly took her but she got away.’

You peered down over the gate, could see that a woman was indeed holding her arm in a sling, her face pale. She was wavering, like she was ready to collapse.

You heard footsteps on the ladder, felt it sway the wall as Tommy appeared beside you.

‘Whatdya reckon?’ he asked you, his eyes focussed but his breath coming in short and fast.

‘They’re telling the truth so far,’ you said, ‘best I can tell.’

You stepped out of the way, Tommy taking your place at the wall while Billy stayed fixed, his gun unwavering from the strangers.

You heard a gasp, a kind of choking shock. ‘No fucking way,’ Tommy said, and you peered over his shoulder again, trying to figure out what he could see. ‘Shauna?’ he called down, the woman’s face snapping up to him, a shaky hand covering her eyes to make him out.

‘Tommy?’ she asked, as though she was dead and found herself at the gates of heaven, surprisingly less gilded than expected. You swallowed, saw Billy’s hold on the gun waver.

‘Open the gates!’ Tommy called, before turning back to the strangers. ‘Hands up and come forward slowly, I’ll meet you there.’

‘Who is that, Tommy?’ you asked him, grabbing at him as he made to hurry past.

‘It’s Shauna,’ he said, his face pale and disbelieving. ‘Where’s Joel?’

‘Who the fuck is Shauna?’ you asked, every nerve ending screaming.

‘She’s Sarah’s mom,’ he said, before he disappeared down the ladder, calling for Joel as he went.

‘Who the fuck is Sarah?’ Billy said to you, his gun lowered but eyeballing the group all the same.

You had no idea.

Taglist (let me know if you want to be on it)

@harriedandharassed

@vickie5446

@kaseyconnour

@orcasoul

@missladym1981

@spacesoutdaydreamer

@tangled-tumbler-blog-blog

@fancyyoouu

@anoverwhelmingdin

[imagineredwood]

7. Macarons 🍪

Summary: Manny likes you, has for a while, but he's gotten mixed signals from you and isn't sure if the feeling is mutual. That's ok though. Nothing a few laced cookies can't solve.

Pairing: Manny x female reader (did he have a last name? Can’t remember)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI Sexual content, they do not have sex, just grinding and touching, Dark!Manny DRUGGING - the reader is drugged without her consent with a 'truth serum' type drug in her gifted macarons to get her to tell him how she feels. The reader does like him and does want to be with him/be sexual with him, she's just been shy and didn't dare to be upfront; the drug helps it come out. So their interactions are technically consensual, but she has been drugged against her will/knowledge and is under the influence. Just want to make that clear for everyone. If it's not your cup of tea or triggers you or anything like that, please don't read it. I would never want anyone to be upset by/hurt/triggered by my work, but at the same time, we're also responsible for the content that we choose to consume. So if it doesn't sound like something you would like or enjoy reading, please don't read it. I won't take it personally if you sit this one out. Also please let me know what other tw I should tag it as if there are any you feel it should be under

Word count: 1.6K

"Macarons??"

You beamed as you looked into the box, the selection of pastel treats looking delightful. They were expensive for their size, one of the main reasons you never really splurged on them. You'd had one or two here and there, but a box of 24? You had never spent that kind of money on a cookie. That didn't mean that you couldn't admire them though. You'd saved some aesthetic tiktoks of them, opting to one day spoil yourself with a beautiful box of them. You hadn't ever told Manny about your desire to have them, knowing that if you merely mentioned it, he would've splurged on the most beautiful and expensive ones he could find. He was just like that when it came to you. So you'd kept it to yourself, deciding that you would get yourself a small box for Valentine's Day, seeing as you didn't have a Valentine. 

But Manny had beat you to the punch. 

He grinned as he watched your eyes light up, happy that his gift had paid off. At first, a few months ago when he was trying to plan out what he would do for the special day, he wasn't sure if the treat was one you would be into. He wanted to make sure that whatever treat he got you for Valentine's Day, was one you would enjoy and preferably one you would remember.

When he saw the saved tiktoks, he was thankful that he'd had the idea to hack your phone a few weeks before. 

His intentions had been innocent enough, really. He just wanted to be able to know what you liked. He always got you gifts, eager to please. He had already decided he was going to put together a Valentine's Day basket for you, but he needed to make sure everything was perfect and to your liking. He needed you to see how much he cared about you and wanted you to be happy. Wanted you to be his. All of his previous gifts had warmed you and gotten you closer to him, but you still weren't his. His hope was that this gift would change that. 

So scrolling through your likes and saves, he'd found a handful of videos of the delicate treat and knew then that was his way into your heart. And right he had been. 

You smiled eyes raking over all of the colors, the sweet aroma wafting up to your nose in a swirl of vanilla and raspberry and cinnamon and-

"I'm glad you like it."

The Mayan looked proud as he eyed you, happy with his decision. Your mouth was practically watering at the smell and he knew you couldn't wait to try them. 

"Go 'head, mama. Let me know how they taste."

Your fingers hovered around the box, all of them looking so good you were having trouble picking which one you wanted. You settled on a baby pink one and picked it up, admiring it. 

"This one looks just like one I saw a video of." 

Manny nodded, knowing the exact tiktok you were speaking of. He didn't say that though. He knew that was the one you were going to have picked first. He knew you'd be excited and enthusiastic to dig into them.

That was why he had paid to have a little something slipped into the filling. 

He wasn't going to hurt you, of course not, he would never do that. He just wanted you soft and compliant. Honest. Needed to know if you felt the same way. Needed to know how you felt about him wanting you to be his and only his. So he'd gotten the idea from one of his brothers, 'truth serum cookies' he'd called it. The company made desserts for different purposes. Some had aphrodisiacs for couples to ramp up their sex life, others like the ones he had ordered had a drug known to make people relaxed and forthcoming, perfect for those who struggled with shyness when it came to dirty talk. 

In Manny's case, he just wanted you to be relaxed and open enough to tell the truth about if you wanted him as much as he wanted you. He needed to know if you would be his, and if you didn't want to be, then why. He'd brought it up to one of the Yuma brothers and he'd sold him on the idea. 'She won't even know. You can't taste it, no one would buy them if they tasted weird. They crush it up and mix it with some sugar, then add it to the cookie's filling. She won't have a clue. And you'll get to figure out whether she wants to have your crazy ass or not.' he had said.

He watched as you brought the macaron to your mouth and took a bite, catching a crumb in your hand as you licked the rest from your lips. Manny licked his own instinctively, eyes raking over your face as he watched you eat, almost in a trance. You smiled, covering your mouth as you chewed, not wanting to make more of a mess. 

"It's delicious." 

He smiled, then shook his head as you held it up to him for him to take a bite. 

"Not a fan of raspberry. Enjoy it." 

He lied cooly, and you bought it, taking another bite. You pushed the box towards him and motioned for him to take one as you both stood there at your kitchen counter. He obliged, not wanting you to suspect anything, and grabbed the cream-colored one with light brown filling, taking a bite. 

"Cinnamon." 

"Mmm." 

He held it out for you to take a bite of your own and you did, enjoying that one just as much as the other. You both stood there together, eating and chatting, a whole row missing before you knew it. You'd eaten most of them, and he wasn't worried about being affected. He didn't have anything to hide. You let out a yawn, and grabbed the lid, covering up the box with a laugh. 

"The crash after a sugar rush always sucks."

Manny nodded, his eyes on you as he watched your eyes grow a little heavier, your lids moving a little slower as you blinked. 

"Maybe we could go chill on the couch." 

You nodded and offered him a relaxed smile, that idea sounding wonderful. 

"Yeah, that sounds good." 

He followed you as you walked, hands itching to grab your hips as they swayed in front of him. You were a goddess in his eyes. A treasure that was meant to be his, but was always just out of his reach. But he was also a gentleman, despite his unorthodox methods of gaining the truth. So he kept his hands to himself, sitting down beside you on the couch. He angled his body towards you slightly like he always did, except this time it was because he was keeping an eye on you. 

Your eyes were soft, your face smooth and relaxed. He looked you over, not worried about you thinking he was weird or creepy for how long he stared at your face. He took in the angle of your nose, how your lashes fluttered on the tops of your cheeks. The softness of your lips. Your voice was gentle when it spoke, and his eyes were watching your lips as they parted, but it still caught him off guard. 

"Do you think I'm pretty, Manny?"

There it was. The serum already going into effect. His eyes drifted away from your lips and locked with yours.  

"I do, mama. I think you're gorgeous." 

You smiled softly. 

"I hoped you did." 

He inquired even though he knew exactly what you meant. 

"Hoped I did what?"

You shrugged, head tilted to the side as you gazed at him. 

"Hoped you found me pretty." 

He swallowed, his fingers wiggling as they screamed to touch you. 

"Well, I do. I think you're the prettiest little thing I've ever fuckin' seen." 

He watched as your throat moved, your swallow audible and pulling a smile from him. 

"What about you? You think I'm handsome?"

You didn't hesitate to nod. 

"I think you're very handsome. I think you're sexy." 

He adjusted himself in his seat, pants starting to feel a little snug. 

"That so?"

"Mhmm." 

You stared at him, fingers twiddling with the hem of your shirt. 

"I wanna sit in your lap. If that's ok." 

He melted, his nod sharp as he lifted the arm that was toward you, inviting you in. 

"C'mon then."

He felt his pulse quicken as you crawled over, a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself as you tossed your leg over his and then settled down in his lap, his eyes peering up at you. Your hands rested on his chest, fingers reaching up slightly, the tips tracing over the tattoo on his throat. 

"Wanted to sit like this for a while." 

The Mayan allowed his hands to finally drift over onto your hips, fingers digging in ever so slightly into the plush skin. 

"Wanted you to sit like this for a while too." 

Your giggle was breathless and it took everything in him not to start dragging your hips back and forth on him. 

"Anything else you been wanting?"

 You looked at him, fingers still stroking the ink. 

"Been wanting you to touch me."

Manny groaned, his hands gripping you tighter. 

"Oh yeah? Where?"

You shrugged and he shook his head, sucking his teeth. 

"Nah, none of that. Where you want my hands at, pretty girl?"

He slid his hands down further, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, gripping and pulling at your cheeks. 

"Here?"

You nodded, your hips rocking slightly. You pulled one hand away from his throat and instead gripped your own breast, your nipple hard under your palm already. 

"Maybe here too." 

He cursed quietly under his breath and pulled only one hand away to replace yours, squeezing at the soft swell of your breast, feeling like he was in heaven. 

"Yes ma'am." 

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl  @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast  @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114   @destynelseclipsa  @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben  @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lyly00 @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester  @alexxavicry  @savagemickey03  @fanfic-n-tabulous   @gangstaliciou06

Mayans MC taglist

@dazzledamazon​  @abunnykisses​ @briana-mishell24​  @wrcn9fvlcver​  @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @krysiewithak​  @appropriate-writers-name​  @blessedboo​  @megapeacelovemusic-blog​ @emoengelfurleben​ @blowmymbackout​ @abby-splace​ @kola95​ @black-repunzel99​ @redpoodlern​  @myakai13​

@cruzwalters​  @danimals1096 @po3ticb3auty​ @lyly00​ @im-just-a-mississippi-girl​  @angel-121​ @fanfic-n-tabulous​ @90sisthenew80s​ @lovelytricia @librarian1002

[2-dsimp]

can u write something for yandere armin? like what if his darling actually liked him back but then ppl are gossiping about him visiting Annie and still having feelings for her? this hurts darling bc she never forgave Anine and maybe her sibling is dead bc of the female titan so she just kinda stops talking to armin???

@laughing-with-god these were catching cobwebs in my drafts but it’s finally here (^◇^;)

————/———-/——————————-/—————-

Cw: Unhinged Armin! Fem! Reader, suicidal mentions, manipulative tendencies, yandere tendencies, obsessive behavior, mutual pinning

————/———-/——————————-/———��—-

Is she ignoring me?

Armin questioned.

Watching you longingly from afar underneath the bangs of his long blonde hair, he began to overthink about what went wrong between the two of you. The rumors that kept circulating his mind about how you also had feelings for him. Was driving him insane with all the conflicting emotions in his weak heart.

Doesn’t she feel the same way? But if that’s true then why…?

If the rumors are true then why’re you avoiding him? The day before the both of you were in the library leisurely reading books sitting next to each other as if you were connected by the red strings of faith. The atmosphere was so blissful a lovely distraction from the chaos in a world that seems so hopeless.

But now he’s witnessing you ignoring his existence entirely almost as if he didn’t exist in your heart to being in with. And that made him anxious with insecurities running rampant until it turned into twisted delusions.

Has she found another?

No, that can’t be! What do I do? I can’t let her go. I need her. I need her. I need her. I need her—

“Hey did yall hear about what’s happening between Armin and Annie?”

A distant voice snapped him out of his obsessive train of thoughts, and he automatically tuned into the conversation of gossip stemming from a group of scouts.

“Duh everyone knows that those two will hook up eventually, but my heart goes out to that girl who had a crush on him.”

Another voice chimed in with a slight huff of pity going out to you.

“Yeah, hasn’t Armin always had the hots for that Titan girl? I heard that he went to see her last night at the stables”

Armin went rigid at the mere mention that he would choose that abomination you utterly despised over you. Calming himself he couldn’t help but let out a tiny sigh of relief realizing that it was not as bad as he originally thought. Although, he did have an encounter with her, trust me when I say that it was far from that of a friendly front.

Now that he had a clear vision of the situation, he knew exactly what he needed to do to mend the bridge between him and his darling.

Him being all nice to Annie was just a facade to get her guard to the lowest crumbling point. The woman was already running on a half life carrying the guilt of her past warrior self. He pretended to be empathetic towards her, feeding the flames of her innermost desire to end it all by stating that she had suffered long enough by the hands of fate. And that as a former ally he’d assist in making sure she had a nice send off straight to hell.

And eventhough He knew it was wrong of him to enjoy the simpering thought of how jealous you were at the mere inkling idea that he was interested in Annie. He couldn’t help the excitement drumming along in his heart at how that was a sign of your apparent love towards him. A telltale sign of how you wanted him.

He nearly got weak in the knees at the vision of you and him getting together as a loving couple. Especially since he knew that his goal was within reach, all he had to do was set the plan in motion. In few days time you’ll soon see how much he truly loves you, and how much he’d be willing to be your faithful companion.

And what better way to show it, by giving you the chance to get revenge on the traitor you loathed with all your being.

With that in mind Armin quickly headed towards your quarters, his steps becoming upbeat with a small hopeful smile on his face while he daydreamed about you rewarding his efforts with a kiss.

[akilahia]

Replayed his part specifically to get these moments to take screenshots

Uhh here’s some examples in the video game of the stuff I was mentioning about transactions for Ted.

I think it’s really interesting to note that in the video game Ted is never the one to offer up his body in exchange for what he needs. It is always the women that ask him to do so, promising that afterwards they would fulfill their side of the bargain. So he isn’t the one offering, nor is he having sex just to have sex. This is just a method for him to get what he needs, but in each scenario it doesn’t work.

He makes it clear to the women that he is sleeping with them because of there promises to get him the mirror or to help Ellen. The maid is angry though when this is brought up after they do it and she no longer keeps her end of the deal. I think this might highlight the drain that this lifestyle has on Ted’s relationship with intimacy(depending on which option you choose ofc). He doesn’t do it because he loves them or is attracted to them, much like how he only was with the older women for their riches and social status’s.

This might be stupid, but it made me wonder further about his feelings towards Ellen.

We all know he has these feelings for her because she is the only woman left alive. But I wonder, if her being the only woman alive in addition to his strange relationship with women, makes his feelings for her more sincere.

Like if there were two women, obviously this would probably be different. But as it is, Ted really hasn’t had any meaningful truly romantic connections with women, and with the state of the world there really isn’t anything left for him to gain. There is just torture and suffering. I still think that his interest in Ellen in the game has transactional elements, but instead of being based on materialism, it’s based more in romantic interest. His psychodrama in the game depicts him as the Prince Charming/Knight in Shining armor to save Ellen. Fairytales typically follow the same trope of woman is saved by a man and now she will marry him because he saved her. Being saved means you should owe your love to them, it makes it seem like ‘it wouldn’t be right if the princess didn’t love the prince after he broke the curse, doesn’t she own him her life?’

In Ted’s Video game backstory, as well as in the game itself, it demonstrates his love for reading. So he must be very familiar with this trope, especially since he himself falls into it(I just realized that like right now).

I’m seeing the most familiarity with Cinderella, stepmother forces her to clean, can’t do what she wants, but she still is hopeful and dreams, beauty hidden by cinders, fairy godmother helps her dress perfectly for the ball and she is whisked away and married into royalty and is rich and a princess.

Ted grew up poor and couldn’t go to school, he was forced to basically be a mechanic by his parents, he enjoys reading and doesn’t know he’s handsome, but then he met a rich older woman who whisked him away and gave him money and taught him how to act in high society, with her help and money he now lives a life of luxury(very simplified version)

Now Ellen’s story is far more similar to Snow White, with the magic mirror, sleeping curse, vain stepmother who is also a witch.

Ultimately both fall into this trope, but for Ted, this seems to be the first time in any kind of relationship where he is not playing as the princess. Now he is the prince and he is going to save Ellen, and in return she will love him.

(Also video game Ted thinks significantly more positively of Ellen than his other counterparts, so what I’m saying is really mostly applicable to vide game Ted)

So, trope flipped on its head + transactional relationship. Noticing a pattern here for Ted. But ultimately I do think that his feelings for Ellen are sincere and more romantic than his other relationships.

However I do think it is still transactional, while not desiring money or something expensive from her, he solely wants her love(which is romantic!), however I think another transactional element of it is jealously. I think this is definitely most prominent in the other medias since Ted’s psychodrama is I think the only time in which two victims are able to interact with each other. So we really don’t see what video game Ted thinks of the three other male characters and their relationship with Ellen. But in the short story/comic/radio drama we know that they all have, relations, with Ellen. So I think a transactional element of Ted’s love for Ellen could possibly come from some possessiveness, wanting to be the only one who love her in exchange for her returned love?(once again hard to say for video game Ted)

Ultimately just wanted to do a much shorter little analysis with Ted’s backstory like from a few days ago with it in regards to his actions in the book/comic/radio drama, but this time with how it relates to Video game Ted!!

sequel to this

[a-spes]

A D E A D L Y W I S H - One-shot.

Words count - 5,5k.

Tags & Warnings - Wanda Maximoff x Reader, mentions of forms self-harm (burning, scratching), description of suicide (drowning), deaths (background characters), a lot of angst/hurt with a bit of comfort at the end, kinda a happy ending.

Summary - It comes a day when you are so desesperate that you threw a coin in the lake, wishing for a better life. At first, you thought it was stupid, but was it? If you've learned anything, it is to never take ancient magic lightly.

N/A - It is my first time writing for Wanda Maximoff, I really hope you'll appreciate it! don't hesitate to let me know and interact with the post ♥ ♥

MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST

"Are you sure that you want to hear that story again?" she asked, smiling soflty at the girl, but she already knows the answer because, every night, you were demanding the same story.

And tonight was no different. 

She chuckled as you nodded frantically, excited by the idea of hearing that legend again. Yet, she is almost sure you know this story by heart now, with the amount of time she read it to you, she would be surprised if you didn't. 

Your mom doesn't appreciate it, you know it because she frowns every time she has to read it to you, always making comments that you are trying to ignore, pleading her to stick to the story that is told in the book.

"This story takes place a loong time ago. When grandpa and grandpa weren't even born, when the world was nothing like the one we know today. Some say that this legend is so ancient that it was told even before Humans discovered fire."

"It was a time when magic was known by people, it could be seen everywhere, it was truly amazing!" 

"But very few were the chosen ones, the ones that were gifted with such a talent by nature, because not everyone could bear the weight of it. The nature choose the strongest human that were born, but it wasn't all about physical strenght, they also needed a great mind to be able to deal with the responsabilities that come with great powers." 

"The rest of the story was twisted by the centuries, so we can't be sure of anything as there are several versions, but here is the one that runs in the family, the one that my own mother used to tell me when I was around your age." 

"A long time ago, a girl was born that was gifted by nature. Her name was forgotten, but we now remember as the Scarlet Witch. Some say that she is called that way because of the color of her magic, stained by the blood of her numerous victims. It's said that she took so many lives that it would be impossible for a human being to count all of them."  

"But she hasn't always been the Monster described by the legends. There was a time when she was just like any average little girl, when she was similar to you," she said, taking the opportunity to steal a laugh by booping your nose. "The only difference was the magic within her. She was bright, handling this gift to perfection." 

"Yet, for some people perfection isn't enough, and the little girl - that was now a teenager - was one of them. She decided that she wanted more than what the society would allow, that she wanted to fully embrace the power she was gifted. Those rules she learned as a child, the Witches Code, and all these ceremonies only fed her desire for power as they made her feel trapped. She knew she could do great things, way more important than helping the villagers with their trivial problems."

"She wanted to believe that her destiny had more important things in store for her than what they wanted her to believe. She was certain that her name would be remembered for a long time to come, and she definitely won't let a few random men, frihtened by the talent she had been given, prevent her from fulfilling her destiny. If this powers were given to her, it was for a reason."  

"But nature isn't excempt from mistakes." 

"She was prepared to do anything to achieve her goals. She has taken hold of the weakest minds, convincing them to bring her the powers of the other witches in exhange of a favor. She tricked those who were seeking for her help into believing she would grant their wishes." 

"Yet, she never lied and always fulfilled her promises, just not the way they were expecting her to. The Scarlet Witch was wise, she knew how to twist the words so they could mean exactly what she wanted them to. She played with the words and the despair of the Humans, all ended up begging for their deaths, filled with feelings of guilt and regrets they couldn't live with." 

"Soon enough, she was the only living witch, also being the only one whose name and story lived throught the centuries." 

"What happened next?" you asked, following your mother's silence. She never liked this part of the story, the one that tells the downfall of the Scarlet Witch, she used to say it wasn't appropriate for a young girl like you to hear about the atrocities the enraged villagers inflicted on the witch. 

You used to sneak up in the living room when she was asleep, just so you could get the book and leaf through its pages to take a look at the illustrations she never let you see. If those were already horrible to look at, you don't even want to imagine how bad the reality could've been, probably worse than what's depicted in your child book. 

If they couldn't attack her directly, because of how powerful she was, they could still take her most precious possession: her family. So you saw how they burned her home and family, how they took everything from her because of their anger, seeking to inflict a punishment equal to the harm she had caused them. After all, it was just fair that they took from her the same thing she had taken from them. 

"It wasn't long before it became a quest of blood and revenge," you could read on the pages. 

It only made it worse and, this time, the village didn't survive her wrath, the last picture in your book being a representation of the village, completely destoyed and empty of any presence except for a female figure. She was depicted from behind and seemed to observe this spectacle. She has red hair that flutters in the wind and a red aura that matches the colour of the dress around her: the colour of blood and death. 

"After that day, she wasn't seen anymore," your mom would continue to read after skipping the few disturbing pages of the book, "some say that she died, but this is unlikely, she gathered so much power that she could easily defeat the human condition."

"She propably cut herself from the Human world, waiting for the day she could be needed again, when she could get another revenge over the ones that took everything from her because eradicating them wasn't enough for the witch - and it'll never be, nothing could ever make it up for the loss of the ones she loved. The legends say that she retired in what is now called the Ancient Forest, which would explain why the wildlife, even the flora, is so hostile to humans."

"However, even if she hasn't been seen for decades now, her story is still told by every parent to their kids, the mere mention of her name being enough to instill fear in people's minds."

"This story is a lesson for everyone, both those who use magic and those who ask for its help: there is always a price to pay," she added before falling silent. The story finishes here, you never got to know what the Scarlet Witch became, it's left to your imagination. 

• ✧ •  ✧  • ✧ • ✧  • ✧ • 

Everyone knows better than wandering near the Ancient Forest. This place is the scene of many strange events and legends that give nightmares to the children, but you've never believed in these. 

The past decades, only two kinds of people have ventured into the forest: the most courageous soldiers the village has ever known and the stupidest ones. If you certainly don't belong to the first category, you don't feel like you are part of the second, so maybe there is a third type of person that is going here: the ones in despair. 

They are the ones that have nothing to lose, the ones that see they're last hope in that forest, the ones that think that, maybe, if none of the humans that ever went to the forest came back, it's because they found a better life, wherever they are now. 

And it is exaclty what you are. Not a brave soul, not a silly mind, just a desesperate human. 

In the end, it doesn't matter what category you belong to, because once you've stepped into the forest, you are just as everyone who did it before. She doesn't care about your motivations or story, she reserves the same fate for everyone who dares to enter her domain. 

No one knows what exactly happened to those who went here, no one was ever able to come back to tell their story, but many rumours are whispered among the inhabitants. Some think that they are dead, it is the easiest explanation because it doesn't involve searching for those who have lost their way in the forest - which no one wants to do. So very few are the ones who maintain the hope that they are still alive and will, one day, be able to find their path back to the village. 

It never happened and the ones that got lost were never seen again, dead or alive.

For decades, it was assumed that this rule couldn't be broken. The centuries had failed to attenuate the witch's rage and each generation of villagers has learned to stay away from it, passing on this use to their children - and so on. Thus, when you walked into the forest for the first time, by the age of ten, no one would've expected you to emerge from it a few hours later as if nothing happened, not expecting a little girl to be the one to break the curse.

You were the only exception to a rule that everyone thought immutable. 

By the time, you've lost count of how many times you've visited the Ancient Forest. It slowly became your realm, where you go whenever you want to be alone for a while, knowing that no one would dare to drag you out of here. You weren't ten years old anymore, nor the kid you were the first time you stepped in the forest, oblivious of its dangers and distracted by the flowers she was picking up that just got the luck to get out of here safe. 

No, now, when you enter the Ancient Forest, you know exactly where to go. 

It may be strange to some that you never got lost. Even in the darkness of the night, when all the trees were looking the same and you couldn't even see the stars because of their leaves, when you would get off the beaten tracks with no idea of where you were going, you have always found yourself exactly where you needed and never struggled to find your way back to the village.

There was something, like a voice in your head, that was whispering to your heart the right moment to turn or, on the contrary, when you shouldn't go somewhere, filling your soul with fears, but always to guide your steps through this hostile environment. Even if you've never been attacked by any wild beast, you know there are many because you saw them in the past - but they never tried to get close to you, they seem to be afraid of something. 

This forest was your realm more than theirs. 

This simple thought was enough to fill your heart with pride, giving you the feeling that you eventually found your place. You've not felt that way since your childhood, desesperatly looking forward to the day you would eventually stop feeling like a stranger in your own village. 

Nature chooses you, after all these years. 

They say that you're carrying her mark and that is why you can go in the forest as you want, but it's just another story they made up to explain the things they can't understand in any other way. You believe that the mark they are talking about is nothing more than a birthmark and that, given the circumstances, their minds created stories around it - you are almost sure the mention of a mark on witches' skin was only a thing after they saw yours. 

You are convinced they made it similar to the one on the back of your neck on purpose, describing exactly the circle they saw on your skin. It looks like a sun, except for the rays that are crossing the circle instead of being on the outside. In the legends, the mark is scarlet as a symbol for the devil living inside the witches' hearts, but yours isn't. 

How convenient was it that there were no witches left to verify this fact?

The rumors were quick to spread among the inhabitants and, soon enough, you became the Beast. No one wanted to interact with you anymore, they barely dared to glance at you, scared that an action as simple as this one could lead to a horrible fate for them and their family. They hoped you would go away on your own, that you would understand that you weren't desired here, but to go where? You had no family, the closest town was miles away, a journey of several weeks, maybe months, that you couldn't start alone.

You've tried to get rid of the mark, but you just couldn't. It was on your skin, a part of you that you couldn't part with despite your desesperate attempts. At first, you hid it and tried to cover the symbol with your hair and clothes but, when it wasn't enough anymore for you to forget it was here, you tried to scratch and to burn it, but it didn't make any difference - except for the pain you experienced at the back of your neck. 

Maybe if it wasn't here, they would forgive you for your sins. 

Even if they decided to not throw you away because you were a child and had a few of the elders by your side, they still made you pay for what they believed to be your mistakes or to prevent the ones they were sure you would do when you grow up. They believed that you would follow the steps of the one who marks you’re carrying, destined to become like the Scarlet Witch. 

So you decided to run away where no one would come to harass you, the only place where you know they wouldn't dare to go because they weren't courageous enough to defy this forest and the monsters living in its legends. 

This time, you found yourself on rocks, overlooking a lake by a few meters. You've never seen this part of the forest before and it was probably the most beautiful place you were allowed to be in your life. It was late, so the only light was coming from the moon, dimmed by the clouds that were covering the sky. Further down, you could observe how the water is brushing against the shore in small waves caused by a light wind, the same that keeps bringing your hair in front of your eyes.

The landscape had something sinister, but yet you found it comfortable, wishing you could stay here forever. 

For a second, some darkest thoughts infiltrate your mind, whispering to you that peace was only a few steps away. As you are standing at the edge of the rocks, you can't help but imagine what would happen if you jumped. You imagine your body colliding brutally with the cold surface of the water, stealing your last breath. You could almost fill how the water would fill your lungs until it has replaced the air inside, making your struggle vain. 

You wouldn't really try to get out of here anyway. Even if the lake is calm tonight, you would drown into some of your own thoughts. The way you are trying to get to the surface is all an act, your arms and legs moving just so you could trick yourself, saying that you did everything you could when it was a lie. You wouldn't try at all, being relieved the moment your eyes would close.

But when you open them, you aren't greeted by pitch black, but the same landscape as when you closed them. Before you could listen to the voices in your head, you decide to take a few steps back from the edge - this night wouldn't be the one of your death. 

You are not sure where the confidence is from, but you are certain that your time has not yet come. 

As you slip your hand into your pocket, your fingertips touch something cold. It is a small object that is rolling between your fingers and you were sure it was never here in the first place. When you get it out, you can't help but frown as you're observing the penny because it doesn't look like the ones you are used to see. This one has a strange crown engraved on the first side and, on the other, a symbol you are unfortunately familiar with.

It is the mark, the same as the one at the back of your neck.

You don't really know what to think about it, brushing the symbol with your thumb while you're losing yourself in your thoughts. You are not afraid by this discovery, it is something closer to curiousity that you're feeling. 

Eventually, you remember some details about the Scarlet Witch's story. As you are playing with the penny, you think about how people used to ask the witch to grant their wishes by tossing a coin in a lake or a fountain. You wrap your hand around the object, hesitating for a moment. 

"I wish..," you whispered, taking a few seconds to think about what you really want, "... that I could find my place in this world, if I have any. I wish they would stop treating me like I am not one of them. I am tired of being alone and... so weak," you eventually said. 

At this point, your voice wasn't just a murmur anymore, you yelled the last words, hoping someone would hear your distress but, once you're done, you are just greeted by the deep silence of the forest and your loneliness. You laugh as you realize how stupid it was, tossing the coin as far as you can, using all the rage you are feeling at the time. It hits the surface of the water, disturbing it for a moment before it becomes calm again. The minutes pass and it's as if nothing had happened. 

You are laughing as you are thinking about how stupid you've been to expect anything to happen, like a child who still believes that tales are real. Soon, your laughter turns into tears which run down your cheeks, they are carrying your pain and despair, the one of not having a better life. 

As you are easily finding your way back to your house, you could feel the stares of the villagers on your back. Your journey is accompanied by their murmurs and you don't need to hear their words to guess what they are whispering to each other, sometimes being ignorant is the best. Every time you step out of the forest, you could read the disapointement mixted with the fear on their faces. 

You now understand why your mother didn't like that story, it was twisted and unfair, and you stopped liking it when it became too close to your reality. 

Tonight, you can't sleep properly. For seemingly endless hours, you toss and turn, your eyes closing only so your mind could trap you in horrifying nightmares. So, when a voice whispers a few words in your ear, you are unable to say if it's a part of reality or just another trick of your mind, the line between the two being too blurred. On the corner of the room, you catch the movement in the shadows. It was so furtive that you weren't sure you actually saw it until the shape detaches itself from the gloom. 

At the end of your bed, a montionless figure is observing you. You can't see their face, but you can make out its outline thanks to the moonlight filtering through the open window. This being is envelopped in a red glow that is even more intense around their eyes and hands, where it seems to be concentrated. You don't dare to move, petrified by the power that emanates from your guest, not needing to see their face or to know their name to feel this overwhelming aura that lets you know you'd better be careful around them. 

Yet, strangely, you don't feel worried, no fear grips your heart, no questions trouble your mind, it's almost as if this lad'ys presence makes sense, that you've been waiting for her all your life and the universe has eventually decided to put her in your path. 

"I could help you, if you'd let me," she whispered, unclasping her fingers to hold on one of her hands, expecting you to take it. 

"You could?" you asked, and she just nodded, which resulted in a sad laugh from you,  "and how's that?" you added, your words sounding drier than it did in your mind, for a second, you regret it, scared it would make her angry.

"I can't tell you that," she murmured after a few seconds of silence, "you just need to trust me, but would you? How hard do you want your wish to be granted?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. She didn't take her eyes off you for a moment since you started talking. 

You hesitate, but not for long because you are eventually nodding. You have the feeling that you can't lie to the woman anyway, you are sure that she can read in your body and mind your lies and you want your wish to be granted more than anything else. You decided to trust her the day you threw that coin in the lake, sharing your secrets with her, begging for her help. 

And, if for a second you thought about refusing the hand she was holding to you, you don't. It is impossible to deny the woman when your soul is drawn to her, your body almost moving on its own to shake her hand. At this time, you already know that there is no turning back, that you sealed an unspoken deal of which you don't know the conditions but that will have a great influence on your life. 

Your destiny was sealed the moment your fingers entwined with hers, the moment you pronounced the name that was on the tip of your lips the whole time: hers.

"Scarlet Witch...," you whispered, and she smiled. It was strangely soft, it contastred with the atmosphere of the room. If she was impressive, she did not appeared as mischevious.

That is when you find yourself surrounded by a white glow similar to the witch's. You have the feeling that the pressure she is exerting on your hand became stronger, her fingernails digging into your skin, almost leaving marks, only to prevent you from pulling away from her grasp. Your heart is racing and you are struggling to breathe as anxiety is taking over you - but it is too late to have regrets because you are already feeling your consciousness slipping away. 

"I know it can be scary, but I promise it'll be okay, love," she mumured as you were struggling to keep control over your mind. She slowly raised her hand to stroke your hair behind your ear, the same way a mother would with her child, "don't try to fight it, let it go...," she added, convincing you to do so.

There is an unknown force trying to get in control of your soul, and you don't have the strenght to drive it out. It only lasted a few seconds before a sharp pain twists your head, spreading in the rest of your body and getting you on your knees. The white aura around you turns the same colour as the witch’s and the scarlet glow darkens your vision. 

For one night, she accepted to share her magic with you, to lend you her strenght. 

When you slowly get your mind back, it takes you a few seconds before being aware of your surroundings again. The first sense to come back to you is touch; as you could feel the heat that is licking your face, but it is only when you hear some muffled screams that you open your eyes, brutally brought back to reality. 

Everything is burning. 

You were standing in the middle of the main street of your village but you couldn’t recognize anything. You protect your face with one of your sleeves, the smoke-laden air starting to make you cough and sting your eyes. In the chaos, you could barely see anything. 

The worst was probably the silence that came next, when no one could scream anymore, when the beginnings and excuses turned into unintelligible sentences before shutting up completely. The last prayers were said, but they were useless: no one is left alive, except you, as a spectator of this scene.

Not as a spectator, but as the culprit. 

You are suddenly running through the village, praying to all the gods you have never believed in so that it is not too late and there is at least one person you could save. You don’t even think about it twice, your legs moving on their own to the first house that is still standing, pushing you inside despite the fire to seek for any form of life.

But there is nothing left. 

Inside, you can’t find a soul or a piece of furniture, just destruction. You barely have time to glance around anyway because you are pulled out of the building by a firm grip on your arm. For a second, you are relieved at the thought of another soul still being alive, but it is short-lived as you realize it is the Scarlet Witch. 

"What were you thinking?" she yelled while dragging you out of the burning house so strongly that you are almost tripping on your own feet. "I certainly didn't do all of that for nothing,” she added, glaring at you and you knew you made a mistake. 

Contrary to what you may think, your death is the last thing she wants. She waited so many years to be awakened by one of her peers, she won’t let you go that easily. When she eventually lets you go, it is accompanied by a heavy sigh that carries every of her thoughts; how can one be so dumb? She definitely wasn’t expecting you to run in the fire while she was making sure everything was going as she planned, she only left you for a minute but she now regrets it deeply. 

But if her face shows concern, yours is pure hatred as you slowly understand what happened despite the lack of memories. 

It is her fault. 

Tears start to uncontrollably run down your cheeks but you are barely feeling them, the only thing in your mind being the sick feeling that is growing inside of your chest as the realization of what happened dawns on you. There is nothing you can do except watching the consequences of your own mistakes, the result of your naivety.

“What did you do?” you yelled, suddenly turning around to face the woman, getting out of her grisp with agressivity. She raised an eyebrow, surprised by your reaction and the tone you are using, but she is not amused at all - you are on thin ice and must be careful about what you are going to say next. 

“Me?” she scoffed, as if what you just said was nothing but a joke, “I did nothing my dear, you are the one that did it all,” she added in what you could describe as a condescending voice. 

“But I-,” you immediately said, trying to protest, but she doesn’t even let you enough time to say a word before she cuts you off, not having the patience to deal with that kind of shit tonight - it was a long day. 

“Isn’t it what you wished for?” she asked back. 

“Of course not!” you yelled, crying, shaking, “that’s never what I wanted!” you added, but as you are talking you realize that it is exactly what you asked for, just not the way you wanted it to be done. 

How are you supposed to find the peace you were seeking for now? 

You are not feeling at all the relief she promised to you, only guilt and disgust, and you know that feeling is going to eat you from the inside for the rest of your life. You wanted to be better than them, that’s what you tried to do your whole life by ignoring their insults, you’ve never replied to their provocations, waiting patiently for the day you would prove them that they were wrong. 

But you just showed them how right they were all that time.

Some of them were innocent, you heard the cries of children that will never get a chance to live, the ones of the elders that gave you a bit of help, the ones of the people that smiled at you on the sly, but it is all gone now.

“Oh,” she frowned, her tone being like it was just a mistake without any importance and it gives you the urge to slap the woman, but you don’t do anything. “Then I guess you should’ve been more precise,” she added, shrugging. 

That’s a first lesson she knows you’ll remember for the rest of your life: always be careful with ancient magic, it is not some sort of game.

She knows it is not easy, but she also knows it is needed. As she sees the tears in your eyes, she feels the urge to take you in her arms to comfort you, to tell you that everything will be fine, but she can’t. 

She can’t lie. 

The future that is now yours won’t be sweet, the ones born with that mark have never meant to live a great life.

When she looks at you, she is filled with a feeling she hasn’t felt for decades: pity. When she was born in a witches’ society, you grew up in a humans’ one. As her eyes wandered around the destroyed village, she sighs, knowing she is about to do something she promised herself to never do, but she can’t leave you there.

In that instant, you seemed to be so fragile, your whole body shaking, not even having enough strength to stand up, and it reminded her of the person she was a long time ago, when she was just as young as you are. Maybe if she had someone to guide her through that she wouldn’t have ended up with the name she knew for now, maybe she could spare you the mistakes she made, the ones that condemned her to a life of errand and loneliness.

Or maybe it will only cause chaos and destruction, no one can know. 

“Come,” she eventually said, holding out her hand to you so you could take it, “it’s time to go home,” she added, her tone being gentle compared to the one she used earlier, when she dragged you away from the fire. 

“Where?” you asked back, “where?! My home is completely destroyed because of me, of you, I have nowhere to go!” you screamed, standing up just to shout at the woman, making big movements with your hands.

The witch flinched, she wasn’t expecting you to talk to her that way but she didn't say anything, trying to be understanding. She takes a few steps closer until she is close enough to wrap your hands in hers.

“That wasn't your home,” she said, “let me show what a home really is, let me guide you,” she added, she was practically begging. 

And, despite everything that happened that day, you decided to trust the woman a second time, to take her hand again, to follow her home, and you don’t need to know where it is, as long as you are far from the village. You are convinced that everything will be fine by her side, her hand in yours is making all the negative emotions disappeared for an instant. 

After all, she is the one you have waited for your whole life. 

MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST

Tag list - @onyxwolf96 @alexawynters @ichala

[katerinaaqu]

Hello! May I ask, Did Odysseus have concubines/sex slaves? I keep hearing ppl say he did

Hello Anon! That is a very good question. I think he definitely had war prizes if we believe the passage on the Iliad in rhapsody 1:

Even if I choose to take the prize of Ajax or of Odysseus: I could take it and carry it away

(Translation by me)

We do know that all Greek heroes had some sort of war prize during their plunders so they would also share women with each other. So Odysseus we can expect he definitely had slave women as war prizes. Now the question is whether he used them for sex or not. It seems that there is a family tradition hahaha since Euryclea is mentioned in the Odyssey that Laërtes had her as a loved slave but he never slept with her out of concern for his wife's jealousy

But he never took her to his bed for he was concerned of his wife's anger

(Translation by me)

So it seems that we can assume that Odysseus took a similar route as his father in this. We do know he had slave girls as prizes of war and conflict (he had 50 of them just in his megaron/palace) but he seems to be using them as servants or protégé rather than sex slaves. To be honest I wouldn't be surprised if he was tempted once or twice given how long he was away from his wife (and I did entertain that possibility in my story "Ismarus! Ismarus!"):

But I wouldn't be surprised if he followed the same path as his father and never actually go all the way through with his slave girls but had them as his servants to do some tasks for him like bathe him, help him prepare or potentially mourn the men of his that died during the war.

I think he definitely had slave girls that were supposed to be sex slaves like every king had but whether he used them or not for sex is up for interpretation. Slaves were generally a gray zone in Greek context so people were not considered "cheating" for having them the classical way. On the other hand the existence of Laërtes and not using Euryclea for sex despite his attraction for her (and even paying 20 oxen for her which is not a small price) I should say we can assume that Odysseus follows the same path and never uses any slave for sex out of loyalty for his wife (which could perhaps explain partially the attraction he felt for people like Circe or even Nausicaa in the back of his mind; how the possible suppressed sexual desire he had made him even more vulnerable to Circe's charms for instance so this is perhaps how she kept him bound to her by fear so long -although I do not fully align with this hypothesis I guess it is still on the table)

So yeah one more time; yes I am sure he had at least one war prize for his own that we know from the Iliad but whether he used them for sex or not I think that is up for interpretation but like I said following the sample of how Laërtes treated Euryclea I would say we can equally assume that Odysseus did the same and used his slaves of war the same way that he used them in his palace: as servants. It is up to you.

Hope that helps.