#asks that made me Bark in real life. it is true and baby i'm not trying to break it 😏

[rontra]

If you're gonna stop reading n52 jldark I cannot blame you at all however I would implore you to atleast keep reading until nightmare nurse is introduced. she flirts with zee atleast once or twice and kissed her although zee no homo'd that unfortunately. but she's fun given your habit for odd funny women you'll take a liking to her

GIVEN MY HABIT FOR ODD FUNNY WOMEN....

[s11e17]

popping in to say i'm sorry to hear that and also your writing is so, so good. i get chills every time i read your work. got any excerpts or tidbits you'd like to share? anything you're especially proud of in past or current works?

wahh thank you so much anon! <3 <3

right now i'm kind of pleased over this little bit in the big bang fic - dean can't say "i love you" to cas, so instead, he asks him if he's ever been to the grand canyon.

Cas’s mouth tilts up sleepily, would be a smile if half of it wasn’t squashed against the pillow. He’d say it now, if he could, the thing that Cas deserves to hear, the thing Dean has never told anybody in his adult life.

Instead, he asks, “Have you ever been to the Grand Canyon?”

also i started writing this like 15k pwp (the plot is basically that dean and cas keep having sex in dreams, aka put up your dukes but not as good) but i feel like it'll be ages before i actually finish it so here are the first two scenes (mostly under the cut bc its like 1600 words lmao):

The few times Castiel has been put under by a djinn, he hasn’t felt particularly disturbed by it. Dean flinches when djinn are mentioned. Sam is deeply distressed when the possibility of unreality is discussed. But Castiel is not so committed to this distinction as the Winchesters are.

Yes, undoubtedly, there are things that are real, and things that are, well, unreal. He likes the prefix un-. It implies a sense of reversal; undoing. Something is real, and then made fiction. Fiction, of the Latin fingo: to make. To invent. To create.

Things are, or they are not. If they are not, then they’re nothing — unless they’re something, in which case, they are. So on and so forth. This is to say, a djinn dream must be as real as Dean’s smile: both created and natural at once. Nature, creation, it is. I am that I am. We are.

This must surely be why Castiel is satisfied with being, when it comes to his love for Dean. Isn’t it enough to create? To speak, and to therefore move from nothing to something? From unformed feeling to articulated truth, Castiel has heaved himself down to Earth from out of the sun more times than he can remember. Dean is his lodestone, and Castiel dreams of him often. It is enough.

Sam’s the one to ask him, in the end. Castiel supposes that makes sense. Dean’s always aimed his comfort at Castiel’s shoulders and his stomach, offering back pats and warm meals, as if even his hands can’t meet Castiel’s gaze.

Sam invites Castiel out to the roof of the bunker to look at the sunset, while Dean is out buying supplies for his tune-ups from the 24 hour mechanic shop he likes to visit when the usual customers aren’t around. Castiel knows this because Dean once told him, once said that he liked to go when the guys were just “shootin’ the shit,” so to speak, liked to roll up with Baby and have them look her over and tell him he’s done a good job. Castiel knows he likes the camaraderie of it, likes having men touch his shoulders and slap his ass the way men do, the way Castiel does not.

So Castiel and Sam are on the roof. “It’s beautiful,” Castiel says.

“It’s real,” Sam says, as if in reply.

“Yes,” Castiel agrees. “It’s that, too.”

Sam sighs. His cheek twitches, and he looks at Castiel. His body is so big— that’s what Castiel thinks, whenever he looks at Sam Winchester. So much goodness, in that broad and wiry body— how could anyone beat him down? Castiel’s heart clenches with love for his brother, because that’s what Sam is to him. “You know— you know this is real, right?” Sam asks. “You know it’s not— you’re not— you’re not in the djinn— in the dream anymore.”

“I know.” Perhaps it’s some angelic power, which makes Castiel so certain of his place. “I know where I am.”

“Good. That’s good.” Sam sits back in his chair, then. “Do you— do you wanna talk about what you saw?”

It’s kind of Sam to phrase it that way. Dean would’ve asked him directly. He would’ve said, What did you see? And Castiel would’ve had to tell him.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t ask. In any case, Castiel says, “I’m happy to tell you if you’re curious.”

Sam huffs out a laugh. “Damn,” he says, “you’re well-adjusted.”

Castiel smiles, too. “I don’t have much to hide from you, Sam,” he says. And he thinks of Dean, who surely must know— who must feel the weight of Castiel’s desire every day. Dean sees how careful Castiel is. He sees Castiel’s hesitance to touch him, sees Castiel’s eyes shining when Dean makes dinner for him, and knows the depth of Castiel’s feeling. The depth of Castiel’s feeling drives Dean to the 24 hour mechanic shop whose men can give Dean what Castiel can’t.

But Dean comes home to Castiel, too.

“Okay,” Sam says, “sure. If you’re really okay with it, then yeah, I’d— I’d love to know what an angel dreams about.”

Castiel wonders how to say it. “We had a house,” Castiel starts, “me and Dean.”

It was a small house. Castiel remembers that vividly. It was tall enough to feel comfortable, but with only a single floor. Two bedrooms— their room, and a guest room. Roof access. It was the kind of house where you could bump shoulders with someone in the kitchen easily, the kind of house that built intimacy. Castiel remembers Dean standing in the back door with his coffee, face turned up to the sun, as he did every morning. He was so beautiful. He’d had a smile on his face, an easy and gentle smile. He’d taken a sip of his coffee, and said, glad we started shellin’ out for the good stuff, Cas, because he knew Castiel was behind him. After so long together, Dean could trust that Castiel would always want to watch him in the morning sunlight, freckles coming in across the bridge of his nose. Some days, Castiel would kiss his shoulder, and say, You are who I cherish most in my life. Do you know that? and every time, Dean would say, Yes, sweetheart. I know.

“We were so happy,” Castiel whispers. It’s all he can think to say. He looks at the sunset. Dean will come home in an hour with new parts for the ‘58 in the garage and a spring in his step, and Castiel will say, Welcome home, Dean, and Dean will say, Thanks, man. They will sleep in separate rooms. Dean has no need for the kind of love Castiel dreams of. Dean is already as happy as he will ever be. In his own way, in the way Dean has outlined with his words and his body, Dean has delineated what it is that he wants and what it is he finds unnecessary. Castiel is honored to fit almost entirely into what Dean wants. The only thing he wishes is that he could jettison the remains.

“Did you— did you know you were in a dream?”

“The whole time.”

“And you—” Sam cuts himself off. “Jesus. That’s— wow. Did it, uh… I mean, what did you feel?”

Castiel considers the question. “I think a better way to phrase it is that I knew it… I knew it wasn’t material. That what I was experiencing was a construction. But it’s not… that distinction isn’t meaningful to me, the way it likely is to humans.”

“No shit,” Sam barks, too aggressive to be a laugh. Castiel looks at him. He’s hunched over, knee wiggling. “It’s— it’s important to me to— to— to know what’s real. That means something to me. Being certain about what the truth is.”

“I understand.”

“But I can’t know,” Sam says, and he looks at Castiel. Half-chuckling still, he says, “I think about it every day, but I can’t know. And you do know, but you don’t care. How fucked is that?”

Castiel’s mouth twitches, but he isn’t happy. He knows Sam isn’t either. “I wish I could give you my certainty,” he says, and Sam looks away. “All I can say is that you are real. I see you. I sense you, in all ways.”

Sam nods. He breathes, deeply, and asks, “Do you miss it?”

Castiel doesn’t pretend to misunderstand. Does he miss his house with Dean, the warm sunlight through the bay windows, the way Dean’s hands would slide over Castiel’s thighs in the front of the Impala? “No,” he says, because he thinks also of Dean’s bunker kitchen chili, and his unfettered delight at cowboy movies. “No, I don’t think so. Once — you remember, with God — once Dean asked me what about all this was real.”

“Yeah. I had the same question.”

“I told him we are.”

Sam exhales. “Oh.”

“Maybe that’s why it doesn’t matter to me,” Castiel realizes. “I know that Dean and I are real, that our friendship is— is a truth which has shaped our paths, in all ways. Whether it’s a djinn dream or a material place, I know the truth.”

Sam nods, considers it. Eventually, he asks, “What made you wake up?”

“I tried the moment I first realized,” Castiel says. “And again, a few— what I perceived as a few weeks later. That was when you found me. The first time I was too weak to escape on my own, and the djinn captured me again.”

“Shit, Cas,” Sam breathes. “You— you— you did it twice?”

“I’ve killed more often for less,” Castiel says. “Killing myself was easy.”

Sam doesn’t ask. Perhaps they’ve all tallied each other’s body counts. Castiel wonders if Sam keeps a list of all the people Castiel has killed.

Instead, Sam says, “Well. Here’s a— okay. The distinction between dreams and real life doesn’t matter to you. I get that. My question is, is it right to say that the material world has— that it’s primary, I guess?”

It’s interesting, to attempt to apply dialectical materialism to an angel. But perhaps faithful to God’s original purpose. “You’ve seen Heaven,” Castiel says, working it out as he says it. “It’s nothing but memories. Consciousness. You’ve seen Hell, too.”

“Yeah.”

“The only way to describe these places is through metaphor. A hallway. A cage. Ripping, tearing. I think that tells us that Earth is where true creation happens. No matter what Chuck says or does, you create your own destiny. Here.”

“Shit.” Sam shakes his head. The sun has gone down; now, Sam and Castiel are accompanied by twilight mosquitoes, by stars coming in up above. “We make our own choices, huh.”

“We have to.” That’s perhaps what was wrong with the djinn dream, the reason why Castiel couldn’t stay there. It had nothing to do with whether it was real or not. It was about choice. That Dean in that back doorway of that sunlit house must have had no choice — because this Dean, his Dean, would’ve chosen otherwise.

[tinyboxxtink]

"Black Magic" *Part 6*

Part 5

Part 7

Okay so this one's a bit shorter, but like I said I want to try and keep it a "day" a chapter. Also, I don't think you want this day to be ANY longer.

....I'm so sorry.

Also also---- I'm going out now. I'M SO SORRY.

I'll post another chapter tonight....be strong my babies!

Side note how perfect is the gif with the angry barba and the smirking Olivia....I mean.... what?

Tag List:

@bookishfanfic

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@omgsuperstarg

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@gibbs274

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@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@objection-argumentative

@aprildecker-blog

@lolliepopsicle

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@stars-trash-18

-------

You arrived at the door of Rafael's office early once again, knocking this time. You looked like a million bucks. You had taken at least an hour to get ready, your outfit, your hair, your makeup. You were ready to make a move. You knocked again. There was no answer. He should be there, maybe he didn’t hear you. You knocked a little louder. Where could he be? You decided to take a peek and peer open his door to see the most horrifying sight:

Rafael and Olivia, making out on his desk. They both snapped back when they heard the door open.

“Y/N!!” He yelled angrily. “Don't you knock?”

“Oh.. oh my God I'm so sorry sir I'm really sorry. I just brought your morning coffee sir,” You were upset, embarrassed , confused , distraught unable to speak, unable to think.

“Well you should learn not to peep on other people Y/N,” Olivia gave you an evil smirk. “I should get going anyway baby,” she rubbed the lipstick off Rafael's lips. “I have a long day.”

“Oh but I'll miss you carino,” Rafael whined while rubbing his nose against hers in a disgusting fashion.

“I know baby, but maybe we'll have lunch?” She messed with his collar.

“You can count on it,” Rafael growled seductively, smacking her butt as she walked towards the door. “Two can play at your game,” she whispered at you as she walked out

Oh my god. Oh my God oh my god!! How did she know? How was it possible? So many things went through your head at that moment.

“I um, I left something at my desk,” You lied quickly as you headed out the door.

“Olivia!” You called after her angrily suddenly overwhelmed with courage. She stopped and turned and stared at you

“Really? Got some balls on you now do you?”

“What did you do?” You demanded.

“I didn't do anything to him.” She acted innocent. “He just realized that his feelings for me were there all along,” she batted her eyes mockingly. “Isn't that what you did?”

“It's not real!” You barked. “You know it's not real. It'll wear off by tomorrow,”

“Oh I really don't think it will” She held up a water bottle in her purse and it was filled with a….purple liquid? Yep it was purple. Why was it purple? Did she make it stronger? Oh God how strong did she make it?

“Olivia you can't do this to him. I stopped and realized if it wasn't real, I didn't want it.”

“Oh that's bullshit.” She rolled her eyes. “You just brought him his morning coffee. You and I both know that it has that stuff in it. You just needed to refill him but I got there first.”

“No that's not true! You yelled, tears stinging your eyes now. “And he loves me. I know he does.”

“Oh my God you are delusional,” she laughed.” Look I'm happy you had a fun day yesterday but you’re out of your league here, sweetie. He's mine and he always will be? Got it?” She smirked again, then turned and stomped away in her heels leaving you there speechless.

----

You were furious, you were confused, you were upset and then you realized that you had to still continue this day as if nothing was different. Nothing was wrong. You wondered how strong Olivia's stuff was. You wondered what the rules were. Did it block out his feelings for you completely and only focus on her? Did it wipe any memory of you and him at all? Could you break it? You had so many questions you needed to call Chloe but you know you couldn't until your break so you sucked it up and walked back into Rafael's office.

“I'm really sorry about that so earlier,” You did your best to keep from crying. He looked at you with an almost look of disdain.

“Yeah well you really need to be more professional, Y/N.” He scoffed.

"Now you really need to get me copies of these prepositions by noon so that I can go to lunch with my beloved and then go to court.”

“Your beloved?” You spat unintentionally, wanting to gag.

“Excuse you?” He gave you an angry look.

"Look I know that you have some kind of crazy crush on me, but you need to learn that what me and my girlfriend have is something you can't get between so you really need to either control yourself or I will relieve you of your services.” He glared at you.

You couldn't breathe, you felt your heart beating in your chest and your ears. Your palms were sweating, you were having a panic attack. What the hell did she put in her concoction? How did she make him turn so harshly against you?

“I... Yes sir, sorry sir, right away sir,” You whispered grabbing the papers from him running out of the office.

Finally after you got Rafael his copies and he stormed out of his office to go meet his “beloved”, you took the break to call Chloe in tears.

-----

“Oh My God, what happened honey?” She asked, immediately hearing your sobs over the phone.

“She did it,” You sobbed.

“Who did what now?”

“She found the spell! Or some spell. I don't know what she did. I don't know how she could have-- I don't know what she did!!!” You kept sobbing uncontrollably not being able to form coherent thoughts.

“Okay, I'm going to need you to slow down,” Chloe said in a calming manner. “Breathe honey. Use your words. Now explain to me exactly what happened,”

You took several deep breaths trying to compose yourself so that you could explain what was happening to her.

“I went into Rafael's office this morning, and he was making out with that vile woman,” You sniffled.

“What vile woman?”

“Olivia, his ‘beloved’,” you rolled your eyes through your tears.

“His beloved?”

“It's some woman that he works with, and apparently has been in love with him forever. She somehow, I don't know how, figured out what we did to him and she somehow found her own spell. Which I'm pretty sure is not the same one, because it was a purple liquid. AND she not only created feelings for her, she made him hate me!!” You continued to sob.

“...Oh,” Was all Chloe could say.

“OH…?!” You scoffed. “I thought you said that magic laws frowned upon spells like that, controlling people's free will!”

“It does! Good magic anyway,” She sighed.

“What the hell does that mean?” You yelled angrily.

“Well I mean you know there's good witches and bad witches,”

“Oh my God, what in the Wizard Of Oz fuckery--”

“I don't know what to tell you honey. That's how it is. There's good magic and there's black magic. Black magic is all selfish and self-indulgent and instant gratification. She must have gone to somebody who deals in that,”

“Who could it be?”

“I don't know! It's not like they're listed in the yellow pages! WAIT-- Oh my God I think I might have an idea,” Chloe suddenly paused. “...But you're not going to believe me,”

“Oh my God what does that mean?” you asked wearily.

“Well.. you've seen all the movies right? You know like Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty and Snow White,”

“Oh God. Are you seriously going to tell me that true love's kiss can break the spell?”

“Well.. you really don't have any other options right now, do you?”

“CHLOE those are Disney movies for fuck’s sake!!”

“Hey, remember Once Upon A Time? THAT was the ‘real world’, and true love’s kiss brought magic to our world!” Chloe pointed out.

“THAT’S A TV SHOW!!!!!”

“I don't know what else you want me to say here babe. But you should do it. Unless you want to lose him forever to this “Olivia” person. You said that she had a lot of it, right? She could keep this up for as long as she wants. AND the more she gives him the stronger it's going to be and the harder it is going to be to break. I mean he might end up really hating you and firing you, and then your whole life will be ruined. You not only need to break this spell for you to be happy, but before it impacts your entire life,” Chloe warned.

“Oh my God, oh my god…” You whimpered. “I should have never done this.”

“Hey chin up this will work out I'm sure of it!” She said in a chipper tone.

“Okay Jiminy,” You rolled your eyes as you hung up and went back to your office. You did your best to continue with the rest of the day, trying to stay out of Rafael’s way. Which wasn't hard, considering that he was in court most of the day. Around four he texted you and told you that he was no longer in need of your services for the day so you could go home early. Oh also he just HAD to add that he was going to go out with Liv. You wanted to vomit. You headed home and went to brainstorm with Chloe.

-----

“Okay so I've been researching black magic. Chloe had papers sprawled out all over her bed when you came home. “She must have used a combination of love and hate spells.”

“Wait, so you mean actual love spells? Like actually creating fictitious love? Not just magnifying what he felt for her?”

“Correct” she nodded. “I don't think he ever had real feelings for her.”

“Well he said that she and him had a thing, and that he thought about her like that when they first met. So maybe it was going off of that,” You shrugged sadly.

“Another thing we need to figure out is how to get the rest of the potion from her somehow,”

“And just HOW do you expect me to do that?!”

“I don’t...I don’t know,” She shrugged, sifting through her research.

“Chloe, give me something you DO know,” You rubbed your temples; this was giving you a migraine.

“Okay… well, maybe if I talk to my other friends they can figure out a way to counteract the effects even just a little, if you're not willing to or unable to get true love's kiss,”

“Oh God--”

“Hey, I'm just saying”

“Whatever.” You sighed. “My head hurts, my heart hurts, everywhere hurts Chloe,” You whined. “I just want this to be over,”

“Okay honey just-- just go get some sleep, I’ll figure out a game plan for you to use tomorrow,”

“Okay...thank you,” You gave her a small hug and went to your room.

You went to bed with a deep feeling of dread.

[consumedkings-archive]

THE LAND OF GODS AND DEVILS, a sequel.

—part i.

word count: 6k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: naughty language, massively canon-divergent, roman gets his own tag because he's a fucking nutso, canon-typical violence, established relationship that might not be the healthiest, age gap, domestic murder family. for this chapter in specific, roman likes to take things to the Extreme (i.e., "i'm going to fucking kms if you say this word one more time") but if you're here i imagine you know exactly what he's about.

notes: it's here! i know that most of my followers and friends on here are my friends through my far cry 5 content, but my return to the fic-writing world was inspired by my first longfic in a decade after watching birds of prey. you could say, perhaps, that i have a Type(TM), given that roman sionis lives rent free in my head forever and always. this is the sequel to my work carry your throne, though i like to think it's fairy user-friendly, especially once we really get into the thick of it.

special thank you goes to my beta and the loml, @starcrier; the first person to ever truly recognize varya for the wretched little beast that she is and love her anyway. thank you for being my beta and for loving my girl!

and, of course, another special thanks goes to @shallow-gravy, @vasiktomis, @faithchel, @tomexraider, and @belorage for being so supportive of my foray out of the far cry fandom and back into one that, in a way, brought me here in the first place!

summary: —by dread things, compelled.

roman sionis is the closest he has ever been to having everything that he wants; a perfect wife, a perfect family, a perfect international black-market arms dealing business signed over to him in its entirety. unfortunately for him, there are people in the world who would prefer to see him without, and that has never been a thing that roman has accepted for himself: being without.

(or: a fic wherein the devil spends his time rebuking sin.)

“If one more person says the word ‘chandelier’ in my presence,” Roman announced, drawing all eyes to him, “I'm going to blow my fucking brains out. Got it?”

There was a brief moment of silence that lapsed before the murmured acquiescence of the workers marked their return to their work. Blowing hot air from his mouth, Roman raked his fingers through his hair and turned back around to where Zsasz was watching him expectantly.

“What?” He demanded. “It’s my wife’s birthday.” Emphasis on the my, not the wife; it was not a favor Roman was doing for Varya, it was something he was doing for himself.

“V told them she wanted it.” Zsasz gestured to the offensive piece of lighting, which continued to haunt Roman’s waking and dreaming hours with its garish crystalline drippings and expensive bulbs. Ever since Varya had found out his fluctuating approval of the chandelier, it had been in and out of the Black Mask Club more times than he could count. Not that he needed to; he could very well put in or rip out a stupid fucking light fixture as many times as he wanted.

“Well.” Roman pulled a glass out from behind the bar, setting it on the top and dropping an ice cube into it. “She does so love to torture me.”

“It's just a—”

“Do you want my fucking guts on the floor, Zsasz? I mean it. Say the word and I’ll do it.”

The blonde regarded him drily. “No, boss.”

“Blood and guts everywhere.” Roman gestured widely with his free hand. “All over the floor. The bar top. You’ll have to clean it up. Maybe wipe down some of the bottles.”

“I won’t say it.”

“I don’t have to tell you how hard it is to get blood out of the carpet.”

Zsasz’s mouth quirked up in a smile. It said, without saying anything at all, no, you don’t. More agreeably, and with the flash of pearly whites and the capped tooth: “Sure.”

Roman poured well over what would have been considered the polite amount of expensive scotch into his glass, capping the bottle and setting it aside. It had been exactly twenty-four hours of making sure the club was perfectly polished and styled for Varya's birthday; though she was shrewd, she was so preoccupied with the twins and the lawyers and overseas business associates that she barely seemed to notice whatever was coming in and out of the Black Mask Club. He didn’t think she’d had a baby nor a phone out of her hands in over two days, and truthfully, it was starting to become tedious. Now that the twins were a little over a year old, they were supposed to be scheduling their honeymoon.

The delay of it hadn’t been a big deal, at the start. But everyday with you feels like my honeymoon, Varya had demurred months before the twins’ arrival, fluttering her lashes and gliding her fingers along the lapel of his jacket—and not even an hour after she’d curtly informed him that any more chatter, while she was nursing a headache, would be met with a swift and efficient extraction of his vocal cords by her own hands. Motherhood was supposed to have domesticated her, Roman thought, and had done the exact opposite; now, she was more assured of her status and power than ever.

So, yes; Varya had been busy, and he was almost certain she’d forgotten her own birthday. Never mind that everything had to be perfect. Never mind that it had to be immaculate. Never mind that Varya had deigned to order a brand new fucking chandelier from the same place they’d gotten one last time, knowing full well that he had made the executive decision to gut the fucking thing and get it out of his club.

“Tell you what, Zsasz,” Roman muttered, taking a swallow of the amber liquid in his glass, “don’t ever get fucking married. You want someone knowing all the shit that pushes your buttons all the time?”

“Maybe you just got a button pusher for a wife.”

Roman grimaced and took another swallow. It was true. “Fuck off.”

The blonde opened his mouth to say something else—and hadn’t he gotten confident in himself too, since Varya had become such a permanent fixture in their life, constantly goading and coercing him to voice his opinion on things, things that normally he would just defer to Roman on—when the doors to the stairwell and the elevator opened.

Eclipsing the doorway was Armazd, Varya’s hand-picked-from-the-batch-of-Russians-left-over-guard. Armazd had to be easily cresting six-foot-five, his dark beard neatly trimmed and peppered with silver, a scar breaking the color of his top lip. Roman had only ever seen the man swathed in dark clothes, like a fucking mourner on parade. His wife had been the one picked to be the twins' nanny, despite the fact that Roman felt like she barely did anything.

Also hand-picked. Thoroughly vetted. Interrogated for hours. No stone left unturned, when it came to Yuli and Ro.

“What are you doing down here?” Roman barked, coming around the side of the bar to make his way across the room. “You’re supposed to be going up and keeping—”

“She is coming down,” Armazd clarified. “In the elevator. Irina called to tell me.”

“Instead of stopping her?”

“She was—”

The elevator dinged in the hallway, and Roman quickly ducked around Armazd and closed the door into the club behind him. As soon as the doors slid open, he planted a smile on his face and closed the distance between himself and his wife.

Nobody would know, looking at Varya, that she not only barely utilized the nanny that they had furiously vetted and now paid handsomely, but that on top of juggling their twins she was actively in the process of getting a massive, international gun-running business signed over in his name. There was not a single hair out of place, not a single crease or rumple in the sapphire-blue silk of her blouse or skirt; the scent of her preferred jasmine perfume followed her like a cloud. She looked as put-together as the day he’d first seen her standing in his club.

And now, he desperately needed her to stay out of it.

“Kitten,” he greeted warmly, his hands—though gloved—immediately scratching the itch by reaching for her; they captured hers to carefully still her procession to the club’s main room. “What are you doing down here? I thought you’d be busy for hours.”

“Yuliana has been fussing nonstop,” Varya replied, her voice light despite what could only have been an expression of frustration quickly following, “all while I listen to grown men fussing nonstop at me on the phone.”

Roman feigned a sympathetic noise, bringing her hands up to his mouth to kiss them. “We have a nanny, V.”

“You know better than anyone else,” the brunette murmured, brushing her nose against his as their hands dropped, “that she is inconsolable without you.”

He tried not to look too pleased. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Don’t be modest, Romy.”

“Well, I’ll come up, of course.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “And console our princess.” Another kiss, to the other corner. “So that you can continue letting grown men fuss at you.”

She beamed at him prettily, and finally they met in the middle for a real kiss—nothing coy, nothing demure, but lingering warm and just between the two of them.

“I love you,” she purred. “Go on, then.”

And then Varya pulled away, as though to go around him and into the club, and Roman blinked rapidly. He had only just caught her around the waist before she could walk in and pulled her in a full one-eighty until she was facing the elevator again.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a laugh bubbling out of her. “I was just going to make myself a drink.”

“Encouraging productivity,” Roman replied, hitting the button for the elevator doors to open again. “Ready for all this paperwork to be done, aren’t you? It’s been over a year.”

A year of wading through mafia-esque bureaucracy. A year of listening to Varya say, these things take time. A busy year, to be sure, jam-packed full of things—the biggest wedding in Gotham since its founding, the twins.

A funeral.

Roman tried more and more every day not to think about his (now) brother-in-law’s funeral, the double burial of the only man that might have stood a chance at being loved by Varya more than Roman himself and the only man who had ever been anything like a father figure to her. Family is tedious, he’d wanted to say, brothers and fathers and mothers, the whole lot of them, cut them loose why don’t you? Why should anyone matter to you outside of the twins and I?

Varya glanced at him over her shoulder. “These things take time.”

He rolled his eyes. “Mhm.”

“Not to mention, we were a little busy,” she added, eyes narrowing playfully as he nudged her into the elevator, “you know—having children.”

“And what beautiful children they are.” Roman hit the button without looking, the doors sliding shut behind him.

“Well, how am I supposed to suffer through those phone calls without a stiff drink?”

He quirked a brow upward. “I’ll make you a stiff drink, Mrs. Sionis.”

The brunette propped herself up against the back rail of the elevator as it whirred into motion. The corner of her mouth, painted ruby, curved and her head tilted inquisitively. “Oh?”

“Of course,” he demurred, sidling forward and boxing her in against the wall. “I’ll make you a stiff drink—”

He dropped his head to the slope of her jaw to plant a kiss there.

“—you’ll finish up with the lawyers, and put on the dress I bought you—”

Varya hummed and sighed sweetly.

“—we’ll go out to dinner for your birthday—”

He dropped his hands to her hips, planting a kiss on her temple so that he could rumble, “And we can get to work on baby number three, hm?”

A sweet laugh billowed out of her just as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open to bring to Roman the oh-so-sweet sounds of a caterwauling infant. Over the distressed crying was Irina’s voice, shushing and cooing dulcet words in Russian; he could see her swaying to and fro with a swathe of fabric bundled in her arms.

“I almost forgot about my birthday,” Varya said thoughtfully, completely unrattled by the sound of their daughter’s distress. She stepped out from between him and the elevator wall; Roman fell into step beside her easily, the sound of her heels clipping against the floor enough to draw Irina’s eyes to them.

Roman said, “I know you did,” and did not bother to hide his smugness as he held out his arms for the shrieking baby in Irina’s arms. The redhead regarded him with a sort of weary amusement before she acquiesced; with Yuliana safely in his arms, he watched Varya cross the room to turn the automatic rocker that held their son back on to a slow, lulling pace. The freckled infant babbled happily—ever the quieter of the twins—and as Varya said something to Irina in Russian that inspired the woman to depart to the kitchen, she absently picked up a baby blanket from the couch and wandered over to him.

“Yuli,” she murmured, waving her finger at the already-content infant, tucking the blanket around her “is that all you wanted, hm? Just for your papa to hold you?”

“What else could she want for?” he replied confidently. Soothing Yuliana’s fury had become old-hat for him at this point. And, certainly, it pleased him to know that sometimes, the only thing that would make his daughter stop screaming was being held by him. Not even Varya—who had taken to motherhood like a fish to water—bothered when she was in a fit.

Still, the brunette sighed dreamily, her finger captured by their daughter’s tiny hand before she said, “What a perfect little gem.”

Roman hummed his agreement. “Finishing that call with the lawyers?”

“Perhaps tomorrow,” Varya replied. “They’re in a mood today.”

“They’re in a mood every day.” Russians, he thought venomously.

“Yes.” She smiled, flashing pearly teeth at him. “But only today is my birthday.”

She had him there. Still, he was itching for the whole thing to be done—Ilarion had dragged his feet through the process of even drawing up the original contract, which had only been a spit in his face (“You are the only person who gets to fuck Varya Astakhova, that is as exclusive as it gets”) and by the time all of that nasty business had been wrapped up, Ilarion was dead.

Ilarion, and Nikita—leaving only a single living soul to be in charge of the Astakhov empire: Varya herself.

Which, she had expressed time and time again, she had no desire for; not in the public way that her father had done it, and Ilarion after them. She much preferred the clerical work of it all. Paperwork and public relations. Let the men do men’s work, she’d demurred one night, tangled up in their sheets, when he’d asked her what she was going to do with it. I don’t mind. They like me better as their madonna, anyway.

“You know,” she continued, breaking him out of his thoughts as she made her way to the bar cart, pouring herself a drink, “they will like you more if it’s you they’re talking to.”

“I don’t give a fuck if they like me or not,” Roman replied, lifting Yuliana with both of his hands so that he could look at her. “Isn’t that right, princess? Mommy gets to do all the paperwork so that your papa can spend all of his time with you, instead of listening to some dumbfucks bitch and moan on the phone.” He glanced at her. “Well, anyway, since it’s your birthday we can let it slide.”

“Very generous of you.”

“Get dressed, won’t you?” he prompted, depositing his now-content daughter in the mobile swing with her brother. “The table’s been ready for us since noon.”

Varya watched him, dark eyes glittering amusedly. “And why, my darling, did you make the reservation for noon? It’s nearly six now.”

“Because,” he replied, “I wanted to make sure they held it, regardless of how long it took us to get there.”

“Ah.” She lifted her chin a little, lashes fluttering with contentment when he reached up and brushed the hair from her face. “Or else?”

Roman flashed her a grin.

“Or else.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They held the table.

“Good for them,” Roman said as they followed the server out onto the balcony. The table had clearly been refreshed—a new candle, a new vase, a new bucket of ice and bottle of champagne. He’d heard the waitstaff whispering furiously among themselves as they idled in the lobby to be taken to their table; now, settled across from the birthday girl, Roman was content with the way they had squirmed.

“Quicker than the two-hour wait last time,” Varya noted by way of agreement, smoothing her hand along the edge of the tablecloth.

He scoffed. The only reason they had waited in the lobby for two hours was because Varya had asked him to stay for the table she wanted. If it had been his way, they would have left with a bloody warning and gone somewhere else. “I can’t believe I finally convinced you to leave the twins home for a night and we got stuck sitting in that fucking lobby because they gave our table away.”

“In my defense, they are good babies, Romy. Hardly ever cry. Certainly not too much trouble.”

“But there’s two of them,” he replied, “and toting two babies around is a lot of work. All I’m saying is, what’s the point of paying her that much fucking money if we’re just going to—”

The waiter came by the table, clearly a little stressed; the lines of concern on his face were clear as he cleared his throat and said, “Should I come back?”

Varya, perusing the menu: “No, my darling, you may stay. You were saying, Romy?”

“I just don’t know why we’re shoveling money into her bank account for her to be a glorified accent chair in our house rather than a nanny.” Roman gestured to the champagne bottle expectantly. “Open it.”

The waiter did as he asked, having been standing there uncomfortably for a moment during their exchange. As he worked to carefully open the champagne bottle, Roman turned his attention back to Varya; her eyes remained on the menu, absently twisting the engagement and wedding band on her finger back and forth.

There was no way, he thought, that she was putting off getting the business signed over to him on purpose. Surely, there was no way; even when Ilarion was alive, even when she had anticipated no further problems, it had always been, if you’re going to be my romantic partner, it seems only right you’d be my partner in business too, don’t you think? And yet—

And yet, Roman could not push down the strange, hazy doubt that occasionally flickered through his mind. He had always wanted Varya, had always found himself wanting and wanting and wanting more and more often, and Varya had always seemed content to indulge him. There was, it seemed, nothing she enjoyed more than indulging him. One more kiss, one more minute in bed, one more lingering glance across the room. She was the absolute pinacle of his hedonism, in every sense of the word, and had proven time and time again that she would give him anything that he wanted.

The business had always been for her and Ilarion. He wanted it, and told her he did, and she said, you can have it, if you like, but like in all things, there was a slyness about his wife—a cruelty—that he found endearing and dangerous. Dangerous, because it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been on the other end of her cruel nature, playfully poking and unwinding and tugging the thread loose until she had pushed him to the limit.

Something echoed in his head, and he realized that the waiter was asking him what he wanted to eat. Varya had handed the menu over and steepled her fingers, watching him with dark, curious eyes and red painted lips, sooty lashes fluttering. A pretty, painted little snake.

“I’ll take whatever she’s having,” Roman said after a moment, setting his menu aside and returning his attention to the brunette across from him. “Something interesting, kitten?”

“Can I not just appreciate my husband?” Varya demurred. “You’re wearing the suit I like best, after all.”

“It is your birthday. What greater gift is there than me?”

She laughed, delighted by him—as she always was—and took a sip of her champagne. “You were away from me, for a moment.”

He watched her, gauging her carefully. Even I know not to drop my pants when a viper opens its mouth, Bianchi had said, just before Varya had unloaded six rounds into his face and chest less than two feet away from him.

“Just thinking,” is what Roman said finally.

“Hm. A dangerous past time.”

His expression flattened, deadpan. “It’s taken a significant chunk of time to secure your father’s business in my name.”

Something flickered across Varya’s expression. at the word father. “To secure my business,” Varya replied, her voice abrupt and cutting, her eyes narrowed, “in your name.” Absently, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked to be composing herself, like she’d spoken on a knee-jerk reaction rather than with thinking.

Then, glossy and silken again: “You know your patience means the world to me, Romy.”

There was nothing that he loved more than watching her pull back her venom for him. Drumming his fingers against the top of the table, Roman bridled his own irritation to say, mildly, “I’d do anything for you. Even wait...” He made a thoughtful noise. “Over a year to finally take on the responsiblities you wanted handed over to me.”

“Of course.” Varya smiled prettily, absently straightening out her silverware. “And we will speak no more of my father on my birthday, or any day after this.”

He knew what that meant. She phrased it pretty, wrapped it up in silk and velvet and presented it to him as unassuming as a doe, but he knew what that meant. There is my button, she was saying, there is my trip wire. Don’t push it, Roman. The name Nikita had all but been banned in their household, even when funeral arrangements were being made; any time he’d heard one of the lawyers mention her father’s name, there had been a sharp rebuke. Not in my presence, she would tell him later, I do not want to hear that fucking name in my presence.

“At any rate, there is nothing that I want more than for this whole process to be done,” she continued lightly, reaching across the table to take his hand. “It was always what I wanted, you know. Ilya was better suited to be a functional piece of the business; he was the face because he had to be, not because he wanted to be, and I am better suited for the nitpicking and the details. Being the overseer is much more in your circle of talents, Romy.”

Her words assauged something unsettled and prickly in him, the sweep of the pad of her thumb across the back of his hand returning that doubtful monster in his mind back to its slumber. He sighed.

“You’re right,” he acquiesced after a moment, “it is more in my circle of talents.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“I always got the impression Ilarion wasn’t happy with it,” he added. “Though you two certainly enjoyed making work of me that first night, didn’t you?”

Varya smiled demurely. “It was never meant to make work of you, only to make a good impression.”

“Hm,” he replied, eyes narrowing playfully, “but you enjoy pushing me, V.”

She looked pleased. She always did, when he remarked on something that felt like he was really seeing her, beneath the glossy veneer. His girl did so love being seen.

“Only,” V demurred, “because you so enjoy reining me in.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Roman brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it before relinquishing it and glancing around. He would just have to exercise patience, of which he had the most; patience, modesty, and humility, all excellent qualities that he could participate in at will, at any given time. Without any restraint.

“Did the men get the chandelier installed?” Varya idled, snapping his attention back to her. He narrowed his eyes.

“I told you I didn’t want a chandelier anymore.”

She looked at him across the table, dark doe eyes wide and innocent. “I thought you liked how polished they make the club.”

“No, you little viper,” Roman replied, clicking his tongue, “Paolo has a chandelier in his club, and there’s no fucking way I’m going to have people comparing it.”

“Ah,” she murmured, “the drama of the chandelier goes on.”

“And while we’re at it, might as well gut that one from the estate, too.”

“There’s more than one chandelier in there.”

“Then the men will be busy, won’t they?” He tsked his tongue. “I know you dream about watching me blow my top, V, but I’m making an executive decision on gaudy light fixtures.”

A smile flashed across her expression, pearly teeth and delighted eyes. She sighed, almost dreamily, like there was nothing more that she liked than to be doing this exact thing, and with him.

“Oh, Romy,” the brunette said sweetly, “you are the only thing I dream about.” And then, almost as an after thought: “Gaudy light fixture terrorism included.” She waved her hand to dismiss any protest or rebuttal he might have given her and said, “Now, since it’s my birthday, tell me all of the things you love the most about me.”

Roman sucked his teeth, eyeing her for a moment as he leaned back in the chair. Wicked little thing, waiting to preen and glow under his attention, a feline seeking him out. Her little bout of cruelty before was already forgiven. He said, “We’re going to be here for a while, if I do that.”

“They held the table for over six hours,” Varya demurred, “I’m sure they’ll hold it for as many more as you need.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time they got to the club, Varya was acting as though nothing had happened.

Truthfully, Roman preferred it that way. It just also left a lot of room to wonder—his wife was a talented actress, adept at smoothing his ruffled feathers out and not divulging her own feelings on the matter. And he wouldn’t ask, of course. If Varya wanted to express herself, she would, and had, quite openly in the past.

“I am so happy to be home,” she announced, gliding past the door to the club once Roman had opened it for her. “Do you think the babies are asleep, yet? I always miss putting them...”

Her voice trailed off, pausing a little as she seemed to realize that the club was cloaked in inky darkness, freezing just a few steps past the threshold. Roman let the door swing shut behind him, nudging her forward with a hand at the small of her back. He was met with some resistance; she steeled, stiffening against his insistence, before taking a few steps forward.

He said, barely keeping the delight out of his voice, “You’re holding up the line, V.”

“Roman,” Varya said, her voice pitched oddly soft and tight, “why—?”

The lights flashed on to a loud, unified cheer of Happy Birthday!; the club had been packed with vases of flowers, the tables donned with food and drink, and everyone worth their salt within a fifty-mile radius had made their way there. Not a single thing was out of place—everything exactly where he had instructed it be placed, and not a fucking chandelier in sight.

Roman came around in front of the brunette, grinning. “Happy—”

He stopped. Varya’s expression was not happy, or even surprised; it was something else, something that he couldn’t read, the pupils of her hot-whiskey eyes blown wide and the normally Renaissance-soft lines of her face sharpened and hardened into an expression that was more vicious.

“V?” he asked. Her eyes snapped to him, and for a second she looked the same way she had that night in the loft, her hands drenched in blood and the kitchen knife clutched in her fist with bodies at her feet: like she didn’t recognize him.

It took a heartbeat, but her expression smoothed out and she smiled, almost sheepish—like she’d been caught doing something naughty, instead of being caught being somewhere else. Someone else, more the wolf than the girl.

“The lights,” she explained, hands resting on his chest, “they startled me, is all.”

A frown creased his expression. He brought his hands up to hold her wrists, thumb pressed against her pulse point. It fluttered unsteadily. Unconvinced, Roman pressed, “The lights?”

“Just the lights,” Varya assured him. She tilted her head up and kissed him, one hand departing his jacket to go to the back of his neck—and when she kissed him, he could feel that strange little flicker of energy, like she’d been stamping something out before it could catch, but it still vibrated under her skin.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but she disentangled from him and swept around to the crowd of people waiting, beaming prettily and playing at bashfulness, as though she did not enjoy their eyes on her and did not soak their attention up like a flower did sunlight. Whatever had been plaguing her in that moment was now gone, and she was awash with attention and love, thanking people profusely and accepting each hug and cheek-kiss directed her way.

Roman brushed off the odd feeling that she wasn’t being as forthcoming with him as he would have preferred—no secrets anymore, isn’t that what they’d agreed on?—and instead waded into the crowd. Music kicked on overhead; chatter picked up to a warm humming around them; there was nothing else to think about except letting his girl enjoy her birthday celebration.

By the time Varya had made a suitable number of rounds (which tended to verge much higher than one, much to Roman’s chagrin—what tedious work, to share her with everyone else), she had barely sipped the glass of champagne someone had planted in her hand. She circled back to him eventually; like always, there was that pinprick tugging in the cavity of his chest, like they were bound by a single thread that kept them from parting too much and too quickly, and when she drew closer to him again it oozed relief, warm and vibrant, through his ribs.

“Sufficiently loved on?” he asked as she neared, hand reaching up to slide around her waist.

“By them? Certainly.” The brunette’s hand smoothed along his shoulder, the pad of her thumb gliding across the velvet of his jacket. “By you, though, not hardly. Not ever.”

“You are insatiable,” Roman agreed in a rumble. He splayed his fingers against the small of her back, tugging her in closer and brushing their noses together.

“Just for you,” Varya murmured, and the words brushed their lips together just a little—but everything with Varya, like this, felt like almost-kissing, enough to push him to some kind of edge where his stomach twisted and wrenched with want when she added, “And only for you.”

“You know I can’t resist you when you talk like that.”

She laughed, leaning in to set her glass to the side and curl her fingers into his shirt for a kiss; everything for a second felt normal, and good, and right again, the strange way she’d gone-away back in the doorway having disappeared, the dark cloud over her having cleared, her wretchedness from dinner dissipated.

And Roman kissed her, with the sound of the party chatter ringing in his ears, and kissed her with the faint taste of champagne flooding his senses when she parted her lips against his, and kissed her while his hand fisted the fabric of her dress and he managed out in a voice rough with want, “So you’re trying to rile me up.”

“I always,” Varya murmured against his mouth silkily, “want you riled, Romy.”

“Varya?”

A stranger’s voice filtered through the haze—the rose-colored one that usually accompanied Varya saying anything like she wanted him riled up—and Roman felt the irritation spike straight through it. He turned to look at the interruption at the same time that Varya did, only to find a young, handsome blonde standing just a foot away.

Varya said, sounding faint, “Maxim?”

“It has been a while,” the blonde said, and he sounded sheepish. “I called Armazd, asking after you—”

“Sorry,” Roman interjected briskly, fingers still curled—now possessively—into the fabric of Varya’s dress against the dip of her spine, “but who are you?”

His wife started to say, “Romy, this is—” at the same time that the man began, “I am sorry, my name—” and they both stopped at the same time, a strange little silence stretching between them.

“Maxim,” Varya said after a second, turning to look at Roman now. “This is Maxim. He is Artyem’s son.”

Roman stared at her, more to buy himself time than anything; she said the name like he was supposed to know who that was. Artyem, but it didn’t sound familiar. Almost any Russian name sounded like gibberish to him, and if Varya had said it to him, it had been in passing, an afterthought, nothing but a whisper of information passed between them before it was gone again.

Until it did. Until he remembered that the person Varya had thought was her father had actually been Artyem, that she’d poisoned him, let him bleed to death on the carpet while she had mentally checked out of the moment. That she had watched him die, but she had been somewhere else—someplace else, the way Ilarion had described it, very far away where she couldn’t even enjoy what she’d done fully.

And Maxim—golden, and polished, and clean-shaven—looked awfully pleasant for someone whose farther had choked to death on his own blood because of Varya.

“I see,” Roman said, even though he didn’t. His gaze turned to Maxim. “And you’ve—shown up without calling ahead?”

“I have been in Turkey,” Maxim explained, “finishing up some business, and I did not know how to get in touch—”

“Well, you spoke with Armazd, didn’t you?” Roman’s head tilted. “The man practically sleeps in our bed, I imagine he would have been happy to get you in contact with us.”

“Admittedly,” Maxim said, “I wanted it to be a surprise—”

No, Roman thought absently, venomously, that won’t do at all.

“—Varya’s birthday—”

“So you slunk in,” Roman elaborated tartly, “like a little street dog, hm?”

“Maxi,” Varya interjected, fingers absently tracing the stitching on Roman’s jacket, “why don’t you go get a drink and acquaint yourself with our friends? Armazd is just there—you see?”

Maxim’s eyes darted between her and Roman for a minute. He shifted on his feet, tilting and giving a little smile that might have liked abashed if Roman didn’t think he saw a little squirm of self-satisfaction in his gaze. Fucker.

“Of course,” the blonde replied after a moment. “C dnyom razhdyenyem, Varushka.” He took a step forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Varya’s thumbnail dug into the lapel of Roman’s jacket. “Thank you, Maxi.”

Once the blonde had departed, linking up with Armazd in the crowd to get introduced, Roman straightened up from the bar. It was impossible not to stare at this newcomer—he glowed with an easy charisma, flashed bright smiles that were all teeth. Roman hated him already.

“Maxi?” he asked her, eyes narrowed, and Varya sighed. He waited for her to elaborate. Perhaps she’d say they had dated once, perhaps they were literally nothing. That would be ideal, after all. Ships passing in the night.

She said, “We grew up together.”

Even worse. Roman twisted a loose, dark curl of hers around his finger. “And you killed his father.”

“Well—” She paused, mouth pressing into a thin line. “He does not know.”

“He doesn’t—” The notion that she was keeping secrets, and not from him, coiled high and happy in his throat. He tried not to sound too delighted when he said, “V, surely he knows.”

“Surely he does not, that I did it. Only that it happened. And I will keep it that way,” she added firmly, picking up her champagne glass from the bar top. “Maxim was incredibly loyal to my father because Artyem was, but more than that—he was mine and Ilya’s friend. I’m sure he is missing Ilya almost as much as I am.”

“As we all are,” Roman agreed sagely, planting a kiss on her temple in spite of the dry look she gave him. It was hard to tell, to get a read on this Maxim. What was it he’d dragged himself out of the trenches for? Just to fly halfway across the world to wish Varya a happy birthday? Above all things, Roman understood that his wife was a desirable thing, and knowing that he kept her out of the reach of others was part of her appeal—but that much? Could someone who was just a friend want that much?

He continued, “So what is it that Maxim offers to the business, hm?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Varya demurred, which didn’t sound at all like the truth. “Artyem was the one who sent him out on jobs. My father kept things tight around the top, you know. If anyone would know what it was Maxim was up to in Turkey who wasn’t my father or Artyem, it would have been Ilarion.”

“I find it hard to believe you have no idea what your father was using someone for.”

The sound of delighted commentary drew both of their eyes away; Irina had come down, both dark-haired infants in her arms, and was walking them toward Varya and Roman. Murmured remarks on what could only be their cuteness passed throughout the crowd of party-goers.

“I am putting them down for bed,” Irina announced as she approached, “and I know you like to say goodnight.”

“Oh, you are an angel,” Varya murmured, glass set aside once again. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to baby Ro’s cheek. Yuliana babbled, and she sighed dreamily, “Have you ever seen more perfect babies, Roman?”

Perfect babies, a perfect wife; soon, he would even have the perfect grip on Gotham’s neck, throttling it until it was nothing but dust and ash. Soon, but not soon enough; he’d be content when it was just done and settled, when there was nothing else standing between him and everything that he wanted. Varya, and the guns—what an odd thing, to know that a year ago he’d set out for this and it was just falling into his lap.

“Romy?”

“Never,” Roman replied, smiling and glancing back at his wife, reaching and cradling the back of Yuli’s head. “I’ve never seen more perfect babies, V.”

Across the room, Maxim watched them. There was something about it that Roman didn’t like—the way his eyes flickered, the way he looked between the children and Varya, the way their eyes met and he didn’t deflect away. Like he didn’t mind getting caught. Where had he come from? What little shithole had he crawled out of, over a year after Nikita’s death and Ilarion’s death—longer, still, since his father’s death? Hadn’t he wondered what had happened to his father?

What are you doing here, he thought venomously, that you think you can just come in here like nothing? Like I won’t root you out like the little rat you are?

Maxim smiled. It was a polite smile, unassuming kind of smile.

Roman picked up his drink from the counter, taking a heavy swallow. Suddenly, the evening seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of him, no finish line in sight.

Nothing else standing between me and everything I want.

And he was going to keep it that way.

[startreckobsessed]

Let you go

Hi! Can i make a request? 🥺 For AOS Leonard Mccoy? With a lil bit of TOS Old Spock. Should probably set on Into Darkness, Bones and reader broke up between the event of the first and second film, so bones was a bit unbothered to flirt with Dr.Marcus (he’s trying to make reader jealous). Old spock talk them out of their misery by telling them that they’re story was quiet unique because in his timeline they didn’t even met, so they should cherish it. (Or whatever, as long as spock intervenes). They talk, and made up. And oh, fluff. Emotional tear jerking fluff. Thank you thank you!!

I have this idea (this was supposed to be a different request, but hey! ), that reader used to date and was in love with this hotshot before she met Leonard. Said ex died in action as a honored captain. Reader was devistated. Again this was supposed a different request, but you can make it as a back story. Can i make this my second request? Hehe 🥺😅

@lykxzandlove Thank you for requesting darling, and thanks for your patience, this one really faught me haha. If you recognise some of the dialogue it's from thirteen reasons why.

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST. I may or may not have cried while writing this.

[[READ MORE]]

You stood in rank dressed in your grey uniform, cap framing your line of vision, shoulder to shoulder between checkov and Sulu as you gazed up at the podium where captain pike was speaking.

"Exceptional courage, is what drives us....

And our crew, is what fuels us..."

Your crew had just finished the first two year leg of your mission. A long two years...

"Let's take a moment to pay tribute to past captain's whom have made the ultimate sacrifice..." the images roll, and a firmiliar face flashed before your eyes and you suck in a breath, squeazing your eyes shut to keep your tears at bay.

You breath out carefully out of your nose, trying desperately to keep the sudden onslaught of emotions contained.

People told you time would numb it, but even give years later, the pain was still fresh and raw each and every time you heard his name, or saw his picture pop up in your records.

You gritted your teeth, struggling to ground yourself in this moment, focusing on your feet on the ground.

You blinked harshly, lifting your face and focusing your attention on captain Pike.

You don't fail to notice the doctors face turned toward you, no doubt brows mashed together over concerned eyes. The urge to meet his eyes and sink into their depths is nearly overpowers your will, but you hold strong, chin high.

------

You had never meant to fall for Leonard. You were deep in it before you even realised what was happening. You were complacent with where you were, some people go their entire lives without knowing true love, you got yours. You didn't feel the need for a new one. But there he came, blazing and true like a comment blasting across the black abyss your crew so faithfully piloted. It happened so naturally, slipping through your defences so you never noticed it.

Until it was too late, and both of you had been wounded in the process.

----

"Sweetheart?" Leonard called from behind you. You cursed silently, slowly turning to face him, trying to keep the guilt off your face as you turned to face him. "You should probably stop calling me that.." You said softly. He frowned, and not the way you liked when he was being sardonic or adorably frustrated with the captain, this one was real.

"Sorry." He said "habit. Are you alright? You left the ceremony yesterday so quickly..." you shake your head, looking away from him. "Fine, I'm fine." You said, swiftly turning and walking away from him. He frowned, looking after you, not noticing his hand was slightly extended, reaching out for you.

------

Later that day, you made your way down to the mess hall, spotting the old Ambasseter Spock, sitting alone by a window. You go through and get your food before approaching the table, greeted by a warm smile.

"Hello ambassator, " you awenered with your own. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all Y/N. Your company has always always been welcome." You sit down across from him. "Do tell me, how is the good doctor doing." Your fork freezes near your mouth before you set it down. "Oh, I don't know." He frowns deeply.

"I can't imagine why not." He says. "We-" your voice cracks. You clear your throat. "Were not together anymore." Suprise flits crosses his face.

"Well, now that can't be right." He says. You grimace, "I know, nothing feels right anymore, it's like reality has been tilted on its hinges, but..."

"If you don't mind me prying..." He prompts. "Go ahead, you can ask."

"What caused the separation?"

"me." You say thickly. Unexpectedly he reaches across the table and pats your hand in a grandfatherly gesture.

"And by my estimation, you do not seem satisfied with the conclusion, correct?" You hesitate before nodding. "Then mabey its time to rethink that course of action?" Your eyes widen before you look down at the table, shame radiating off of you. "I can't do that, I've already hurt him too bad, I still hurt him." You grimace, thinking of the encounter in the hallway. "I don't know how to stop hurting him." You say, more to yourself than to him.

"Then perhapse it's time to discover what is hurting you." He says. You look away into the porthole, into the black inky abyss that you sometimes wished would swallow you up.

"You know, you two are a remarkable pair." You look at him quissicly. "What makes you say that?" "In every universe I've traveled there are differences, the events in a person's life, and how they react to them, shape who they become. In every universe a different set of events happen in both of your lives, and yet every single time, one of the only constants I find are both of you coming together, no matter the space or the time nor the obstacles placed before you, the one constant is your souls coming together. And from what I can tell, it hurts your souls to be apart."

Question bubbles to your lips, but you silence it. "Ask your question, Y/N." You smile grimly. "You know me too well." "Well I've only had two lifetimes to know you."

"Where you come from... what are we like?" He smiles fondly, memories coming back to him. He sighs in a melancholy way.

"Your other self passed on just a few months ago, from a human ailement not yet curable, he blames himself for not being able to save you." Your eyes widened before blinking in shock. "Wow, thats... God how is he?" He frowns even more deeply. "Trying to go day by day, but losing someone one loves so deeply for so long... is not an easy thing to accommodate to." "Well whats.." many questions bubble to your lips at once before deciding on one. "I-Is he alone?" You ask, voice cracking. He shakes his head. "The good captain has come to earth to stay with hm, along with your daughter and grandchildren." "Joanna?" He smiles just slightly. "Well I couldn't give everything away could I?" You bark out a teary laugh and he chuckles. "But time, is so very precious my dear, you yourself told me that after your diagnosis." "Well, at least one of us has sense."

"But to thoroughly awenser your question, might I go over a timeline?" "Yes, I'd like that." You sigh, resting your head on your palm. "You met on this ship, like so many other times...."

--------

A few days later, you smooth down your hair as you look in the mirror. You were ready to come clean with Leonard about everything you've been keeping buried. Your heart thundered at the thought of unearthing the source of so much pain, but you were ready to start again with him, start fresh, open and raw, with no secrets.

You exited your quarters and went looking for him. Your fingers nervously tapped against your legs as you walked, looking for him, first going to the Med bay. Christine greeted you, her brows burrowing when you ask for him. "Oh hun, he's off planet on a mission." "Oh." You say "thank you Christine." You say before dashing off for the bridge, where you knew they'd be monitoring.

The tube doors opened up and you made your way to stand next to the captains chair, where Jim was watching. He greeted you silently with a nod, both of you listening to the audio feed coming in. You asked what they were doing, knowing he could probably hear you being so close to Jim. Jim quietly filled you in. "We found some ancient Clingon battle tech on this planet, were trying to salvage it."

"Well sweetheart, there something I can help you with?" His voice came through painfully clear, flirtatious and laying it on thick. Your heart seized and you swallowed against the lump suddenly stuck in your throat

Jim eyed you warily "Dr. McCoy may I remind you you are not there to flirt." He said in a stern voice, concerned for your feelings. Dr. Marcus' voice rang in. "We've got it, beam us up."

Once you saw him you forgot that you were surrounded by your crewmates, your hurt voice ringing out.

"You... You called her sweetheart." You said, betrayal filling you, eyes filling with tears.

Without another word you took off down the adjoining hallway, Leonard taking off after you. You sped until you were in an abandoned hallway two floors down with him still following.

Your face got hot, embarasment taking hold. You didn't want to cry over a tiny little word.

His eyes widened, regret filling them when he saw how hurt you were. "Baby- " he stopped himself. He only called you baby when he was really concerned.

"No, no I'm sorry. It's okay, Carols great, she's a great person." You forced out, turning to try and walk away. He grabbed your arm spinning you back around. "I don't want Carol. I want you. I'm sorry." You blinked. "So your not ready to move on?" He shakes his head vehidamently. "It was stupid. So stupid. I've never done anything like that in my life. I wanted to make you jealous." It felt like all the air was sucked from your lungs.

"You still want me? After evrything-" he shakes his head. "My god woman, were you listening? Yes! I love you." He breaths, gently squeezing your bicep. "But I- I hurt you! I broke up with you without giving you a reason-" "I know, sweetheart." He says Your heart stopped.

"You know?"

"I know as much as I can guess. But why don't you tell me?" You took a shuddering breath.

"So you know I was on a different ship before this one."

"Yes."

"When I went onto that ship from the academy, I came with the captain. He made it so we'd make it onto the same ship, because we were..."

"together?"

You nodded. "We loved each other. He was my captain, and I was by his side as head of security and defense tactics." He nodded, fingers pressed against his lips as he listened. "One day, we were attacked by an enemy bregade, and crash landed us on a deserted planet. In order to save me, he threw himself in front the lazer that would have incinerated me and two other crew members. They would have killed all of us, all it did was incinerate him.

After he was killed the crew, furious overpowered them, and we survived, but..." You trailed off, before looking back to him. "How did you know?"

He sighed, as if debating telling you something. "As part of protocol, a captain must... gain permission from Starfleet to enter into marriage with another crew mate. His request form was entered just a few days before his death, with your name attached." You stilled, before another wave of emotion crashed over you. A sob escaped you, and you leaned against the wall for support, a hand coming up to try to muffle your cries.

Leonard watched you with glassy eyes, your pain like a twisting knife in his chest. He waited for a moment before slowly inching forward to wrap his arms around you, testing the waters. You pull him closer, wrapping your arms tightly around him, his warmth sinking into your cold body. "I'm sorry." He whispers into your neck. "I'm so sorry." You shake your head, pressing your face into his neck. His scent calmed you, and eventually your breathing slowed as his hands rubbed your back. "I love you." You said, his hands paused, and he untangled himself to look at you, hope in his eyes. "Really?" "Yes, I'm sorry I made such a mess. Do you want to try this again?" You ask. He let out a breathless chuckle before pressing his lips to your forehead. "Yes, God yes." You smile teary eyed, bittersweet joy filling you. You placed your hands on both sides of his face before giving him a slow melting kiss, thumbs stroking his face. "I just have to do something first." You say. His brows crease slightly, but he let's you go. "Okay.." He says uuncertainly

You smile. "I'll come and see you at dinner, okay?" "Yeah, I'll see you."

---------

You entered your quarters without turning on the light, blindly reaching for your padd. It glowed brightly in the darkness of your room, easily finding the picture of him you loved the most, him dashing in his captains uniform hat just a little bit crooked, every inch of him glowing from happiness. Hot thick tears leaked from your eyes as You gently placed your padd on the table in front of your window, his face materializing against the empty black abyss, somewhere where you knew his ashes were scattered, floating forever in the universe, amidst stardust and wonder.

"I love you." You whispered into the silence, looking at him. "Wherever you are, I hope you know that I love you. I hope you know that I'll never not love you... a good friend once told me, I can love you, and still let you go.... I know one day, thinking about you won't hurt so much, and the other feelings will fade, and I'll be only left with love. The way you loved me so fiercly and how i loved you. I'll never forget you i promise, how could I? Even when I'm dying I know you'll come back to me, when I'm old and tired. But there is this amazing man that I love that wants to love me, and I think I'm ready to be happy again. I know you'd want me to be." You looked back at his flickering image

"I hope we meet again. And So, Derek.... I love you, and I let you go. And I hope wherever you are, you feel peace, you feel safe...and I hope you know that I love you." You say, a feeling of weight being stripped off of you makes you feel lighter, and a strange peace settles over you, and somehow you know he hears you.

"I'll never forget you."

[kileyrose-2003]

Rose the Hat x Fem! Reader

A/N: Hello lovelies! This request was made by @mewbleu I hope you enjoy. I'm sorry it took so long to write. Bare with me everyone as I have another imagine coming out this week and part 2 of the fanfic coming soon.

Warnings: Child death, violence, implied alcoholism, blood, implied sexual content, violence against children

From the time you were small, you always knew you were different. Your parents both had the shining like you. They always insisted it was good thing, a gift in all actuality and that you were special. Most people couldn't do things like project out of body or see things so far in advance it benefited others, but you could.

Though you didn't know if being special was a good thing in your case. You had a natural healer energy and people often grew attached to you but with its pros came its cons.

Dark entities or 'ghost people' as you liked to call them, sometimes found their way to you. The pretty woman in the hat being the most recurring one in particular.

She was different than all the other ghost you seen. For one thing, the beginning interactions you had with her were friendly but also she wasn't dead. She was alive.

When you first talked about it with your mom she was confused. She too could see spirit but they never were alive.

Your mother thought she had to be dead based off the way you described her. While your own parents raised you in a very bohemian upbringing and they considered themselves to be hippies, they didn't dress like Rose.

They didn't know anyone who still owned silk top from the sixties and had such antiquities adorn in their hair. At first she brushed it off that maybe you were mistaken and that maybe it was possible you did make friends with some young hippie that may be possibly dead but it didn't bother her. She was oddly happy for you.

In the beginning, Rose was sort of your friend in a way. It brought you a sense of warmth that you never felt before. You didn't have any friends your age that could do any of the same things that you could and while Rose was far from your age, she'd still show you little tricks with her mind and reaffirm your thoughts and that was good enough for you.

"I feel lonely," You told her one night as her apparition stood in your room, staring at you silently from the empty side of your bed. "My mommy and daddy are like us but I didn't know there were people like you out there who could see ghostie people too."

Rose smiled at you and sat down at the foot of your bed. "There are alot of people like us out there. It's just a matter of finding the most special ones and you my darling, are very special."

The words brought a smile to your face and you blushed, feeling a sense of secureness in knowing that it wasn't just your parents who seen how different you were.

"Thanks. Am I ever going to meet you, pretty lady in the hat? I like you." Normaly you enjoyed Rose's smile but in that moment the grin on her face hinted at darkness that laid below the surface of her beautiful front.

"Maybe when you're a little older and you have more magic in you but for right now, no." You frowned and Rose reached her hand forward to take your petite one in hers, although it did no good because your hand sunk right through her transparent ones.

"Don't be sad though, it's a good thing," She reassured you. "Okay." You laid back in bed and rolled onto your side. "Goodnight, pretty lady in the hat."

"Goodnight, Y/n." She'd stay with you until you fell asleep and when you woke up in the morning, she'd be gone. It was an enjoyable having a friend like her.

As you got older though, the more you started to question just exactly how much of a friend she really was.

You had a baby sitter who was a bright, young college student who liked to indulge your 'over active imagination' as she called it but you didn't mind that she didn't understand. Just that she listened to you was enough to make you happy to be around her while your parents were out.

The one night as you got ready for bed you begged and begged for her to braid your hair. Of course she obliged but it wasn't without curiosity.

"Can we put ribbon in it too?" You asked excitedly, practically bouncing up and down. "Like weave it in there?"

You nodded excitedly and she attempted to add the ribbon in. "Did you see someone on TV with their hair like this and that's why you want it like this?"

You giggled and shook your head. "Not on TV, in my room!" The girl would of been lying if she said she didn't feel a hint of chills running down her spine.

"Your room?" You nodded happily and snuggled your patchwork doll close to your chest. "Mhm. She's really pretty but she doesn't have ribbon in her hair though."

"Oh? What does she have then?"

"Buttons and yarn. I think she might have that metal thingy on a bike too."

Your baby sitter narrowed her eyes. "A bike chain?" You shrugged. "Maybe. I think that's what it's called anyways. What's the matter? You looked scared."

The young girl shook her head and smiled. "I-it's nothing, sweetie. Come on, let's get you all tucked in bed."

You eagerly snuggled into the covers, hiding yourself away from the cold outside. "Sweet dreams, Y/n. Dream safely."

"Goodnight," You hummed softly and rolled onto your side, quickly drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

When your parents got home later she voiced her concern to your mother in quiet. "I know Y/n is different from other kids she..understands more but I just thought I'd tell you because I thought it was a little alarming."

"We've known about this for a while," She mused as she watered some of her plants. "I don't see her. Y/n does but I'll look into it."

Over the next few weeks your mom began asking more about Rose, trying to pry information about her out of you.

"Why does her name matter?" You snapped as your mom tucked you in. "Because if she's your friend you should at least know her name. So what it is?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. She never told me."

"Why is that?"

"I don't know mommy. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Okay," She hummed and kissed the top of your head. "Goodnight sweetheart."

"Night mommy." You rolled over onto your side, staring at the wall for a while. By that point Rose would of normally be already sitting at the bottom of your bed, but not tonight.

'Maybe she's busy.' You told yourself as you pulled your stuffed doll close to your chest. "Goodnight pretty lady in the hat," You mumbled into the air and began to drift off to sleep.

Normally when you slept it was uninterrupted and deep but that night was different. You kept tossing and turning. Not because you weren't comfortable but because something was wrong somewhere.

After another ten minutes of rolling around you sat up in bed, still holding your doll close. You looked around your room for a few seconds, trying to find anything that could be the source of discomfort but nothing.

"It's just like pictures in a book," You whispered aloud and closed your eyes. "They're not real." When you opened your eyes you found yourself standing in the middle of the woods. The weather was warm and muggy. Even in your light fabric pajamas, you were hot.

When you breathed in you could smell the overwhelming aroma of embers burning from a campfire. You let out a cough and followed the burning light through the woods.

'Don't do it.' That inner voice inside said but you pushed it away, thinking that maybe if you seen what was going on you could help. But something kept pulling you forward.

We are The True Knot

What is tied may mever be untied

We Endure

Your made your way down the beaten path and what was there horrified you. A group of people stood their. Like a chain of paper dolls or snowflakes chanting.

You seen your mother do chants in her meditation but this was completely different.

The worse part was the body on the green grass. The girl on the ground was maybe your age. 5 to 7 years old.

You heard the name Violet being whispered in your ear and you let out a scared cry.

A cloud of what you hought was campfire smoke was above the group. Next to the body was Rose. Her hands like bloody gloves confessing to her sins and a man with intense eyes. Like a Crow. They all turned to stare at you.

The pretty lady in the hat, no Rose! That was her name, smiled at you contently. "Well! Hi there!" She greeted and you immediately started to cry.

"Aww, what's wrong sweetie? Aren't you happy to see me?" You shook your head, backing up towards a tree. "Y-you can't hurt me when I'm like this!"

"Oh silly girl. I'm not going to hurt you." She pinned you against the tree and you dug your little hands into the bark.

"Then what are you going to do to me?" You sobbed and Rose knelt down to your level. "I'm going to keep you here. Don't you want to go home and join our family?"

Her hand bore down on your wrist hard enough to hurt and you let out a scream. As Rose was about to drag you away a light shined above the two of you and the entire space faded away into darkness.

"Get the hell away from her!" Your mother bellowed and Rose let go of your wrist. "Mama!" You cried and looked up at the light.

Rose growled and narrowed her eyes. "You just messed with the wrong bitch! She's mine!"

"No, she's not!" The environment around you both shook and Rose went flying into the darkness and before you knew it you were back in your room, crying into your mother's arms.

"It's okay," She soothed and kissed the top of your head as she rocked you back and forth. You cried and held onto her shirt.

"They killed her!" Your mom rubbed your back and let out a pained sigh. "I know..I know."

You sobbed into her that whole night, desperately wishing for the first time in your short life you weren't special.

You felt hurt that someone you had grown close to could hurt someone like that. It was a recurring theme and lapse of faith in yourself you had to deal with every day over the years.

You never seen Rose again after that but her presence in your house left an aftermath of chaos and your mother devoted all her time to protecting you from her because she was sure even if it wasn't in the near future you would see her again.

It tore your parents relationship apart and not after, they both decided to go their seperate ways. Even though both of them insisted it had nothing to do with you, you couldn't help but blame yourself.

Everything was so normal and so at peace until she came along. As you grew older you grew to despise her and tried your hardest to block her out of your thoughts but sometimes your memories of her managed to slip back in. The pain she caused you was so great it was hard to forget.

You were twenty now and on your way back from the grocery/ liquor store run when you felt like you were being watched.

It was unusual because after the whole ordeal with Rose, you were paranoid of being watched to begin with but this was a different feeling. Someone was in your mind.

You were about look out of the mirror of your car to see if anyone was behind you when you felt your phone ringing in your pocket.

You pulled it out and answered and as you turned into the road leading to your apartment complex.

"Hello?"

"Y/n?" You let out a sigh and grip the steering wheel. "Hi mom."

"Why haven't you called me? It's been three days since I've spoken to you."

"I know, mom. I-"

"Have you been drinking?"

You looked down at the bag of liquor sitting in your passenger seat. "No," You answered carefully. "Of course not."

"Bullshit. You forget you lived with me as a teenager and I know your drinking voice."

You drove up into your parking spot and stopped the car. "I know, mom. I know."

"Then why are you lying to me?"

"C-can we please just get off the subject?!" You whispered harshly and grabbed your bag of liquor off the seat.

"Sure, sorry. I just worry about you, you know?" You could hear the tiredness and hurt in her voice.

"I know mama. I'm sorry," You whispered softly and walked up the stairs to the second floor. "It's okay sweetie. How was your day?"

You put the key in the lock to your apartment door. "It was alright. I went grocery shopping today."

"How was that?"

"Good." You opened the door. "I got some really cool looking-" You seen a woman sitting on your sofa and let out a scream.

"Well, hi there!" You dropped your bag of groceries on the floor, picking your head up to look in your living room.

"Y/n?! Is everything okay?" You debated on saying something but Rose made a silent tutting gesture with her hand.

"I-i'll have to call you back," You mumbled into the phone. "And if I don't, know that I love you."

"What?" Your mother screamed. "Y/n, don't hang you up on me! Y/n! Y/n-" You hung up and shoved your phone in your pocket.

"I-i remember you. You're the-" Rose smiled viciously and stood up from her spot on the sofa. "The pretty lady in the hat? Such a fitting name for me, isn't it?"

You nodded nervously, eliciting a giggle from Rose. She was by far the most beautiful woman you'd ever seen but mixed in with that beauty was her insanity. Just by looking in her eyes could tell this woman was an utter psychopath.

"No need to be scared of me, sweetie." She kicked the bags of groceries aside and moved closer to you, pinning you against the wall. "I told you you'd see me one day."

"What if I made up my mind?" She grinned and caressed your cheek. "Why on earth would you want to do that, huh? Still such a bright and clever girl, so so pretty too."

You lowered your head, refusing to look at Rose. "What do you want?" She picked your head up with her fingers and held it high. "I want to take you on a trip. Don't you want to meet my friends? I remember you did when you were little." She placed a kiss against your cheek.

You pushed her away and Rose looked on at you slightly taken aback. "No, I don't. What I want is for you to get the hell out of my apartment."

Rose shoved you against the wall and caressed your cheek. "My, such a temper. You know, I don't care for being talked back to."

You shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut, feeling so small and trapped. "Please let me go."

"Aww, no sweetie. No, I won't. You already got away from me once and it won't happen again." She kissed your neck, nipping at your cartilage afterwards. Her bright, murderous eyes you remembered all too well shone when she pulled away and you felt the hair on your arms stand straight up. "Still such a special little thing, aren't you?"

You gasped and tried to run from her but Rose was quick, wrapping her arms tightly around your waist. "Only a little pinch."

"No! No! Please!" You begged, hearing her uncap the needle. "I'll see you later, sweetheart."

"No! No-" The needle of the syringe pricked the sensitive skin on your neck and as Rose pushed down on the plunger flunge you felt yourself going limper. After a few seconds your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you dropped to the floor.

"That's it," She cooed and scooped you up in her arms. "Hope you're ready for our little road trip." She carried you out to her trailer and you were never seen by anyone who knew you again.

Part 2

A few hours later you kicked and screamed as Rose carried you out of the RV. "No! No! No!" You begged and flopped against her. "Please..please! I won't tell! I swear."

"Honey, it's not personal and I know you wouldn't but it's just not a practical option." She dropped you on the ground roughly and the other's began to tie you up.

As you stared up at the sky in distress, you pictured Violet's little face in your head and felt your anxiety rise.

Tears started streaming down your cheek and Rose stood infront of you. A part of her that still felt attached to you hurt to see you in pain but she needed to eat. The whole family did.

She raised the knife above her head, balancing it inbetween the tips of her fingers before resting it at her side. "Are you going to hurt me? Like you did to Violet?" Your inside burns and you felt like you wanted to throw up.

"Yes." You let out a pained scream as she rubbed the blade against your cheek. "Pain purifies steam, fear too. So now you understand."

"No!" You sobbed as you watched Rose raise the knife above her head. "No, Rose..please.." You continued to beg until she plunged the knife deep into your calf.

You shrieked and a large cloud of steam came floating out of your mouth. You felt weaker as the steam came out but the worse was sense of humiliation you felt. Like you had been violated or stolen from.

"Oh damn!" Rose rasped in an almost sexual tone. "Even at your age, you taste so good. Like flowers and liquor."

She clamped her hands around your throat and you winced, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt your steam poured out of your mouth more. You choked on your own sobs and dug your hands into the dirt.

Rose's eyes softened a little bit, her glowing blue orbs staring into yours. "So much fear for most of your life, huh?"

You didn't respond to her and Rose roughly tugged on your hair. "Answer me!"

"Yes!" You barely managed to scream out the word and let out a pitiful whimper. "W-why?"

"Why what?" She spat, keeping her firm grip on you.

"Why me? You could of had Violet, any other girl that was born around the time I was. Why me?" You didn't meet her eye. "I-i didn't want this! I didn't ask for any of this. I just-"

"Just what?" Rose asked softly.

"I just want to be normal! I don't want to special anymore. I just want to be loved. I just want it all to stop!" You hitched a sob and Rose released the grip on your neck.

She stood up and paced back and forth, trying to get her head back in the game.

"Rosie, you okay?" Crow stood up to her level. "Yeah, I'm okay..I just..you know what, it can wait til later."

"You're sure?" He asked.

"Yeah." She ran her thumb over your cheek as if to give you some comfort and raised the knife above her head. You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting to feel pain radiating through your body but nothing happened.

Why couldn't she hurt you? Rose, who considered herself to be quite numb to the feelings of others but highly intuned with her own needs didn't know. Even after everything you seen and how long it had been since she seen you there was something about you, some steamy element that made her feel attached to you like a magnet.

"I-i can't do it.." Rose stabbed the knife into the dirt beside you and put her hands over her face.

"Why not?" Crow asked, trying his hardest to keep his infrequent temper at bay. The rest of The Knot looked visibly displeased and hungry which set your anxiety even higher than it was.

"I-I feel something for her." Rose's eyes brimmed with insanity and you tried to squirm away her despite the pain radiating through your left leg and the restrains on your wrist.

"What? Rose we don't feel things for a Steamhead. If you keep it alive it's dangerous. It will-"

"I know!" She tightened her grip on your wrist. "She's special though and like I did many years ago, I want her." She let out a maniacal laugh that made Crow's shoulders stiffen. "I fucking want her." She stared deep into your eyes.

"I just want to go home!" You sobbed, fat tears running down your cheeks. "Shh.." Rose wiped your tears away with the back of her thumbs, staining your skin crimson with your own blood. "It's okay."

"No, it's not! Please just let me go home," You begged. "You know I can't do that. Can you all start untying her, please?"

The others nodded and quickly did as she asked. "Then what are we going to do with her?" You heard the Crow ask.

"I have a different plan for this one because she's special. Fitting how everything comes around, right sweetheart?" She gestured to the little scar on her hand.

You gritted your teeth in pain and spit in her face. "Fuck you." You raised your good leg up in the air and connected your heeled boot to her pretty face.

"Oh, you little bitch!" Rose screamed and raised her hand at you, swiftly smacking you across the face before falling back. It was loud enough for the sound to radiate for a good distance and you winced it the stinging sensation on your face.

Rose was distracted by the pain and others seemed to paying you no attention at all. You seen your chance to make your get away and made a run for it as soon as you got the chancs.

The dirt beneath you kicked up into the air as your shoes collided roughly into the ground. Your blood sputtered out on impact and the further the distance you walked, the limp increase.

Your chest felt tight and everything burned but your fight or flight instincts were on high and you were ready to take on everything or anyone.

As you began to slow your running pace you could vaguely hear the sound of bare feet crunching against the leaves behind you.

"Y/n!" You struggled to straggle forward as the light limp in your leg grew worse. "Where are you, honeydoll?"

You found the nearest tree close by and grabbed onto it, flinging yourself behind it. "I know you're around here somewhere."

The crunching of the leaves stopped momentarily and you could feel eyes burning in your direction. "You know if you're going to run from me then mine as well you try and cover your tracks. I see your blood."

"Shit." You darted out from behind the tree and tripped over a cut down stump from a tree that previously grew there.

You pulled your already injured leg up to your chest and slid backwards against the dirt each step Rose took closer to you.

"Y/n-"

"Don't! Just get away!"

"Y/n-"

"No!"

You squirmed back forward and Rose got frustrated, roughly taking your wrist in her hands. She knelt down to your level and your eyes interlocked with her stormy grey ones.

"If I was going to hurt you, I would of done it by now." You nodded nervously. Rose ran a finger across your cheek. "Poor darling, you're so cold and bloodied." She grabbed you enough your arms and lifted you up. "Come on."

"W-where are you taking me?" She grunted as she placed your arm around her shoulders. "To my trailer. I have a first aid kit in there. I should be able to fix you up there."

"Okay." You nodded lazily, starting to feel the blood loss getting to you. You fought for your eyes to stay open and keep moving.

"Just a little longer, Y/n." Rose winced and helped you up the stairs to her trailer. Once you got inside she set down on her. "There we go, lay back."

You willing complied and rested your head against one of the many pillows Rose collected over the years.

"This is going to sting, okay?" She warned. You nodded and gripped onto her blankets as she put the hydrogen peroxide over your cut.

You hissed in pain and bit down on your lip. "Fuck." Rose laughed throatily. "I told you it was going to sting. Maybe if you didn't run from me none of this would of happened."

"Well maybe if you weren't trying to kill me I wouldn't of ran!" You spat defensively. Rose glared and began to wrap up your leg.

"..I told you I was going to let you be." Your eyes went wide. "After you stabbed me! Rose, I just want to go home."

"I can't do that sweetheart." As she finished wrapping up your leg she helped you sit up on the bed. "Then what are you going to do with me?"

"Option A: You go outside and I let whichever member of my family that is standing closest by drop you off somewhere and let you wander around bloddied in the woods because I will strip you of your bandages and I can't promise it will be painless death or, you stay here with me."

You looked away with uncertainty in your eyes. "You don't have to be turned yet if you don't want to but you will want it eventually, I reassure you." She grinned.

"I could never be like you." Rose rolled her eyes. "Oh please, you rubes know nothing on what it's like to be us. To live like the kings and queens of humanity and the pleasures in the aftermath of taking steam and the chaos that ensued afterwards."

"Killing people makes you horny?" She laughed. "More amorous then anything, my sweet." She got her knees and leaned forward to kiss your lips. "I can give you a comparison on the steam part, if you'd like."

You shoved her away. "No, I don't want you to touch me like that. Ever." For a reason Rose couldn't fathom, she had to push away some pain caused by your words.

"It's not going to be a terrible existence, Y/n." She took your hand in hers. "You kill people, Rose! I seen you kill someone."

"Violet? Oh yes, we actually just finished her steam a few days ago. It made me think of you."

"And you tried to kill me! I can't trust you as far as I can throw you!"

"You learned to like being around me as a little girl. I can't why you can't learn to again." You glared at Rose. "Because I thought you were my friend."

"I still am, aren't I?" Rose was met with silence. "Y/n, for fucks sake would you just say something?"

"I-" You broke down in tears and Rose felt a pang of guilt blooming inside her. She pulled you close to her and ran her fingers through your hair.

"You took everything from me!" You sobbed into her. "I know. Either way we were going to have you though so you should of just gave in. Some of it is my fault though." Your tears soaked her chest.

"I feel so broken..and so confused! I just want to be loved but I don't know how to even love me anymore!"

"I know and we'll fix that. Come on, don't cry." You sniffled and tried to wipe some of your tears away but they just kept flowing.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You kept saying over and over again. "Shhh..it's okay. Nothing to be sorry about."

"You scared me when you killed Violet. You scared me!" Rose wiped your face off with her sleeve. "I know but it's all out of survival and I won't hurt you like that ever again, I promise."

You nodded and wiped some of the tears away, just trying to calm yourself down a little bit. "So what do you say?"

"I'll stay." Rose grinned and placed a kiss against your cheek. "Good." She pulled you down on her bed and wrapped her arms around your waist. "You're freezing. I know ways of warming you up, you know."

You let out a laugh which brought Rose some relief. "Maybe when in a few days when I'm back to normal."

"Whatever you're comfortable with." She ran her fingers through your hair. "Get some rest, please?"

"You won't leave me?" You asked softly. "I won't. I promise." You let out a peaceful sigh and nuzzled closely to Rose's chest.

She drew small circles on your back with her fingers and sent you waves of relaxation. "Sleep." You eyes fluttered shut and soon you succumbed to a peaceful slumber.

Rose stayed up for a while, searching through your mind and taking in all the information about you she missed from the years you spent apart.

"So much anger and fear." She whispered softly. "Bouncing back and from place to place and surpressing who you really are. Oh yes, you're going to be a clingy little thing for a while but I don't mind."

You shifted in your sleep and Rose tightened her grip around you. "Relax, you're home now."

"Home," You mumbled softly in your sleep and Rose smiled softly. Sne placed her hat down behind her on the bed as if it was a prized crown and spooned you. "Yes, home. Just exactly where you're supposed to be."

[luffysmeat]

More artist [Name]-san to clean our souls! 💕 I hope you enjoy this! I'm sorry for the long wait! And I'm also sorry because I'm gonna make headcanons instead of scenarios! I hope you don't mind too much! (This one got a bit longer than expected! Sorry for the spam!)

Kidd

It's hard to be an artist.

You always have the need to draw certain people or certain objects because they are appealing to your eyes.

One of those certain people is none other than your captain: Eustass Kidd.

Kidd is fierce. You know that. Even as a lover he's rather the violent, possessive and dominant type.

People usually try to stay away from him, always scowling and looking as he's about to murder the neext person that looks at him.

But, even when you know that, to you... He's a masterpiece.

Your fingers always itch to make a painting or even just a quick drawing of him, from the very first moment you ever land an eye on him.

You can easily ask him, really, but knowing him, he'd say no and that would upset you quite a lot... So you don't risk it, even though...

"You're staring again." ... You always find yourself doing exactly that, staring at him and being exposed by Killer.

You can't really blame yourself. The mere existence of Kidd is enough to have you wanting make a painting of him, so now that he's working out right in front of you... It's really hard not to stare.

His muscles tensing and stretching with each of his movements as he beares his teeth a bit, growling softly, reaching his limit already. He's covered in a thin layer of sweat and, really, who the heck allowed him to work out shirtless?

"For God's sake, you are staring again."

You can't help but laugh, your cheeks burning bright red. "I'm sorry. I really, really want to draw him."

"Don't you have thousands of drawings?"

"I do, but they're just quick sketches, I want to make a painting... Do you think he'd be happy to know that?"

Killer hums, looking at his captain who's suddenly screaming to a poor guy that stepped too close to him while he was doing push-ups.

"No," he simply says and you bark out a laugh, flushing when Kidd looks up at you with narrowed eyes.

Maybe he's right...

However, later that day, when everyone settled down to their respective quarters and you sneaked into the captain's chambers claiming that you were cold, (not after he growled and scolded you while be opened the door for you and threw like three covers to the bed), you thought that it was the time to actually ask him!

So, as you watched him sitting in front of his desk, ("warm yourself up! I gotta finish this first!"), checking on some reports... You know that you really love your lover...

From his protective and fierce side to his always-angry-face, however, you loved him in this state even more: his features relaxed as he reads down on some documents, his hair down and his head free of those goggles of his. He's even wearing a simple long sleeved shirt that wraps around his muscles, his reading glasses sitting gracefully on the bridge of his nose.

He looks ethereal and you immediately reach down for your drawing materials, (which you keep in the last drawer of his bedside table), and place yourself in bed.

"Captain?"

"Hmm?" His hum sounds more like a growl and you laugh.

"Captain, can I make a painting of you?"

He looks up at you, his eyes squinting, "what?"

"I'm sure you heard me."

"I heard you," he snaps back. "But I'm asking why are you such an idiot." You laugh at his words.

"Don't be scared, captain. You'll look even better in my painting."

"Scared?! Who is scared? And even better, is that even possible?" You roll your eyes. "Do whatever you want. I don't care and stop talking, I'm busy right now."

"Is that a yes?"

"[Name]..."

"Thank you captain!" You giggle, quickly pulling out everything, from pencils to brushes and acrylics; placing everything on the bed as carefully as you can. "I know," you say, hearing him open his mouth to speak. "You'll snap my neck if I mess up with your precious bed."

He growls again, but he refrains from saying anything else, coming back to his report.

You don't say anything else, either, as you place the sketchbook into your lap and as soon as you find a clean sheet, you start to trace his form with a light pencil, sketching him easily, thanks to all the practice. Your eyes do not linger on his body, you know by memory each curve, dip and sharp bone on his body.

So it doesn't take long before you start with the actual painting, brushing on your canvas quickly and not noticing that Kidd was looking at you with the softest of looks he can even master.

He makes sure to quickly look down at his paperwork when you look up at him, frowning and pursing his lips a bit.

After a few minutes, he's too engrossed in his work and you are aswell, so when the clock marks 2 am and his back already feels stiff and his eyeslids heavy, he's ready to call it a day and wrap up his work to finally lay down in bed... But he sees you there...

"Oi, I want to sleep already, how much time is gonna-

"I'm done!" You say excitedly, there are actual tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You really did it! You really made a painting of Eustass Kidd! What a nice moment to be al-

"Let me see it."

"E-Eh?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Let me see it, you said I'd look better in your painting that in real life, so let me see how good I look."

Now maybe you have a big mouth, it's true that the painting was good... But Kidd couldn't get any more good-looking... Is not natural... You show him, regardless and he's speechless.

"It's..." He says, getting up from his chair and walking towards you, snatching the painting out of your hands. He studies it carefully, his eyes are wide and his mouth slightly open. "It's..." He looks at you and bites down his tongue, you are looking at him with such a gleam in your eyes! Stop! "It's... Not bad."

"Aah! Really? Do you like it? You can't keep it!"

"Like it? I've seen better! I'm sure you can improve! Unbelievable! You were bragging all around and..." He slowly shuts his mouth as he actually looks for a place to put the drawing. It end ups in a drawer on his desk... A drawer that he very much use it all the time.

That's more than you can ask from Kidd. "I'm glad you liked it, captain."

"... Move, let's sleep now. I'll kill you if you still the blankets."

Killer

He loves looking at you while you are drawing.

He has told you plenty of times that he loves how lovely you look and how adorable are certain things that you unconsciously do when you are too focused.

He has also asked you plenty of times if he can see your art and you answer is always the same:

"O-oh, it's not that great!"

With that little stuttering and all, but he knows you are is great because you do sometimes share a drawing of painting to him.

But you really don't want to show him the rest of your art because... He's in most of it!

He's there eating, training, fighting, even just breathing! You are just too embarrassed to actually show him that!

What if he thinks you are stalking him? ... Even though he's your lover is still very embarrassing.

The less he knows, the better... However, one night when you got quite a few drinks on you and he was taking you back to your room, you just couldn't keep your mouth shut.

"I love you," you say over and over again as he walked you to the room and placed you in bed.

"I love you too."

"And you are very hot." That caught him a bit off guard as he tried to pull your hair in a bun. "That's why I can't stop drawing you."

"... What?"

You giggle like a maniac. "That's the reason I don't let you look at my drawings! They're all you! Every single one."

He's blushing juuust a bit as he puts his mask off. "Every single one?"

"Mhmm," you nod. "Every single one... I actually want to make a painting of you!"

"... Do it."

"Really?" He nods and you smile widely. "Then I will... But right now I'm sleepy, so goodnight, I love you see you..."

You fell asleep in seconds, losing a small smile on Killer's lips and a kiss on your forehead.

But that's okay because you are way too embarrassed the next morning.

You actually just exposed yourself while drunk, huh? Great! Just great, now he will think that You-

And then you remember, he actually said you could make a painting of him!

You look at your side, Killer is still asleep, so you silently gather all your art stuff and get to work immediately.

You don't feel time passing until Killer started to wake up, groaning softly like he always does and making you giggle.

He looks at you right away, surprised to see you up, sitting on the bed. "Morning. Why are you awake? How are you feeling?"

You smile at him. "Good morning. I'm good, thank you for taking care of me. And I was... Just finishing your painting."

He wakes up fully right away and sits up, looking at you with slightly wide eyes. You giggle, placing a hand on his cheek. "You are so beautiful. Thank you for letting me do this."

He leans in your touch and nods as you lend him the still fresh painting. He widens his eyes slightly.

"This is..."

"You looked so paceful, I couldn't resist painting you like this. I... Wanted a painting of you without your mask, though, I'm sorry."

He looks at the painting for minutes before he finally puts it down and and holds you between his arms.

"Thank you. I love it. I'll keep it forever."

You smile widely, embracing him back. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"Oh, let me clean this up, I'm gonna ruin the sheets aga- oh, nevermind."

He laughs and you feel in heaven.

Baby 5

"Are you drawing again, [Name]?"

You jump out of your skin, quickly closing the sketch book in front of you.

"B-Baby 5-san, you scared me."

Baby 5 squeaks and apologizes like crazy, nearly crying in the spot.

"A-ah! It's fine! It's fine! It's not your fault!" You chuckle, holding her hands between yours. "I am not angry," you say smiling at her.

She lets out a long sigh, holding your hands back. "W-what are you drawing so focused?" She asks shyly, widening her eyes when your cheeks turn bright red. "Oh?"

"It's- it's nothing bad! It's just... It's just..." You let go of her hands to cover your face. "I really want to draw Baby 5-san... But I'm not sure if-

"You- y-y-y-y-you want to draw me?" She grabs your shoulders, shaking you a bit.

"Y-Yeah, Baby 5-san is really beautiful and I want to make a painting... For you..."

Baby 5 looks at you for like one second before she actually starts crying, hugging you tightly. "B-Baby 5-san, don't cry please! Did I upset you?" You hug her back, but she grabs you by the shoulder again, shaking you until you feel dizzy.

"Y-You didn't upset me! I'm happy! Stop being so stupid! But you are not stupid! I'm sorry for saying that!" You hold her back, trying to stop her shaking you as you giggle.

"Then, is that a yes? Can I make a painting of you?"

"Yes, you can! Dammit!"

You really don't ask her to make any pose for you, you only need to see her around and about to catch all of figure.

She gets a bit nervous, though, because you are following her around and also get a bit worried because she sees you holding all of your stuff everywhere you go.

She cries a bit when you accidentally let one of your acrylics fall, messing up the floor.

"I've finished," you say that night when both of you are back into your quarters. "It's still a bit fresh, so please be careful with your fingers- Oh," you whisper, hiding the painting behind your back. "D-Do you want to look at it?"

"What? Yes, of course I want to!"

You smile shyly at her, and slowly show your painting.

She cries and you laugh a bit.

"Now now, you've been crying a lot today. Is it that bad, Baby 5-san?"

She hits your arm, making you laugh. "Don't be silly! I love it! It's... It's so pretty! No one has... Has ever made something like this for me. I- I-

You hug her tightly, kissing her cheek. "You are my beautiful girlfriend, of course I would make something just as beautiful as you. I love you."

She sobs and leans in to kiss you. You hum, holding her face between your hands as you kiss her back.

Lola

"Lo-Lola-san!" You giggle, trapped between her arms as she covers your face with kisses. "S-stop!" Your cheeks are bright red, Lola only squeezing you tighter in her embrace.

"What do you mean stop?" She asks, actually stopping to look at you. "You expect me to just sit there and say 'okay' when you ask me to make a painting of me?! Impossible!"

"I-If you are kissing me like this, I will not be able to actually do the painting!" She hums, kissing you one more time before she lets go of you.

"After you are finished with the painting, please marry me, [Name]," she says seriously, holding your hand between hers.

You giggle shyly. "I already said that I will marry you, now let me get my stuff ready, okay?"

Lola is usually very composed, but, as soon as you asked her if you could make a painting of her, she nearly cried, screaming and throwing hearts and flowers everywhere and even using that funny voice of hers when she feels too "enamored".

"How should I pose for you, [Name]?"

"I heard you saying that you have to take care of some paperwork, you can do that while I work on your painting!"

You laugh nearly all your painting session.

Everytime you look up at Lola, she's in a different pose, each pose more dramatic than the last.

She even asks you to stop laughing because "you're gonna ruin my painting, [Name]!"

"I will not ruin it if you stop doing such poses!"

She eventually stopped, not because she wanted to, but because she got a bit occupied with her paperwork.

Now that your laughter died on, you worked faster and in a couple of hours, you were sighing and stretching your arms up.

"Lola-san, I've finished!"

She literally jumps out of her seat and runs to you in a blink of an eye.

She gasps as she looks at the painting. She's not sitting just sitting formally in front of her desk, she is actually in one of her silly poses, showing her big smile and the warm eyes he looks at you with, her cheeks flushed slightly and it's just-

"[Name], it's beautiful!"

"That's because you are beautiful, Lola-san!" She looks at you with teary eyes. "You are the one in the painting, so of course it is beautiful, just like you!"

She lets out a cry and wraps you in another tight hug, even lifting you a bit.

"Thank you, [Name]! I love you so much!" She cries as she gives you another round of endless kisses.

"I love you too, Lola-san!" You answer giggling and hugging her just as tight.

[blossom--of--snow]

95 "come cuddle" spaceparents (I know I requested more before... But I'm greedy... I'm sorry.... Hope u have time for it)

It only took me about 87 years, but here you go! What I learned from this is that I’m incapable of writing Spaceparents without angst. So sorry about that. 

Laura’s trail of belongings betrayed the type of day she’d had. On days when her students behaved, abstained from SparkNotes, and wrote like AP English students, everything had a place. Her tote bag hung on the olive green wall next to the door, her heels hid primly under the key table, and her blazer lay over the back of the couch. However, more often than not, only half her students behaved, too many didn’t quite finish their assigned reading, and even more write like accelerated English students. Those days called for toppled heels just inside the door, blazer still on her shoulders, tote bag tossed next to her desk, and Laura hunched over a pile of ungraded papers. On the remaining Bad Days, her blazer hung where the tote bag should be, the bag was stuffed under the key table, and at least one shoe was near the wine cabinet.

Today, Bill tripped over the tote, shoes, and blazer before he’d taken two steps into their condo.

“Laura?”

“In bed.” Laura’s voice barely carried down the hall. As he moseyed toward their bedroom, he noticed the closed door, with no light seeping through the cracks. He refused to give paranoia about the cancer’s resurgence any credence, but his fortitude wavered when he saw Laura.

It took him a moment to find her under the blanket of golden fur that was their dog, Prima. Curled on what remained of her side of the bed, Laura had discarded all her clothes in favor of Bill’s old Air Force hoodie.

She lifted her head so that he could see her face over the massive fluff of golden retriever. “Sorry Prima wasn’t there to greet you. I never understood the concept of emotional support animals before we got him. You’re welcome to come cuddle with us.”

Bill dropped the armload of her belongings onto the bench in front of their bed. “I suppose cuddling will make up for almost killing me with the obstacle course you left at the front door.”

Her laughter permeated the darkness. “I’m sorry about that. Come to bed, and I’ll explain everything.”

Usually, Bill would have made a show of putting his shoes in the closet where they belonged and tossing his clothes in the hamper like an adult, but today, he shucked everything but his dog tags, boxers, and uniform tank to the floor and climbed into bed on the other side of Prima. Either too lazy or too comfortable to move, Prima merely craned his neck to cover half of Bill’s face with his tongue.

Bill’s hands vanished in the fur behind Prima’s ears. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s been a lifetime since you last saw me. Good boy.” Propped on one elbow this close to Laura, he could see her puffy eyes and pink cheeks, and suddenly the problem wasn’t as important as finding a solution. “Bad day?”

Laura studied Prima rather than meet Bill’s gaze. “Not particularly. In fact, I had a pretty great day. Karl Agathon turned in his literary analysis, and from what little I read, he’s improved exponentially since we started in September. He’s a smart kid, but you know he always struggled to organize his thoughts coherently. I got a list of potential freshman from Tory over at the intermediate school, and it’s a small group, just the way I like. Principal Adar canceled our meeting today, so I actually got to be productive during my planning period.”

Bill reached over Prima and brushed Laura’s red curls behind her ears. “You don’t sound too happy about those things.”

Two tears stained Laura’s blue, satin pillowcase. “Don’t you hate it when you have a perfectly good day, but all you can focus on is the two minutes that frakked you?”

He thought of all the times he’d seen someone who looked like Zak on the hanger deck, or watched Lee’s son playing with one of Zak’s old toys, or had been walking down the street when he remembered that when he was five, Zak’s favorite color was purple.

“I do.” As much as he wanted to wipe her tears away, she preferred to feel her pain before moving on from it.

“We were discussing symbolism. And don’t ask me why I didn’t pick an example from the text, because I have no frakking idea. The kids we’re bored with the text…just one of those days, I guess, so I…” Laura huffed and rolled onto her back. “When I glanced down at my notes, I saw my bracelet, and the kids had already noticed the look on my face. I told them about the accident, about finding the bracelet in my baby sister’s personal effects. Did I ever tell you it was the only thing in all three bags without any blood on it?”

She had not.

“Of course, to avoid breaking down in front of my entire class, I dissociated, used the experience as an teaching moment. The bracelet remaining untainted by the tragedy was symbolic of three lives full of memories that can stand apart from their deaths, or some such bullshit. And you know, Bill, I was fine until I finished, and the kids didn’t say a word. This…reverent silence took over, and these teenagers respected me enough to absorb this calamity I forced on them.”

“No, Laura. You’ve known those kids since they were freshmen. They love you. You didn’t force anything on them. They’re old enough to understand.”  

Swiping angrily at her tears, Laura sat up in bed, as if she was too restless to stay still but too exhausted to walk. “Old enough to understand my hypocrisy. Thirty years of life and happiness, and I can’t think about them without crying.”

“That’s not true.” Expelling an embarrassing amount of effort, Bill sat up. “I don’t have to tell you that some days are worse than others.”

Her gaze focused on the drawn blackout curtains, Laura snickered. “I’m focusing on the negative today, remember?”

Bill thought that with her hunched shoulders and bedhead, she couldn’t look any more dejected. Then Laura flopped back onto the bed and flung one arm over her eyes.

“I hate feeling like this and knowing all I can do is sleep it off and hope everything is better in the morning. But when I close my eyes…”

The steadiness of her voice indicated the resignation and emptiness that on even the most excruciating days of treatment, she could always suppress. Bill’s intimate knowledge of those feelings did not make them any less unsettling to see in her.

As usual, Prima jerked them out of the moment’s solemnity. Muffled barking sent him leaping off the bed toward the living room, where his view of the “intruder” would be unencumbered. Bill cursed under his breath before rolling closer to Laura, who had propped herself up on her elbows. Her eyes, puffy but dry, reflected her musings, and Bill couldn’t stop looking for a solution, in the face of her acceptance that there was none.

“I’m sorry.”

His apology startled Laura out of her trance. Shifting her weight to one elbow, she stroked Bill’s cheek, and he saw light flicker in the bleakness in her eyes. “Just because you can’t always pull me out of my morbid introspection doesn’t mean you have to apologize.” Bill tried to protest, but she covered his lips with her fingers. “Never doubt that you make it easier to be grateful for every day.”

Then he was back at that night under the stars, only a month after the cancer had vaporized like an unsettling dream. With her wind-blown hair tickling his nose and her arm over his middle, the future was irrelevant in the face of the perfect present.

Maybe we should embrace it—the life that we’ve got while we’ve got it.

The memory of her words whispered in his ear, and he embraced her, needing to feel her breath—real, present life—on his cheek.

[leelee10898]

Necessary Roughness

Pairing: Maxwell & Stephanie

Rating: Erotica.

We asked, you voted. The prompt: "You're going to regret that, sweetheart. The pairing I got was our favorite Beaumont's Stef and Max. A little naughty advice from fifty shades of Leo, we find these two love birds in some dominant territory.

This is from the CGW(CORDONIANS gone wild AU) a collaborative effort by @ao719 @speedyoperarascalparty @cocomaxley @riseandshinelittleblossom and myself.

Stephanie and Maxwell walked through the palace halls heading towards Alicia and Leo's quarters. Alicia was craving Lasagna,  with Pam, Genevieve, Liam and Anitah gone for a mental health conference. They invited Drake over, but he declined saying he wanted to go to the lake for a dew days and get some fishing in while Pam was away. Rashad was in the States for a few business meetings, and Stef and max gladly accepted.

“Are you going to completely ignore the conversation we had in the car Stef?”

“That was the plan, Max. When somebody is tired of talking about something, the tend to ignore it.” She rolled her eyes.

“But don't you think-” he was cut off by Stephanie knocking and Leo promptly opening the door.

“Hey guys, come in. Alicia has made entirely to much food, so I hope you're hungry.” He grinned as he moved aside, letting them in.

They sat down at the table, Alicia giving them salad to start followed by the Lasagna.  

“Man Tiger Lily, this is really good. Can I have some more?” Max danced in his seat. "You always want more." Stephanie mumbled to herself. Leo arched his brow at the two but kept quiet.

After a few jabs at each other finally Alicia spoke up. “Ok you two, you've been going at each other all night, what gives?”

“Its nothing.” Maxwell said quickly.

“Nothing? You seriously gonna say it's nothing?” Stephanie seethed. “Well, Maxwell is insisting-”

“Sex! It's about sex.” Maxwell hollered out causing Leo to choke on his drink. He took a minute to compose himself “If its a sex problem, maybe we can help.” Leo smirked resting his hand on Alicia's thigh. “yeah, you know one of us is pretty much a sex addict.” She giggled.

“One of you?” Stephanie snorted. “Bless your heart. I would definitely say Leo met his match with the sex drive.”

“its true, she's always ready. And we can't get enough of each other.” Leo smirked as he pulled Alicia in for a kiss.

“So what seems the be the issue?” Alicia Rolled her eyes at her husband.  

“Oh no real issue.” Stef pushed a piece of food across her plate. Alicia noticing Stephanie's hesitation to speak about what was bothering her.

“Stef, help me clear the table?”

Stephanie stood up and the two took the dishes to the sink.

“Ok, what gives?”

Stef let out a long sigh. “ I want him to change it up in the bedroom.”

“meaning?”

“Meaning I want him to be a little more dominant. Don't get me wrong, our sex life is amazing and all.” she chewed the inside of her mouth trying to find the right words.

“You want him to be a little more rough and controlling?” stephanie nodded.

Leo and Maxwell sat at the table, Maxwell mindlessly drumming his fingers.  “Ok man, spill. Whats going on?” Leo said pulling him from his thoughts. Max sat up in his seat. “You know you might just be the person to help me with this. You see, Stephanie asked me to choke her last night while we were in the middle of..” He trailed off.

“And you didn't?”

Max shook his head no. “I couldn't. She wants me to be a little more Dominant.”

“Ok breath play isn't a big deal Max. Just not to tight, and not to long. Wait a little before she climaxes to do it. Obviously if she's turning blue you're grip is to tight.” He chuckled.

“Also, put some authority in your voice when you're commanding her. Do not let her take any of the control unless you are telling her to, not asking. That's part of being dominant. And don't do it all the time. She is your wife and you will know when to play the card.” Maxwell sat there absorbing all of the information Leo continued to rattle off to him, nodding his head.

He was a little dominate in the bedroom already, but this was just the push he needed to rock his little rose buds world.

“Thanks Leo. I think I know just what I need to do.” Max stood abruptly “Stephanie, were going.” Stephanie glared at him “Maxwell, i was talking to-” “I said Now.” He barked. Stephanie stood in silence, stunned by her husbands sudden change. She grabbed her purse and said goodbye as Alicia and leo shared a knowing look.

They walked down the hall when Stephanie stopped abruptly “Maxwell,  that was rude. I was talking to Alicia and.” She was cut off by his lips meeting hers in a firey kiss. She placed her hands on his chest pushing him back. “Maxwell,  what the hell has gotten into you?”

He cocked his head to the side, his eyes dark with desire.  he licked his lips with anticipation as he grabbed her hand pulling her into a vacant room. “Clothes off, Now.” He demanded as he unfastened the buttons of his shirt, his eyes never leaving hers. She stood there stunned, she could feel the heat pooling in her wanting center. She didn't expect this from her normally carefree, go with the flow husband. “Don't make me rip them off red, clothes off, now.” He barked. She mindlessly pulled her shirt over her head and stepped out of her skirt, standing in only her bra and thong.

in a second maxwell was on her. His lips crashing against hers, their tongues tangling together like their lives depended on it. His fingers diligently worked to un fasten her bra, his lips leaving a fiery trail down her jaw to her neck, as they brushed across her now bare shoulder. He pushed her back against the wall, his lips making their way lower. “Max.” She breathed out as he left open mouthed kisses on both of her thighs. “Quiet. I didn't say you could speak.” He barked sending a jolt through her core, she whimpered out at the sensation he was goving her, and he hadn't touched her yet.

He lifted her leg, draping it over his shoulder. His fingers slipping between her wet folds. “mmmm that's so sexy. You like it when I touch you there. Hmm Rose bud.” He rasped out, a sudden flood of heat flooding to her core as he slipped two digits inside her wet center, his plush lips gently nipping and sucking her sensitive bundle. “Mmmmm fuck Max. Im gonna. Ooh fuuuuck.” She screamed as his long fingers pumped that perfect spot, a gush of her sweet nectar rushed out, he lapped up everything she gave him “Mmmm so delicious. You taste so sweet my Red. Wouldn't you agree?” he moaned as he lowered her leg and  slipped his fingers into her mouth. His eyes locked on hers as she sucked his fingers, releasing with a pop. A shiver rippled through him, his length desperate to escape its confines.

Something in her flipped she was craving him. She dropped to her knees, undoing his pants,letting them drop to the floor. She grasped the waistband of his boxers and yanked them down.  Her hand gripped his hard cock as she slowly pumped him a few times, her tongue swirling the tip teasing it a few times before parting her lips taking him in. He threw his head back, a deep guttural growl escaped his lips as his hands tangled in her strawberry locks. She bobbed her head, fast as she flicked her tongue against his length. “Fuck. Fuck rosebud. That feels. So. Ah. Fucking. God.” he moaned out as he watched himself disappear inside her mouth.

He wait a few minutes basking in the pure pleasure he was feeling “stef, stop baby. I'm not gonna last much longer,  I need to feel you.” he helped her up, his lips capturing hers as he lifted her up, carrying her to the bed and putting her down. His body hovering over hers he gripped his hard cock,  teasing her with his swollen tip. Stephanie bucked her hips into him, needing to feel the friction. “eh eh, red. Good things come to those who wait.”

“But. But Maxieeee.” she pouted he lifted a finger to silence her “Shhh. I didn't say you could talk did I?” he smirked as he pressed his hard length against her throbbing core, teasing her. “You're gonna regret that sweetheart.”

He gripped her hips slamming into her, Stephanie yelped at the sudden intrusion. “Do fucking tight, my rose bud. Always. So. Tight.” he bucked into her with force. He lifted her legs, letting them drape his shoulders. He gyrated his hips, Stephanie could feel her coil tightening as she gripped the sheets. “Fuck, Maxwell. Oh baby. Yes. Don't stop.” she moaned biting her lip.

“I won't stop until you're screaming my name. Come for me Red. Let me hear what I'm doing to you.” he picked up the pace, he pumped into her with fast, hard thrust. “Max, right there. God Yes. Oh fuck Maxwell.” she moaned as he slammed into her, his finger slipping between her legs, rubbing tight, fast circles against her clit, his free hand loosely around her throat. That was all it took.  “Yes, Yes. Max, fuck Yes maxwell. Oooooooooh Fuck!” She screamed as her coil snapped, she was seeing stars as she came completely undone, her juices fully coating his length. “Fffff fuck, stef.” His eyes rolled back in his head as he spilled himself inside her with a loud groan and a jerk, collapsing on the side of her.

They laid there catching their breath, both covered in a sheen of sweat. “Max, that was. I don't know what that was but it was-.”

“Hot?” He finished for her.

She nodded her head as nuzzled against him. “Ok, you win.” she sighed. He lifted his head arching his brow. “I win? You don't mean?”

“Yes Maxwell,  you can get the Emu. But it stays in Valtroia deal?”

“Deal.” Maxwell grinned as he leaned down kissing his wife.  “We should ah. Probably get going, i'm not really sure who's room this is and we kind of made a mess.”

The two dressed and quickly slipped out of the room and down the hall. They heard the clicking of a pair of heels stop and the sound of a door opening behind them. “What the hell? Who did this?” they heard the shriek of a woman come from behind them. “Uh oh.” Maxwell said as they rounded the corner. “What is it max?”

“I ah. Know whose room it was.” He let out a sheepish chuckle. Stephanie looked at him intrigued.  

“It was Madeleines.”

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[randomnessunicorn-imagine]

(have an odd bunch) Muffet, Grillby, Burgerpants, and Nicecream Guy one day found a human baby in a hollowed out tree with nothing but a note reading "If you are reading this, I have no doubt you're most likely a monster, but either way, I pray that you're kind enough to listen to me. I don't have much time, so please, all I ask is that you take care of my child and let them live. The royal guard is after me, and it's not safe to keep them with me. P.s. please let them know that I'm sorry."

{ Oh, well-!I assume you mean the Tale! Versions of the characters, since you have not specified anything.I had the need to add also Gaster because I truly love writing of Wingding so he is the bonus this time, maybe I will add him very often~ }

❧ Tale! Muffet ;

She was already a mom since she got so many spider children she adored so much. They were her joy and pride and every one of them loved so much their spider mother as well. While she was taking a walk, she noticed a strange sound coming from the woods, so Muffet, moving her pretty eight arms, decided to take a look, finding a creature in a hollowed out tree. It was a kid, a man cub. She could not find the reason why a baby like this was here. It was strange seeing a human in the Underground because they usually were founded by Toriel or the skeleton brothers and not by normal citizens. This was so weird.The spider lady did not know what to do with this child because she was not sure if she could keep them. Maybe she would have given them to Asgore because human’s souls were so precious but she wouldn’t have delivered them for free, he had to pay a high price to have them because it was so expensive and she was still a businesswoman. After a while of thinking, Muffet took the baby with her, she was still unsure because she could have used them to feed her baby spiders too, human’s meat was so delicious and full of vitamins. Her kids would have been so happy to eat it. So many possibilities and she was still hesitant.Muffet had noticed the notes after she came back home, because it was so dark. Then, she read it and her five eyes got wet because it was the last message of the mother of this child. Muffet, like a mother herself, could perfectly understand those feelings and she felt so bad and guilty for the thoughts she had before. Muffet could have never imagined her life without her precious babies and this little human was alone in this awful world. It was horrible. At the end, the lady spider decided to keep the baby, her strong maternal instinct won over everything and she had a heart, she was not cruel and selfish. She noticed her little spiders adored the human and the little arachnids became like siblings for them, Muffet was so happy and she decided to protect the little human with her life because now they were part of her family and no one could have changed this reality.

❧ Tale! Grillby ;

Rarely, he walked away from his bar in Snowdin because he was a fireman and he could be dangerous without he could realize, setting fires by mistake. This day was different from other days because he had to do some committees for his job, even if he hated crossing the woods because all those trees made him uncomfortable, he was afraid to put everything on fire destroying the forest. Grillby walked with circumspection and carefully, he was really concentrated until he heard a crying. Someone was crying in this forest and it seemed a baby’s lament so he thought a kid was in danger so he had to help them. After he searched for the voice, he found a little human inside a tree. This child was trembling because of the cold and it seemed they were alone and abandoned. Getting closer to them, he noticed there was a notes near the baby, Grillby has not had the time to read the words written there that the paper burnt under his touch so he lost most of the message. He understood  that a mother left here her child to save them from some hunters but he could not see who this person was and how she reached this place since adult humans rarely came here. In any case, the fireman decided to take the baby because it was too cold here and they needed something to eat, their state was miserable. He did not know how to take care of a little human but Grillby was not heartless so he gave mercy to the child who was unable to protect themselves alone. After a while, the fireman got affectionate to the little kid and he chose to keep them because this baby has been too much unlucky in their life and they deserved a little peace of mind. Even if he was a fire monster, he did not hurt them because he could control his flames well and the kid was so happy with him. They always laughed seeing his red blazes, they played with his glasses, and Grillby has never thought a little child like it could bring to him so much joy. The thought to give them to Asgore has never crossed his mind. This little baby was like his son now.

❧ Tale! Burgerpants ;

It was a warm night and Burgerpants was coming back home after a long and exhausting day of  job. He truly hated that job because he felt like a poor slave and this was not his ambition. He should have been on the stage singing songs, not Mettaton. He was just a robot, an artificial creature. Even his voice was fake and artificial and it did not matter how much the current technologic was evolved. Burgerpants was surely more talented than MTT even if he gave up his dream so long ago and now he was lost in the oblivion. Hotland was a place too much hot for his tastes and he was sweating like a runner who just crossed the desert after a marathon. The poor cat was going to faint when, suddenly, a voice brought him to reality and it seemed someone was crying and he did not care to know what it was since it was not his business. That crying became louder than before and his ears were exploding so Burgerpants decided to see what was happening. Then, his sight was captured by a weird tree and he did not know there were trees here but it was an isolated tree with a ruined bark and that sound came from there.  In the moment he looked inside the tree’s hole, he noticed a little baby covered by blankets. They were so small but the thing that surprised him was the fact that they were a human and it was too strange. How could a baby human be in a place like this? Then, his questions received the proper answers since he read the text left by the mother and the monster cat was shocked. This baby was an orphan, he felt so sad for them but he did not know what to do and he did not have any experiences with children. It was a miracle if he was able to take care of himself. How could he handle a little kid? And it was a human so it was a problem since humans were seen with suspicions in the Underground. He decided to take it anyway because he could not leave this creature alone in the middle of nowhere.The baby was very friendly with Burgerpants and he felt his heart full of joy like he has found a new reason to live, and he was back to life again. He was so touched when the baby held his paw with their little fingers and Burgerpants cuddled him crying because it was like a miracle. They were his little buddy and he did not want to leave them anymore. It was a gift from up above and now this poor man had discovered a new sense of life.

❧ Tale! Nice Cream Guy ;

The days proceeded as usual for the ice-cream man of the Underground, he was gentle and friendly and his ice creams were so nice. Nothing could go wrong today even if some people could ask what was the sense of selling ice creams in a city like Snowdin, since here the snow was everywhere and the cold was enough, it seemed. The Nice Cream Guy did not care about these little things because he was ready to welcome his clients with the most beautiful smile and they would have bought his ice creams only for seeing his cute face. His name was a guaranty and maybe the real purpose of his customers was admiring the fascinating rabbit of the ice creams. Today was calm and ordinary but he was not bored because he was sure something new would happen. He had this strange feeling, like it was a sixth sense. After a while, these feelings revealed itself to be true but it was something the Nice Cream Guy could have never expected. A sound so similar to a crying echoed in the woods of Snowdin and it was becoming more intense, so he decided to investigate leaving for some minutes his ice creams stand. His portentous rabbit ears followed the sound until he reached the place where it came from. There was a child in a tree and this was a human kid. The Nice Cream Guy was confused because it was rare finding a baby in a tree. It has never happened so he did not know what to do. Maybe he should have contacted the royal guards because humans here were most wanted. Then, he noticed the notes the baby was carrying with them, it contained a message from their mother who asked for help. She wanted that their baby survived and anyone who had found them took care of them because they were so little and vulnerable. The rabbit man brought the baby with him because a creature like this could not stay in the middle of a cold forest and he was still a nice guy so he had to help them!The baby found his fur so soft and comfortable and they slept there like The Nice Guy was a duvet and he feel in love with this baby instantly because they were so sweet. He decided that they would have become his heir because he wanted to teach the profession of the ice-cream man to them, and it was so wonderful. He was already proud of his child.

BONUS:

☛ Tale! Gaster ;

Wingding had no time to dedicate to himself or others, since he was so busy with his job at the Lab to pay attention to life in general. One day or another it could happen that even the loneliest persons like him were forced to leave their house, exploring the wild world. Not that he was afraid of something but it was a nuisance. He had to go to Asgore because the King wanted to know how his experiments about human’s souls were proceeding and Gaster was a little pissed because this pressure made him nervous and those experiments were going nowhere because this was a hard research but the king wanted everything now but he needed to be a little more patient. The most important scientific discovers often came by mistakes, so you could never predict anything. Just think about to the Newton’s apple, so Gaster was waiting for the right moment until that apple would have fallen from the sky. No apple has fallen from the sky actually, since it was an artificial sky. It was absurd anyway because apples did not rain from the sky so he got confused.The visit to the king was a little boring because Gaster did not have nothing to say to him since he was still experimenting and he still did not possess any sample of a determinate soul so he could not do anything until he found it. The scientist was directed home when suddenly a mysterious sound brought him to reality, it was a loud voice of someone who was crying. He could not understand but he was curious, so he decided to check until he reached the forest where he found a hollowed out tree but the most disorienting thing was the thing inside it: a human. It was a baby human and Gaster thought he was dreaming. He found something better than an apple, this was the illumination he needed. He acted calm and circumspect anyway because it could be dangerous and nobody had to see him bringing a baby at home. In a second time, after he came back at his Lab, he read the letter and this was so sad because now he understood this baby was an orphan and the royal guards wanted to catch him like a prize. His real duty was to give them to Asgore because it was an another soul useful to break the barrier. On the other hand, he did not want to give this baby to him because he would have killed them and maybe this creature should have helped him with his studies. Then, he found out what kind of soul this little child got and Gaster felt luckier than Newton because they had a determinate soul even if it was not so bright because they were still a baby but it was all he needed. Wingding decided to take care of the baby and he was full of hope because this baby would have permitted him to resolve the mysteries of souls.The time passed, and Gaster became more attached to the baby since he considered them like his child and he had taught to them all his awareness as if they were his assistant. It’s been a while from the last time he felt so relaxed and not alone anymore.