#but i also feel like i’m reaching a breaking point and if i don’t seek help now i’ll end up ruining so many of my relationships

[archiveofyearning]

.

[peachigummi]

bite 𓆚 tom riddle. p2.

summary: [read part 1 here!] after you almost break up with tom, you decide to give him another chance (and thank god you did too). you force him into communication because that's how a healthy normal couple should come together, right? tom concedes, letting you take the lead, but only for a bit. old habits die hard. he also has a surprise in store, though it’s more for him, than you.

pairing: tom (if you squint, he's rather sensitive! and insecure!) x fem! slytherin! reader

warnings: 18+, more fluff rather than angst, soft-boiled sex? (LOL, like not too soft, not to hard),

BUT before I lose you freaks: eye contact!, sum praise, begging, mating press *blush* (piv, unprotected), creampie, reassurance!!, nipple play, biting, blood magic/play/consumption? (😵‍💫). saying ily for the first time, with some after care :)

note: uhhh enjoy?

word count: 10,527 (so excuse me why it took so long >.<)

(trust i will never perfectly proofread my work at this point)

reblog, like & comment if you'd like tom to claim you!

~ @amongstthehollows , @blxuqueenie , @queenanababy , @lovellies , @urmom101 , @lolalleins

There was a soft rapt on the door. You slowly pry your eyes open, they still felt so incredibly heavy. Swollen. Crusted over. You couldn’t remember falling asleep, you must have tired yourself out from crying. You felt drained.

“Y/N?”

You recognized the voice to be Astoria’s. There was another tap.

“I know you’re in there…” she said softly again. You got up off the bed, your body cracking in all sorts of places. You slowly pull the door open, Astoria peeked her head through. You saw how her eyes widened as she took in your red-rimmed eyes and your tear stained cheeks. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. 

“We didn’t see you last night…or this morning…” she hesitated, “or lunch.” She gently sat down on the edge of your bed, her expression was one of concern as she turned to face you.

Your eyebrows furrowed, it didn’t feel that long. Though you couldn't decide if it was too long of a time passage, or too little since you fled from Tom. You walked to your window, peeling back the curtains, the sun was starting to make its descent.  

“We asked Tom where you were, but he couldn’t really speak. It was like he was recovering from something. Just kept whispering ‘room’.” Astoria explained. “It's strange behavior from both of you. I can tell something is off.”

You nodded. Of course he didn’t tell him that we had an argument, Tom would never admit that to others. 

“I also know that you don’t usually seek out people, but if you do need someone to talk to, you know I’m here.” She continued.

“I know you are.” You turned away from the window to smile at her. It was Tom that you needed to talk to, but you already reached out to him. You wanted him to come to you.

“It would mean a lot to us if you came down and ate.” She stood up, and reached out to touch your hand. You opened your mouth to protest, but she interrupted, “not in the dining hall. We all pitched in to have a house potluck. We got tired of the school’s food.” She laughed lightly.

“Okay fine, you’ve got me interested.” Your stomach growled at the thought of food.

Astoria grinned when she saw you soften, she gave your hand a gentle squeeze before letting it go. She opened the door, the warm, inviting smell of food drifting into the room. Your stomach let out another grumble.

You took a step back, “I should freshen up first.” You quickly began to run your fingers through your hair.

“You look fine, really. No one is dressed up.” She did reach out to hover her hands above your eyes, she whispered something and you immediately felt a cool relief in the area. She pulled back.

“What was that?” You ask, blinking. Refreshed.

“I’ve been working on cosmetic magic.” She smiled, “I usually do that to help with swelling.”

You felt yourself blush, “thank you.” Your eyes must have been really affecting your overall appearance. You found yourself glad that Astoria didn’t try prying into why you had been crying.

Astoria gently pushed you toward the door, leading you down the hallway and down the stairs. As you got closer to the common room, the sound of chatter and laughter grew louder. The smell of food became even more irresistible. 

A few people noticed as you came down with Astoria, you waved at them. Leading you to a long table with a variety of foods, Astoria grabbed a plate for you. You glanced back briefly, your housemates were sitting around in a circle playing some game. You felt a heavy stare, your head ached. You flinched away from the feeling, shaking your head as if it would help. Tom. You told him time and time again to not attempt to get in your head. It was an invasion. He had eventually respected it, but apparently not now.

“You need to try these sliders…” Astoria grabbed your attention again, “and these fruits here are so ripe.”

Tom sat across the room, a ways outside of the immediate circle of students, his eyes locked on you. He had been watching you since you turned the corner down to the common room. Seeing you interact so warmly with another person made his heart clench, a mixture of pain and jealousy. Astoria was just taking care of you, so why was he so irritated by it?

“Astoria..I know I missed a couple of meals but-” Now you began to protest, flinching again when you felt another sharp pain of Tom trying to use Legilimency. 

“Oh stop it, we have to nourish your body. Don’t ever skip out like that again. It’s bad for you.” She kept filling the plate.

“Okay Tori, it’s really enough…really. I can always refill if need be.” You say holding her wrist back as she tried to grab another item. 

She looked at you trying to gauge your honesty. Then conceded, “okay fine..at least try those puff pastries at the end over there, they’re to die for.” 

You nod as she gracefully hopped around people until she reached the spot next to Draco. Draco shifted as Astoria took the seat. He put his arm around her, and kissed her temple, all while looking at you. His eyes shifted to Tom, then back to Astoria.

Taking a seat on a couch near the back of the group, you look over at the center of the room. Blaise and Theodore were at the center, wearing blindfolds. Giggling like idiots as they tried to guess what they were feeling inside a box. You look down at your plate of food. You could also feel as Tom tried to read your expression, again. It was starting to irritate you. You continued to try and push him out.  

You took a deep breath, taking a stab at a potato, putting it in your mouth. It was delicious and soft. You dared to look at Tom, blankly. Almost daring him to do something else but stare.

Tom smirked as you looked up at him, defiance written all over your face. He was taken back for a sheer moment, not expecting you to want to look at him, especially so directly. His jaw clenched, mind racing with the things he wanted to do, needed to do. Things that he should say. He thought about it all night and all day after your last meeting. Tom was also keenly aware that anyone could see him if he decided to act out on it. He couldn’t risk revealing his dark, possessive side of himself. He needed to wait and pull you aside in order to gather his thoughts and tell them to you. 

You rolled your eyes, subtly shifting over on the couch. You rest your hand on the seat directly next to you, tapping on it with a single finger. You lift your hand back up to stab through a piece of meat, putting it in your mouth, looking away. 

Tom recognized the invitation in your gesture, his heart began to pound in his chest. He was torn between his need to protect his reputation and the temptation of being next to you. Being able to touch you was too strong to ignore. He got up from his spot, slowly making his way towards the couch you sat on.

You watch as Tom got up, disappearing into your blind spot. Then a few seconds later you felt his presence directly behind you. You carefully chew, placing the fork in front of your mouth as if you were getting ready for another bite. “Kind of rude for you to just stand there when I invited you to sit.” You say, now taking the bite off your fork.

Tom’s lips twitched again as he heard your words. You were always so demanding at times, so forward. It both annoyed and intrigued him. He leaned over the couch, his breath warm against the nape of your neck as he whispered in a low voice. “I was just observing. Taking time to enjoy the view from back here.”

His warm breath, the smell of his cologne. It almost made you twist with delight, but you held your own. “The back of my head?” You look down at your plate deciding what to eat next. Astoria had a good selection. Everything was delicious. 

Your comment only made him lean forward some more, his chest brushing against your back. “I was looking at your neck, the way your hair falls over your shoulders.” He could barely resist the urge to reach out and touch you, wrap his arm around your neck and pull you against his chest. “It’s quite beautiful.”

“You flirt.” You almost sigh at his subtle touch, “nice to know you have your voice back from that creation we made.” You point out. There was an eruption in the center of the room as Theo began cursing in Italian about who put a damn spider in the box to guess.

Tom chuckled softly, his breath sending goosebumps down your spine. “Yes, I do have my voice back, and I plan to use it to my advantage.” He slowly rested a hand behind your shoulder, gripping the back of the couch. His knuckles are just barely touching you. He was even so bold to reach out and rest a single finger on said shoulder. How scandalous!

“And I doubt you’ll actually talk face to face with me in public.” You try to take the irritation out of your voice. Thinking about how he couldn’t even touch you even when you were near damn ready to break things off with him the other evening.

His frown returned upon hearing the edge in your voice. You were right, he couldn’t fight that. Hiding his feelings from everyone came as easy as breathing to him. But he had to change that if he were to keep you. “I have my reasons.” He ventured out to actually put his whole hand on your shoulder, tightening it, as if to keep you in place. He was afraid you would walk off again. “But this is between us two. No one else. So no sense in talking about it in public. Want me to make a speech out of it and include everyone?” It was his nature to come off snarky. He shook his head regretting having said it like that.

You shrugged his hand off your shoulder, despite how much you needed his touch. “Sit, Riddle.” You watch as the next pair of housemates were being blindfolded to guess, it was Pansy and Enzo. 

Tom…was beginning to like how assertive you were being. He hesitated, but ultimately obeyed. Taking the seat next to you, your weight shifted toward him causing your legs to touch. You didn’t dare move it, you wondered if he would. You slightly turn your head to look at him, casually. Tom looked down at you, his eyes dark, mixed with a desire and uncertainty.

“Did I give you enough time to think and brew up any excuses?” You say sarcastically. You actually couldn’t believe you nearly slept through a whole day after your last interaction. 

He sighed, he actually sighed! Tom ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “You have.”

“Really? Spill.” You stab another piece of meat, offering it to him. Seeing if he would have the courage to bite into it, to try and let you feed him with his peers around. You could see Tom’s eyes flicker down to your fork before looking back into your eyes. He saw through your challenge to push him to show some form of affection in public. 

With another sigh and hesitation, even with his pride flaring up, trying desperately to hold his ground. He ends up leaning forward slightly, opening his mouth to take the bite you offered to him. His desire to be close to you ultimately won. Tom chews very slowly, his eyes flicking around the room. He just had to quickly reassure himself that no one cared to notice what was going on between you two. 

You fought back a smile. “Waaaow.” You remark in surprise, watching him lean away from you to swallow. “You must have really been thinking about stuff.” You knew if Tom hadn’t been trying to improve himself, he would have probably smacked the fork away from your grasp.

Tom licked the bottom of his lip, instinctively his thumb went to wipe the corner of his mouth as if he had some sort of crumb. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” His cheeks were actually showing a bit of pink. He couldn’t control how his body reacted from something so mundane as letting someone else feed him, especially in a room full of people. To a regular person, Tom still had a poker face. But to a trained eye like you, you noticed it right away. 

You nod, “maybe a little too much.” It was the most you’ve gotten him to do in the months you’ve been together. “So…do share. What has been going on in that mind of yours?” You nudge him with your elbow. Bringing him back to the issue at hand.

He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t deny that your persistence was starting to wear him down. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Tom looked at you, his gaze softening slightly.��

“I did all the talking when you were mute. It took a toll on me. So I'm going to really need you to spill your own heart out.” You explain as you shake your head.

 “Fine. But this really is not a conversation I’d like to have here.” His chin rose up pointing to the group.

You look down at your near empty plate, “help me with this and you can take me elsewhere then.”

Tom, did feel the now familiar pang of guilt at the mention of your exhaustion. The weight of your words. So he didn’t fight that request. He took the plate from you, “Fine. Once I finish this, I get to choose the place.” 

“All yours Riddle.” You nod. There was another explosion of laughter from the room, but he had all your attention. Waiting for him to finish the food. It made you feel better that he was being fed too. Even if it was basically forced.

When he finally got around to it, Tom set the plate on the small table near the couch. He stood up, offering you his hand. “Come on.”

You had to bite back your smile when you saw his hand out. No way in hell were you going to pass up this opportunity. You took it, his touch cold as ever, despite how warm the room was from the everlasting fire. Why he always ran cold was beyond you. It was actually quite concerning sometimes. 

With your hand clutched tightly between Tom’s, he led you out of the common room, past the group of rowdy students, and into a quieter hall then down another. He came to a stop at an empty window nook, tugging you into the secluded area. The refracted moonlight streamed through the window, casting a soft blue-green glow on both your faces as he turned his body toward you. His face glazed with something unreadable.

“Is this where you usually come to think?” You ask looking out of the window at the dark shadows. Since the Slytherin dormitory was halfway into the Black Lake, this part was truly submerged in the water. 

Tom nodded in response, he followed your gaze. The underwater plants gently swayed with the current of the water. Creating an oddly soothing atmosphere, as if it was just for you two. He shifted closer to you, his body almost touching yours once more. His voice was low and quiet as he began to speak, “Yes. It’s peaceful down here.” 

“I like it.” You try to study him. “I can really picture you here.”

“Can you?” He liked the idea of you imagining him when you were alone. Tom hoped that version of himself that you conjured up in your mind, was much kinder to you than he actually was. 

You try to refrain from sighing, “Don’t try to change the subject, we came here to talk.” You remind him.

“So we’ll talk.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to already keep his frustration at bay or from even daring to come out. “But I would hate to say something you wouldn’t like to hear.” 

You just stare at him. It couldn’t be as bad as you breaking up with him…unless he came to the decision that agreed with that notion. But Tom’s sudden flirting and closeness indicated otherwise. 

With a deep breath, he took a moment to steel himself for the conversation. For the talk about…these so-called stupid feelings he had to address. He knew he had to be honest with you, even if it meant putting a larger gap in this newly fragile relationship you shared. “Alright. Firstly, I owe you an apology.” He looks at you with regret. 

“About?” You prod.

He hesitates, his eyes flickering back to the shadows in the window. “About…pushing you away. About not allowing myself to be close to you in public. About hiding my feelings and pretending that I don’t care.”

You reach out and put a finger under Tom’s chin so he could turn back to look at you. “Tommy…I don’t want you to think it’s bad to be private. I admire that…I do. But I just…it wouldn’t hurt to know…that you aren’t ashamed of me in public. Or to know that you really do like me.”

Tom’s eyes widened at your touch, god he so desperately wanted to defend his actions, to explain why he preferred to keep private. The look in your eyes made him think twice, he took another deep breath. His voice was low and sincere, “I do like you…so much more than it seems. More than anything. And I don't want to hide it..but..” He trailed off, unable to find the right words to explain his conflicted feelings.

“But?” You ask, letting go of his chin. You let your hands fall onto his lap, fiddling with the end of this sweater. It was oddly comforting to Tom. “Let’s meet in the middle…tell me.”

Sighing, he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to find some words to explain. He couldn’t keep hiding behind excuses and half-truths. “It’s complicated.” He finally lets out, voice strained. Uncertain.

“I’ve got time.” You look between his dark eyes. You’ve never seen him so conflicted. Tom was always so sure of what he did and wanted to do. You could tell he was actually trying to see how you might react and feel. To be conscious of your needs.

“I’ve never done this before.” He cleared his throat. “Openly liking someone, having feelings…being…vulnerable. I’ve always been closed off, keeping everyone more than arm’s length away. It’s easier that way.”

“Tom…You’re like one of the greatest wizards out there and you’re so young too. So much more to learn and do which is insane to think about.” You pause, “liking someone won't and doesn’t make you weak. Being alone and stony only makes things hard.”

Tom listened to the truth in your words. You were right, he was being stubborn and foolish, but he couldn’t help the fear that gripped him at the thought of opening up fully. “I know. I just…don't want to lose control. I don’t want to depend on anyone. I don’t want to let my emotions rule me.”

“Balance. It’s about balance. Too much of something is never good.” You shift to grip onto one of his hands that was actually beginning to grow so pale with his death clench he had. You make his fingers sprawl out, releasing the tension. “You can still be in control and have balance.

His heart raced as you touched him. The feeling of your hand on his, sent a shiver down his spine. “Balance, huh?” A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lip. “You make it sound so easy.” Tom let out a tsk.

“It’s not, god I wish it was. It’s a lot of work to find balance. But I want us to try that. Baby steps.” You bring his hand up to your face, leaning into his palm. “Tommy…I want to try with you, please try with me.”

His breathing stalled at the action. At your plea. He felt some defense of his crumbling, his guarded demeanor almost at once deteriorating. Just for you. The tenderness in your eyes, your own vulnerability showing to him. “I’ll try.” He rubbed his thumb over your soft, plump cheek. “For you.”

“Please.” You felt your sight begin to blur. You drop hold of his hand so you could lean in and cup his face with both your hands. Without hesitation you press your lips against his, slowly kissing him. Tom’s own eyes fell shut, the feeling of your hands on him sent a rare wave of warmth through him. He brought his own hands up to your hips, holding you tightly as he returned the kiss. Pouring all of his pent-up emotions into it. 

Tom was the one to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours as he tried to convey all the things he still couldn’t say. Things he was too afraid of coming to terms with. He nearly felt like praying to some almighty being that this would be enough, even just for now, to keep you. 

He pulled you closer to him, his hands sliding up your back. Leaning you onto him. He savored the taste and feel of you in his arms. You’ve kissed before, but this was different. Much different. It was driving him to the brink of insanity. Tom wanted more, needed more. It took all of his self-control to keep from taking it further in that moment. He couldn’t stop thinking about how your body fit against his.

There was a thud of a door down the corridor. Almost like you both were electrocuted, you parted away from each other. Settling in the opposite ends of the window nook. No part of either of you touching. You both were even looking in different directions. You looked out of the window, while Tom looked at the person who began to walk down the corridor to the other end of the hall.

Tom took a deep slow inhalation, trying to steady his racing heart and calm his jagged breathing. He could feel the heat lingering on his lips, your taste still fresh. He shifted in his seat, too easily he appeared nonchalant and unaffected by the moment that had just passed. He even gave a brief nod to the student that passed. 

There was another slam of a door, the footsteps subsided. You looked at Tom and smiled, holding back a laugh. You bit on your thumbnail. Once again, since you were familiar with his mannerisms, he still looked quite flustered. Tom shot you a sideways glance, noticing the amused look on your face. 

He cleared his throat. “What’s so funny?” He asked, even though he had a pretty good idea of the reason for your amusement. 

“Can you tell me one thing, Riddle?” You ask, smiling at him. You turn your body back towards him.

With a raised eyebrow, and a smirk forming despite his efforts to keep a straight face. “One thing?” He repeated, folding his arms across his chest. “Depends on what you’re asking, sweetheart.”

Your heart fluttered at the pet name, he hardly ever used any. It was always just your name. “Can you wish me a belated happy birthday…?” You ask oh-so sweetly, batting your lashes at him, crossing your own arms. The reason why this whole thing happened.

Tom rolled his eyes, but rather playfully, at your request. Pretending to be annoyed by your sweet demeanour. “You’re still hung up on that? It’s just a birthday. Not the end of the world or anything.”

“But it means the world to me…coming from you.”

He looked at you, your expression held. He softened again, “fine, fine. Happy birthday, darling.”

You smile, “thank you, Tommy. I’ll take it.” You stand up out of the nook, offering your hand to him this time.

Tom lets you pull him up. He dusted off his sweater, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’re insanely stubborn, you know that right?” But he didn’t really have any bite to his words. He rather admired how determined you were to hear that from him. He stepped closer to you, his hand still holding yours.

“I like getting my way.” You give him a playful scowl, squeezing his hand. “But I also don’t like liars. And you lied about having a surprise for me.”

Rolling his eyes, “It wasn’t a lie, per se. Just…a delay in the plan.” He couldn’t keep the hint of defensiveness out of his voice. He knew he had screwed up, but it was hard to admit it outright. “I had something planned, I just…” He trailed off, suddenly looking embarrassed. 

“Yaddayadda…” I start tugging him down the hall, “just don’t make an empty promise again. Especially not with me.” 

“I know..I know..” He huffed, following your lead. He would admit he kind of liked the way you were taking control. He couldn’t help but look down at your perky ass as you led him. Tom couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at him.

You pushed open the door out of the hallway, there were still a good amount of people in the common room. You felt Tom’s hand twitch in yours. You couldn’t blame him for still feeling uncomfortable with showing public affection, it was much too soon to be expecting that. So you let go of his hand.

With that, Tom couldn’t help but feel immediate relief, but maybe also a mix of disappointment. He quickly shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to appear as if he had just taken a leisurely stroll with you. Tom scanned the room, his expression betrayed nothing.

You both climbed up the stairs, at the top you ask, “let’s call it a night…mine or yours?” You run your fingers on the railing waiting for his response.

“Mm..” he mused, leaning against the railing. “Mine.” 

With a quick nod, you already start walking toward his side of the dormitory. Once you passed a corner out of view from those below in the common room. You turned around and grabbed Tom’s hand again, “C’mon you’re so slow..” You whine and tug on him.

Tom chuckled at your impatience, allowing himself to be pulled along. He laced his fingers through yours as you took hold of his hand, savoring the feel of your touch. He quickened his pace to walk beside you, “Eager?”

“I’m not that clingy, but two and a half days without you sucks!” You say waiting outside of his door, waiting for him to unlock it with his touch.

“Is that right? You missed me?” Tom once again felt a warmth spread through his body at the thought. It was still a foreign feeling, but not an unwelcome one. He took a step closer to you, his body just millimeters away, he raised his hand towards the door handle. Hearing it click unlocked, he gently pushed the door open.

“Nagini!! I’m heeerrree!” You playfully sing out, giving Tom a teasing look, as if you had been talking about her and not him. He rolled his eyes, knowing you were messing with him. 

“Yeah sure, of course you miss the snake more than me. Why am I not surprised?” 

You go up to Nagini’s tank, she already began to go up, pushing against the lid wanting to come out.

“Has our Tommy been feeding you and letting you bask in the natural sunlight?” You coo. You take the lid off, offering your hand for her to climb onto. Tom leaned against the wall, watching you with amusement and affection. There was something oddly domestic about the sight of you loving on his snake. He raised an eyebrow as you asked about Nagini’s well being. 

“Of course I’ve been feeding her and letting her out. What do you think I am? A bad owner?”

“I wasn’t asking you.” You say to Tom, shooting him a look that still feigned on playfulness. You look back at the little snake, “has he?” She slithered further up your arm. You look at the small swell of her belly.

He ignores your comment. “She seems pretty content and healthy to me.” He responds either way, his voice tinged with pride. “I think that’s all the answer you need.” Tom pushed himself off the wall, stepping toward you and Nagini. 

Nagini looked back and forth between you and Tom, nodding. She continued to slither up all the way to your shoulder. You couldn’t help but laugh at the feeling. It tickled. You even felt her slim tongue flick at your cheek. “Nagini!” You laugh much louder.

Tom couldn’t help but let out a low laugh at the sight. “Careful now. She has a mind of her own, and won't hesitate to bite without warning.” He said this despite the surprising amount of affection she was showing you. 

“Yes I know. She didn’t like it when I didn’t bring her home quickly enough to her tank. She bit my finger because it was too cold for her.” You patted the top of her head with a single finger. “Can’t blame her. She knows what she likes. I respect that. I’m the same.” You smile at her, then at Tom.

“You’re quite the snake charmer.” He brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

“Only because you taught me. Otherwise snakes are kind of scary. Plus it helps that she’s so cool.” Nagini took the opportunity of Tom’s outstretched hand to start coiling onto his wrist. 

“Yes. She is. Sassy too.” He smiled at her as she settled with him, he went to stroke down her scales. The small snake closed her eyes, she looked content indeed. Almost like she was smiling back. The little tongue came out and flicked occasionally.

You take a step toward Tom, closing the distance. “She’s like our baby, huh?” 

Tom rolled his eyes at the comment, he never really saw Nagini as a baby in that way. Now that you mention it, he couldn’t help but see her in a different light. He only grunted in agreement, a small smile formed on his lips.

Leaning over, you plant a kiss on top of the snake’s head. Her tongue hitting your chin as if kissing you back. You giggled at the feeling once more. You looked up and kissed Tom on the cheek too. It was a small gesture, but it held a surprising amount of significance to him.

With his freehand, he lifted it to cup your face, “You’re spoiling her.” He teased, his voice low and soft. His gaze relaxed as he locked on yours. 

“I think she deserves it.” You challenge back. You lean in again, but this time you kiss him on the lips. 

He leaned into it, his hand coming to curl around the back of your neck. He broke away reluctantly after a few seconds. His eyes darkened as he looked down at you. “You’re spoiling me, too.”

“I think you deserve it.” You don’t let him answer because you plant another kiss, giving a small nibble on his bottom lip. You felt Tom’s breath pause. 

Tom felt his control slip the longer your lips locked. His hand tightened around your neck. “Careful, love. You might be getting yourself into trouble.” He said against you.

“What? I’m not asking for trouble.” You half wine. You feel him pull back. Watching him walk over to Nagini’s enclosure, he allows her to slither back in at her own pace. He puts the lid back on, before placing a small blanket on the top to cover it. “Oh?”

A sly smile formed on Tom’s face, it made you excited but also had your heart dropping. He comes close to you, coming close in order to whisper in your ear. “It won't end well, now that you’re all mine. Just us two.”

“All yours? Show me.” You close your eyes at the feel of his lips near your ear. The excitement growing.

“You’ve been quite pushy as of late.” He murmured, nipping lightly at your earlobe. Teeth grazing your skin. It sent a sharp chill down your body. Tom brought a hand around your waist, pulling you against him. “You’re getting close to crossing a line.” 

You let out a small yelp when he pulled on you. You could feel his heart beating in rhythm with yours. It was fast. “I wasn’t aware there was a line. A limit.” You respond, sighing when he licks the edge of your ear slowly. You shivered again, holding onto his sleeve.

Tom smirked at your physical response, it made him feel powerful. He pinched at your waist, “oh you have limits. Trust me.” He murmured against your skin, lowering his head. His breath was hot against your neck as his mouth moved along your jaw. He left a trail of soft kisses. He nuzzled the edge of your neck, feeling your pulse against his nose. It only fueled his desire.

“Enlighten me on what the limit is.” You manage to say between shallow breaths. You tilt your head further to the side to allow him better access. Absolutely relishing his attention. It only made you keenly aware of how your core began to stick to your panties.

Tom took advantage of your exposed neck, giving a sigh of approval of your action. His mouth moved along your skin with growing urgency. He couldn’t get enough of you, the way your hair smelled, the slight sweet salty taste of your skin, to the sound escaping your lips. “Your limit is when I say it is.” He murmured against your skin. His teeth grazing against your collarbone. 

You shake your head, “Please don’t…” You whine, yet you push him toward his bed until he falls slowly backwards onto it. He didn’t resist the action. You follow him, not daring to create distance. You kick your shoes off, making your way to straddle him. Your thighs on either side of his lap. 

He watched you with hooded eyes, feeling the weight of yourself on him. His hands came to rest on your hips. His touch was almost reverent as he stared up at you. “I want to do whatever I want.” You explain. It was your turn to savor him. With one hand you gently grasp onto his jaw, and begin to pepper kisses down his neck. You offered small licks and nibbles on his cool skin. His cologne was intoxicating, you wanted to smother it.

Tom involuntarily tilted his head away when your lips found his neck. He wanted more of this attention, and he found that he wanted to give it to you. “You want free rein, hm?” He thought about it for a moment, barely opening his eyes to look at you. “Do as you will then.” He relinquished his power to you. Tom gripped your hips tighter, his fingers digging into you.

“Let me take care of you..” You whisper against his skin. You find his lips and kiss him harshly. With this new distraction, you allow your hands to explore him. You feel his slender yet toned body. You carefully, almost cautiously, move your hand under yourself. Just between your legs, feeling him through his pants. “Please let me take care of you.” You repeat, begging.

His body tensed immediately to your touch, he hadn’t expected it to go in this way? Did he? His muscles froze with anticipation as your hands felt him. It has actually been a long time since he was touched in this manner. He couldn’t even remember the last time he relieved himself. 

Tom let out a low hiss as you pressed against him, his arousal growing with every passing moment. He just stiffly nods, “okay..” The single word came out much more strained due to his inner conflicts of relinquishing what he always held. Power. Independence. But god damn, did he need you to keep doing that with your hand. He lifted his hips, grinding against your grip. This new need is becoming evident to both of you now. 

Your foreheads touch as you kiss him once more. You feel his arms wrap lightly around your waist, the pressure and security felt amazing. Yet you wanted more, and you knew he did too. You could feel him through your own jeans. With one hand you were able to fluidly work through the button of his pants, before slowly dragging the zipper down. 

Tom’s grip tightened, almost pinching you. “I need you, don’t tease me now.”

You shook your head, “I’m not trying to.” You laugh, but he bucks himself up again, pushing you away for a moment. You catch yourself on his chest. 

“Take them off.” He commands. You were going to roll your eyes, you were already going to remove them before the command. You rebalance yourself in order to pull his pants down. Tom’s gaze never left yours, he groaned when the pressure released and his cock sprung forward. 

Shit. You thought, feeling it was one thing, but seeing it was another. His dick was big and you could never wrap around that truth. 

“What?” Tom said, propping himself up on his forearms, bringing your attention back to his eyes. That smirking bastard. “It’s all yours.” He flashes you a wicked smile. It made your cheeks begin to burn. You liked that reminder.

“I’m yours too.” You look away from him as you roll over onto your back and swiftly pull and tug at your own jeans. You arch yourself and look to him for help. 

He understands and immediately stands up and loops his fingers through the belt loops. As he starts to pull them over your thighs, his knuckles grace your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. “All mine. Forever.” He leans over and pulls your shirt up, just enough to expose your stomach. He begins to kiss the skin there, his tongue barely touching you, yet making patterns along the curves of your body. “For all of time. I won’t let you walk out on me again.” You barely understand him. His mouth was pressed so closely to you. 

You were too focused on his mouth to realize that he had also pulled your panties off. You blush at the exposure, almost embarrassed. Your eyes meet, he looks down and he too realizes what he’s done. His pupils dilated at the sight below him. There was that light shade of pink on his cheeks again. Tom pulled himself up so he could attack your neck with the new powerful possessive wave that shot through him. “You’re beautiful..so fucking beautiful. Made just for me.” Voice thick with what seemed like an insatiable need. He roughly pushed your legs apart and eased himself between the empty space.

“Tommy…” You softly moan out, biting against your finger. You felt a hand come around under your thigh, just below your ass. His nails scratched into your skin and he groped. “Ah..” You shut your eyes, it was borderline painful. But in a good way, it was almost confusing. You wrap a hand around his wrist to try and make him release his grip, even slightly. At the same time you also attempted to move your hips against his, thus rubbing your slickness on his dick. You could feel the veins that ran over his length.

Tom whispered next to your ear, “Fuck. That’s it…move for me, darling.” His grip only tightened, it would definitely leave a tender bruise. He didn’t want to hold back any longer, he needed you. Now. Yet he was willing to wait, just to hear you beg for it. He planted wet hot kisses down your neck. He loved how you began to shake beneath him, breaths shallow. 

He removed his hands for a split second to pull your shirt further up to your chin, exposing your tits to him. “Mmm…so pretty.” He smiled at the sight. “No bra?” He clicked his tongue while pinching at your nipples, making them harden. You let out a long moan as his fingers rolled the swells back and forth. Tom grinded his hips slowly, enjoying how his dick was in between your folds. You were so warm and soft. “So damn wet..” He said aloud. He leaned down, cupping and squeezing your breasts together, his tongue licking around the skin of your nipples. Giving each proper attention, before circling to the hardened tips. Taking them between his teeth and giving them a nice slow tug before letting them fall out of his mouth. He continued this pattern, you watched as there was a line of spit forming when he switched breasts. The sight alone made you want to faint. Or even just cum with that mere stimulation. 

“Tom!” You cried out, “I want..” You put your hands on his shoulders. You tried to push him back and give you a quick break so you could gather yourself. Your body betrayed you because it was an incredibly weak push. “More…more.” Your voice faltered as if you were about to cry. His dick kept rubbing against your clit.

“You’ll have it. I can give you it all. As long as you’re mine. All you have to do is ask.” Tom murmured against the skin of your tits, still holding them close. Sucking on them whilst looking up at you. 

You had a feeling he meant a variety of things. Maybe he meant his pulsating cock. Maybe he meant the world. Maybe he meant his heart. 

“Say it. I want to hear you say it.” Tom shifted, holding himself with one arm up, so he could hold his dick with the other, he aligned it at your entrance holding it there for a moment. It indeed did earn him a whimper and a thrust by your hips again, making him almost slip in for a moment but he pulled back quickly. It almost killed him to do so. “You’re mine…say it. Say it now.”

“Please Tommy give me all of you. I’m yours. I’m yours. I belong to you.” You kept nodding, looking into his eyes. You broke it momentarily to look down between you, you let out a sigh at the sight. His dick pressed so closely to your pussy, you could even see the bead of precum leaking from his tip. You wanted to reach down, run it against your finger so you could taste it.

You felt Tom’s cool finger pull up against your chin, lifting your gaze to him again. Looking quite expectant, as if he wasn’t satisfied with your words. He felt that you were saying it just for the moment. 

“Tom, you can do whatever you want with me. I’m yours.” You try to pour your feelings into it, you didn’t know how else you could convince Tom. You thought he’d be more trusting with you by now. 

Your words did not go unheard after all, you see the corner of Tom’s mouth slightly twist. He shifted his grip to pinch your cheeks together with his hand, forcing your lips to come together in a pucker. He leaned down to kiss you that way. You stop breathing momentarily, your eyes widening as you feel him slowly sink himself further into your wet hole. Tom was watching your every reaction, but still holding your face in his hand. “Ah shit..Tommy..” Your words come out semi-muffled.

Tom’s lips gave in and erupted in a devilish smile. He relished the feeling of your submission, the knowledge that you belonged to him and him alone. He breathed slowly, feeling your body twitch and seemingly hesitate to take him. Your grip on his biceps told him a different story. Your nails were making crescents into his pale skin. He had to show some careful restraint to your pussy, he needed to slowly ease himself inside. Tom didn’t want to hurt you. Not physically and surely not emotionally again. “Shhh…just breathe, darling. Breathe for me…I’ll take care of you..” He murmured. 

Tom watches as you breathe in, providing him temporary relief that you weren’t going to pass out. At least not until he was finished with you. He tried to pull out of you, give you a chance to relax and regroup, but he smirked at the feeling. Your pussy was needier than he imagined, it was gripping onto him with such force. Almost making it hard for him to pull out.

You shake your head, “I want this.” You reassure him, “It-” you swallow as Tominches back into you, his eyebrows furrowed together as he studied you. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Liar.” Tom flatly said. 

“It’s..It’s just a lot of you…” You let out a strained laugh. You weren’t one to back down from a challenge, especially if it came to getting your guts rearranged. “Use me..” You whisper, your gaze never leaving his eyes this time. They falter in relief when you finally feel his hips collide with yours, him being thoroughly buried deep. You felt his dick twitch inside of you, brushing against your cervix, causing you to twitch too. You laugh, but the movement only made you both moan in unison. “Tommy...”

“Merlin, so help me if you keep calling me by that name.” Tom finally says something about it. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, his hand letting go of your face. Only for his fingers to slither into your mouth. Your tongue immediately starts to glide across them, sucking on the tips of his fingers. You reach to his wrist, pushing his fingers further into your mouth. It made Tom laugh. It was as if the heavens above parted to witness the sound, despite the lewd cause. “You’re starting to get greedy. It’s such a pretty sight.” He says, starting to pull back from your hips, only to roughly smack himself back into you. 

With Tom’s fingers properly lubricated with your saliva, he pulls his fingers away from your mouth. You whimpered, especially when you felt where they went. They went right between your legs, rubbing your swollen clit in lazy circles, then around your pussy’s lips. “Use you..yes..I think I will. Do with you as I please.” He would do anything to keep you his. “Say it for me again.” Tom growled, his body starting to tremble with the effort to hold back his pace to just pound your weeping little cunt. He wanted to hear you give him the permission he craved. 

“Fuck Tommy, please! I’m yours in this life, the next one, and the one after that..and-” You began to mindlessly say, especially as he began to move once you adjusted to him. His pace was consistent, the weight of his body was holding you in place. You felt him move his hand, so that it was just the pad of his thumb pressing against your clit while the other four fingers moved to press down into your lower tummy. Adding more pressure. You felt so full, you let your eyes go cross. 

“That’s right.” He smiled, watching your face. “Take me like a good girl.” Tom’s thrusts began to become ruthlessly hard. He knew he should be gentler with you, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed you too badly, and the thought of you belonging solely to him had him seeing red. “Say you want me…tell me you need me.. Tell me how much you need me..”

You peaked at him through your lashes, his eyes were dark. A possessive desire was emanating from his being. You felt a ball of pressure tighten within you. You felt so incredible. “I want you bad, I need you….mmm oh god!” You mutter when you feel Tom’s dick hit that spot inside you repeatedly. You bring your hand to your mouth, biting on a finger to keep yourself from screaming in pleasure. “I need this, I need this so bad! I d-don’t want anything else but t-this. You’re all I need.” You began to babble the same thing over and over.

Tom nodded, “That’s it, pretty girl. I’m your god. You’re taking my dick so well. Your pussy feels s-so good.” His voice came out a ragged husk, his breathing sharp. It was all too much for him to handle. He just wanted to make you feel good. Tom wanted to fill you up with his cum, watch it spill out of you, only to fill you up again. He groaned at the thought. “You’re mine..my prize. My princess. My trophy. I’ll give you anything you want. I’ll give you everything. You won’t ever have to ask or need anything else. I’ll take care of you. Let me spoil you. You don't have to worry about anything. Please let me do this for you. Make you feel good.”

“Anything! Yes. Yes!” You agree, head bobbing backwards into the cushioned bed. You feel him slow down. 

You were going to whine, when he began to suck at your neck again. You heard him mumble again, “Buy you whatever you want. Do whatever you want. Anything to make you happy. I’ll get it for you. I’ll do it for you.” His voice was soft yet thick with desire. You hadn’t heard him talk so much. You weren't that materialistic, honestly. But goddamn was he making you want to ask him of the universe just to watch him do it. Knowing him, he would probably give you that and the next universe closest too. 

You were pulled back from that train of thought when you felt him quicken again. You were so close to releasing the tension, you wanted to cum all over his dick. You flattened your hand over your mouth to stifle your sounds. You might have been muffling your moans and cries, but the sounds your pussy was making could not be muted, not by a fraction. 

You opened your eyes, you saw a familiar flash of irritation in Tom’s eyes. He shook his head. “Don’t do that. I want to hear how good I make you feel.” He pulled your hand away from your mouth. You made the motion to use your other hand, but he caught that one as well. He brought both hands up above your head, holding them there, at his mercy.. Tom was too strong to pull them away. The action made you clench around him. Tom groaned and cursed under his breath. He was getting lost in you, completely taken over by his desires to own you. “I need to hear you fall apart. I want to hear your sweet sounds. Don’t ever try to hide your pleasure from me.”

You moan at his words, for someone who so protectively fought for his privacy, he really was not caring who heard this affair going on. It only made your face heat up in a fierce blush. 

You watched as Tom’s eyes flashed, not from irritation this time. It was the same look he had when he had a breakthrough of a new method of altering magic to his needs. In this context a wave of panic shot through you. Though it was hard to center on that concern when Tom was making you feel this good.

Tom’s eyes were focused, taking every little detail of you. He could see the panic in your own eyes, so he dipped down to kiss you. A form to comfort you. He broke from it, “Don’t be afraid,” his voice was low and dangerous. “I’ll take care of you.” He let go of your hands that were still above your head. You knew better than to try and cover your mouth again. His pace slowed, you mentally cursed. He wasn’t exactly trying to edge you, but damn! Why did he rob you of an orgasm again? You watched him carefully, for a nanosecond sadness registered in his dark eyes.

“You mean it right? If we weren’t doing what we were doing right now…you’d mean it?” He suddenly asked. His dick stalled inside you.

“Of course! I-I lov-” You began to confess, tring to sit up on your elbows. Tom pushed you back down, maybe a bit too harshly.

“Don’t say it unless you mean it.” he said sternly, his eyes watching your lips. 

“Tom. You’re going to scare me..” You started, but he suddenly thrust once into you. You yelped and reached out to pull on his neck, bringing him in to kiss you. “I love you!” You said against his lips. You did mean it. It was the first time you said it without him interrupting you. He never allowed you to say it. It was probably because he was afraid it would be a cruel lie. Tom truly believed he was incapable of love. Incapable of finding and receiving true, honest, unrelenting love.

He couldn’t stop the way his breath hitched at your words. Hearing you say them with such conviction, such sincerity. It was a moment he’d been both waiting and dreading for. Afraid of the power the words held and relinquished. Despite this dark pit inside him, he trusted you. He believed that you meant it. 

“Say it again,” He whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he held you tightly in place. “Please.” Tom was desperate to hear you speak those words, to believe he was worthy of you.

“I love you, Tom.” You hold his face, you feel him twitch inside you as you repeat: “I. Love. You.” You say slowly, emphasizing each word. You watch as he closes his eyes, pulling himself in and out painstakingly slow. Your pussy ached, already feeling sore from the size of his dick. Your walls strained to keep him buried inside.

“Say it again.” He repeated, barely wavering. New emotions threaten to overtake him. “I need this.” Listening to you declare yourself was shattering every doubt he’d ever had about this world he existed in.

“I love you. I’m yours.” 

Tom turned his face in your hands, he began to slowly plant kisses into your palms. You felt his lips moving like he was muttering something. You couldn’t hear what he was saying. 

“Again.” He said louder, opening his eyes and locking them onto yours. This was a different Tom. Your heart began to match the quickened pace Tom was taking up once more.

“I love you.” You moan out, not breaking the eye contact he was holding with you as continued to mouth something quickly against your palm as you continued to cup his face.

“Say my name.” He commanded.

“Tom.” Your fingers jerked against his smooth skin.

“My. Full. Name.” He said slower. You felt his nails dig into your back from where he held you at the waist, the hold was harsh. Painful. 

“I love you Tom Marvolo Riddle.” You almost lazily let out between breaths. He stopped mouthing, and peeled one hand off your waist bringing it to your hold your wrist. The knot was getting tighter and tighter, making it harder to concentrate on what exactly he was doing. “I’m y-yours.”

When Tom heard you say his full name, saying that you loved him, that you were his. Something snapped, the wave of possessiveness washed over him. It reassured him, what he was about to do was the right thing. To keep you from leaving. To keep you together forever. Just like you said. Just like you kept repeating what you wanted. And Tom wanted nothing more but to get reassurance and security, in the only way he knew how. Magic.

Bringing your wrist next to his lips, he felt its warm, vibrating pulse. “Do you feel that?” Tom asked, his voice gruff as he watched you intently.

You just nod, unsure what he really meant because you were just about to come around his thick cock. You were so fucking close. Your eyes were rolling back. Your head threatened to just bob to the side but Tom quickly held the back of your neck. Still not letting go of your wrist with the other. He wanted you to watch him.

“Tommy…I’m..I’m gonna..!” You cry out, due to the pleasure that was releasing through your body. Your eyes were starting to turn into slits with how heavy they were getting. Tom grunted one last thing before you saw him part his lips. His teeth…! You could have sworn you saw snake like fa-

“FUCK!” You cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure, your back arching into Tom. Your attention was split, shaking uncontrollably underneath him. You watched in a semi-horrified, semi-fucked out trance as Tom sunk his teeth into your wrist. There was a warm feeling starting to run from where he bit. It was your blood, dark and thick. As it slid your skin, it felt like it was burning, like it was different somehow. As if he had injected something into you. 

Tom’s eyes languidly open to meet yours, they were clouded in his own pleasure. “I’m never letting you go.” He moaned against your skin, “No one else can have you. No one else can touch you. My property. Mine.” He pulled back from your wrist, lifting your now limp arm up. Tom barely held his tongue out of his mouth, licking up the line of blood that had stopped just before your elbow. His breath was hot as he removed evidence of having momentarily hurt you. His tongue ran all the way up to the holes that began to shrink and disappear. His lips were red, slightly swollen as he sucked on the area before pulling back with a pop. 

You whimpered. The corner of his lips turned upwards, just enough you knew he was satisfied with what he had done to you. Whatever he had done, you’re not quite sure of. All you did know was that your orgasm was different. It felt like it was dragged out of you, lengthened for too long, though you weren’t complaining about that. Your whole body felt numb with some tingling starting at the tips of your fingers and toes. “Tom..” You tried to say, but it came out as a whisper. You weren’t sure if you even moved your lips. It felt like you were looking at yourself from a third person perspective, you didn’t exactly feel inside your own body. 

“Shhh.” Tom cooed, brushing your hair out of your face. “It’s okay, stay still.” He chuckled to himself. You felt Tom pull slowly out of you, he let out a small curse along with another chuckle. “I really made a mess out of you, darling.” 

“Hmm?” You wanted to cry, you felt empty without him inside. Watching him step away from you was almost unbearable. Tom went over to his dresser, then his desk, opening a drawer and pulling out his wand. You wondered why for a moment, before you heard a squelching sound come from your pussy. You couldn’t lift your head all the way up to look at yourself. From your current state, the warmness of Tom’s cum that was making its way out of you was a stark contrast. You were so distracted from your own high and him fucking biting you to notice how he finished. 

You tried to sit up and cup yourself, embarrassed at the thought of potentially causing a stain on his bedding. Tom’s voice stopped you, “Don’t move.” You obeyed. He took a step towards you and barely flicked his wand. You felt what seemed like a cool breeze wash over your body. You shivered, feeling the tingling over your body intensify before subsiding. You then noticed how he had sweats on, making you feel insanely exposed. “I could stare at you like this forever.” Tom broke the silence. 

“Don’t-!” You squeaked out, moving to cover yourself however possible. 

Tom shook his head with a smile, he had moved closer to loom over you. He grabbed your arm away and you were about to protest when you felt him pull down your shirt, bringing it over your chest. Your nipples felt sensitive against the fabric. “Tom, what did you do to me..?” You finally questioned. 

“We’re connected, on a molecular level now.” He answered plainly, too casually. He reached down on the floor, keeping a hand on your thigh to steady himself. He picked up your panties, another flick of the wand, cleaning them too, and slid them halfway up your legs.

“I..I can do it.” You quickly stood up to pull your panties all the way on. The rush of standing up made you feel dizzy. Tom had held onto your sides, bringing you back onto the bed. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll explain it in the morning.” Tom smiled down at you. He pushed you further into the bed, propping your head with one of his pillows. 

“But-!” You held up your wrist, in the area where he had bitten down on, there were two dark moles in its place. Ones you never had before.

“You should rest up.” He interrupted again, sliding next to you. He held his head up against his arm, staring at you. Compared to moments before, his eyes softened. Tom reached with his other hand to bring up the blanket, covering your bare legs. His hand rested beside your hip, patting it every so often. “Maybe it’s time for you to keep some of your things in my room.” He phrased it as something to-do, rather than a suggestion. 

“I thought you liked having our things separated?” You look between his eyes, to his lips. 

Tom shook his head, “it was a way to distance myself from you.” He confessed. You smiled, it seemed like there was a change in his attitude. Him being honest and open with himself, and you. “What?” He questioned your look towards him.

“I’ll explain it in the morning.” You broke out in a toothy grin, using his words on him. His smile copied yours, but it was paired with a pinch on your hip. 

“Brat.” Tom pulled you against his bare chest. His heartbeat was slow and steady. You felt him plant a kiss on top of your head.

As you laid next to him, you couldn’t help but notice the heat radiating from your wrist. What had he done to you?

“Before you say anything about it…” Tom began, distracting you once more from examining the two moles. “I love you too.”

[biblomaniac]

Supercorp headcanon:

Kara and Lena are both clingy, but in very different ways. Kara is obviously one who seeks and gives physical touch at any available moment. At first, this disturbed Lena. For most of her life, touch meant fear, anger, and revulsion.

Over time and with lots of set backs, Lena becomes adjusted to Kara’s touch and starts to crave it. For someone as touch starved as she is, Lena is still incredibly controlled as she seeks Kara’s comfort. While Lena will rarely initiate even the shortest of hugs, as soon as Kara hugs her, or holds her hand, Lena grasps on and holds tightly until Kara breaks the contact.

This is all well and good until other people start to notice. Once the Superfriends start commenting on their perpetual close proximity, Lena becomes self conscious and refuses to touch Kara. Of course, Kara thought she had upset Lena in some way and almost begs Lena to tell her how she can make up her “transgression.” Lena eventually admits that she was embarrassed of being called out and didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. Kara repeatedly assures Lena no boundary was crossed, and even vehemently encourages the brunette to seek Kara’s physical intimacy.

Here begins the complete and utter downfall of their “friendship” as they know it. Now both women are constantly touching, cuddling, and hugging. They touch so often that it becomes a rarity for them to be apart in any way if they are in the same room. Whether it be a hand at Lena’s back or Kara’s arm, the women are completely inseparable.

It isn’t until Kara starts pulling Lena into her lap at game nights or the bar that Lena begins to question how common it is for best friends to be as connected as they are. By all accounts, it’s not common, but at this point, Lena may go through withdrawals if she dials it back. So she says nothing and enjoys Kara’s intimacy while it lasts.

Once Kara starts kissing Lena’s cheek, forehead, and hand at any possible moment, Lena starts to think something is off about their friendship. The night Kara kisses her on the lips as the watch The Proposal, Lena builds up enough courage to confront Kara.

“What are we doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what are we doing with the hugs, the touching, and now the kissing? Fuck, two days ago we woke up spooning and you haven’t said a word! When are we going to address this—this—”

“Lena.”

“I don’t understand, how can it be normal for friends to—”

“Lena! We aren’t friends. And we haven’t been for a long time...”

Like a record scratching, Lena freezes and just stares. When she comes back to herself, Kara is still talking but it feels like she’s messed a thing or two.

“…we’ve been dating for months, Lena. I thought you would be comfortable with this by now. We can take a step back if you want, but…”

“Dating? What do you mean dating?”

“Lena, what did you think we were doing this whole time? The constant contact, the lunch dates, and sleepovers. You really didn’t think anything of what we’ve been doing?”

Lena realizes that, just maybe, she wasn’t the best judge of what is and isn’t normal in a friendship. She also comes to the conclusion that she doesn’t want any of it to end.

“I..I thought this was normal? I didnt realize you were under the impression that we were dating. It seems that I have been a bit obtuse as to the status of our relationship.”

Kara is almost horrified at their months long miscommunication. The blonde sees no smooth way out of the situation and so begins what could have turned out to be the ramble of the century.

“So what, do we just stop? I’m sorry, I just thought we were taking it slow. Forgive me, if I had known—if I knew…I’m, I’m so sorry Lena, I’ll just go, and we can forget this ever happened—”

“NO!”

“No? Okay, I’ll give you some space—”

“No, Kara. I don’t want space. I don’t want anything to change. I want the dates, and the cuddling, and the kissing, and nights out with our friends. I want everything with you, Kara,” says Lena, as she reaches to grasp Kara face between her hands.

Kara leans into the touch, slowly gravitating closer to where Lena sits on her couch. Even as Kara grows closer, she hesitates to close the final distance between their lips. She couldn’t bear for Lena to dangle this opportunity between them.

“You do, are you sure?”

Lena decides that her next actions will speak louder than any platitudes she could give to Kara. With a push at Kara’s chest guiding her to lean back, Lena crawls into Kara’s lap, grasps Kara by the back of her neck, and leans down to place the slowest, sweetest kiss to Kara’s lips.

Not one to be outdone, Kara trails her hands along the sides of Lena’s thighs and up her back. Her left hand continues up to tangle into Lena’s hair while the right slides down to grasp Lena firmly by the ass.

With a small gasp, Lena deepens the kiss. With a gentle prod of her tongue to Kara’s lips, Lena licks into Kara’s mouth with a skillful tongue. With a groan, Kara separates their kiss.

“So, does this mean you’re my girlfriend?”

The brunette throws her head back in a joyful laugh.

“Yes, darling. I’ll be yours if you promise to be mine.”

Kara’s face lights up in happiness.

**********************

Months have gone by and Kara and Lena are happier than ever. Somehow they have grown closer, and although they have to deal with constant teasing remarks from all their friends, they wouldn’t separate for anything.

[lobotomiesatclaires]

Lighter Kink and Psychology Analysis - Zenless Zone Zero

Full disclaimer: I don’t play Zenless Zone Zero, but through my friend’s love of the game and Tumblr osmosis, I’ve learned a great deal about Lighter. I find the differences between his canon and fanon interpretations fascinating, so I thought it would be interesting to break down the psychology of kinks and what I think Lighter’s are. I’m going to focus on the ones I believe he has, and if people want me to go into further detail, let me know! Also if it was clear from the title 18+ content below

Exhibitionism – Subcategories: Semi-Public Sex, Secret Keeping, and Risk Play

Lighter is fascinating because he’s full of contradictions. He doesn’t like having his picture taken and prefers to keep a low profile, yet he wears flashy clothes and takes on high profile work where he cannot NOT be noticed. He wants to be left alone but craves connection with people. Part of this can be attributed to losing so many important people due to his own actions, but I think another part of it is Lighter’s hopeless romantic streak. He wants to die for love, and I think part of that is tied to finding someone worthy of that sacrifice.

He’s not interested in people who praise him or send him gifts because, to him, they don’t truly know him- and if they did, they wouldn’t want anything to do with him, he thinks. This low self-esteem and disorganized attachment style create a loop where he desperately craves connection, has opportunities for it, but never fully lets his walls down to allow a deeper bond. Because of his past and the fear of never being truly understood, Lighter communicates in subtle ways. In-game, he can give the player purple lilacs. In the language of flowers, purple lilacs symbolize one’s first love or the first time one feels love for someone. However he leaves on a job right after, to stop any possibility of asking him more about why he gave them to you.

When it comes to sex, Lighter has experience, but in romantic love, he’s very much a virgin, in my opinion.

In line with this, I think Lighter would be needy as a partner, in constant need of validation but unable to ask for reassurance. He hates when his friends are mad at him- it distresses him significantly, which reinforces my earlier points about his emotional sensitivity. Thus, I think one of his core needs would be for a partner to be very possessive of him. Not only would this push back against his feelings of guilt, but it would bulldoze past his tendency to panic at intimacy and distance himself.

While I agree he’d be into risk/thrill-seeking, I don’t think it would be extreme or involve pain. I believe it would be a form of intimate thrill-seeking - the kind that engages an overactive mind.

Imagine:Lighter and his partner in an elevator, on the way to a party. Four seconds before the elevator reaches the destination, his partner pushes him against the wall, kisses him, and whispers in his ear that they’re not wearing anything under their dress coat. The doors open, and they walk out into the party crowd - no one the wiser. Except Lighter.

For example: They’re at the party. Lighter’s charming, slipping easily into conversations with strangers. But every so often, his partner brushes their fingers lightly over the back of his neck, just once, fleeting. No one notices, but Lighter does. His spine straightens slightly each time, a silent acknowledgment: I know who I belong to.

Or: Club sex on the top floor behind a loud rock band. The balcony overlooking a busy street. Going to dinner with friends with a remote in his hand and a small vibrator in his partner’s underwear.

I think Lighter would enjoy all of these scenarios - not just for the risk, but for the inherent trust required to play and keep these secrets between him and his partner. It’s something completely his, something no one else can encroach upon, yet it’s right there, obvious to anyone observant enough to notice.

Marking – Physical and Psychological

Marking, both physical and psychological, would lean into Lighter’s desire for connection. Think: visible signs of his partner’s presence, like a hickey or a faint lipstick smudge on his collarbone.

While traditional marking overlaps with the possessiveness I imagine he’d enjoy, psychological marking might be even more appealing to him. This could involve embedding someone’s presence in his mind through habits, sensory triggers, or routines.

Lighter’s fear of being forgotten or unimportant could be countered by the constant reassurance that he’s always present in his partner’s thoughts. Non-sexually, his partner might leave voice notes for him to listen to during missions or spritz their perfume on his scarf. They might even snap a risky picture and set it as his lock screen so the next time he checks his phone on the job he’s left with a surprise.

Lighter is haunted by the dead, but I think what he truly craves is being haunted by someone living. He would adore his partner’s presence lingering in his personal space, feeding his need for connection without direct confrontation.

Domination – Receiving, Direction Taking

I firmly believe Lighter likes to be dominated. In terms of desire, I don’t think Lighter experiences much spontaneous desire; rather, he’s more connected to responsive desire (see the paper “Sexual Arousal and Desire: Interrelations and Responses to Three Modalities of Sexual Stimuli” by Katherine Goldey and Sari Anders). That man is too tired to be dominant, and as seen in-game, he prefers to take orders. He would definitely call his partner “Boss” in the bedroom.

Beyond the bedroom, I feel Lighter would continue this relinquishment of power through authority transfer dynamics as a coping mechanism for emotional instability, much like he does for the Sons of Calydon. This could manifest in routines or rituals where his partner makes decisions for him, offering a sense of control without the burden of autonomy. It’s both a reaffirmation of care and a release from the pressure of decision-making.

Given his tendency to overthink, delegating power outside of sex could ease his mental load and reinforce security in his relationships. I think Lighter would enjoy having his partner pick out his clothes, jewelry, ect, decide small daily routines, or even manage his finances in a consensual dynamic. This creates a structure where emotional care is embedded in everyday life, not just during intimacy.

Additionally, given Lighter’s need for emotional grounding and his craving to feel “claimed,” collaring - whether in a literal BDSM context or as an everyday symbolic gesture - would be something he could secretly obsess over. If Lighter were given a necklace, choker, or even a collar (especially since he loves jewelry), he’d never take it off. He’d wear it under his clothes, hidden from everyone else but always present. On rough days or when away from his partner, just feeling it against his skin would serve as silent reassurance, grounding him.

It would satisfy both his exhibitionist streak (a hidden “secret” between him and his partner) and act as a reminder: I’m not lost. I belong somewhere. To someone.

For example: if before a mission his partner was to kiss him goodbye, place a necklace around his neck and say “Come back wearing this” he would tug at the small chain subconsciously the entire time he’s gone. He would sleep with it on, shower with it, and when he returned, the metal would be warm and oxidised from his skin, his skin stained from the metal.

Praise Play

An extension of his need for domination and grounding, I see praise play as a huge turn-on for Lighter. While some believe degradation is one of his kinks, I think it’s the opposite. While he might engage in degradation play if his partner wanted it (and part of him might believe he deserves it due to his low self-esteem), I think he would emotionally shut down if it became a consistent dynamic. To me it would be a similar dynamic to the start of the Astarion romance, fulfilling a role as a tool rather than as a person.

Kinks often reflect core emotional needs. Non-consensual fantasies, for example, are about being desired so intensely that someone is willing to break laws and social norms. Degradation kinks often involve a need for others to see the worst parts of us and want us regardless. However, for sensitive individuals, this negative reinforcement doesn’t bring solace- it simply reaffirms their worst fears and destroys their fragile attempts at building a better self image. I also don't think Lighter would find any attraction in demeaning his partner, I think he would feel unworthy of their attention and trust, especially in the beginning.

Lighter is consistently wracked with guilt and desperately wants to know whether he’s doing the right thing, whether it’s in his job or in a relationship. For someone like Lighter, praise isn’t just arousing, it’s reparative in a way nothing else matches or soothes. Each compliment is a stone in the foundation of a self-worth he can’t build alone. When his partner says, “You’re doing so well,” or “You feel like home, like safety,” it’s not just about sex. It’s about rewriting the narrative he’s been telling himself for years.

Domestic Play

You cannot convince me that the image of Lighter’s partner cooking or doing general domestic chores wouldn’t awaken something deep within him, even though he might not admit it at first. In-game, he respects and surrounds himself with women who embody dominant, traditionally masculine qualities. He’s more than happy to take orders from them, but in terms of romantic or sexual attraction, he seems to have little interest in those traits. I suspect this is because these qualities mirror his old self, and that’s not something he finds much solace in, either romantically or sexually.

I think Lighter would be attracted to someone fundamentally different from those around him, someone softer and more considerate, yet still strong in a more traditionally feminine sense. Given his history of loss, trauma, and the absence of a stable family, I believe he harbors a profound urge for a family-like relationship. His partner would create an environment that feels like home, a concept Lighter likely yearns for but doesn’t fully understand.

Home-cooked meals, small domestic gestures of affection - these would make him unbearably needy, though he’d only show it when alone with his partner.

For example: During mundane moments, making coffee, fixing his jacket - his partner casually murmurs, “You belong to me.” It’s subtle, not always sexual, but it lights up the part of Lighter’s brain that craves validation without having to ask for it.

Things like his partner knowing how he likes his coffee without needing to ask, or grabbing the salt shaker from him because it’s bad for his cholesterol would make him unbearably turned on you cannot convince me otherwise. These small acts of care would hit him hard, far more than overt declarations of love.

For Lighter, being told what to do isn’t about submission- it’s about relief. In a life where his choices have often led to heartbreak, the absence of choice feels like safety.

Sensation Play – Both Sensory Deprivation and Service

Lighter is an overthinker. According to Emily Nagoski’s Come As You Are, overthinking is one of the primary reasons people struggle to achieve climax or engage fully with emotional and sexual vulnerability. When you place too much pressure on external factors - self-image, internal worries, even things as small as ‘the dishes need to be done’ - it inhibits your ability to ground yourself in the present and truly experience pleasure. This is why many people, particularly women, struggle with partnered sex and climax.

For Lighter, orgasm denial or delayed gratification would likely be a huge turn-on, especially in situations where he’s restrained or unable to interact directly with his partner - think handcuffs or shibari. The removal of senses, such as blindfolding, helps heighten arousal by redirecting the energy normally spent on processing visual stimuli toward pure sensation. It doesn’t stop the overthinking; it realigns it, forcing it to focus on the present moment.

For example: His partner lightly places a hand over his mouth while he’s blindfolded - not fully cutting off air, but creating a soft restraint. It’s not about danger; it’s about trust. The lack of visual and verbal control pushes him into a space where he can’t overanalyze - he can only feel.

Considering Lighter’s past - especially his time in the fighting pits, where he described himself as feeling like a zombie. I don’t think he’d enjoy pain or impact play. His physical existence outside the bedroom has already been filled with similar kinds of suffering. Instead, sensation play becomes a refuge - a way to experience his body without violence, without pain. There's a running joke that he fears the sight of blood in game, which is another reason why I believe centering pleasure rather than pain would be more attractive to him.

Emotional Edgeplay

I believe Lighter craves not just physical intensity but emotional vulnerability pushed to its limits, scenarios where trust is tested, intimacy feels dangerous, and attachment triggers are explored in consensual, negotiated ways. Emotional edgeplay isn’t about causing harm; it’s about walking the razor-thin edge of emotional exposure, where the potential for catharsis is as powerful as the risk.

Overstimulation is an aspect of emotional edgeplay, often resulting in emotional release- like crying during or after sex - as the body lets go of trauma it’s been holding onto for too long. Lighter, who is profoundly dissociated from his needs due to guilt and a deep-seated dismissal of his own worth, would find this both terrifying and necessary.

We see hints of this in-game. For example, there’s an interaction with a guide dog trained to seek out the most vulnerable person in the room - that ignores everyone else and goes straight to Lighter. This detail speaks volumes about how disconnected he is from his own emotional fragility; the desensitization runs so deep that he doesn’t even recognize it anymore.

In these moments, speech and affirmation would be crucial, especially during heightened emotional states or low points.

For example: During edging, when he’s trembling with frustration not just sexually, but emotionally his partner gently cradles his face and whispers, “Do you see how wonderful you are when you’re not pretending?”

It’s not just arousing, it’s disarming. Because in that vulnerable space, Lighter isn’t the cool, edgy pit fighter turned bodyguard. He’s just him, stripped of all pretense. No walls, no bravado. Flaws and all. It also provides acceptance by omission, that his partner sees all and accepts all.

Caretaker Dynamics (Reversed Aftercare)

I also believe Lighter would prefer to be the primary aftercare provider, despite this traditionally being the role of the dominant partner. According to Dominatrix Eva Oh, aftercare is a service role, and for Lighter, providing that service would be deeply fulfilling. (It’s a common misconception the Sub role in BDSM is the harder or serving role, because truly Dom’s are required to be very emotionally stable, beholden to their sub and can turn out to be a very stress inducing role for the wrong people). This is why high flying jobs such as CEO’s actually prefer to be submissive because it is the only place in their life they get to be minded.

While aftercare is essential after most sexual interactions especially those involving intense scenes, reversed caretaker dynamics, where the more emotionally fragile partner provides aftercare, would align perfectly with Lighter’s psychology. Despite his vulnerabilities, he has an overwhelming desire to feel needed, to prove his worth in relationships even when he feels broken.

Being allowed to “take care” of his partner post-sex, even when he’s emotionally raw, satisfies this need. It’s not about dominance or submission- it’s about anchoring himself through acts of care.

For example: After an intense session, when his partner is spent and emotionally vulnerable, Lighter insists on making tea, carefully bandaging small marks, or physically holding them - even if he’s the one shaking. He tucks the blanket around them, brushes sweat-damp hair from their forehead, and whispers, “I’ve got you.”

In those moments, his value isn’t measured by strength or stoicism. This role reversal reinforces his sense of purpose without undermining his vulnerabilities. He doesn't always have to be the strong one here, in this moment.

Closing Thoughts

Ultimately, Lighter’s kinks aren’t just about physical pleasure, they’re reflections of his deepest fears, needs, and desires. They’re coping mechanisms woven into intimacy, helping him navigate a world where connection feels both a gift and a threat. Whether through domination, praise, or emotional edgeplay, his kinks allow him to confront the parts of himself he hides from the world.

At the heart of it all, Lighter wants to be known.

References

Disclaimer I have dyslexia and English is my second language so I apologize for mistakes.

Theswaddle.com. (2019). The Psychology of Sexual Kink. [online] Available at: https://www.theswaddle.com/what-is-kink-the-psychology-behind-sexual-behavior [Accessed 9 Feb. 2025].

admin@blossmcart (2023). A dive into the definition of Lilac Flower and its Significance. [online] Blossmcart Flowers. Available at: https://blossmcart.com/blog/definition-and-significance-of-lilac-flower/#:~:text=The%20Lilac%20is%20a%20flower,purple%20Lilac%20signifies%20first%20love. 

‌Li, S. (2024). The Psychology of Kink: A Cross‐Sectional Survey Investigating the Association Between Adult Attachment Style and BDSM-Related Identity Choice in China. Archives of Sexual Behavior, [online] 53(6), pp.2269–2276. doi:https://doi.org/10.1007/s10508-024-02829-1.

When Kinks Come to Life: An Exploration of Paraphilic Behaviors and Underlying Predictors. (2024). The Journal of Sex Research. [online] doi:https://doi.org/10.1080//00224499.2024.2319242.

The Kink Orientation Scale: Developing and Validating a Measure of Kink Desire, Practice, and Identity. (2024). The Journal of Sex Research. [online] doi:https://doi.org/10.1080//00224499.2024.2387769.‌

Oh, E. (2020). I Was a Corporate Slave Until I Became a Professional Dominatrix. [online] VICE. Available at: https://www.vice.com/en/article/eva-oh-dominatrix-sex-kink/ [Accessed 9 Feb. 2025].

Youtube.com. (2025). Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t_Ng_b28uxM [Accessed 9 Feb. 2025].

‌Youtube.com. (2025). Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2_aCw-DMq0 [Accessed 9 Feb. 2025].

‌

[leighsartworks216]

I would LOVE to see 28 or 31 from the touching prompt list with Sylus !!

I'm Sorry (I Still Love You)

Sylus x gn!Reader

Prompt from this list

28 - feeling for each other in the dark

I spent half the day making cake pops. I'm so tired ;-;

Warnings: hurt/comfort, no dialogue, established relationship, literal sleeping together, cuddling, arguing

Word Count: 725

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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The argument was stupid. Certainly nothing worth remembering the source of, but its aftershocks rumbled enough to form a crack between you and Sylus. A deep, yawning chasm that neither of you is willing to cross. You’re both stubborn. Too stubborn to admit you’re wrong, let alone that the other is right.

But you’re also too stubborn to go to the guest bedroom. And Sylus isn’t one to give up territory easily.

That is how you found yourselves in his large bed, laying on opposite sides of the mattress, with your backs to each other. It’s not like this doesn’t hurt - you hate it, hate laying there without the warm, solid protection he brings wrapped around you - but this argument isn’t going anywhere when you’re both so pent up. It’ll just deteriorate into another big mess.

You try not to imagine his thoughts as you tug the blankets higher around your neck and shoulders. They do very little to block out the cold chill that is ever-present in his room, but you’d use paper towels if it meant proving a point. The rustling is deafening in the silence. His steady breaths and erratic heartbeat are too far away.

Seconds tick by, drawn out until each one feels as long as an hour or more. Sleep evades you. Mocks you. Taunts you alongside the dim light of your digital clock. Only 30 minutes have passed. You’re cold, emotionally exhausted, physically drained. If you can just fall asleep; if you can just close your eyes and drift away, you won’t have to think about it any longer.

You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your cold nose under the edge of the blanket…

…..

…….

Nothing happens. Time ticks by. You don’t want to be the first one to break. You don’t want to be the one to give in and give him the satisfaction of a victory, no matter how desperate you are.

The sheets rustle, but you remain still. You hate the jolt of panic that runs through your veins. The fear that he’s going to leave, sleep on the couch or even in another room entirely. Leave you utterly alone. Cold.

You jolt again when something touches your back. It pulls away just as quick, but you can feel its radiating warmth just behind you. Right there. A bridge across the canyon that divides this bed, a bed that has a divot in the center after so long.

Time passes, but it remains. You swear you can hear his anticipation. Hear the silent pleas of his heart that beg for permission to touch you again. Even if he can’t hold you, even if you don’t give him that much, all he wants is one small anchor to you.

You wonder how long he would wait there. Wonder if he would keep his hand resting on the bed inches away just for the chance to stay somehow close. Wonder if he’d wait minutes or hours before sliding it away, slinking back to his half of the bed, to his lonely island.

You wonder because you’ll never know the answers.

You slowly reach your arm out behind you, seeking. He stays still, waiting. The first brush of skin is ecstasy. His warm fingers that shift and curl to hold your hand. That slip so effortlessly between your own, like they’ve made a home there that can never be forgotten. He soothes his thumb over your knuckles, a silent message.

I love you. I’m sorry we’re fighting, but I still love you.

All it takes is one little tug to join the walls of the chasm together. One little tug to have this large, imposing man turning over and sliding over to your side.

His hand never lets go of yours as he curls himself around you. He exudes heat like a furnace. It chases the cold away, effectively banishing it out of the blankets, out of the bed. Your intertwined hands rest together on your stomach, adjusted so his palm rests against the back of your hand. You align your other arm along his where it wraps around you, your palm to the back of his hand this time.

The rustling settles for the final time tonight. SIlence blankets the room once more, relieved of its oppressive harshness. The only sounds are your shared breaths and beating hearts.

---

Tag List:

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[misc-obeyme]

requesting "don't test me" with lucifer (and then she does)

ty i luv u

Hello, anon!

Okay, so the prompt was "Don't tempt me," but I still had him tell MC not to test him, so we got a bit of both lol. Also I know you didn't necessarily indicate an AFAB reader, but that's what I ended up doing. Hopefully that's okay!

Thank you for participating!

1,000 Followers Event!

AFAB!MC x Lucifer with prompt "Don't tempt me."

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: cockwarming, penetration (reader receiving)

Once again, Lucifer found himself sitting at his desk doing paperwork late into the night. Everyone else in the house was either asleep or quiet in their rooms. For once, he could focus on the pile of work he still had to get through.

And he did focus, even though you were sitting on his lap with his cock snugly inside you.

Lucifer would never admit it, but he had a tendency to indulge you. When you came into his office earlier that night to sit with him, he didn’t protest. Your presence made him feel content and he enjoyed having you near him. But it was clear rather quickly that you did not intend to simply sit idly while he worked. And when you finally asked, Lucifer gave in after only a little bit of prodding.

That was how he ended up with his lap full of you, his arms on either side of you as he continued to work, your head leaning back on his shoulder. Your hands were on the desk, holding papers still for him as he wrote. He occasionally moved your hands where he needed them.

You had been doing so well, actually managing to stay still while he worked. But he noticed when you began to shift your hips every so often, like you were unable to hold yourself back from seeking some kind of friction. Lucifer didn’t acknowledge your movements, his pen never stopping.

Lucifer couldn’t deny that he enjoyed having you like this. The way your body clenched on his cock, sending little jolts of pleasure through him, made the hours of sitting at his desk a little more bearable. He never indicated this to you, his expression and movements remaining stoic as though he was unbothered by the way you were leaking all over him.

This went on for some time and Lucifer was actually impressed that you were able to cockwarm him for so long, only occasionally moving against him.

He still had quite the pile of work when it became evident that you were struggling with staying still. Your movements became more frequent and more obvious. You even let out a little whine that both concerned him and made his cock twitch.

When this happened, he said, “Be still, MC. As you can see I still have a lot of work to get through.”

“I’ve been still this whole time,” you said. “Can’t you take a break?”

Lucifer wanted to give into you immediately, but the paperwork on his desk taunted him. “No,” he said firmly. “I told you that you would have to wait until I’m finished and I am nowhere near done.”

You turned your head toward him, nuzzling into him and kissing his neck. You took one of your hands off his desk to reach up and run your fingers down his cheek. “Please, Lucifer…”

Lucifer grabbed your hand and put it back on his desk. “Don’t tempt me,” he said. His tone was strict, not flirty, and you sighed against him.

Lucifer managed to get through only a small amount of work before you started up again, shifting on his lap. He attempted to ignore it, not wanting to give in to you.

At this point, though, you had had enough and you very deliberately braced your hands on the desk so you could raise yourself up. Once you reached the tip of his cock, you sat back down in one swift motion. The feeling of finally having some movement inside you made you moan.

Lucifer dropped his pen and grabbed your hips, keeping you pressed to him. “Do not test my patience, MC.”

You still squirmed in his grip. “What about my patience?” you asked, letting just a hint of a whine into your voice. “I’m running out.”

“You should have considered that before you proposed this idea,” Lucifer said.

You groaned, now actively struggling against him. “Can’t you ever give in? Just once?”

Lucifer’s irritation with you peaked and he realized there was no way he would be able to finish his work when you were like this. He secretly blamed himself for giving into you to begin with, but there was no way he would let you think that.

Lucifer lifted you easily as he stood up from his chair, pushing you down over his desk. There was still paperwork beneath you, but he didn’t bother to move it out of the way. In that moment, he no longer cared.

Lucifer leaned over you, pressing close to your ear. “I hope this is what you wanted, MC.”

Lucifer didn’t give you the chance to answer as he stood back up, keeping one hand on your hip.

He put his other hand on the small of your back, keeping you in place as he began to thrust. He was not gentle, he was far past that, and the sounds of your whimpers only made him go faster.

You squirmed under him, no doubt overwhelmed by how deep he was inside you, hitting hard with every thrust, your body bouncing as he ramped up the pace and intensity. He was lost in your heat, feeling only the sweetness of you around him, his own pleasure building as he moved in you. The sound and scent of your arousal made him a little dizzy.

Your noises became louder as your orgasm approached, your hands gripping the desk, moving the papers that were still beneath you.

You cried out as your climax hit, your cum coating his dick as he clenched your hip hard, the hand on your back pressing down roughly.

And then Lucifer stopped moving.

You stayed sprawled over the desk, your cheek pressed against some stray paper, breathing hard as you slowly came down from your high.

After a moment you looked back over your shoulder. Lucifer frowned at you, his cock still hard inside you.

“Will you be able to sit still now?” he asked.

Lucifer lifted you from his desk, sitting back down in his chair and settling you in his lap the way he had you before. He picked up one of your hands, his fingers gently rubbing against a smudge of ink there before he placed it on top of his papers again.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Lucifer wrapped his arms around your waist and gently kissed your neck.

“I only need you to hold on a little longer,” he said quietly into your ear. “Having you here like this makes it easier for me to get through all of this work. If you can hold me until I’m finished, I will be at your mercy for the rest of the night.”

Lucifer knew what saying this to you would do and he was pleased to feel you shudder slightly. You were likely imagining him carrying you to his room, catering to your every whim, giving into you entirely, letting you have whatever you wanted from him. It wasn’t something he did often. But every once in a while, he let himself be vulnerable with you.

You re-positioned yourself for a moment, then let out a soft sigh. You put your hands on the desk, settling them back on the papers for him. “How can I say no to that?”

Lucifer chuckled, repositioning your hands a little before picking up his pen. “I will endeavor to get through the remainder quickly so I can take care of you properly.”

You settled in, your body still tired and throbbing from the orgasm you had bent over his desk. You took the time to rest as well as you could with his cock still inside you, knowing you would need your energy for later.

1,000 Followers Event | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[nyxcreate]

OCD caused by Non Dualism (“seeking”) tips+

So I’ll be honest, I don’t really make posts about Non dualism because I don’t feel like I’ve understood it the way other people did. They’ve seemed to find this permanent bliss, that I stayed seeking for, FOR MONTHS, (more than 7 months) and really just losing my mind. That non dual state of mind felt so good and I wanted it so bad! I’ve seen many tumblr asks with seekers and I’m sure there are many people who’ve just really understood it and resonated with it. I wanted to share my two cents on it, because I’m sure there other folks who could really use the advice instead of hearing “just NOTICE!!!”.

So please note, once again I won’t say anything bad about traditional non duality/Advaita Vedanta. I’m merely speaking from my own experience, my own struggles and how I’ve really sort of overcome it. And if you’ve found the NOTHINGNESS and CONSCIOUSNESS, all props to you! Keep scrolling this isn’t for you!

—————————————————————

One thing I’ve come to realize later on is how much the mind watching was actually damaging, and not natural at all! It felt like i was looking into something- all the time, feeling the contractions in my body, trying to get rid of it. Naming everything. Trying not to name everything, or label. Trying to notice more. Trying to notice there wasn’t any labels! Trying to notice who was the one doing the noticing. Trying to notice that there was no one noticing. Hell even trying not to TRY. Reading posts, watching videos, hoping something would click. I know how this sounds, but sometimes I’d get excited when I was reaching my breaking point of noticing; because that’s when the bliss would return. So much that you can’t take it anymore; and all that’s left is that pretty empty state of mind that just feels soooo good!

Your world is at your feet, everyone is treating you with kindness. You’re treating everyone with so much love. Life can’t get any better. Until you’re hit with the sudden realization “how do i maintain this, what if I start seeking again?” and there you are; your “me” has returned. But every time it gets easier, doesn’t it? And every time; even if it gets easier, you’re wishing you never found Non Duality in the first place. Now how do I get rid of the “me” again . . .

I’m very done with non dualism. Funny thing is, I don’t even disagree with the non dual “experience”; because it’s just so true. The core of emptiness is there! But honestly, I’m so done with the teachings.

I never thought I would be able to say that I was done with this philosophy. I really thought it would be there in the back of my mind FOREVER. Doing backflips and whatnot to feel the emptiness, the bliss. But enough about that …

I’ve stopped with traditional non duality where it says “keep noticing!” “who’s the one noticing?” “the noticer and the noticed it one!” and realized; as Tony Parsons and Jim Newman and even Non duality fun on youtube had taught me, there is no one doing the noticing. The “radical” non dualism that traditional non dualists seem to hate has been a lifesaver. The pretty state of mind that you are searching for, the search may be there but there is no one doing the searching. If there is no one doing the searching, then what’s happening? It is OBVIOUSLY happening. I am DEFINITELY searching.

No, there is no one doing the searching. It just is. No reason for it at all.

Anyways, while I encourage everyone to look into radical non dualism; or Tony Parson and Jim Newman’s ways of teachings, I’ve also moved on from their lessons. I’ve learned to tackle the OCD by not listening to the compulsions, by no longer looking into the mind. And yes take it step by step, because I know how difficult it seems to just not listen to the compulsions. that would be my advice for sure. Start looking into radical non dualism and recognize that the seeker is just not there. There is no “higher” state of consciousness. The divide that you see between the “me” and the “consciousness; bliss” state; there is no divide at all. It’s all just happening. Once that’s been established; go ahead and live your life. If needed, later look into how you can treat your OCD.

…and again, non dualism has provided amazing insights that I’m forever grateful for. :) The challenges are nothing in comparison to the knowledge gained.

[slowlyoats]

The Lost Boys: When they break up with or are broken up with by their S/O

******Note: This post definitely makes the boys come off super toxic, so if that's not your thing you've been warned******

Marko 

I could see him being the one to break Hearts

His artsy fartsy ways of doing things aren’t for everyone 

And he’s a bit of hot head, so I could see him starting fights with his S/O over nothing 

I think his S/O would feel like they were walking around on eggshells whenever they were around Marko and it would become to much eventually 

He can be so thoughtful and genuine with his S/O, but then in another moment be so cruel 

He gets bored easily, and will just stop hanging out with you mid relationship because he just not “inspired anymore”

I think he is the type of person to not care about who does the breaking up either 

If you want to break up with him? Fine. He doesn’t care, and to prove that point he will throw any belongings of yours that you left in the cave, right into the ocean

If he sees you on the boardwalk, and you try to talk to him? He will pretend like he never met you before and introduce himself. 

Yep, he's that type of asshole 

He’s not afraid to break things off himself either

Except when he does it full of theatrical flare, and usually ends in blood 

Paul

I Think most of his break ups were do to him being a little bit of a player

It’s not his fault that when he sees a beautiful woman walking down the boardwalk he checks them out!

Or that when you two were at a party he lets some other randoms grind on him

The worst part is that he won’t take responsibility for it either 

He will just blame it on his “vampire instincts” 

He still acts like a teenager too, which is S/O finds infuriating 

He won’t wash unless reminded too, so he’s a little smelly and he tries to hide it with cheap cologne 

He never has any money and has to constantly asks for an allowance from David or money from his S/O

I think Paul has a new girlfriend every few days too

It’s to the point where whenever he introduces a new girlfriend to the boys they don’t even bother learning their name. 

And sometimes Paul won’t even bother introducing them in the first place because he know they don’t tend to last 

Of course he doesn’t believe he has anything to do with it. He just blames it on how “Santa Carla women are”

So all these thing together could force his S/O to break up with him 

I think it would happen on the boardwalk too

The two of you meet, and as your telling him your breaking up with him, he checks out someone mid convo 

I think his S/O would just give up halfway through their “I’m breaking up with you” speech and just walk away 

Unfortunately, I don’t think Paul would really care 

I don’t think his relationships ever truly reach the serious stage

He prefers his relationships unclear and full of spontaneity 

He’s also very lazy, so he’s fine when someone breaks up with him so he doesn’t have to put the effort into doing it himself 

Dwayne 

he is a very private person, and rarely seeks out human companionship unless it is to secure his next meal 

But every once in a while he meets a human he moderately like more than most humans and decides to pursue them

When this happens he never introduces them to the boys and never brings them back to the cave 

In his mind their secret is far too valuable to risk it’s exposure 

Because of this his S/O can get frustrated that Dwayne doesn’t share at lot of his personal life with them 

So The relationship can feel very one sided 

Dwayne is also really bad with verbal communication and tends to lean on non verbal cues to get his point across 

I think Dwayne also has a “thing” about people breaking up with him so if he suspects that the relationship has run its course he will just end things first 

He also has this other “thing” where he can’t stand seeing someone he used to be in a relationship with be with another person….so usually when he breaks up with someone it also ends in a meal 

David 

Like we all know, David likes to be in control.

He’s the leader that calls the shots no questions asked

This would definitely be same when he is in a relationship

He chooses where they go, who they hang out with, and what they do in general

I think his S/O would be okay with this at first. They knew what they signed up for when they started dating him

And they would definitely believe that the positives in their relationship would outway the negatives.

Sure David won't let them go for a walk by themselves, but at least they're safe right?

And they can’t choose what they wear either, but that's just because David knows best.

But like most things the reality of who David is would probably be wayyyyy too much for most people. 

I think once David’s S/O removed their rose colored glasses and realized they wanted out

 It would be a  huge challenge to convince David of this fact

David’s S/O:  David, we need to talk.

*David fixing something on his chair* What did you say Sweetheart?

David’s S/O:  David I’m not happy I don't want to be with you anymore.

*David pretending to look around the cave for something* I don’t think I heard you right, love. What did you want again?

David’s S/O: David….

David: It’s okay love, you don’t need to talk. Why don’t you keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut and let's go for a ride with the boys. 

I think once his S/O managed to get him to acknowledge the fact that they wanted out of the relationship, one of two things would happen.

David would drain you himself, or give you to the boys to drain

or

David’s complex would not allow the thought he was being broken up with so, I could see him using his mind control powers to change your mind into staying with him

This wouldn't last long though. I can only imagine a person being mind controlled to be in love with you would get kind of old after a while. And David is kind of a jerk

So, I could see David mind wiping his S/O and leaving them somewhere to fend for themselves

[kyoshithewriter]

Millennium

Part four: Cherry Pie.

Warnings: Jude is morally… something. Mature themes(mentions of murder, smut 18+). Angst

A/n: going up to chapter 5 to see how this goes lol. Enjoy?

The chill blast from the open fridge feels like needles against her face. They’re well into fall now, so the temperatures have dropped significantly; throw in the chill of the air conditioning inside the grocery store, it’s no surprise she’s shivering to her bones as she stands in front of the open fridge. “Well maybe if you’d just grab a drink and go”… her subconscious retorts. But, for some strange reason, she can’t. Her first instinct was to reach for the pomegranate flavour and that made her pause. She has been overthinking that little fact lately. Growing up, she was never really a fan of pomegranates or anything with the flavour; she didn’t despise it but she would never willingly choose it. Thinking back, she realized that she subconsciously became a fan of the fruit around the time of her 24th birthday. Teas, juices, sorbets, yogurts, smoothies and even the fruit in its natural form, no matter how much of a hassle they are, she suddenly started seeking them all out and she doesn’t know what it means. She’s freaking the fuck out. And even now, as she stands in front of the open fridge with a variety of options, she still only wants pomegranate juice. Aleena sighs in defeat, removing the apple juice from her cart to reach for a bottle of the dark red liquid instead.

**************

[Katie. 5:30 pm.]: Just found out that Madz, Tiffany and Chloe also got the weekend off. Wanna hit up Ole Jack’s for some beers later?

Aleena slowly chews the rice in her mouth as she contemplates. Go have some drinks with your nice enough coworkers or sit at home and obsess over whether or not you should reach out to Jude like you have been doing these past three weeks? She hasn’t heard from him at all since he left and she feels like she’s going crazy. She would almost think he was a figment of her imagination if it weren’t for the ongoing search for the men still being considered as missing, and his saved contact in her phone that she stares at for hours while she weighs her mind and opts to chicken out every time. It’s getting ridiculous.

[Aleena. 5:34 pm]: I’d love to. What time?

******

Ole Jack’s is exactly the kind of bar you’d imagine in a small, rural town. Outdated decor, crooked wooden stools, cracked windows and an old, ugly pool table smack dab in the middle. It doesn’t matter; the people who come here don’t care about appearance, they want to get drunk and share laughs. Aleena gingerly takes a sip of the bottle she has been nursing all night while her coworkers regale different accounts of weird patients they have seen.

“And then, I swear on everything. It was a piece of cucumber… half of a cucumber up his ass!” Chloe yells and the group erupts in boisterous laughter. Aleena has to physically fight the urge to cover her ears. Instead, she plasters a small smile on her face hoping she looks like she’s having a good time.

“Gosh, what about Mrs. Stevens with that whole, frozen trout stuck in her vajajay.” Katie says with clear disgust in her tone and the frown on her mouth.

“Can you believe it? Miss holier-than-thou who wants to make snide remarks at me if I miss church some Sundays because I’m tired from my shift the night before? She hasn’t looked me in my face since.”

The group breaks out in giggles again while Aleena fidgets uncomfortably. She’s sure they’ve just broken some ethical code right there and she wishes more than anything to be in her bed right now. It doesn’t help that she has no idea who half the people they’re discussing are.

“So, Aleena. What’s new? I like your hair.”

Tiffany directs all four pairs of blue eyes on her and Aleena almost shivers. She also notices that Tiffany makes a point of only complimenting her hair when she wears wigs or sew-ins, and she’s currently sporting the latter. She took her time this morning perfecting her sew-in of 24 inches of straight black human hair with a middle part that frames her high cheekbones well. She had to learn to do her hair herself living in a town like this.

“Do you only like my hair when it’s not in braids or curly?” She accidentally blurts. Awkward silence descends on the group.

“W-what? No! I like your… long plaits too!” She sputters with redness on her cheeks.

“Oh, I’m sorry I just noticed you always only compliment my hair when it’s... I was just making sure there’s no underlying reason for that.” Aleena says cautiously.

Maddison clears her throat loudly.

“Guess who asked me out yesterday when I ran into him at the gas station?” All eyes immediately divert to Katie’s grinning form and Aleena sighs in relief as they begin to gossip and squeal.

It’s twenty past 11, when Aleena is on her third beer, that the sheriff walks in with another officer accompanying him. She looks up just in time to make eye contact with the tall middle aged man with a thick mustache as he languidly makes his way in her direction. A sudden hush falls over the bar except for the country music that plays quietly in the background.

“Ms. Aleena Clarke?” The sheriff’s gruff voice forces her posture upright.

“Yes?” She responds meekly. Her palms are sweaty and her heart races like hummingbird wings in her chest. She feels as if she’s on the verge of passing out.

“Would you mind coming outside with us for a few minutes? We have some questions for you.”

She knows she doesn’t have a choice so she gives a subtle nod of her head and stands to follow as they lead her out the building. The sound of her heeled boots are loud in the now quiet bar and she keeps her eyes on the sheriff’s back to avoid the prying eyes prickling at her skin. They lead her over to their van and Aleena cuddles into her burnt orange sweater. She’s grateful for the temperature outside, they’ll think she’s shivering from the cold and not from the overwhelming anxiety buzzing under the surface of her skin like a million stinging bees.

“Good evening, Ms. Clarke. No need to be worried now. I’m sure you’ve heard about the two fellas that went missing recently? Well we ran the footage from the nearest cameras outside the store about 12 minutes away from here. You were seen walking home from work at 11:10 there about. Did you happen to see them at any point that night?” The sheriff asks as softly as his gruff voice allows. His eyes stay locked on her face.

Aleena swallows, hugging herself tighter.

“Um, yes. I saw the van that night. They drove past me while I was on my way home but that’s it.” She tries giving a nonchalant shrug.

“And in what direction were they headed, Ms. Clarke?” He asks distractedly as he jots down some words in a little, stained notepad.

“Heading in the same direction as me, up the street.” She mutters, gripping at the material of her sweater.

“I see, and were you able to see in the truck? Were both men inside?” He looks up at her attentively again.

“Uh, not really. I saw the driver and another passenger for sure but I couldn’t see their faces that well.”

Aleena wants to throw up. These were men with families. Families who are probably distraught. Well maybe they shouldn’t have tried to do whatever the fuck they were planning to do? She’s at war with herself. Because yes, it was obvious they were planning something very sinister if Jude hadn’t stopped them, hell, they would’ve probably killed her for all she knows. But she also feels like the people that knew them deserve some closure at least. But closure comes with too great a cost to her. Does protecting a murderer make her as morally bankrupt as he is?

“Strange that their truck was found in that location then if they were headed in that direction…” the sheriff scrubs a hand harshly down his face before releasing a deep sigh. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Clarke and apologies for doing this here in front of everyone. We visited the hospital but were informed by a colleague that it was your day off and you had plans here with friends.”

“It’s no problem at all.”

“Enjoy the rest of your night ma’am. Charles, let’s go.”

Aleena stands outside, guilt sitting like a boulder in the pit of her stomach, watching as the truck pulls out of the lot.

*******************

Drinking wine after a night out with three rounds of beer is not smart, especially for someone with low alcohol tolerance like herself; but Aleena is stressed. She had sent Katie a text on her walk home, deciding that going back inside the bar to be grilled and stared at was the last thing she needed in that moment. She thought a warm shower would help her relax- it didn’t. It only provided a safe space for her to sob loudly in. When the cup of tea didn’t help, she figured she needed something stronger- something to make her forget. So she pulled out a bottle of wine.

[Aleena. 1:43 am]: The sheriff had some questions for me today.

She stares at the message she just sent. The liquor in her system finally made her brave enough to do it.

She sees the exact moment he reads the message. She holds her breath as the bubbles pop up in the chat.

[Jude. 1:46 am]: What did you tell them, Aleena?

[Jude. 1:47 am]: Actually, not like this. I’ll be there tomorrow.

She chokes on air at his message. He’s coming back. He’s going to be in her home again.

[Aleena. 1:49 am]: okay.

************

The smell of sweet cherries permeates the air of her kitchen and living room. She’s not sure why she thinks he would like cherry pie, but she remembers well how much he smells like cherries and thought it would be a good idea. Does he even eat? She examines the crust on the pastry, golden and flaky. It looks perfect. She hopes he’ll like it. She chucks the mittens off her hands and reaches for the almost empty water bottle to swallow the remaining greedily. It’s been her fourth bottle in the span of two hours as she tries to fight off her hangover. The single, firm knock at her front door startles her so badly she drops the bottle from her hand. Aleena hurries to pick up and discard the bottle before she races over to the front door.

“Jude?” She calls out softly, just to make sure.

“It’s me.”

Aleena hurries to undo the bolts and swings the door open. She almost wants to throw her arms around him, she’s not sure what’s going on with her. It’s obvious he hasn’t shaved since she last saw him and she hopes it’s by choice. He looks so so good with facial hair. He wears a black turtleneck beneath his open trench coat.

“Are you alright? You look tired.” Is what he greets her with.

Aleena chuckles; “You don’t sugarcoat anything, do you?” She steps aside and allows him inside, locking the door behind him.

“I’m sorry, was that offensive? You just don’t look well rested and I’m concerned.” He murmurs gently. He drops the medium sized duffle bag wrapped in plastic from his shoulder and onto her floor unceremoniously.

“Well, I suppose it isn’t if it’s true. I drank a lot then had a restless nap last night.”

Jude frowns deeply, expression painted with concern.

“I’ll be staying in town for a few days to make sure nothing happens.” He says coolly.

Aleena freezes.

“What do you intend to do if they decide to arrest me? Kill them?” She questions cautiously.

“Yes?” He responds quizzically.

“You actually intend on wiping out the entire sheriff’s department?!” She fires at him, cocking a brow.

“If I have to.” He says with a nonchalant shrug.

Aleena sputters. “Jude!”

“Yes, Aleena?” He cocks his head innocently.

“No! No more killing!”

He frowns at her and her eyes widen in complete bewilderment.

“So I’m supposed to allow them to arrest you?”

“I, fuck. I don’t know. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. He just asked me if I saw them that night because the camera outside some store picked me up walking from work around the time they suspected they went missing.” She huffs in frustration.

“What did you tell them?” He narrows his eyes at her.

“I… some of the truth? That I did see them drive past me but that’s it.”

Jude scrubs a hand down his face, clearly exasperated.

“You shouldn’t have told them that. You should’ve told them you saw nothing. If you’re their only lead they’ll never leave you alone.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t- I just thought if I told them I hadn’t when it was around the same time that it would’ve backfired and made me seem more suspicious.” She whispers meekly, rubbing at the length of her arms.

“I guess you’re also right.” He sighs. “I need a shower, I’ll be ba-”

“You can use mine.” She blurts, interrupting him.

Silence. He stares at her with a contemplative expression on his face.

“It’s just, I figured you might be tired from your journey? Did you like, run here? Oh my- are you fast enough to run on water?”

Jude chuckles at her wide- eyed expression.

“For a bit but I’m too heavy for it I guess. But I swim just as fast. I can’t do airports so…”

That’s right, he’s being hunted like an animal. She shivers in disgust.

“Well, that’s really cool. So yea, best if you use my shower so you can relax a bit. Plus I baked a pie i-if you would like some.”

“I would love a slice, actually.”

*****************

He’s wearing a t-shirt. Jude is wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants and it’s throwing her for a loop. Granted, she hasn’t seen him plenty, but she would have never imagined him not wearing a button down shirt with slacks. She’s sure he feels her staring but he just scarfs down the pie like a man starved while keeping his eyes fixed on the tv.

“If Japheth wasn’t like you, why did you trust her enough with your secret? Was it something similar to what you feel with me?” She had told herself she’d wait until he finished eating and settled a bit but the questions physically burned at the tip of her tongue.

Jude pauses mid-bite.

“Not like you but I don’t know, we just felt compelled to trust her. When we first met her I thought I was crazy for feeling it but then Christian said it too and it’s still a puzzle to this day.”

“Oh.” Aleena tries to shake the stupid buzz of jealousy under her skin. “What was she like?”

Aleena subtly frowns at the fond smile on his face.

“Wild. Rebellious. I met her in the late 1700s. She was leading a small group through the woods one night. She devised the plan of escape from the plantation and everything. She was set to be publicly executed the next day for beating a slave owner to a bloody pulp after he tried… forcing himself on her. Christian and I happened to be going along that way when we saw them. She was ready to fight us to protect the others.” He chuckles with a far away look on his face. “We offered help which she reluctantly accepted. When she found out what we were and how we also went about in secret freeing the ones we could, she immediately hopped on board.”

“Shit…” Aleena is usually a lot more eloquent but she’s genuinely lost for words. It never occurred to her that he’s lived through these horrors; not only that, but knowing he actually got involved is almost befuddling.

“Were you two… you know? A thing?” She avoids eye contact as she straightens her spine awkwardly.

“A thing? What do you mean?” Jude asks, confusion clear in the frown on his face.

“Did you go out with her?”

“Go out with her? I went outside with her all the time…”

“No, Jude, as in-”

“I know what you meant, I was just teasing.” He interrupts with a low chuckle.

Aleena rolls her eyes at him but she can’t fight the tiny smile that creeps onto her face. He’s funny.

“But no, we didn’t. She had a lover and it just didn’t feel right either way. She was an amazing woman and an even better friend but that’s it. She’s the last real friend I’ve had besides Christian.” He takes the last bite of the sweet pastry before leaning over to gingerly place the plate on the small table.

“Well, you can now consider me your friend.” She doesn’t fight the urge to reach over and grasp his hand in a gentle squeeze. She feels for him; to be around for hundreds of years on the run to- oh no…

“Oh my goodness, Jude. Does that mean you-” she swallows thickly; “does that mean you just had to watch all your family just…” she doesn’t even want to say it. But when she looks up at him to see him nod solemnly, her eyes mist over with tears. She reaches over and envelopes him in a hug. He stiffens, but she doesn’t care. She hugs him tighter. He’s warm and very very solid and smells so so good. She feels his hands hovering over her back, reluctant.

“Hug me back, Jude. It’s okay.” She whispers wetly into the hollow of his throat. He hesitates for another second, then he wraps his arms around her. He exhales harshly above her head and absolutely melts into her body. She’s not sure how long they stay in each other’s embrace, but when she finally pulls away Jude is blinking his eyes rapidly.

“Thank you. I haven’t had a hug in a while.” He clears his throat after his voice cracks towards the end of his sentence.

They sit in awkward silence.

“Would you like more pie?”

***********************

Aleena is antsy as she scrolls on Netflïx desperately. They have been sitting in awkward silence and Jude is already on his third slice of pastry; she can’t keep offering him pie every time silence envelopes them to make sure he doesn’t leave. She needs to find something to keep him entertained. She wants him to stay longer despite the sun having retired for the day.

“What genres of movies do you enjoy?” She asks, peeking at him from her peripheral to find him already staring at her side profile. Her breath hitches quietly.

“Do you have a lover, Aleena?”

The question catches her so off guard that chokes on her saliva. She faces him, wide- eyed and flustered at the way he stares at her unblinkingly.

“I… um- no. Not at the moment, no.” She bites her bottom lip to physically stop herself from rambling some more.

“Why not?”

Aleena squirms in place. His voice is too smooth, too rich. Her brain does weird things sometimes, like associate words or voices with foods or drinks. She imagines his voice would be like an expensive bottle of aged- whisky; the kind that glides down your throat with ease but leaves behind a slight burn.

She clears her throat with a little more volume than she intended as she clicks on some movie about some Lady called Chatterley.

“Well, I had one, like two years ago back in New York. We met in college but since I was moving across the country and he didn’t want to do that we broke up.”

He chuckles lowly but doesn’t respond.

“What does that mean?” She mutters in his direction. He didn’t try to conceal the condescending way he laughed.

“Just… when you spoke about him just now, your heart rate didn’t spike one bit. Usually, when people mention lovers, past or present, their heart races even just a little. You had more reaction to the question I asked you first. Just tells me everything I need to know, is all.” He faces the screen looking as calm as ever. Aleena, on the other hand, is freaking the fuck out. It never occurred to her that he could literally hear her heart beating.

“And what’s that, Jude?” She whispers the question, keeping her eyes glued to the screen. The woman has made her way into some shack in the woods. She’s alone with the man that’s apparently keeping their birds? She’s not sure, she hasn’t been paying attention until now; now when they meet in a heated kiss.

“That you probably never liked him. Did you just date him because he was available? Hm?”

She swallows thickly. Her posture becomes ramrod straight. Now the man on screen lifts the hem of the woman’s dress and unbuckles his pants as he…

“Um…” Aleena is tongue tied and she tries desperately to not look over at him no matter how she can physically feel his eyes burning her skin. Lady Chatterley’s moans pitch higher on screen. Aleena physically shivers, trying to subtly clench her thighs together.

“Why does it matter?” Her voice is so breathy and she wants to slap herself for being so obvious. She’s sure he can hear her heart going a mile a minute in her chest.

“Pointless dating is something I’ll never understand, especially in your case, wasting years you don’t have staying with a person just because you think you have to. Did he even make you feel good, Aleena?”

Aleena feels like tearing up at the overwhelming tension. It’s so thick, almost suffocating. But so so exciting. The anticipation licks up her spine like lightning. She knows something will happen but she just doesn’t know what. She just hopes it ends with him being as deep inside her as her body will allow.

“I- he was nice enough, Jude.” She answers meekly, nails digging into her thighs to stop herself from fidgeting too much. A bead of sweat gathers along her temple even in the cool of her apartment.

“Not like that, Aleena. Like the woman on screen. Listen to her. Did he make you sound like that?”

Aleena turns to stare right back into his intense brown eyes rimmed with gold.

“Can you?” She’s not sure where the sudden surge of courage comes from but she fires the question at him before her brain could properly process it.

“I can show you, Aleena.” He challenges but even as his voice deepens, his demeanor doesn’t change. He looks the perfect picture of calm and collected and it’s so fucking hot. Aleena is on her knees and launching herself at him before she can blink. But he is quick. Quick enough to grasp her firmly under jaw with his right hand. His fingers dig into her cheeks as he locks her in place with his hand. Aleena whimpers, the place between her legs pulsing.

“Know this, Aleena. I don’t do lovers. If we’re doing this, it’s just sex; nothing else.” His eyes hold her captive and all she can do is nod helplessly. She doesn’t care, even if it’s just for the night. She stares at his plump lips, transfixed. Can he hear how her heart is racing in anticipation? His nostrils flare as he drinks in the anticipation on her face.

“Pomegranates.” His gruff voice cuts through the haziness of her brain.

“What?” She whispers, puzzled.

“Your safe word, Aleena. Pomegranates.”

Her stomach flips. It feels like a warning, like he intends to push her body to the absolute limit. And Aleena? She almost starts panting like a dog, nipples tightening beneath her shirt.

“Okay.”

[tkaulitzlvr]

THE WRONG WAY - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: tom hasn’t been paying you enough attention lately, and, when you finally snap, he can’t understand where you are coming from, until you reach your breaking point. can the issues between you and him be resolved?

content: angst

a/n: pulled this out of my ass lol, i had to rush it because i’m in the middle of another req but it’s nowhere near done after like three hours of writing so i’ll have to finish and post it tomorrow. sorry if there are mistakes, i only proofread veryyy briefly cause i’m so tired rn😭 hope this is okay tho!!

"you don't love me."

i voice the harsh words to the silent room, clearly and with every sense of belief behind my statement. to my discomfort, saying it out loud does not make me feel any more at ease, in fact seeing the way tom’s entire body breaks for a second, processing what i had just said, before trying to cover the hurt on his face up, only suffocates me even more. the lump in my throat only gets bigger, the tension in the air thickening by the second.

"wow." he begins, shaking his head, trying to wrap his head around how i could even come to that conclusion. "that’s an awful accusation." he glances at me, his eyes already glossy, giving me enough of an idea on how much i have hurt him by uttering those four words. however i stick to it, figuring that it is too late to back out now. within me, behind all the anger, all the upset, i feel that it is true. i sense that he no longer feels the same way he did when he met me, all those years ago, the love within his eyes slowly diminishing until it is now long gone.

"and also." he speaks, leaning forward and looking directly into my eyes, staying in his position spread on the end of the other couch. "it's not true. you know it isn't."

the pressure of his gaze leaves me unable to hold eye contact with him, looking away sheepishly into my lap, hoping that somehow the ground could swallow me up. i grit my teeth, locking my jaw in anger, feeling no reassurance from his quick denial of my statement. so i decide to challenge him, standing my ground despite the nausea only growing within me. though his voice seems somewhat certain, i refuse to believe that i am making it up, that it is all in my head. "do i though tom?"

my eyes meet his, except the ones looking into me are foreign. they are angry, a glint of hostility present within them that i had not yet witnessed, this change taking me aback, yet i refuse to look away. he is sad. those eyes, past the resentment in them, i see pain. i see sorrow. i have upset him, far beyond what he intends to let out. he is usually strong, and perhaps right now he thinks that he is keeping this up, yet i can read him like a book, the way his left brow furrows, creating a crease along his forehead, the way his eyes cannot focus on one thing, darting around the room, i can see that he is struggling. and whilst part of me hurts with him, hating to put him through any sort of distress, i need it right now. because i am tired of feeling unloved and unappreciated - regardless of whether tom intends to make me feel this way or not.

he shakes his head, scoffing slightly in disbelief, letting out a shaky sigh, before speaking up, his voice loud, in contrast to the silent room. "what, so i've been lying every single time i’ve told you that i love you, over the past six years that we've been together? mind you, i say that every day, without fail."

i stay silent, my eyes becoming glossy as they quickly tear away from his. he takes my silence as a cue to continue, my sudden belief that he does not love me angering him as he desperately seeks to remind me of every reason why i am in the wrong. "don't i do everything for you? make sure that you're always safe, give you my everything-"

"give me your money, you mean." i reply, cutting him off. i don’t want to seem ungrateful - i appreciate the way tom would spend any amount of money on me if it made me happy. i am thankful for the house he has given me, the vacations he takes me on, the things he buys me, but those things are not the reasons why i fell in love with him. i fell for tom kaulitz. not his money, not his fame, not his profession. i fell for who he is, for him as a person, whether he is rich or poor, yet it feels that day by day i lose a small part of that. i have always understood that his job means that he will be away a lot, but it is hard to be in a relationship with someone that can't always be there, only their fortunes can.

"i’m grateful for what you do for me, really i am, but i'd much rather have time with you than the latest gucci bag, or the newest chanel perfume. if it meant that i would have to live with nothing for the rest of my life, i would do it. don't you understand? i want you - not your money tom! i don't need you to apologise with gifts when i don’t see you all day, i just...i need you." i am desperate, craving for him to hear me out, to understand that it is him that i need, but the way he looks at me in confusion shows me that i am not going to achieve that.

"i thought you liked the things i buy for you. have you been lying?" he completely ignores the point that i have been trying to make, this only fuelling the frustration within me as i exhale shakily, quickly grasping onto the opportunity to argue my point once again.

"i do but that's not the point tom! i like them because i feel like it's all i get from you!" my voice is raising, something which i did not want to happen. shouting never solves the problem, however right now i am far too angry to care. "i just want some of your time, to feel like you actually care! when you're with me, you're here physically, but your mind is always elsewhere. i just miss you. i need to you be mine again, i-"

"look, i’m sorry okay?" he begins, harshly cutting me off and matching the volume in my voice. "i'm sorry that my job is more demanding than others, i’m sorry that it needs a lot of my attention, but i told you this from the beginning. my career is a big part of who i am and things aren't always easy. they get hard, they get tough, but-"

"that's my problem! when things get hard for you, i don't fucking know about it! because you shut me out, every. single. time. i'm your girlfriend, tom. i want to know about your life, i want to help you, but you always run away from me! you spoil me with gifts and money to compensate for every fucking time you leave me in the dark! i don't want it anymore. i just want you to communicate!" i move from the couch, walking to the middle of the room and standing a few feet away from him. his eyes are glued to me, watching my every step, and he is listening to me this time. "am i such a headache to be around, that you can't talk to me? that you can't deal with spending time with me, so instead you spend your money to try and shut me up, because you have so much that no matter what you buy, it doesn't affect you?"

"don't." he voices shakily as i stare into his eyes, his expression more wounded than ever. my words stab into him, hitting him harder than i had anticipated. his fists clench against his thighs, holding every ounce of frustration. though we have argued in the past, i have never seen him this upset, regardless of whether he intends to show it visibly or not. "you know that i don't think of you that way, even for a second. so stop."

"you can't blame me for thinking it tom." i shrug. "you leave me out of everything, i have no idea what's going on in your life anymore-"

“because i'm trying to fucking protect you!" he interrupts, raising his voice once again. his hand slams against the arm of the couch, the sudden contact causing me to wince slightly. "i'm sorry if you feel like i'm hiding things from you. but i know parts of my life would just stress you out and hurt you. don't you get that? i'm trying to save you from the pain-"

"i want the fucking pain!" i fire back. "we are supposed to be in a relationship. do you know what that means? i want to suffer with you. i would choose that, a million times over, if it meant that i could be with you for another day. i want every part of you, the sad, the happy, the angry, i want it all. can't you see that i need you? i hate being left in the dark. i absolutely fucking hate it.”

my voice pierces through his ears, diminishing the tense silence as tom gulps, clenching his jaw and leaning forwards, pinching his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. the rash and quick responses don’t allow me time to calm down, my eyes becoming glossy with tears, the salty liquid staining my cheeks before i can try to hold them back, my weakness just as evident as tom’s. the pain, the upset, the lack of affection that have been feeling all spills out, reeling outwards from within me as i let it out, no longer attempting to hold back.

he looks up, his face softening as he takes in my hurt expression. he has never seen me like this, so broken, and the fact that he is the cause of this pains him even more, his mind coming to the slow realisation that it is up to him to fix this. although he doesn’t fully understand how i could possibly believe that he does not love me, he wants to try, to try and see from my eyes. he lets out a shaky sigh, swallowing nervously before looking into my eyes.

"i would rather feel the sadness, suffer with you." i begin, my voice small as the tears quickly take away my physical strength. "i would do absolutely anything if it means that you will love me, that you will do it with me, tom."

"i don't live a normal life, and i just want to keep you away from the crazy things." he speaks slowly, trying to reason with me, refusing to turn his gaze away from mine. "some people want to hurt me, and i would never forgive myself if someone ever did anything to harm you."

i try to wipe my tears and calm my breathing, wrapping my arms around my small frame in an attempt to comfort myself, quickly becoming overwhelmed with the situation. but my mind acknowledges tom’s change in tone. not only is he more gentle and calm, he also seems sorry, like he now recognises where he went wrong.

"what do you want me to do?" he whispers, defeated as his tired eyes meet mine. he is no longer angry. he is desperate, longing to resolve this. "i'll do anything. i- i can't lose you. you're my world, schatz, and i'm sorry if i haven't shown it, but you are everything to me."

though there are millions of things i could say, i stay silent, standing still across the room. my heart clenches painfully, hurting at the sight of him so distraught, as his mind considers the dreaded idea of what losing me would be like. his world is crumbling before him, the one thing he seeks to protect seeming to slip through his fingers. i have never seen him like this, so vulnerable, so desperate, and whilst it comforts me to know that he is slowly letting down the walls that have prevented me from truly being with him, it saddens me to see him in such a distraught state.

"all i've ever wanted is to keep you safe. to keep you happy, liebe, because if you're happy then so am i. but you deserve more than this." he points to himself angrily, letting out a shaky sigh. "more than this fucking idiot, who doesn't even know how to love. i’m so sorry if i've done it the wrong way and made you feel like i don't care. because you shouldn't for a second think that i don't love you."

everything that i have been craving to see is happening in front of me. i have longed to see him open up, to break down the barriers that separate us both physically and mentally. i don’t want him to be strong all the time, and it hurts that he feels he has to be. the tears fall from my bloodshot eyes once again - this time out of sadness for him. i hurt with him, hating to see him so upset, but i understand his pain, his anger, and i feel every emotion along with him. for the first time in forever, i feel connected with him.

after a few moments of silence, he stands up, slowly walking towards me. i refuse to meet his gaze, fearing that i will break down once again i realise how hurt he truly is, and looking into his eyes will certainly display every emotion amongst his beautiful features. his hand brushes tenderly against my cheek, wiping a fresh tear that had fallen. he reaches towards my chin, using his pointer finger to angle my face upwards so it meets with his eyes. he towers over me, taking in the sorrow etched upon my face, before tucking the loose strands of hair behind my ears, gently caressing my cheek with his lips slightly parted, shaky breaths escaping from them.

"please, look at me." he whispers, gazing longingly into my eyes. i comply, shifting my own eyes to the deep brown ones in front of me. they are full of adoration, and i feel the man that i fell in love with slowly coming back to me. "i love you, so so much, please believe me schatz. you are the most important person in my life, and i am so sorry that i've made you feel the opposite way." he chokes up, his voice shaky as i can tell he is on the verge of tears.

i listen to him, allowing every word to sink in, as it is now no longer hard to trust what he says. i feel what i have been desperate to - love. i feel truly appreciated, like i am able to confide in him like i once could. though frustrated it took the both of us to get to this state to make him speak his mind, i appreciate him opening up, his apology making up for the lost time. there is no shame in being fragile, and through his entire conversation, we have both learned this, a new found appreciation for each other gained as i feel safe again.

"don't feel like you have to keep things to yourself. i’m your girlfriend, i'm supposed to be here for you, and i'll gladly do it, but you have to talk to me." i respond, lacing my hand with his. a soft smile spreads across his face, contrasting with his bloodshot eyes whilst he slowly nods.

"i hear you. i’m so sorry baby. i love you." he whispers, pulling me into a tight hug as his hands lace together around my waist. he lets out a sob onto my shoulder, my heart breaking at the sound. he clutches onto me tighter as if i may slip away, my own eyes tearing up once again. it has been a while since i felt like this. i feel loved, and it is all that i have ever wanted from the start.

he slowly pulls away, resting his forehead against mine and looking into my eyes through his eyelashes. after a few seconds, he leans inwards, until his lips touch mine. the kiss is gentle, carrying every promise to love and cherish me like he has failed to do, and i gladly accept it, kissing back quickly and wrapping my arms around his neck. he pulls away, planting a few pecks on my lips once again, his breath shaky as the remnants of tears stick to his cheeks. i slowly wipe them away, not breaking eye contact as i do so, gently caressing the soft skin until any trace of sadness is lost within our newfound love for each other.

a soft smile graces his lips, failing to wither as he kisses me once again, the same amount of passion as the last, making up for the lost affection as i feel more treasured than ever. this is all I have ever wanted, to feel like he cares, and now that i am feeling his affection, my mind is oozing with contentment, the feeling almost foreign it has been so long.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[joyfulexchristian]

Thank you for your blog! It’s exactly what I need right now.

I’m currently trying to construct my beliefs after a lifetime raised in the PCA (Presbyterian Church of America). It’s such a mindfuck because I can see how hateful a lot of PCA beliefs are and how when their theology is applied consistently it inevitably leads to abuse. It seems like the only ppl not fostering abuse in the system have twisted the words of the Bible to mean the opposite (ex: “this verse sounds like it’s saying x but if you go to the Greek blah blah it’s actually saying y.” Or “yes that verse does say that but obviously they’re applying it wrong. It was never meant to be taken that far” etc)

But even seeing all of this my coping mechanisms under stress are all still based in God. He was supposed to be the one constant thing and i don’t know what to do with that gone.

I feel like my beliefs are currently so fucked up. Trying to write down everything I feel is true and it’s ludicrously contradictory:

- there is no God

- Jesus is God

- after we did nothing happens. It’s the same as the space before we were born

- God has a plan to redeem suffering. All the pain in the world can’t be for nothing. People who live their whole lives in extreme duress and then die must get a chance after death to live prosperous lives. I don’t need eternal life but I need to know others will have it.

- hell is ridiculous and not real. I don’t want ppl to suffer like that no matter what they’ve done so a perfect God can’t be more petty than me. All I truly want from ppl who abused me is for them to never speak to me again. The only “punishment” I might want for them is for them to realize the damage they did and that I only want so they don’t do it again to others. I’m not talking to them so I don’t care.

I’m sure there are more but that’s all I can think of right now. It’s so confusing and messy! Does it ever settle a bit? Will I ever have a set of consistent beliefs again?

The short answer is yes and yes. Things also felt messy for me at first, but I did eventually reach a point of stability.

Congrats on being open to investigating and improving your worldview! That's such a cool and kind thing to do for yourself that many people never manage. I'm sure there's a lot to unpack, so I want to encourage you to treat yourself well while you're challenging your beliefs. Take breaks, seek support, and be patient.

Early in my deconstruction, I craved certainty because I believed that that's what truth felt like. I thought I would investigate my beliefs until I had a new and better set of beliefs on the other side of the process. But along the way I figured out that stability and consistency don't need to come from having an unchanging set of beliefs.

What I found was that having a good set of tools for seeking, analyzing, and integrating information into my life was more stable than having a static set of beliefs.

My beliefs used to be precious and protected, like trophies in a glass case, high up and out of reach. When I started deconstructing, that case came crashing down.

I felt ashamed that Christianity wasn't the only tool I needed to build a stable set of beliefs. For so many people around me, that seemed to be all they needed.

I began to question why I thought Christianity was true: love, belonging, fear, authority, loyalty, and stability were the main ones. But my beliefs didn't account for empathy, ethics, or epistemology and many other things. Heck, I didn't even know the word epistemology when I started this journey. I didn't know how to seek knowledge without running it through a Christian filter first.

I'd been told that CHRISTIANITY = TRUTH, so I hadn't considered that there were other methods to seeking, analyzing, and integrating new knowledge into my life.

But then I started exploring logic, philosophy, psychology, history, biology, and other subjects I'd been afraid would challenge my Christian beliefs. I started reading about other religions and comparing them to Christianity. And, most importantly, I started going to trauma-informed therapy. All of those things helped me break out of old patterns, learn how to update my beliefs based on new information, and how not to be afraid of that whole process.

Focusing on the tools I used to build my beliefs instead of the beliefs themselves, I was able to put together my own toolbox that helped me establish a more stable system of belief. I still go by my belief-shelf every once in a while, dust things off, admire beliefs that stood up to testing, and reevaluate beliefs that didn't. But that last part got rarer and rarer and no longer feels like the end of the world. Because ultimately, I'm still working with the same toolbox.

I used think that Christianity was a universal set of tools that worked for anyone in any situation, but now I see it as one very old tool that doesn't work for everybody. And, despite what I'd been told again and again as a Christian, the Bible is not a truth-seeking tool. It's a set of stories that can tell us about what the authors thought about themselves and the world. And, don't get me wrong, I love storytelling. I think it's very important. We can learn a lot about other people, their perspectives, and their philosophies. The problem comes in when people take their specific interpretation of stories in Christianity and try to apply them universally.

But we don't have to rely on the same old tools forever. We can try out new tools and figure out what will help us build the life that we want to have. Equipped with a variety of tools instead of one dusty one, we are more prepared to live and thrive in this constantly changing world.

Looking back, I'm glad my shaky shelf of beliefs fell apart. Because it gave me the opportunity to take responsibility for my beliefs instead of just protecting them.

I want to touch on one more point that you raised before I close, and that is the unbearable weight of suffering in the world. I struggled with this a lot during my deconstruction. It's a tough thing, to come from a worldview that has simple answers and adjust to the reality that reducing suffering is much harder than "let go and let God." My advice is to seek out good news, because it won't show up in social media feeds as much as bad news does. Find the people who are helping others, solving problems, and actively building community. Also, try to find some small way to do good, lessen suffering, or prevent harm if you have the ability and resources to do so.

That's part of why I run this blog, to try to help other people let go of harmful Christian beliefs with more joy and less suffering.

Thank you for sending me this ask. Messages like these inspire me. I see the effort and empathy behind your words and it gives me more hope than I had before!

[weirdkpopgirl]

Promise | Jaemin Imagine #8

Title: Promise

Genre: Angst

Warnings: mentions of anxiety and breakdowns

Word Count: 1.3k

Author's Note: I'm aware that anxiety often takes center stage in my stories, and yet, here's another one I've penned, this time focusing on Jaemin. Drawing from my own struggles, I aimed to portray the challenges of being close to someone dealing with mental health issues. Even with a strong support system, it doesn't guarantee that your problems will vanish miraculously. To all those who grapple with similar issues, I hope this story encourages you to seek help if possible because you deserve happiness and good health.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

From the beginning, you and Jaemin had a fairly healthy relationship that was envied by your friends and family. Apart from the initial awkwardness (primarily on your side) during the early stages of dating, both of you treated each other with plenty of tender loving care. 

You could truthfully say that Jaemin wasn’t just your boyfriend, but also your closest confidant. Perhaps it was the fact that the two of you had been friends for a substantial period before dating. Being each other’s partners allowed a deeper understanding of one another, resulting in almost no arguments between the two of you. That being said, because he knew you so well, there was one factor that occasionally led to turbulence in your relationship.

Anxiety has been a constant companion throughout your life. It was much like a friend you recognized as toxic but still chose to spend time with. Lacking a proper support system during your childhood, coping with life as an adult became significantly more challenging. For you, anxiety has been this silent struggle you had been battling alone. However, you didn’t realize the effect it was having on your otherwise, perfect relationship.

The irony was that Jaemin was the most supportive presence in your life. However, the issue lay in your reluctance to accept his support. Whenever you were in a state of distress, you tended to distance yourself from him and withhold your true feelings. He had witnessed you break down before, and it bothered him that you pushed him away.

One evening, after returning to your apartment late, Jaemin could see in your eyes that it was more than the part-time job that was taking a toll on you. He could discern from the restrained smile on your face that you had no intention of sharing it with him. At that moment, Jaemin reached the point where he couldn't bear it any longer.

The warmth of his hand atop yours gained your attention. Gazing at you softly, he asked, “Princess, can we talk?”

“Why? Did I do something wrong?” you responded with a tinge of concern in your voice. You searched your memory for anything you might have upset him, but couldn’t think of anything specific.

After taking a deep breath, Jaemin met your eyes brewing with perplexity. You had no idea what he was about to say, which made him briefly consider retracting his words. However, he knew that he couldn’t allow anything to stop him.

“It’s about your anxiety, (Y/n),” Jaemin began to explain, using his most gentle tone. “I’ve noticed how much it’s impacting your physical and mental health. And I think that seeking help from a professional can make a difference.”

Yet no matter how delicately this subject was being brought up to you, your shoulders tensed and you withdrew your hand from his grasp.

Your eyes flashed with frustration. “Jaemin, therapy isn’t necessary—I’m fine.”

“But you don’t have to pretend you’re fine all the time. It’s okay to ask for help and lean on others. I just want what’s best for you, (Y/n),” he stressed. He could sense you retreating behind your wall, and he refused to let you block him again.

That was how this conversation escalated into the most intense argument you had ever experienced with Jaemin. He made a sincere effort to stay composed, but it proved challenging when you continued to shut him out and maintained your insistence that you could handle everything on your own. 

Nonetheless, voices were raised from both parties and the words that left your mouths stung immediately after they were said. So as quickly as the argument had started, it ended with you pushing away from him and storming out of the living room with your eyes glossed over with tears.

Guilt quickly consumed him and his previous frustration dissipated. After waiting a few minutes to give you some space, Jaemin quietly moved down the hallway in search of you. His feet stopped at the bathroom door when he saw the faint light seeping beneath it.

On the other side of the door, your shoulders shook as silent sobs wracked your body, leaving you barely able to catch your breath. 

Eventually, you heard a gentle knock on the door. “(Y/n), please let me in.”

A part of you wanted to tell him to go away and leave you alone. You could tell by the tone of his voice that he was done fighting. Yet, you couldn’t convince yourself that you deserve forgiveness. Not when the entire argument was your fault. Even though he had been nothing but patient and loving, it was you who didn’t have the courage to acknowledge your mental instability. You were the problem.

When you didn't respond, Jaemin decided to take matters into his own hands and cautiously pushed the door open. Inside, his heart ached when he found you seated across from the sink, your face buried in your knees, every part of your body trembling. He hadn’t intended for things to go this way.

Without any further hesitation, Jaemin joined you on the bathroom tiles, scooping you up into his arms. The comforting feeling of being held made you instinctively cling to him. Your tears soaked his shirt, but that was the least of Jaemin’s worries.

“I’m sorry, Princess,” he whispered, his chin resting against your forehead as he stroked your hair. “I didn’t mean to pressure you like that.”

You grimaced inwardly as your voice wavered. “I'm the one who should be apologizing. I... I know I just push you away when I’m having a hard time. But you already do so much for me, and I just don’t want to be a burden."

“You could never be a burden, (Y/n),” the tips of his fingers lifted your chin slightly, allowing you to meet his sincere gaze. “You’re my everything, and I can’t stand to see you hurting alone.”

His simple, yet sweet words made you feel so warm inside. It was that moment you realized Jaemin was never going to leave your side, even if it meant seeing you at your worst. Your wall of emotions remained resolute, refusing to crumble any time soon. However, the better half of you wanted to let Jaemin break down those barriers.

Before you could say anything, Jaemin could feel the resistance in you slowly fade away. Your hand slipped into his, intertwining your fingers as you released a light exhale. “The idea of seeking help is terrifying. But if you’re with me, I think I can do it.”

“It makes me so happy to hear you say that,” Jaemin smiled and squeezed your hand reassuringly. “And I promise, we’ll face your anxiety together.”

Your cheeks warmed when he pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. Then, he leaned in for a tender kiss on your lips, his fingers gently weaving through your hair. Your grip on his sweatshirt tightened as the kiss deepened, conveying all the love and understanding that words could never fully express. Jaemin's other arm remained securely wrapped around your waist as if it could shield you from all your worries.

When you finally pulled away, tears in your eyes had transformed into tears of happiness. "I love you, Jaemin."

"I love you too, Princess," he replied in a sing-song voice.

In that heartfelt moment, as he held you close, you both understood that your love had the strength to endure any storm, even the ones that threatened to tear the two of you apart. Despite the relentless assaults of your own mind, the love you shared with Jaemin served as a reassuring reminder that you could overcome it all, together.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

[mid-sweettalk]

Forget Me - Chapter 1: Even After All This Time

Ship: Gelphie (Wicked)

Rating: E (Omegaverse smut)

Chapters: 1/?

Summary:

It's been three years since Elphaba left Galinda in the Emerald City--three years of barely surviving, barely managing to stave off her heat. But now, her luck has run out, and her only option is to find the Alpha that Marked her all those years ago--her Alpha. or Alternative post-Stuck Safe where Defying Gravity still happens. Set post-intermission.

Based off of this tumblr prompt

Read on Ao3

Author's Notes:

This fic brought to you by parentheses because holy wow did I go a little overboard with them. And also thanks to @divorcedmoonlight for bribing convincing me to push this chapter to the top of my list over the three others I’m already working on lmao. PLEASE NOTE this is a very very angsty fic where Defying Gravity still happens after the events of Stuck Safe. I am not considering this true canon for the Stuck Safe verse. I still plan on writing oneshots/future fics where literally none of this happens so please don’t fret—i’ve had this doc (affectionately) titled “Stuck Safe Dark Timeline” and that’s exactly what it is, so just think of it as an alternate to the actual stuck-safe-future canon. I just can’t keep from writing canon divergences of my own fics apparently. (tl;dr: gelphie will still get their babies in the countryside, just probably not in this particular story) Chapter and story title from Forget Me by Lewis Capaldi! With all that said, enjoy some angsty reunion smut <3

It starts out of desperation.

Elphaba has just barely been able to manage her cycle since becoming Oz's Wicked Witch. She'd stretch out whatever little supply of suppressants she did have, and when her heat would finally catch up to her, she'd get lucky—she'd come across a pharmacy she could break into, a doctor she could persuade (after disguising herself a considerate amount). There'd been one time when she'd found another actual Omega and—guiltily, knowing first-hand how difficult they could be to come across—swiped some, leaving a few coins in their place. As long as she caught it early enough, her heat would end before it had truly begun, and she'd repeat the process for months at a time.

Apparently, her luck only lasted about three years.

It's been days now, since her heat started, and there's been no trace of Omega suppressants anywhere. Her body seems to be seeking revenge for its poor treatment, as the symptoms struck her quickly and harshly. She’d barely had any warning before the cramps started.

When she first attempts to take care of it herself, like she had in her Shiz dorm room what feels like a lifetime ago, she tries her damnedest not to think of blonde hair, brown eyes, that scent of vanilla and caramel—because she can't have it, because she can't have her without putting both of them in danger, without risking the new life she knows her Alpha has built in the Emerald Palace.

(And she is still her Alpha, will always be her Alpha, no matter the time or distance between them. That is a truth that will be as forever ingrained in the fabric of Elphaba’s heart as it is in the scar that lies in the dip between her neck and shoulder. It’s a painful truth, but it’s all she has left to hold onto.)

And so she can't help it, and the thoughts come unbidden, and the mating Mark on her neck burns as she comes desperately around her own fingers.

Of course, it doesn't work, part of her knows it will never work, but still she tries—again and again. Four fingers are nothing compared to the feeling of her Alpha's knot, nails digging into her Mark do not equate to her Alpha's mouth on her skin.

She comes, and comes, until she reaches the point where nothing can bring her over that edge anymore.

(She misses her so much. Memories echo in her ears—a sweet, high voice turned desperate.

I could make you stay, her Alpha had said.

But you won’t, she’d replied.

And it’s not just because of her heat, it’s not, because Elphaba has wished every Oz-damned day since she left that her Alpha had dared—for once—to order her around.)

And Oz, the pain.

At first, the pain comes and goes in waves, sometimes briefly—but mildly, never completely—sated by an orgasm. But the fifth day turns the cramps to an all-encompassing ache, one that brings tears to her eyes.

Elphaba hasn't cried in years, she hasn't allowed herself. So, once the first drop falls, a torrent of emotions comes with it that has her sobbing as loudly as she dares, curled up on the floor of the abandoned building she's holed up in.

She occasionally, briefly, thinks of another option: she knows there are brothels she could find. She knows, logically, that all she would need to end this torture is one night spent beneath someone else; she wouldn’t even need an Alpha, necessarily, just someone with the right tools and knowledge to trick her body into feeling sated. But the thought of anyone except her Alpha on top of her, inside her, filling her whether it be with a knot or a hand or some other device—well, combined with the cramps, it's enough to make her retch. Her Mark pulses sharply at the unwanted image in her brain, her body shivers with revulsion, and she knows that is not a true option.

Elphaba has to find her.

(She’s hated herself ever since she left, but the shame she feels at the fact that it’s this that makes her return, it’s this, of all things, that breaks her resolve to stay away—well, she’s never loathed herself more.)

She can barely stay on the broom, head foggy with the haze of pain, but she flies for over an hour. It's impossible to ignore the pressure between her legs, and the wind stinging her eyes makes it difficult to see into the many windows of the Palace.

She finally catches the sight of blonde curls and nearly falls from the sky at the pulse of wanting that wracks through her body.

She crashes onto the balcony—and it's truly crashing, not graceful in the slightest as she tumbles and lands on her side. The pain emanating from her lower stomach distracts her from the pain of the fall. She swears that, even from outside the closed glass doors, she can smell that vanilla-caramel scent, and it has her absolutely throbbing between her legs. She is barely able to make it to her knees, arms wrapped around herself in pain.

Her vision is hazy, and she can't see any movement in her peripheral vision. She's doubled over, biting her lip to keep from groaning, and hopes to Whoever is listening that she's truly found the right room, that nobody but her Alpha has heard her clumsy arrival.

Then, after what feels like hours but has probably been merely a few clock-ticks, the light shifts in front of her—the balcony doors open.

She peers upwards through her tears, sees a figure cast in shadow standing in the doorway. That scent is definitely real now, vanilla and caramel wafting over her. She swallows down a sob and just barely manages to croak out:

"Glinda?"

***

Glinda hates the life she’s built in the Emerald Palace.

And she does go by Glinda, now, to everyone in Oz. It hadn’t been her idea; Morrible had said that Glinda the Good rolled off the tongue more pleasingly, and at the time, she hadn’t been strong enough to argue. She’d thought, back then, that maybe it would be nice, to have this small piece of Elphie wherever she went, this constant reminder of the Omega she’d lost to the skies.

(She’d been so, so wrong. It ached—still aches—every time, just like her Mark did and continues to do every time it’s plastered and hidden with makeup, hidden because the citizens of Oz will love her more if she still “appears available.” Galinda Upland is damaged, heartbroken,abandonedgoods, and that won’t appeal to the masses, so Glinda the Good is the virginal, chaste Alpha dutifully waiting for the perfect prince or princess to come along.

Perpetuating the lie, acting along—she does it so well—and hearing her Omega’s name for her in every voice but the right one? It makes her sick.)

It’s been long enough now—has been for nearly two years, apparently—that Morrible has been pushing the topic of her finding a Mate.

“Bites can be remade,” she says. “Really, you can claim as many others as you’d like, no one would blame you for keeping your options open. It’s a shame you let that one bite you back.”

“The people would adore an Emerald City heir,” she says. “If it’s women you prefer, I’m sure there’s no shortage willing to mate with you.”

“Or what of that Winkie Prince?” she says. “Ozians love him; you’d be the most adored couple in history. I know he’s an Alpha, but there would surely be so many volunteers for surrogacy.”

Morrible says, and says, and says, and it all makes Glinda utterly nauseous with fury. She denies and distracts and excuses it all away, but she knows that there will come a time when Morrible will no longer give her a choice.

She already tried to take that choice away, once. Glinda can’t prove it, but it’s the only thing that makes sense—she’d been taking her suppressants as always, and yet she’d gone into rut just when the Wizard had decided to throw a ball to which all of Oz’s finest maidens and bachelors had been invited. Morrible had denied replacing her suppressants with placebos, of course, but there was no other explanation Glinda could think of, as without her Omega around, nothing should have randomly triggered her rut.

She’d been encouraged to attend the ball, to find a partner with whom she could satisfy her needs, because Glinda the Good would have an untold number of willing participants if she’d only travel downstairs to the ballroom. And if she were to find a Mate in the process, well, that would just be icing on the proverbial cake.

She’d denied, of course. She’d stayed sheltered and locked in her room for nearly a week—a long, miserable week of painful orgasms and painful heartache and burning tears and wishing more than anything that she had just gotten on that damn broom.

(But she hadn’t, and so she was and continues to be alone. She fears she will be—no, she’s resolved to be—alone for the rest of her days. She tells herself that her dreams of blonde-haired, green-skinned children running around the Gillikin countryside are as good as dead, a life no longer possible.)

So, when something—someone—crashes onto her balcony after three years alone in the Emerald City, it seems much too good to be true.

The sound is alarming, at first, of course—you’d be alarmed, too, at a loud, sudden noise outside your balcony doors when it was nearly the thirteenth hour. When Glinda sees a hunched figure, however, one that is clearly a person, she knows immediately who it has to be, as only one person would be able to reach a balcony this high.

Well. The hat gives it away, too.

Glinda’s heart thumps heavily in her chest as she moves to open the balcony doors. She’s moving more slowly than she means to, as if time has stilled or the air has become thicker. Part of her wants to leap for joy at the idea that her Elphie has returned to her, and yet another part is terrified of what she’s going to find on the other side of the glass.

She opens the doors and nearly collapses as she is suddenly surrounded by the sharp smell of cedar and pine and crisp winter air—her Omega.

Her Omega in heat.

Elphaba has landed hard, as that horrendible broom has tumbled to the edge of the balcony. Glinda takes in the sight of her—hunched over on her knees, arms wrapped around her middle, that same hat and cloak Glinda had given her what feels like a lifetime ago that are now tattered and filthy from years on the run. Her face is thinner, and she seems smaller beneath all the black layers than she had when she’d left.

(I could make you stay, Glinda had said, desperation causing her to grasp for any option that would keep them together.

But you won’t, Elphie had said, and she’d been right. Glinda would never abuse her Status, use her Alpha tone of voice to order Elphie into doing something she didn’t want to do.

She also, apparently—stupidly—wouldn’t leave with her, either.)

It all feels unreal, impossible, and Glinda briefly thinks she’s fallen asleep without realizing, that this is just one of many, many dreams she’s had over the years where Elphie reappears.

But then, not-possibly-Elphie looks up at her, flushed and feverish, and calls out her name.

Glinda?

And oh, it is her Elphie, because no other voice could bring Glinda to her knees as this one has right now. That low voice she’s longed and ached to hear is filled with exhaustion, with torment, with need, and Glinda is next to her because there is nothing else she could possibly do, no other option exists in this moment.

“Elphie?” she breathes, as though she still cannot believe it. But she reaches out a hand and cups a green cheek and Elphaba Thropp is real, really here, kneeling on her balcony and exuding heady pheromones that already have Glinda stiffening between her legs. Elphaba clutches desperately at the hand now on her face and presses it close, inhaling deeply at her wrist. It sends a throb of want through Glinda’s body, shooting up her spine in a way she hasn’t felt in years.

She’s dragging Elphie to her before she can stop herself.

Their lips collide in a frantic mess, hands roaming and grasping wherever they can reach to pull each other impossibly closer. Elphaba is quickly crawling into her lap, straddling her hips and grinding down against her. Both of them gasp into the kiss, and their teeth clack together as their tongues find each other. Glinda feels hands pulling at her hair and wet heat pressing against her through her nightgown and groans, the sound feeling foreign as it leaves her throat as it has been so long—

A pang of terror shoots through her heart at the thought of them being caught like this, and she pulls back from the kiss as much as she dares—she fears her heart will burst if she moves too far away. “You shouldn’t be here,” Glinda breathes without thinking, but it’s true. Her Elphie is not just Her Elphie, she is the Wicked Witch of the West, and as much as she has dreamed of this happening, it is so incredibly dangerous.

She regrets saying the words when Elphaba looks as if she’s been slapped across the face. Green fingers twitch in her hair. “I—I know,” she stammers breathily. “I’m sorry, my sweet, I’m so sorry to put you in danger like this—”

“Me?” Glinda interrupts incredulous. Realizing her voice has raised too loudly, she lowers it to hiss, “Me, in danger? Elphie, they will kill you if they find you here.”

Elphie opens her mouth as if to say something, but Glinda moves into action before she can. She glances back into her chambers to make sure no one has entered since she came out here—it’s rather late for one of the servant girls to randomly show up, but she can’t take any chances right now, not when it’s her love at risk. She reluctantly pushes Elphie off her lap and stands, pulling her Omega up with her. Remembering at the last moment to grab the broom, she drags Elphaba into her chambers and closes the balcony doors.

She lets go of Elphie—again, very reluctantly—and stuffs the broom into her closet to keep it out of sight should anyone happen to enter. Regarding that, though, she turns to wave a hand at the door, making the lock turn with a click. Then, with both hands out, she mutters an incantation she’s known since their Shiz days and is satisfied when the acoustics of her chambers are ever-so-slightly muted.

“Did you just…?” Elphie says from behind her.

“Silencing spell,” she says to answer the unfinished question. Glinda turns around to face her and just barely manages not to break down at seeing her once more, now fully bathed in light.

Elphaba sways a bit where she stands, eyes blown nearly black, arms wrapped around her stomach again. “O-oh.”

Glinda knows there must be questions swirling through Elphie’s head—Glinda was never able to do that spell on her own, back then. She supposes there must be things about Elphie that Glinda doesn’t know now, either. It aches in her chest, knowing that her Mate stands in front of her at long last and yet they are practically strangers to one another.

“Gone for years, and you come back because of your heat,” Glinda says, and it’s not a question. Elphaba winces, guilt marring her features, and it spurs forward something angry within Glinda. “Not because you missed me, not because you love me, but because you want me to fuck you.”

She nearly spits the words, heartache infusing every syllable. Elphaba shrinks further into herself at the sound, and Glinda wants to scream.

You left, she wants to yell. You left me here alone and now you can’t even admit the truth?

“My sweet, I’m here because I love you—I stay away because I love you,” Elphaba says pleadingly, like she’s begging for Glinda to believe her. When Glinda only scoffs, she continues, “You know as well as I that if Morrible or the Wizard knew you were even speaking to me—”

“I can handle myself,” Glinda snaps, though she knows what the Omega speaks is truth. She doesn’t realize that her voice slipped into Alpha territory until she hears Elphie whimper, sees her eyelids flutter as she leans forward subconsciously. Her stomach twists uneasily at the realization, and she tries her best to calm down.

“I—I couldn’t risk you. I tried to last without you,” Elphie confesses, blinking through the haze that must be clouding her mind. “I tried so damned hard to stay away, to keep you safe, but I couldn’t—I can’t—” her voice chokes on a sob as she grasps tighter at her stomach, knees wavering.

Glinda moves forward, instinctively reaching out to steady her, but she stops herself before making contact. Her erection throbs between her legs at the pheromones Elphaba is putting out. She is so, so angry—perhaps unrightfully so, but it’s there—and yet her chest still aches simultaneously with years-old heartbreak and the need to comfort her Omega.

Her Omega, who is right here in front of her, needy and wanting and in pain.

“Why are you here?” she tries again, making sure her voice is more neutral.

Elphaba meets her gaze, chest heaving as she tries to breathe through the cramps. “Because I need you,” she whines.

Glinda feels herself harden further at her Omega’s tone. “Need me for what?” she pushes, taking another step closer.

Elphaba’s breath hitches. “I need you to fuck me, Glinda.”

That sends a thrill tingling down her spine, but it’s still not enough. Another step closer, and now they are mere inches apart. “Why?” she insists.

Elphaba whimpers, eyes briefly darting down to Glinda’s lips.

“Because you’re my Alpha.”

Glinda breaks, leans forward and kisses her, pushing that old hat off her head so she can tangle her fingers in messy black braids and devour her. One hand goes to Elphie’s waist and pulls her close until their hips press together, and she can feel as well as hear the moan her Omega lets out when she realizes how hard Glinda is for her.

“Oz, please,” Elphaba whines against her lips as she clutches at the backs of Glinda’s shoulders.

Glinda hisses as nails dig into her skin. She bites at Elphie’s lower lip in retaliation before spinning her around until she’s falling back onto the bed. Her sheets are as grand and pink as they had been back at Shiz, and the familiar sight of black and green atop them makes her heart want to burst. She only allows herself a short moment to stare at Elphaba as she lies there, flushed and panting and wanting, lest she burst into tears and ruin the moment. Then, she is above her again, kissing every inch of skin she can reach and searching for the buttons of her dress so that she may reach more.

Elphie helps her as she gasps into Glinda’s ear, and her sweet breath against her skin sends a shiver through Glinda’s body.

“Tell me again,” Glinda says lowly.

Elphie whimpers as Glinda moves her kisses down her neck. “My Alpha,” she moans. “My wonderful Alpha, I need you inside me.”

Glinda can’t hold back a growl and sucks harshly at a spot beneath Elphie’s jaw, barely deigning to soothe the abused skin with her tongue before moving down to repeat the process elsewhere. The buttons are finally undone, and Elphie quickly shucks it off her shoulders along with her cloak. Glinda’s hands move to roam over the newly-revealed skin, groping a breast in one palm and grasping at her rib cage with the other.

Her kisses make it down to a familiar scar—the Mark that matches her own. She mouths at the spot as her hands roam further, pushing Elphie’s dress down past her hips until her Omega is able to kick it away. She doesn’t bite into it again, not yet, just kisses and licks and sucks at the spot so she can enjoy the way Elphie writhes beneath her at the sensation.

“You’re mine,” Glinda growls, sliding her lips over to Elphie’s throat. She can feel her swallow harshly as she fights back another moan. Displeased, Glinda moves up until she can look into those forest-green eyes again. “Let me hear you,” she says, just a bit softer.

Elphie nods, and when Glinda’s hand palms her soaked underwear, she tosses her head back with an unabashed whine. “I’m yours!” she says unprompted, sending a pulse straight to Glinda’s cock that has her hurriedly dragging the ruined underwear down green thighs.

She has to stand briefly to take off her own undergarments, dragging her nightgown over her head. Elphie looks up at her as she does so, and Glinda sees her eyes focus on the space between her legs, where her erection is painfully straining against her underwear. Something softens in Elphie’s expression, and Glinda hurries to take them off before she can see—but it’s too late.

“Oh, my love,” Elphie breathes, reaching out even though she’s too far away. “My sweet, are they hiding you?”

Glinda tries to hold back a wince and isn’t quite sure if she succeeds, but she manages to squeeze out of the compression underwear and climb back on top of her Omega. “Please,” she says before kissing Elphie deeply, hoping she’ll drop the topic. “Please, not right now.”

Elphie hesitates, but nods in the end, drawing her into another kiss and lifting a leg to wrap around Glinda’s hip. “Okay,” she whispers. “Take me, my sweet.” Glinda’s breath hitches, her hips bucking so that she slides against her Omega’s wetness.

“Fill me,” Elphie continues between kisses. “I’ve missed you so much. Please let me feel you. Make love to me.”

How Glinda has seemingly become just as desperate as her Omega in heat is beyond her. She quickly reaches down, aligning herself with Elphie’s entrance and, with an open, messy kiss, pushes inside.

They groan loudly into each other’s mouths as Glinda fills her easily, as Elphie pulses around her to accommodate the stretch. Long nails are clawing at Glinda’s back again, and she tugs at Elphie’s lip with her teeth as she pulls back with a hiss.

“Fuck, baby,” Glinda moans, gripping tightly onto her Omega’s hips. She hooks an arm beneath the knee Elphie has raised and lifts it from her hip up over her shoulder, stretching her open beneath her. She pushes in further as a result, and Elphie gasps and digs her nails in.

“Glin,” she cries out, making Glinda’s heart soar at the pet name she hasn’t heard in years. Her hips buck upwards, and the Alpha starts moving within her.

“You take me so well,” Glinda praises, kissing down the side of Elphie’s face once more. As she thrusts in and out, she can feel wet walls clenching around her, trying to draw her in further. She groans and slides out almost completely before snapping her hips forward, driving deep into her Omega and drawing a cry of pleasure out from that beautiful green throat.

Glinda is overcome with a possessiveness the old her would never have allowed herself to display. Thrusting into her steadily now, driving her cock deep inside her, she leans up to Elphie’s ear. “You’re here because I’m the only one that can do this for you,” she pants. She feels Elphie nod as her hips buck upwards and takes it as a sign to continue. “I’m the only one who can fuck you like this.”

“Shit, I—” Elphie cuts herself off with a gasp, and when she doesn’t continue speaking, Glinda does instead.

“I’m the only one who can make you feel this good, right darling?”

Elphie nods frantically. “Yes, yes, yes,” she chants into Glinda’s ear, spurring her on. “P-please, I’m—ah!”

Glinda’s thrusts don’t slow, but they are getting shallower—her knot is forming, triggered by her Omega’s heat. She tilts her hips to hit that one spot inside Elphie that she knows will drive her closer to the edge, grasping tightly at the thigh slung over her shoulder. Leaning back so that she can see her face, she growls, “Please what, Elphie?”

Elphaba stares at her through half-closed eyes as she struggles to keep them open. They flutter with each thrust, her lips parted tantalizingly as she pants with pleasure and need. “Please, I need—I need you to knot me,” she begs, hand sliding up into Glinda’s hair. “I need you to make me come—I need to feel you come inside me, please, my Alpha—”

Glinda feels her hips stutter and reaches down with her other hand to rub at Elphaba’s slick-covered clit. Elphie moans as Glinda circles the sensitive nub, tightening around Glinda as the tension grows within them both.

“You’re going to take my knot, darling,” Glinda says, Alpha tenor ringing through her voice. She leans down to nuzzle against Elphie’s neck, lips brushing the Mark there. “You’re gonna take it all, and I’m gonna claim you all over again.”

“Y-yes, please!” Elphie moans, head tilting to the side to allow her Alpha closer. “I’m yours, I’m yours, please—Glinda!”

Glinda bites down, teeth perfectly matching the Mark that’s already there, and feels her knot slip inside her Omega. Elphie cries out as she pulses around her, clenching with each brush of Glinda’s finger over her clit, and clutches the back of her head to bring her closer.

Then, Glinda feels a sharp sting at the side of her own neck, her own Mark now redone, and her hips twitch forward as she empties herself inside her Omega. Wave after wave of pleasure rolls through them both as Glinda fills her, her knot sealing every drop inside.

They stay like that for a long, long moment, eventually releasing their biting holds on each other in favor of languid, wet kisses along necks and shoulders. Glinda eventually finds Elphie’s mouth again and relishes the feeling of their tongues pushing together, relearning each other.

“I love you,” Elphie whispers against her lips, making Glinda’s heart leap in her chest. “I love you, I love you, I love you, my Alpha, my Glinda…” She continues to ramble between kisses until Glinda leans down to press her face into her neck and just breathe in that sharp, woodsy smell.

She can’t bring herself to say it back. Not just yet.

Another moment passes where they simply hold each other, stuck together at the hips by Glinda’s knot. She eventually lets Elphie’s leg lower itself from her shoulder, and then she doesn’t have time to react before green thighs are bracketing her hips and she is firmly, but carefully, tossed onto her back.

Glinda looks up in surprise at the Omega now straddling her, the Omega who is still filled with her knot and is now grinding down against her with a slow rock of her hips. Green hands reach out to scratch at her chest, and she can’t help but hiss at the combination of sensations. “E-Elphie…?” she says, embarrassingly close to a whimper.

“I’ve missed you, my love,” Elphaba says lowly, “and I want my fill.” She’s still rocking her hips back and forth. Glinda bucks upward before she can hold back, and Elphie gasps before leaning down to breathe over her lips. “Tell me you love me.”

“Oh, fuck,” Glinda says, definitely whimpering now. She does, she loves this woman so much it’s unbearable, but the words won’t come out, shuttered away by years of heartache and broken dreams.

Elphie’s tongue sticks out to slowly lick along Glinda’s upper lip, making her shiver. “I know you do,” she says, hands squeezing Glinda’s breasts as she rides her carefully. “You’re my Alpha,” another roll of her hips, “and I’m your Omega.” Another, and Glinda grabs onto those hips tightly. She leans up to try and kiss her, but Elphie pulls back to stay just out of reach. “I haven’t had anyone else, you know,” she continues. “You’re the only one who’s ever been inside me.”

Oz, Glinda’s so sensitive, still surrounded by her Omega’s wet heat, and Elphie’s voice, breathy and low, makes her head spin. She’s not sure at this point if she’ll come first or go mad instead.

“You’re the only one who’s ever fucked me,” Elphie says with a slight bounce, making them both groan as Glinda’s knot tugs at her entrance. “The only one to make me come apart.”

Glinda’s not sure if she’s holding onto Elphaba’s hips to keep her still or to make her move faster, but whatever she’s wanting to do, Elphie isn’t letting her have any control. She leans down and takes Glinda’s lower lip between her green ones, sucking harshly before releasing it with a pop.

“You’re the only one I’ll ever love,” she says, breath ghosting over Glinda’s swollen and spit-soaked lips.

“Fuck, Elphie!”

Elphie presses a hand to Glinda’s chest and grinds her hips down harder, keeping her still, taking her pleasure. Her other hand moves to rub at herself, and the moan she lets out is delectable. Glinda can feel her tightening around her cock with every pass of her finger over her clit. “Tell me you love me, and you can fill me again,” Elphie says through hitching breaths. “Tell me I’ll always be yours.”

Something breaks in Glinda’s chest, tension rising within her body so quickly that her vision blurs, and she’s crying out before she can even think. “I love you!” she moans desperately. “My Elphie, my perfect Omega, mine, I love—ah!”

“Glin!”

And then they are coming together once more. Glinda sees white as she tosses her head back, hips pressing up to push as deep into her Omega as she possibly can. She vaguely feels a rush of wetness spill onto her thighs as Elphie pulses tightly around her, drawing out every last bit of her seed. Then, those perfect lips are on hers again with a kiss so soft and full of love it makes her heart sing. “I love you,” she murmurs over and over again, the dam now broken, her head spinning every time Elphie says it back.

She can only take a moment more of Elphie moving her hips before she holds her tightly enough to make her still, true overstimulation now threatening to take over her body. Elphie takes the hint and settles down, laying her full weight against her and nuzzling into Glinda’s Mark. It’s grounding, and Glinda had forgotten how it feels to be so, so full of love.

“Oz, I missed you so much,” she confesses. She’s completely exhausted, too exhausted and satisfied to be angry anymore, at least for now. Her hands roam slowly across her Omega’s back, nails ghosting over her skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Elphie presses close and kisses her Mark. “I missed you, my sweet,” she whispers. “Unbearably so.”

“Please stay,” Glinda begs softly as she struggles to keep her eyes open. “Please stay with me.”

Elphie stills for just a moment, then kisses her Mark again. “I’m here, baby. I’m right here.”

She relaxes fully on top of her, and the rhythm of her breathing lulls Glinda into sleep.

***

Elphaba can’t stay.

She shouldn’t, at least; there is nowhere she could stay in the Palace where she wouldn’t eventually be found by someone who would surely immediately rat her out to Morrible or the Wizard. Oz knows what they would do to her, what they would do to Glinda for harboring her and going behind their backs. She can’t risk it. She can’t.

But lying there next to her Alpha, that familiar sweet scent filling the air and making her feel so whole and loved—it’s incredibly difficult to leave.

(I could make you stay, her Alpha had said.

But why couldn’t Glinda have gone with her, instead?)

The sun is coming up, shining through the balcony doors. Glinda’s knot disappeared hours ago, and so Elphaba has been lying here simply staring at her Alpha as she sleeps. She studies every mark she’s left upon pale skin, scratches from her nails and bruises from her love bites. She relishes in the soreness she feels, herself, can tell even without checking a mirror that her own neck is mottled with marks, as well.

She wonders how long these reminders will last.

Something shifts in the air, and Elphaba’s head perks up as the sound of morning birds suddenly enters the air—Glinda must have only done a temporary silencing spell, and now it’s worn off.

Elphaba stares longingly down at her Alpha and knows that this is when she has to leave.

She slips out of bed as smoothly as she can and starts redressing, retrieving her broom from Glinda’s closet. She lingers, wanting more than anything that she could stay, or that Glinda could come with her—but she knows if Oz’s beloved Glinda the Good were to go missing, the literal witch hunt for her would increase tenfold.

Elphaba steps closer to the bed, feet silent against the plush carpet. She merely wants to place a gentle kiss goodbye to her Alpha’s temple as she sleeps curled up on her side, but as she leans down, her nose twitches as a scent stronger than caramel and vanilla hits her—something sharp and peppery and oh-so-familiar.

Oh, no.

Her eyes widen as she looks downward, to where Glinda’s hips are covered by the blankets—and where the outline of a half-formed erection is visible.

Glinda’s in rut.

A rattling of a doorknob startles her, and she nearly has a heart attack at the thought of being caught like this, the Wicked Witch of the West standing over Glinda the Good’s naked form. But it seems Glinda’s locking spell was not temporary like the silencing spell, and the door doesn’t open.

“Your Goodness?” she hears faintly from the other side.

“Shit,” Elphaba hisses, starting to panic.

Glinda starts stirring a bit below her, face scrunching up and eyebrows furrowing together.

Elphaba reaches down to cup her cheek and shake her gently. “Glinda, wake up,” she whispers sharply. Brown eyes flutter open, seeking her out and then widening as they meet hers.

“Elphie?” she says dreamily, as if she’d thought the previous night had been a figment of her imagination.

Elphaba’s heart warms, but the panic is still there as the doorknob rattles again, a more frantic call of “Your Goodness?” coming from outside the bedroom.

The sound seems to register to Glinda, too, as she quickly sits up. Only then does she notice her state of arousal, glancing down to her covered erection and then looking back up to Elphaba with a blush heating her face. “E-Elphie?” she says again, and the fear and uncertainty in her voice makes Elphaba’s chest ache. “You’re—you’re leaving.” It’s not a question, and Elphaba’s heart shatters.

She quickly finds the Alpha’s nightgown and hands it to her. “Glinda, I have to,” she says apologetically. There are knocks banging against the door now, and more voices have joined the original. “I’m so sorry, my love, but I have to.” She cups a pale cheek in her hand again, feels tears pricking at her eyes as Glinda clutches desperately at her wrist. That peppery scent fills her entire being with want, and she leans down to kiss her deeply.

She tries to push all of her apologies, all of her love and reassurance into this kiss. She breaks away only enough to speak. “I’ll be back to help you, I promise. Do you trust me?”

Glinda’s eyes are wide and watery, her other hand is now grasping at the back of her head in an attempt to keep her close. “Elphie…” she says, and Elphaba tries to ignore the pain she feels at the non-answer.

But there’s no more time. “Hold out, my sweet,” she begs before kissing her again. “Hold out, if you can.” One last kiss, heady and longing, and then she tears herself away before she loses her will.

Elphaba sprints to the balcony, throws open the doors, and leaps over the railing. It’s only once she’s in the sky once more that her tears finally fall.

[your-queer-dad]

hey dad

I have something of a long-winded rant; don’t feel like you have to respond, I just needed to tell someone

so I’m the “therapist friend”, and people come to me to talk about their problems all the time. Within the last few hours I’ve had two separate people vent to me, and I’m happy to listen. Except right now I’m going through a kind of tough time and I’m trying hard not to relapse into sh after being clean for almost three months. Hearing about everyone else’s problems really doesn’t help. I’ve set alarms to check my notifications during the night ever since I woke up to an ominous text and then couldn’t get a response all day, and every conversation I have with my friends turns into me comforting them. These are also really my only close friends, so it’s not like I have any other healthy relationships. I keep breaking down every time I’m alone and having anxiety attacks and worrying about food/starving myself and disassociating and biting my fingernails raw and snapping at people and my sleep schedule is getting messed-up, which are all signs that signs are getting worse for me. But if I tell them that I don’t have the energy to listen, then I’m almost certain something terrible will happen. These people have absolutely nobody else they can talk to, unsupportive family, and are even less emotionally stable than I am. For a while, there’s been a cycle: they unload stress onto me, they apologize for it, I assure them that I’m happy to help and thank them for sharing with me, and I relieve the stress through unhealthy coping mechanisms that they don’t know about. But recently I’ve cleaned myself up after contacting a hotline and I don’t want to go back to how it was before. I deeply care about these people, and I want to continue to be there for them, but if my mental state worsens, I won’t be able to support them at all. It seems like I’m the most stable person in my life, and I’m far from being that. It’s hard for me to seek help (and even though I’ve experienced symptoms of severe depression and anxiety for most of my life, I’ve never gotten help for it) because I feel like I’d be taking advantage of the person I’m telling, since that’s what people do to me. Honestly, the thing with my only friends constantly venting to me is just one of many minor things pushing me over the edge. It isn’t that big of a deal, but right now it is overwhelming me. My life is actually relatively uncomplicated and I have a lot of privilege; I just don’t know how to cope with the few problems I have experienced. I just don’t know what to do, and I’m a minor so there’s not much I can do, and I don’t have anyone else to talk to, especially since I came out to my mother as queer a week ago and I’m even more distant from her. This is the first person, besides the 988 operator in April, who I’ve told about any of my issues. My apologies about how long that was—I didn’t mean to write an entire essay, but now I’m not sure what parts to delete. Thanks for listening. I hope you’re doing well and we all really appreciate you, dad

—Gray

Hey kiddo, I am so sorry. That is so much for even an adult to deal with, let alone a person your age. If they are causing you stress like that, my dear , they aren't healthy relationships. You are as worthy of care, time and compassion as anyone you help. If you don't take care of yourself then you will crash and burn and that will hurt more than you asking for some space and putting in boundaries. I beg you to take care of yourself and say no. Redirect them to me, I'll listen and help but please don't let yourself reach crisis point over helping others.

- dad x

[jmagnabo92]

Sailing to Freedom Ch 4 - The Sister Discovery

@aroyallybigbangrwrb

AO3

June discovers that Alex has left, meanwhile Alex and Henry are having fun on their yachting holiday.

***

September 7th, 2020

He’s only been on this yacht for about a day but it’s been the best day in a while.  There’s something to be said for the freedom of being himself with his boyfriend.  Spending their time chatting or fucking or anything in between.  They could do things separately in the same room or do something together. 

Right now, they’re laying on the deck.  It’s dark ‘cause it’s nearly two in the morning and well, they’ll be in the boat for at least another day or so until they reach Lisbon.  Being the insomniacs that they are, Alex and Henry figured why not spend the night looking up at the stars together. 

Henry’s got a thing for the stars, and Alex has missed the clear skies that hasn’t gotten since Texas, so it’s great to look at the stars together. 

“You looking for Orion?” Alex asks, breaking the comfortable silence that had enveloped them since they laid down on the boat to look at the stars.  “I don’t see him anywhere.”

“He’s not visible at the moment,” Henry states.  “He’s only visible during the months of November to February.  Basically, the winter months.  Sometimes, it stretches a bit, depending, and he would be visible in the summer months, but only in the daytime hours, so the sun blocks it.  He’s there, you just can’t see him.”

Alex hums.  “That’s strange since I always thought he was visible year-round.”  He pauses, remembering that it was something he looked for to be closer to his dad when he’s feeling sad or seeking guidance. 

“It’s admittedly disappointing at times not to be able to see Orion when I want to, but well, we can’t control the stars.”

“Just when I thought that prince charming could have anything he ever wanted, he reveals his weakness – the stars,” Alex teases.

Henry chuckles and nudges him with his shoulder.  “Princes do have some limitations.”

“Like not owning the stars.”

“I think you mean controlling since it is actually possible to own a star.”

“No way, not possible.”

“It is!  I assure you.”  Henry nudges him.  “And you don’t even have to be a prince for it.”

Alex grins.  “Well, then, I’m just going to have to buy you a star – one that’s around all the time, so when I’m not around, you can still see me.”

“Are you planning on leaving me?” Henry asks, a tease in his voice because they both know that he isn’t.

“Oh yeah, I snuck out of the White House, left the country to join you on your yacht, only to tell you that I will buy you a star to remember me for when I leave you,” Alex says, sarcastically. 

He’s aware that this vacation of sorts can’t be forever – at least when his mom wins the election, he’ll want to attend her second inauguration and he’s hoping that the time away will let them come out before then.  Of course, his mind keeps going back and forth on all of it, and what’s going to happen, so he doesn’t say that. 

“I just mean, you wouldn’t like to have a star up there to look for like you do with Orion?  In case I’m sleeping or something?”

“Only if we chose a star that I’m going to be able to see all the time.”  Henry smiles.  “I would also like to give you a star, then.”

“I’d love one, baby.”

They share a kiss and it’s nice to have the freedom of the peace out here. 

“Now, tell me – what constellations are up there right now?”

“Well, there’s Cygnus over there,” Henry says, pointing at a series of stars. 

Alex can’t say that it looks like much to him, so he asks, “What’s it meant to be?”

“The Swan.”

“A swan?  Really?” Alex asks, disbelievingly.  “It doesn’t like a swan to me – where do you get that?”

Henry laughs.  “I didn’t have a say, I’m just telling you what it is according to the Greek astronomer Ptolemy.  Did you know that Cygnus is the pet to the Queen Cassiopeia who had the twins Castor and Pollux, who are in the Gemini constellation?”

“I did not know that.”  Alex notes that Henry’s clearly happy talking about the stars, so despite the fact that he’s half-sure that Henry’s making this up, he smiles and says, “Tell me more.”

“Of course.”

***

September 8th, 2020

As always when June gets back to the White House, she goes to Alex’s room first, especially these days and especially because he hasn’t answered any of her texts.  Despite the fact that he can get in the zone, he hasn’t been like that since their mother has locked him up and forbidden him from doing any work related to the campaign or election, which means he has nothing to do for a while and that’s dangerous for her little brother. 

So, when she turns down the hall to their bedrooms, she’s thrown when she sees that it’s not Cash standing outside his door, but another agent.  She knows Cash has been pretty specific about wanting to be the one guarding him, and when she reaches for his door rather than hers the agent says, “Mr. Claremont-Diaz has requested to be left alone.”

“He’s my brother, I’m sure that applies to everyone else, but –” she says as she moves to open the door anyway only for the agent to stop her.  “– but not to me.”

The agent repeats, “He asked to be left alone – no exceptions.”

“Seriously, all you’re doing is making me worried,” she states, changing from reaching for the handle to knocking on the door.  “Alex, let me in!”

She sees a look pass between the agents at the doors and then to Amy when there’s no response. 

“Let her in, she’s going to know anyway,” Amy states. 

There’s no emotion in her tone and June’s suddenly feels like she’s been doused in ice water.  Something is wrong.  Something happened to Alex.  Was he hurt?  Had he hurt himself?

She bursts into the room only to see nothing out of the ordinary, aside from no Alex, his clothes and laptop missing and the room completely clean.  She wheels around to face the door where Amy’s now standing. 

“Where is he?  Is he hurt?”

“No, he’s not hurt.  If he’d been hurt, you would know,” Amy states, plainly.  “Last communication with Cash and Schmitty indicates that he’s perfectly fine.”

The confusion must show on her face. 

“He wrote you a letter before he left.  It’s on your desk.”

June quickly makes her way to her desk, flipping it open and reading it through twice before it sinks in.  Alex left. 

How bad do things have to be for Alex to leave?  How had she missed it?  She looks up at Amy now standing in her doorway, and asks, “Is this something I should’ve noticed?”

“No,” Amy states.  “Because it wasn’t something he noticed until he ran off to London a couple of weeks ago.  After he got back, he got yelled at and things just started hitting him hard.  He always blamed the Monarchy for why they’re hiding who the truly are, but it’s not just them.” 

June knows that the professional that Amy is means that she wouldn’t say anything bad about the president, but the implication is there. 

She nods.  “Guess that makes sense.”

“He’s fine though,” Amy assures her.  “Happily on a yacht somewhere doing things I don’t want to know about off the coast of who knows where – Spain or France?  They’re on their way to Lisbon and Cash checks in with me whenever they make port.”

June hums.  She supposes that makes sense.  Why hide out here when he can’t do anything?  And it’ll be good for him to slow down and really figure out his life, especially now that he’s committed to his prince charming.

“Does my mom know?”

“He asked that if no one asks about him to just let it stay a secret.  That if they come to his door to just say he wants to be left alone, but if they push it to tell them the truth.  Hence, what just happened.”

“So, that’s a no then.”

“Yes, it’s a no.  To be fair, it’s only been a couple of days.”

“Yeah, but I mean, she locked him in his room and …” June shakes her head.  “I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“He didn’t want to hurt you, he just … needs some space.”

June nods.  “Yeah, thanks.”

With that, she figures she’ll give him his space.

***

September 9th, 2020

“We’ll be docking in Lisbon by noon,” Henry says as he joins Alex for breakfast.  “I had the idea that we could just explore the city on our own, but I suppose I should ask you if there were any ideas of things you’d like to see?”

Alex smiles and kisses his cheek.  “This is your adventure, I’m just along for the ride.”

“Funny, I seem to remember that it was your idea.”

“Just ‘cause it was my idea doesn’t mean that it’s not your adventure.”

“Well, I’ve decided it’s our adventure, and if there’s anything you’d like to see…”

“I’m good,” Alex assures him.  “I just wanna be with you.  It doesn’t matter what we do or see, just you and me together.”

“And you say you can’t match me for prose,” Henry teases. 

Alex laughs.  “My lists are definitely better for me than trying to be all sappy and romantic.”

“I don’t know about that,” Henry says, mirth evident in his eyes.  “There’s something horribly sappy and romantic about number seventeen on your list.”

It takes a second for Alex to remember 17. Your equally huge dick and burst out laughing.  “Yes, talking about your dick is always sappy and romantic.”

Cash, who’d been having his own breakfast alongside one of Henry’s PPOs, Hector, spits out his coffee.  He’s coughing as Hector knocks him on the back. 

They’re both laughing when Cash stops coughing.  “At breakfast, really?”

“You can’t really be surprised, Cash.”

“Why not?”

“Because you once guarded a bathroom door at a karaoke bar so I could blow him,” Alex retorts, not even bothering to blush.  Cash knows way too much about his love life to be remotely surprised by Alex’s … bluntness about sex.  Especially sex with Henry.

Cash hums.  “Not at the breakfast table, kay?”

“Fair enough, but Henry started it.”

“I alluded you to it, you’re the one that actually said it,” Henry refutes.

“Alluding to it is still starting it,” Alex counters and before he knows it, they are arguing semantics of which one of them really started talking about sex at the breakfast table. 

It takes very little time before their breakfast is abandoned and they’re kissing. 

They get lost in each other’s lips for who knows how long until Cash coughs and says, “Not at the table, please.”

They break apart, flushing slightly.  “Right, we should –” go to our room. 

Henry nods.  “Yeah, we should.”

They both get up to rush to their room mindful of the laughing Cash yelling, “Have fun!”

And they most certainly will.

***

The second that they get close enough to dock, they know it because Alex’s phone goes off.  He’s sorely tempted to just ignore it since he’s currently enjoying his boyfriends’ mouth on his dick, but Henry slows down and raises an eyebrow at him as if to say who is it?

Groaning, Alex reaches over and grabs the offending phone, answering it despite the fact that Henry hasn’t moved off his dick.  “Hi, Nora.”

“And June!” June says, into the phone.  “How come you answer her call and not mine?”

“You called?” Alex questions.  “We’ve been out at sea, and this is the first time my phone’s connected.”

“Oh, so you weren’t avoiding my call?”

“Of course not.”

Although if she’s upset with him, he probably would have, but he has no way of knowing that. 

“Unless you’re mad at me and then I –”

“I’m not mad.  I’m disappointed I didn’t suggest it earlier,” June offers.  “I know how much you’ve been struggling ever since the DNC and I should’ve suggested that you, at least, go hang out at the Lake House or something instead of making things worse with making you part of the meetings with Zahra.”

Oh.  Alex hadn’t considered that his words would make June feel bad about her attempt to keep him included.  He didn’t blame her, he blamed Zahra. 

“It’s not on you, June.  I promise I don’t blame you for all that.  I blame Zahra ‘cause she seemed to be gleeful about teasing me about why I couldn’t do it.”

“Still, I feel bad.  Especially since you didn’t even say goodbye –”

“At least you got a letter – I got nothing!”

“I’m his sister and I live across the hall from him – of course, I deserved a letter.”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t just text,” Nora says, clearly to him.

“Oh, well, I didn’t want my leaving to be obvious in case someone would want to stop me.”

“You realize that you’re an adult, right?” June asks.  “You could do whatever you want.”

“That’s funny because doing my boyfriend caused me to be locked away in my room for weeks,” Alex says, sarcastically.

“Alex!  I don’t want to hear about that.”

“It’s not like I said –”

“La la la la la,” June sings.

“Fine!” he shouts over her singing.  “My point still stands.  If I was an adult that could do whatever I wanted I wouldn’t have been locked away, but you’re right.  I just took some precautions, just in case, and now, Cash, Schmitty, and I are safely on Henry’s yacht, living the luxury yacht life.”

“Well, as long as you’re happy I guess it doesn’t matter,” June offers.

“But now, you have to tell us all about the yacht,” Nora states.  “I want all of the details!”

Alex glances down at Henry, who hasn’t moved from his spot keeping Alex warm.  He raises an eyebrow, but Henry gives him a thumbs up. 

So, Alex says, “Alright, well…”

June and Nora listen and ask questions for nearly twenty minutes about the yacht and Henry and their plan for this trip before June finally asks the obvious.

“Speaking of Henry?  Where is he?  I figured you’d be attached at the hip.”

Alex nearly chokes because Henry choses that moment to tease him with a flick of his tongue. 

“Oh, I imagine Henry’s there… just a bit busy,” Nora states.

“What do you mean?”

Rather than answer June directly, Nora says, “I bet you fifty bucks Henry’s got his mouth on Alex right now and has throughout the whole conversation.”

Alex is honestly shocked and not shocked that Nora could guess the somewhat obvious reason that Henry hasn’t spoken, but he’s not sure what to say.

“Gross!  Don’t answer that,” June nearly shouts.  “I don’t want to – why would you not stop when the phone rang?  Why would you answer the phone?  Gross!  I don’t need to know about that stuff, isn’t it bad enough I had to listen to your first time after the State Dinner?  Ugh!”

She clearly gets up and storms out of whatever room they’re in.  “Well, I love hearing about it, if you’d like to give me the details,” Nora says, once the door shuts.

“Uh, no.  It’s – honestly best to not talk about it, kay?”

“Oh, come on.”

“Nope, not happening.  And we’re in Lisbon and would like to see the city, so… talk later.”

“Fine, fine.”

With that, the phone call ends, and Henry goes back to work.

***

The day in Lisbon is nice.  It’s a little different to just … be visiting and not have obligations.  To be able to walk side by side with Henry and tease him openly and genuinely.  They could just be themselves and it’s a delight. 

He particularly loves Henry’s more relaxed style and not constantly wearing suits with boring ties.  He even makes a point of buying Henry a tie with the most outrageous pattern as a joke with which Henry counters with some gaudy crown that says, ‘is befitting the boyfriend of a prince’. 

They take a picture in Rossio Square – Henry wearing his tie and Alex with his crown, both laughing and happy and it’s perfect and he sends it off to June and Nora, who send back heart and smiling emojis. 

Walking the cobblestone streets of one of Lisbon’s oldest neighborhoods and seeing the beautiful colored homes around them reminds him of Mexico and he suggests that they add Mexico to their list of destinations, which Henry readily agrees. 

Most of their list is on Henry’s side of the pond right now, but some day they’ll make it over there and Alex could show him around.  It’ll be nice since it’s been awhile since he’s been there.

They stop for dinner at some little bistro.  A dimly lit booth, Alex is sitting as close to Henry as he can get without actually being in his lap, sipping wine and feeling content. 

For a first date, it’s pretty good.  He smiles.

“What are you thinking, love?”

“That for a first date, our visit to Lisbon is pretty nice.”

Henry nearly chokes on his wine.  “What makes you think this is our first date?”

“Is it not?” Alex questions.  “It certainly feels like it.”

Henry gives a small smile as he plays with one of Alex’s hands.  “Define date for me.”

Alex hums half-sure this is a trick question.  “Well, you spend time together just the two of you (and whatever security is necessary), go to dinner, and then, get lucky and spend the night together when you’re back to whatever place you’re staying.  That part isn’t necessary, but definitely part of many after-date plans especially for us.”

Henry’s chuckling softly as he says, “That describes most of our appearances together over the last year.”

At first, Alex wants to deny this.  There’s no way that he’s missed all of their dates, especially their first date.  That’s meant to be something that you take note of and recreate every year like the sappy characters in Henry’s favorite books. 

But then, he starts to think about it.

Obviously, the State Dinner doesn’t count.  Although they had dinner, Henry was avoiding him prior to that, and Alex explicitly told him that it was friends with blowjobs and sent him away to not spend the night spooning and having breakfast together in the morning (as that would be a relationship and he was in terrible denial about what that one night would do to him). 

He's pretty sure that Connecticut doesn’t count either.  After all, although he did do a boyfriend-like thing (showing up to his boyfriend’s polo match and spend at least an hour thinking about the dirty things that he wanted to do to him), they didn’t have dinner and blow jobs in a tack shed can’t really count as a date.

Then, he gets to Paris.  Their first night together.  Dinner at the little bistro, laughing over wine, going back to Alex’s hotel and falling asleep together, and waking up the next morning to have breakfast with Henry reading the copy of the paper (that currently sits at their bedside)…

Shit.  He should’ve known.  Every appearance that followed that one involved spending the night together after a dinner and enjoying breakfast together the next morning.  Hell, Henry had even sent him a special invitation to Wimbledon. 

“That’s … it was Paris?” Alex asks, unbelievingly.  “That’s why you kept the paper?”

Henry flushes.  “Although I didn’t think I could have you… as a boyfriend, and only get you as a friend with blowjobs, I couldn’t help … considering it a date.”

Alex groans.  “I don’t understand how I could be so … oblivious.”

“Your ability to stay in denial when something emotional can get to you is both astonishing and concerning at times, I must admit,” Henry states.  “However, you also thought we weren’t in a relationship when, by your own definition, a relationship was something between two people where you miss them when they’re not around, you communicate with them in any way possible as much as possible, and you have relations with them.”

“Fuck.  I’m a terrible boyfriend.”

“Oh, no, dear, you’re a wonderful boyfriend,” Henry attempts to assure him.

“How can I be a wonderful boyfriend if we’ve been dating and in a relationship for months and it took me at least four months to acknowledge it?”

“Where are you getting four months?” Henry questions, frowning slightly.

“Well, Paris was in early March – if that was what falls as the official start and it seems like it does, considering that you kept the paper and it matches my definition of a date – and the DNC was in mid-July, then we were together Mid-March, April, May, June and Mid-July before I fully acknowledged that we were dating and together.”

Henry hums.  “I still don’t think that makes you a bad boyfriend, you were trying not to feel things because of the situation.  That’s allowed.”

“I guess.”  Alex shrugs.  He supposes that much is true, but it doesn’t change the fact that he absolutely wants to spoil Henry and be the best boyfriend he can be.  “But from now on I’m going to be the best boyfriend ever.”

“I happen to think you already are, but now I’m curious about what that means,” Henry offers.

Alex grins.  “I haven’t fully decided, but – but I will find a way.”

“You always do.”

***

September 10th, 2020

“I’ve had a thought.”

“I highly doubt that,” Henry teases.

Alex throws him a look, they’ve arrived in Malaga, Spain, and as such, were making their plans with regards to spending the day there.  Given their previous nights’ discussion about dates and Alex’s lack of awareness for them, he wants to do something special and plan a date for them.

“Go on, then, what’s this thought,” Henry states as he continues eating breakfast.

“I want to plan a date for us today,” Alex states.  He’d already done some quick research during their breakfast and figures he could go for some museums, but thought Malaga Park, Jardin Botanico – Historico La Concepcion (botanical gardens), and Mirador de Gibralfaro (a scenic spot) would be nice and peaceful.  They’d be less likely to be noticed than at museum where their security would get attention.  “I wanna chose where we go and surprise you.”

Henry hums.  “I thought you said this was my adventure?  That you were just along for the ride?”

“Didn’t you counter that with it’s our adventure?”

“Yes, I did.”

“So, then, you should let me plan our date.”

“You know that you don’t have to, right?  Everything we talked about at dinner…”

“Yes, I know, but I still want to,” Alex states.  He bats his eyelashes at Henry, knowing they’re his weakness.  “Come on, baby, just let me do this for you.”

He sees Henry melt like he always does when Alex calls him baby, and says, “I suppose that I could let you plan the day just this once.”

“Good, you won’t regret it.”

Henry smiles at him.  “That was never the question.”

“Good.”

[she-karev]

Breakdown (Andrew DeLuca x Alex Karev’s Sister PTSD Imagine)

Previous Chapter Here

Age Rating: 18+

Chapters: Two of Two

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Ship: Andrew DeLuca x Amber Karev (Alex Karev’s Sister)

Canon Episode: Season 17 Episode 10

TRIGGER WARNING: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Panic Attack, Flashback, Depression

Mental Health Resources: https://www.ptsd.va.gov/, https://adaa.org/understanding-anxiety/posttraumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd/resources, https://www.nami.org/, https://www.aacap.org/, https://www.dbsalliance.org/, https://afsp.org/

AN: I do NOT enjoy hurting my characters, let me make that clear and I certainly don’t enjoy hurting my head canon ships but I write not just for entertainment but to also send a message. Realistically someone with Amber’s traumatic childhood, relationship problems, and anxiety can crumble one day when it becomes too much to bear. I wanted to show that even the strongest person can ask for help when they feel it’s too much to overcome alone. Like and reblog below and let me know what you think.

Summary: Amber Karev reaches a breaking point and confides in Andrew her dark thoughts. When he fails to get her to seek help he encourages her to talk to someone about her problems. She confides in her friend Jackson Avery her struggles who helps her see that there is no shame in admitting you need help. That night she and Andrew have a heartbreaking goodbye when she leaves to stay at her brother, Alex’s, while she takes time off work to go to therapy.

Words: 5852

May 18th, 2020

Amber quickly walks inside the pit where she sees Paul Wilkins lying in bed sleeping. She sees him alone with no nurse or resident on sight and decides to see what’s going on. She keeps a respectable distance from the large man before speaking to him.

“Mr. Wilkins?” The man wakes up and sits up looking at the young resident, “Hi I don’t know if you remember me I-”

“Your one of my doctors ain’t you?” Paul asks causing Amber to nod.

“Yes I’m Dr. Karev. Did a nurse follow up with you? Was there a resident to tell you what your results showed what caused the pain?”

“Nope, I’ve been here by myself about half an hour, nobody told me anything.”

Amber nods apologetically, “I’m sorry about that our staff is scrambled all over trying to keep things steady but that is no excuse.”

“Nah it’s fine doc.” Paul dismisses nonchalantly, “It ain’t like you don’t got an excuse. And I’m just a youngish man who gets takeout deliveries cause there isn’t anything else to pass the time. Did you get my results back?”

“We did.” Amber goes over the labs on her tablet, “Your labs show that your anemic, that means your iron deficient and it’s what caused your nausea. The good news is that this is very treatable with oral iron supplements, the bad news is your gonna have to say goodbye to greasy takeout food and opt for a homemade salad instead.”

Paul chuckles, “My wife is gonna be happy to hear that. Her job is on pause, and she took up making a rooftop vegetable garden. Answer me this, have you ever tried radish from a dirty pot on a rooftop?”

Amber grins amused, “No I have not.”

“We’ll you can thank the lord for that blessing.” Amber chuckles before writing down on her tablet.

“So, the nausea is under control, and you should make a full recovery and be discharged soon. We’ll give you a rapid test and if your positive your gonna have to quarantine in a private room for the next two weeks and call us if your symptoms worsen. I’m gonna send your pharmacy a prescription for oral Phenergan for the nausea and oral iron supplements to get your iron levels under control. Is there anyone you can call to pick you up and drive you home?”

“Yeah, my wife she’s home with our girls but uh…” Amber raises an eyebrow at that pause, “I don’t know how to zoom her. My girls help me and I don’t know how.”

Amber grins at that before opening the facetime app on her tablet and handing it to Paul, “You just put down your wife’s number in and if she answers she should pop up.”

Paul does as told and waits while the tablet rings before his wife answers and her face pops up at the other end, “Hi baby.”

“Paul!” His wife exclaims worried, “Oh my god I was so worried about you, are you okay?”

“I’m fine I just need to eat less burgers that’s all. My doctor here can explain, say hi to doc.” Paul turns the tablet to face Amber who waves at his wife.

“Hi Mrs. Wilkins, I’m Dr. Karev, I’m your husbands’ doctor. So, your husband is anemic, that’s what caused the nausea and pain. Now this is very treatable with oral iron supplements and a more rigid diet moving forward, do you think you can help make sure he follows?”

“Oh, I will even if I have to shove lettuce down his throat.”

Paul chuckles, “Yep that’s Janice for you, never takes no for an answer.”

“Daddy!” Amber sees two little girls grabbing the phone and facing the resident who blanches at the sight of her patient’s kids. Kid’s that she almost left without a father if Jackson hadn’t corrected her error to the nurse.

Paul doesn’t notice her skin paling under her PPE and instead faces the tablet with renewed energy, “Hey babies! Don’t worry, daddy’s coming home soon thanks to this nice doctor lady. Say thank you to the doctor.”

Paul turns the tablet with Amber facing the two adorable little girls who smile widely at her making her heart sting, “Thank you doctor!”

Amber swallows the lump in her throat before smiling at the children behind her mask, “Your very welcome.” Paul turns the tablet to face him and Amber clears her throat before speking calmly, “Um I just sent your prescription in, it should be ready tonight. A nurse will discharge you, I have to be somewhere, if you have any questions have a nurse page me.”

Paul nods to Amber’s relief as she walks away from the pit. She doesn’t know where she is going but she can’t be in the pit face to face with a patient she almost harmed. The N95 mask she is wearing feels like a stove in her face, and she registers her breathing is becoming increasingly erratic.

Amber feels relief when she sees an empty family room that she quickly enters and shuts the door behind her. The comfortable couch and armchair are barely registered in her brain that feels like it’s spinning inside her skull. The panicking resident rips her face shield off her face along with her N95. But the air in her hot face is not enough for her to breathe in through her nose or her mouth that is hyperventilating. She leans forward against a wall, pressing her forehead against her clasping fists trying to control her breathing.

“Calm down, Karev, calm down.” Amber recites to herself but her voice does little to make herself relax. Her chest feels like it’s being squeezed inside and once again her feet feel like their planted on the ground.

The overlapping sounds from nurses and doctors outside the room are becoming muffled like they’re slowly moving a thousand miles away. Instead of the usual hospital chatter and equipment being moved all her hears is a ringing in her ear that she registers as her breathing gets shorter isn’t a ringing at all, it’s a flatline tone.

April 1st 2020

Amber looks down at her patient Ian Talbert who is lying in bed waiting for the release of death that comes to men his age who contract covid. The young resident has never felt so helpless, so insignificant, less like a doctor and more as a witness of death.

The 64-year-old actuary just offered the depressed resident a parting gift, his deceased daughters army dog tags. At first, she refused out of respect but reluctantly took them at Ian’s insistence that there was no one else to take them from him. Hearing Ian say there was nobody in his life to keep him company in his last moments makes the youngest Karev take action even if it kills her emotionally. She holds his hand with the dog tags and sits down in the chair next to him.

“I’m here. I am not going anywhere.” Amber promises holding his hand as he tears up from her kindness.

“I don’t blame you.” Ian states to a guilty Amber who closes her tearful eyes and looks down in shame, “I’m gonna see my daughter. Do you believe that?”

Amber sniffles and looks back up at her friend with tears in her eyes still holding his weakening hand.

“I didn’t give it much thought until this happened.” Amber admits, “But yeah, I want to believe there’s something good for you after all this pain. I really want to believe it.”

Ian’s breathing gets shallower, and he lays in bed looking up at the ceiling waiting for the release of death. Amber is still by his side holding his hand making sure he is not alone, it’s the only thing she can do at a time like this.

“Everything I have…is yours.” Ian proclaims.

A few moments pass before Ian stops breathing and lays still in bed with his eyes wide open. Amber looks and sees the monitors flatline without the sound. She looks back at Ian and let’s go of his limping hand to close his eyes. Her lip quivers as her eyes fill with tears before she sobs by the bed, saddened by what the world has come to and how many good people it’s lost in the process.

Present

“Amber!” The familiar sound of Andrew causes her to gasp and open her eyes. No longer is she leaning against her fists, instead she is sitting on the floor with her back against the wall. She registers that her knees are drawn up to her chest and her hair is stinging in pain.

Amber realizes she was pulling her own hair and possibly rocking back and forth like a child while lost in the flashback. She also looks at her boyfriend in front of her who looks frightened out of his mind no doubt she looked like she was losing it, and the thought fills her with shame.

Amber swallows the lump in her throat before asking, “What happened?”

“You went white, you were pulling your hair, and you were hyperventilating.” His voice is strained as if seeing her in that state broke his heart, “And when I touched you, you screamed.”

“I…what?” Amber feels her throat sore and realizes he is right as she speaks raspy, “Damn it…who heard?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Andrew dismisses needing to focus on the main issue, “Amber I have tried to be patient and back off like you wanted because every time I even ask you if you’re okay you lash out, but I can’t stand idly by not anymore. You need to see a therapist, right now as soon as possible.”

Amber shakes her head on autopilot, “No I’m f-

“You’re not fine.” Andrew insists sternly, “You had a full-on flashback, you weren’t here you were somewhere else, and I know it wasn’t the first time today. The nurses said they saw you stare off into space at the pit. That is not a symptom of a person who is fine you and I both know that.”

“Andrew, I don’t want to talk about this!” Amber exclaims in frustration before standing up and keeping a distance between them, “What part of that don’t you understand? I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to talk to some stranger about my fucked-up life, I don’t want to be another crazy person in my family like my mom!”

Andrew closes his eyes at that realizing this goes deeper than burnout as Amber keeps denying what is wrong, “I am trying to move on and rise on my own time in my own way. And yeah, maybe I missed some sleep, and my mind takes me to the worst moments of my life but guess what, not all of us can get stabbed and walk away five minutes later like nothing happened. We’re all not that lucky!”

Andrew widens his eyes at that low blow his girlfriend achieved. He would feel angry five months ago except back then he didn’t lash out at the woman he loves when he was having a mental breakdown. It was this moment he realized how hopeless Amber felt then and that knowledge makes his guilt grow even more and makes him more determined to persist like she did and help her like she tried to help him.

“…I’m not lucky Amber.” Andrew starts calmly, “A lucky person wouldn’t get stabbed, a lucky person wouldn’t drive the love of his life away, a lucky person wouldn't inherit his estranged father’s mental illness. I am far from the luckiest guy alive, and I was traumatized after what happened. I spent the first two weeks after my surgery waking up from nightmares and looked over my shoulder afraid someone was gonna come and finish the job. I was a freaking mess and the reason you don’t know this was because I didn’t want to burden you so soon after you miraculously decided to give us another chance.”

Amber stands there frozen with a remorseful face as Andrew continues with a strained voice, “I didn’t want to trigger you again and lose you again because I love you. And the reason I was so perfect in your book was because I had myself invested in my mental health by then. I take my meds; I go to therapy, and it helps me process what happened to me and move forward. I am trying to help you do the same because…because I can’t watch you ignore what is wrong like I did with my father I can’t. Just talk to me please. Just tell me what’s going on. I’m here for you okay? I want to help.”

Amber sniffles at this confession. A part of her wants to tell him…but a nagging feeling in her brain is reminding her of every fight they had when he was manic. It is playing the time he told her she would end up like her abusive father. It is playing the time he compared her to her neglectful mother. It played the weeks he ghosted her after his public breakdown. All of these horrible memories make her feel like she’s swimming in a blackhole before she coldly responds.

“You can’t help Andrew.” Amber replies numbly, “Nobody can help because you can’t fix me any better than when I tried to fix you. You hurt me and you lashed out at me and nothing I did got through to you so why do you think now would be any different?”

“Amber I’m trying to help.” Andrew pleads but it falls on deaf ears.

“You want to help me?” Andrew sees the hurt in her eyes as her voice is low and shaky, “Make the pandemic go away, make it so my mom actually got better when I needed her, make it so my brother didn’t inherit this illness. Make it so everyone I love in my life didn’t go crazy and hurt me in every way possible. Can you do that?!”

Andrew frowns at this inquiry that makes him silent with melancholy, “Yeah that’s what I thought. You can’t make this better because nothing ever gets better. Not the world, not the hospital, not our patients, not me. Everything is falling apart, and everyone is dying, and nobody knows how to fix it.”

Andrew stands there silent for a moment as he processes her depressing statement that is plaguing everyone. But he sees this isn’t just burnout or even depression, this is Amber falling apart after so many years of bottling up her pain. He knows he alone can’t help her…but he knows she needs someone to turn to even if it’s not him and wants to encourage her to do so.

He nods with a hard line on his face, “Your right I can’t fix the world and everything that is wrong with your life…but that doesn’t mean you have to let this helplessness and hopelessness take hold of you and never let go. I almost let it and if it wasn’t for Carina, Bailey and Webber I would be in the same place you are right now. Unwilling to help myself because the truth is too scary to face. I was lucky to have people that didn’t give up on me. And you have that too even if this thing your feeling can’t let you see it.”

Amber looks at Andrew with tear glistened eyes, “If you don’t want to talk to me that’s fine, I know after everything I put you through, I am the last person you feel safe to be vulnerable with. But please talk to someone else, someone you feel safe with, like Alex or Jackson who were there for you when I wasn’t. Talk to them before it eats you alive.”

Amber stands there for a moment looking broken beyond repair at this insistence. Even when she tries to push him away he is still trying to help her at her lowest. This gesture would melt her heart…except now her heart feels like it’s not working. It feels like everything inside of her is dying, it feels like all of the pain and misery has made her feel everything and nothing. Unable to bear him seeing this, Amber quickly leaves the room.

She walks toward the pit looking to work to escape this feeling, to escape all that is wrong. Except something stops her dead in her tracks just as she enters the mostly empty ER. Paul Wilkins is still in bed, except this time his wife is by his side. They are both talking and keeping their distance but the love between them is clear to the resident.

It’s clear to her that this scene in front of her wouldn’t be happening. It’s clear to her that Paul could be dead because his doctor prescribed him medication, she forgot he was allergic to because she was tired and stressed.

It’s clear that if her friend hadn’t been checking on her and correcting her little mistakes that almost culminated in a massive one, she would be fired or worse. It’s clear to her that Andrew was right about her needing to talk to someone before she lets this despair, she’s experiencing kill one of her patients. It’s clear she needs to talk to someone before it’s too late.

Later

Jackson looks out the window of the attendings lounge lost in thought as the pitter patter of rain falls from the dark sky. It seems like fitting weather for the day he’s had. First, he tried to talk to Amber about her obvious mental decline and then he had to work with a mother and daughter suffering from covid who both had to be put on a vent when ventilators were in shortage now.

Luckily his and Maggie’s quick thinking were able to convert one vent into a double tubing that can be used for both of them at the same time. It is a solution that can help trauma patients and covid patients use desperately needed vents without fear of a shortage.

However, his sorrow is still present as he has one problem remaining with his best friend who left to work despite what transpired with Paul Wilkins. It’s a problem that has him seriously contemplating on reporting her to Bailey and forcing her to get help or get fired. This decision is stalled by the door being burst open and slammed shut. Jackson turns to find Amber entering the room looking more disheveled than when she left him.

Amber is gripping the table chair by the top looking down at her feet with a struggle on her face that worries Jackson. It’s a look he’s never seen on her, it’s a look of distress that has never been shown in this confident and collected resident, until today. Jackson moves to face Amber across the table sitting down in the chair six feet away from her. He keeps a neutral face that he hopes allows her to feel safe enough to finally admit she needs help.

Amber sniffles and looks up to face Jackson with tear glistened eyes before speaking in a small voice, “Ask me again.”

Jackson furrows his eyebrows confused that Amber catches causing her to elaborate, “Ask me what I saw…when I was blacking out before I prescribed Mr. Wilkins the Zofran. Ask me what caused me to forget vital patient information.”

“…What did you see before you prescribed Mr. Wilkins the Zofran?”

Amber swallows and takes a moment before responding in a raspy voice, “A nurse was playing a song, Complicated by Avril Lavigne. It triggered me I think and my mind took me somewhere else, somewhere that felt like I was living a memory all over again. I was nine years old; I was listening to that song and then…and then my mom came bursting in off her meds again. She thought there was an intruder, and she was threatening to kill them. I instantly knew she was gonna attack me because it was just me there but the damn schizophrenia would make her see a monster instead of her own daughter. Her illness would kill me, and she wouldn’t even know it until after.”

Jackson looks at her in sympathy while she continues with tears streaming down her eyes sniffling, “I grabbed the phone and hid in the closet like Alex and Aaron told me to do when mom has an episode. I hid in the closet and called Aaron, he heard mom screaming so he said he would be there as fast as he could and to keep quiet and keep hiding so I did…I hid in that closet for half an hour, listening to my mom’s screams and rants that got worse when she started throwing stuff around. I didn’t move, I didn’t make a peep because I was afraid if I so much as breathed out loud Helen would know, and I would be at her mercy without my brothers there to protect me. So I stayed still, I stayed quiet and ever since that day when I hear that song…I am reminded of that awful moment in that closet. But today was the first time I ever had a flashback like that, and do you want to know what the worst part of it is?” Jackson shakes his head listening attentively as his friend shares her struggles with him, “These past few months I felt like that scared little girl in the closet again.”

Amber gasps a breath before grabbing a napkin from the kitchenette to wipe her eyes before explaining to Jackson facing the sink instead of him, “Growing up in that house, in my family…I felt helpless and weak. I put on this tough front like I can handle anything, but it was just that, a front. I didn’t want anyone to see that I was scared, scared of my mom and her crazy and then again with Aaron. You spend a part of your childhood in and out of foster care you learn to close off a part of yourself to survive. I have done that all of my life; I fought tooth and nail to survive…but I always felt like nothing I did mattered. And that feeling…it’s gotten worse since the day we learned we were in a pandemic.”

Jackson stands up with a solemn expression standing six feet next to Amber so she can know he’s still there. He always knew Amber was tough but seeing her breakdown and admit underneath it all is a scared girl has him feeling bad for her as she needed help for so long, but nobody has given it to her or even saw that she needed it.

Amber wipes her tears with the napkin, “Do you know why I became a doctor? I wanted to use the part of my brain that was healthy, the part of that was strong and decisive, the part that my mother’s illness wouldn’t touch. I wanted to feel like I was in control, like I mattered but now…” Amber shudders unable to finish.

Jackson can tell where she was going and finishes for her, “Now it feels like the career you choose to escape your hell from is just another one taking you back to your childhood.”

Amber whimpers as she nods confirming his theory causing her to blow her nose on the napkin before continuing, “I thought it was something I could get used to, something I could fight against until it ended. It’s why I’m working so hard till I’m bone tired, because it’s the only thing I know how to do in a crisis…but then I made a mistake that almost killed someone. I almost became the kind of doctor Andrew’s dad was the night he killed four patients…I almost became the kind of doctor that killed my father. The only difference is that unlike my father that man would have been missed by his family and I would have been the reason that wife lost her loving husband and why those kids lost their great dad. He could have died and not because of a virus I couldn’t control but because of something I could. He could have died because I was too weak to do the job I was entrusted with.”

“Amber look at me, look at me.” Amber sniffles and turns to face him and she grips the sink, “You are not weak, you are the least weak person I know. Mr. Wilkins could have died because of the Zofran you prescribed yes but he didn’t. He didn’t because you have people who could see you are understandably crumbling at all this death and illness surrounding us. And you realized your mistake, you remembered what the paramedics told you and you ran like hell to stop it. Shane Ross refused to sleep and talk to anyone about his problems. He didn’t help himself and it caused him to hallucinate and take your father in for a botched surgery that caused organ failure. Webber had to physically tell him what was happening right in front of him to get him to step down. He went down a rabbit hole and pushed everyone away and alienated anyone who tried to reach out. He refused to acknowledge what was wrong and stop himself from burning out and hurting patients in the process, that is the difference between the two of you. You stopped and you took a breath and came here to talk to someone who could help. I’ve learned from my nature walks that sometimes the best thing to do is to just stand still and let your feelings and your pain be known to you so you can know what is causing it to begin with.”

Amber presses her lips together as his words hit her and cause more tears to form in her eyes, “You stopped and stood still before you could go down the same path as Ross and Vincenzo DeLuca and have everything you worked hard to gain be taken away from you because you didn’t admit you weren’t okay. You did the hardest thing a person can do and that is not weakness. You are working in a hospital during a pandemic, and it can cause anyone to feel dejected and it’s especially hard for a person like you who knows the feeling of helplessness too well. What you are doing right now, admitting the problem in front of you after a lifetime of keeping your guard up, is not weakness, it is an act of incredible strength. And I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of you than at this very moment.”

Amber shakes her head at that and replies numb, “I don’t feel strong.”

Jackson nods understanding that and decides to get to the next step Amber needs to take, “Don’t worry, you only have to be strong enough to do one more thing.”

Amber sniffles knowing the words that need to come out, it takes all her strength the muster the three words she has never said in her life, “…I need help.”

Amber exhales after saying these words feeling like a weight is being listed off her shoulders. She begins to sob at this admission of needing professional help knowing this will not be an easy journey but it’s one she must take in order to feel like her best self once again.

That Night

Andrew opens the door to his apartment feeling the need to shower and sleep as soon as he comes in. He exhales in exhaustion from work and his relationship. He hasn’t seen Amber since she walked out after refusing to talk to him. DeLuca doesn’t know where Amber is and hopes she took his advice and talked to someone about her struggles.

He enters the living room where he pauses at a shocking sight. He sees Amber sitting on the couch looking up at him sadly with two of her suitcases by her side packed. Andrew would normally think this is Amber leaving Andrew out of disdain for his insistence that she seek therapy. But seeing the sorrowful look on her face tells him a different story, it tells him this isn’t being done out of anger but out of seeking help for herself like he wanted.

Andrew moves to sit on the couch next to Amber and waits until she’s comfortable enough to speak to him, “…I’m not okay. I thought I was but I’m not okay. I know how to push through the pain and try to ignore it but…it’s too much death to ignore and it’s breaking me down. It feels like everything around me is just a constant reminder that I’m not good enough and I just feel helpless all over again. I felt helpless and weak growing up and I worked so hard to be strong and successful but now…now it’s like it was all for nothing, like I am nothing and it’s not going away.”

Andrew sighs at this holding her hand to let her know he is not going anywhere again, “It’s not going away and I…I know it’s gonna take a lot more than just surviving to get through it. I know I need to rest and actually face this thing and treat it like it’s a disease before I let it consume me. This thing…it’s been there since I was a kid and it’s gotten worse since March. It’s gotten worse to the point where I prescribed Zofran to a patient a paramedic told me he was allergic to. I almost let my trauma kill a man, if it wasn’t for Jackson, I would never forgive myself. And if it wasn’t for Jackson, I wouldn’t admit what you two saw before me. I need help. And that’s why I can’t stay here while I do. This apartment…it’s filled with horrible memories of one of the many times I felt like I was unworthy of love and felt like everyone I loved went crazy because I was in the same room as them.”

Amber sniffles and wipes a tear away causing Andrew anguish as he knows he caused her to feel that way along with her mom and brother. It causes him to have tears glisten in his eyes feeling responsible for hurting the woman he loves.

Amber faces him with a red rimmed eyes, “I know you didn’t mean it, I know it was the illness that caused you to act like that. All of this isn’t your fault, you were just a very tiny part of my long torturous life that piled on my psyche until this point.”

“But I was still a part of it.” Andrew says out of shame and regret, “I’m sorry, I wish I was a person to mend your pain instead of causing it. I want to be that person.”

“You were.” Amber admits truthfully, “You still are I just…I love you so much and right now I need some space for a little bit to figure out how to fix myself by myself. I need to do that otherwise I’m gonna rely on you or my family or my friends to feel better and that can’t be an option for me right now with everything going on. I need to figure out how to not feel like I’m dying inside.”

Andrew nods understanding this more than anyone as he has been there before and hopes Amber can heal like he’s trying to, “I’m gonna go to my brothers for a few weeks. It’s a safe place I think will be perfect for me while I take time off to sort myself out”

Andrew nods holding her hand tighter, “I know how hard this is, believe me and I wish I could say it’s gonna be easy but it’s not. It’s gonna be hard in the beginning but eventually you’re gonna finally move past your reluctance and whatever it is that’s making you feel like you are less important than you actually are. Trust me when I say, it’s gonna get better and I’ll be right here to help and right here when you get back. I promise, I’m not gonna stop loving you when you get help. I promise you I am not leaving this time, I’m here for good, I swear.”

Amber feels slightly better at that story looking at Andrew with love, “I know that. I love you too I just…I need space from you and everything else so I can focus on myself and get better. I need to stop fighting and just stand still. I need to do that for myself, I need to help myself.”

Andrew nods understanding her need to get her priorities straight like he did. He sees a little of the smart, strong and resilient woman he fell in love with right now even if she doesn’t. He leans forward and kisses her gently.

She reciprocates this kiss with a tear down her cheek as their lips touch. Amber touches the back of his neck bringing him closer as they stop kissing and instead lean against each other’s foreheads closing their eyes as they take in this last moment between them before Amber goes.

Andrew doesn’t feel sad but rather relief that the woman he loves is taking the time to heal and hopefully come back to him better like he did when his friends and family made him see that it was okay to admit your not okay.

He makes this known to Amber caressing her cheek and looking into her tearful eyes, “Your gonna be okay, I know it. I love you so much.”

“I love you.” Amber whispers back giving him another tender kiss before standing up and grabbing her suitcase with Andrew carrying the other. They walk out of the apartment to Amber’s car where they load the bags into the trunk before getting inside.

Amber is in the passenger seat with Andrew behind the wheel. Before he starts the engine, he looks over to find Amber looking down at her hands twiddling with her fingers. Andrew can tell she is scared to start this chapter just like he was when his sister drove him to the treatment center.

He looks at his girlfriend in sympathy and holds her shaking hands as a gesture of comfort. She appreciates this as she holds his hand with both of hers that shake less. Amber takes a moment to close her eyes and concentrate on her breathing.

She inhales and exhales slowly a few times before opening her eyes and looking at Andrew still holding his hand. Amber sniffles before nodding to let him know she’s okay. He nods back, giving her hands one good squeeze before letting go to start the car. Andrew begins to drive down the road with Amber looking out the window watching the landscape pass as she lets her breath out and closes her eyes to rest before she reaches her destination.