#or was it just supposed to mean he was young and inexperienced because he left his phone on during confessional

[v88sy]

"we were supposed to assume the priest was gay because of his ringtone, that was the joke" is certainly...a take that I just saw out in the wild.

[wttcsms]

love cuts just like a knife (you make the knife feel so good) ; phillip graves

pairing phillip graves x f!reader word count 8.4k synopsis lover and victim are synonymous when it comes to those who fall into phillip graves’ trap. you learn this lesson a little bit too late. alternatively: an ambitious twenty-five year old graves will do anything for recognition and a promotion. even using you, a renowned general’s daughter, as a means to an end. collateral damage is insignificant when it comes to reaping the rewards of love and war, after all. content contains age gap (reader is 19, phillip is 25), manipulation, loss of virginity, possessive sex, possessive!phillip, lovers to enemies, naive + inexperienced!reader, mentions of pregnancy, power imbalance, breeding kink, minor depictions of violence + blood, literally heavily inspired by taylor swift’s “all too well (10 min version)” + “would’ve, could’ve, should’ve” </3

The four walls of this bathroom are closing in on you, you can’t breathe, and you’re certain that this most certainly is the end of the fucking world.

You try to focus on your breathing, but the sound of your heart banging against your chest invades your mind and makes you think your eardrums are going to burst from the inside out. You’re vaguely aware of the knocks against the bathroom door, but you can’t make out what the person on the other side is saying. The whole room is spinning, and you shut your eyes, forcing yourself to keep steady, to stay calm.

Your fingers curl around the countertop of the bathroom, back hunched over and your shaky arms being the only things helping you remain upright.

This can’t be happening.

You only tighten your grip, staring at your fingers before wanting to throw up when the light reflection from the promise ring on your finger catches your eyes.

You swear that in the glint from the thin band wrapped around your finger, you see flashes of what transpired these past few months. Secret smiles shared from across the room, being tangled up in hotel bedsheets, that damn smirk and boyish grin that sent you spiraling, that led to your’s — your whole entire family’s — demise.

It all comes back to you at too much of a rapid-fire pace for your already shattered mind to deal with properly. Instead, you’re practically ripping off the ring from your finger and chucking it somewhere in the bathroom. You hear the distinct sound of its landing, and from the corner of your eye, it still taunts you.

You shut your eyes again, childishly refusing to turn your head any further so you can conveniently ignore what the ring happened to land next to.

You don’t care much for violence.

Which is ironic; a renowned general’s only daughter being a pacifist? Sounds more like the setup for a joke.

But there’s nothing funny about the way his knuckles are smeared with dried blood, and the sincerity reflected in his blue eyes is too real to be just a joke. Dangling from in between his fingers is the unmistakable golden locket your mother gifted to you when you were only twelve — just months before her quick death. It’s your most prized possession.

And then it was stolen.

At least, you think it was stolen. You’re smart enough to know better than to throw wild accusations, especially whenever you’re on base and these young men surrounding you are training to be the best and brightest for the country. But still — you’re not careless enough to just misplace something so important. The only reason you took it off was because your father told you jewelry wouldn’t be allowed past a certain point. He had promised that the locker would be secure, and you didn’t have the heart to come running to him to tell him that the lockers evidently were not. After watching a fighter jet’s practice run (a supposed special treat for graduating top of your high school class — neverminding the fact that your father’s influence probably had something to do with it), the door to your locker had been swung open and left entirely empty.

You even had a sneaking suspicion as to who the culprit could have been. Jeremy Omelia has been a pain in your ass since summer break started, and you’ve been forced to spend most of your time either on the training base or following your dad around like some little puppy. He’s a new recruit, evident in the way he talks loudly and obnoxiously about how badly he wants to go to war. Your father, a highly respected general, mind you, isn’t shy about his distaste for fighting.

Avoid it at all costs.

Instead of hardening him, all the violence your father has beared witness to has left him rather soft. He shields you to the point where some of his fellow men jokingly discuss about you living in your own little bubble world. And they’re right.

You’ve never had the luxury of sneaking out or having movie dates and getting your father to allow you to go to a sleepover at a classmate’s was harder and less painful than pulling teeth. You get it; that he’s overbearing and overprotective for a good reason. But when the situation calls for you to stand your ground, you find yourself completely at the mercy of your opposition.

So when you first accused Jeremy of stealing your beloved necklace, it had been nothing short of a miserable, failed mission. Too overwhelmed and yet too unsure of yourself, you had practically stuttered through your accusation. It hadn’t helped that you chose to confront him in front of the rest of the new recruits, too. They would have mocked you and probably teased you with the type of cruelty only boys are capable of, but the status of your father shields you from it. Their laughter still rings in your ears, though.

And for the first time in your life, you felt the urge to punch someone in the face.

Again: you’re not a very violent person. Nor are you the type of person who jumps in and does stuff as irrational as that.

But staring up at the boy in front of you, locking eyes with him, and then allowing yours to wander from his bloody knuckles to the thin gold chain dangling in his large hands, you feel a sudden surge of satisfaction. Your father may tell you to avoid fighting at all costs, and you may have a distaste for violence, but a punch managed to solve all your problems.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, daring to take a step forward. Your fingers graze against the familiar, cold feeling of the gold of your necklace. “Thank you.” You repeat it again, staring up at him, trying to see if you know him at all.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he says, knowing that he’s lying right through his pearly white teeth. It’s a nasty habit of his — lying, that is. It’s probably inherited. That’s the excuse he tells himself anyway. As if unlearning bad behaviors from your family is impossible.

“I know he stole it! That jerk! I—” You pause, clearing your throat. Your cheeks feel warm, and you suddenly can’t look him in the eyes. “That jerk” is probably one of his bunkmates. Badmouthing the guy might do more harm than good, and since you haven’t necessarily regained possession of your necklace, you should shut up. Instead of finishing your onslaught of insults, you stretch out your palm, silently asking for your prized possession back.

“I know.” He says, after a minute of silence. “Omelia’s a dick. And an idiot. Y’know, I think he has a little crush on you.”

That makes you look at him again.

“That’s— I—” You need a second to process what you’re trying to tell him.

“That can’t be true,” is what you lamely settle for.

“Guys do weird shit to get a girl’s attention, y’know. ‘Specially for a pretty one.”

(Things like getting their knuckles bloody and risking punishment and public humiliation. But, that’s neither here nor there.)

You want to blame your inexperience for being the reason why you react the way you do. You’re thankful that he’s only human and can’t hear the way your heart starts to beat at his comment. He says it so casually, as if it’s not a compliment. And maybe he doesn’t mean it in that way. Maybe it wasn’t a compliment towards you at all. Maybe he’s just being a completely normal guy, and he’s just making simple conversation, and you’re the weird one for practically gawking at him.

“I guess.” You reply back, feeling small as ever. “May I have my necklace back, now? Please?” You tack on the please at the last minute, hoping he’ll appreciate it, and the two of you can be done with this whole entire awkward situation.

“Depends. You gonna get it stolen from you again?”

You know he’s just teasing you, but you can’t think of anything smart to say back, so you just cross your arms, hoping your distaste for his comment will be made known. Instead of apologizing, he laughs.

“Turn around.” He tells you, and you do. Only out of curiosity, though. Only because he has a nice laugh. Only because he obviously went through great lengths to retrieve your necklace back for you, and he never acknowledged your thank you’s, so maybe doing what he says will make the two of you even.

The tips of his fingers brush against the nape of your neck, and you never realized just how sensitive you are. It takes everything in you to not jerk away from the movement, but it’s almost as if he’s shocked you. It’s silly to get overwhelmed from just the slightest touch, but you swallow hard as he manuevers around your hair to clasp the necklace around your neck.

“There.” He says, seemingly satisfied. “Now the next time someone takes it from you, at least you’ll have a solid look at ‘em yanking the chain around your neck so your accusation can have some credibility.”

You ignore his little teasing remark in favor of satiating your curiosity. “Who are you?”

“No one you need to worry too much about.”

You turn your head, ready to face him again and ask him for his name more firmly, but he’s already walking back from wherever he’s came from, leaving nothing but the memory of his face and the ghost of his touch lingering on the back of your neck.

Ambition is a curse.

Ambition is a bitch.

At least, that’s how Phillip Graves sees it. Ambition and the greed to do something more, to always have the best — sure, it motivates him to be the top of his class and to rise through the ranks faster than most. But it also ends up resulting in him doing some pretty questionable shit.

Things like beating up fellow recruits.

He doesn’t like fighting.

Or rather, he doesn’t like to be the first one to swing.

You see, it’s easier to justify when you do bad shit because it’s done out of retaliation. No one can blame you for being the bad guy if you were the victim first — right?

But no.

General McHenry is the closest thing Graves has to a father figure. His home life is something he chooses not to acknowledge, and when you’re too consumed with climbing the ladder, a lot of things get easier to move to the backseat, left to be abandoned and forgotten. His family being one of those abandoned, forgotten things.

The conversation still replays in his mind as Graves stomps on Omelia’s back.

“General [Surname] has been a pain in the fucking ass for as long as I can remember. The weak bastard’s always opposing the opportunity to strike, and he’s going to be the reason why our enemies are going to accuse us of being a bunch of pussies.”

Graves nods in agreement, even if he doesn’t truly agree. General McHenry’s been the one kind enough to take him under his wing, and so it’s better to just go with what he says and continue to benefit from the general’s sponsorship. Raw talent and simple ambition only gets you so far nowadays.

“You agree, dont’cha? ‘Course ya do.” McHenry grumbles, pacing around the room. “[Surname] refuses to man up and fuckin’ fight. It doesn’t help that he’s still viewed as a golden boy around here. He’s even got the fuckin’ president wrapped around his finger.”

Graves personally doesn’t have anything against General [Surname]. He seems like a nice enough guy. He’s a war hero, too.

Then again, so is McHenry.

“When I’m at the top of the fuckin’ foodchain, [Surname] and his entire family is going to regret crossing me. You understand, Graves?”

Graves nods. Lately, McHenry’s been going on little tangents like this, where he’s secretly plotting the downfall of this general. He goes along with it because he feels like he owes it to McHenry, and even if there’s only a sliver of a chance of taking down General [Surname], Graves will follow through for McHenry because the payoff will be fantastic.

He doesn’t actually anticipate McHenry coming up with a feasible plan.

“Fuck! What the fuck is your problem, Graves?!”

The howl of pain from Omelia snaps him back to his current reality. Staring down at the pitiful, crumpled form of Omelia, Graves can’t find it in himself to feel the slightest bit of remorse. Truth be told, Omelia’s had it coming since day one.

The pathetic idiot’s been eyeing General [Surname]’s daughter ever since you stepped foot on base. Everyone is aware of your presence, especially this year’s class. The famous general’s only daughter is going to be here all summer? And you just so happen to be the prettiest fucking thing most of these guys have ever laid eyes on? Trouble was bound to happen.

Graves just didn’t know that he was going to be one of the unlucky participants of it.

He sighs, crouching down before taking a hand to tug at the collar of Omelia’s shirt. The action forces Omelia to weakly lift his head, allowing him to look Graves in his gunmetal blue eyes.

“Where is it?” Graves doesn’t sound angry, which is shocking to poor Omelia considering the fact that he sure as hell punches like he is. The proof is in the constant stream of blood trickling out of his nose.

“Where’s what?” He’s not even feigning ignorance, which Graves can’t necessarily fault him for. He’s not really the type to wear his heart on his sleeve — would much rather prefer to pretend that he doesn’t even have one, thank you very much — but he’s on a bit of a time crunch right now. He knows your schedule. You’re going to be leaving the canteen pretty soon, and if he wants to catch you, he needs to speed things up.

He chooses to further take his irritation out on Omelia, punching the guy with his left fist this time. It’s not a particularly hard punch; he figures he’s already done enough damage, and by the time word gets around of his transgressions, Graves will hopefully already have McHenry pulling some strings to make sure his punishment isn’t too severe. Now, though, both of his hands are bloody. Blood is a bitch to wash away.

“Fuck!” Omelia yelps. “What the fuck are you even looking for?”

“Her necklace. The damn locket that she confronted you about for stealing. Where the hell is it?” With each sentence, Graves shakes the boy, forcing his limp body to jerk with each aggressive tug. Graves starts to feel a little bit guilty, before he remembers that technically, Omelia made you cry.

You’re cute, Graves finds himself thinking. Too cute to be crying over an idiot like him.

The guilt dissipates.

“That’s what all this shit is about? Over some stupid fu—”

Omelia’s complaints are interrupted by another one of his pained screams. Graves had punched him again, this time a bit harder.

“I don’t have time for your bullshit.” Graves growls. He switches gripping Omelia’s shirt in favor for curling his fingers into the locks of the boy’s hair. It’ll be easier to use that as a sort of leash; provides him the ability to more forcefully bash the idiot’s head into the pavement beneath his feet. Seemingly smart enough to sense the impending danger, Omelia quickly begins to shout.

“It’s in my fucking left pocket! Left pocket, left pocket!”

Graves keeps his grip tight and unyielding as he uses his free hand to rummage in said pocket. Sure enough, Omelia had enough sense to not lie.

He releases Omelia unceremoniously, clutching the dainty necklace and keeping it safely secured in the calloused palm of his hand.

His parting words — more like a warning — leaves Omelia wondering just who the fuck are you to Graves.

The next time you make her cry, I’ll break every fucking bone in your body for every tear she spills.

Eighteen years old. Freshly graduated from high school. More college acceptances than you know what to do with. General [Surname]’s only child. His precious little princess. His only immediate family, and after the untimely death of your mother, his biggest weakness.

General McHenry is teaching Graves on how to exploit weaknesses.

“Good job,” McHenry says, laughing before clapping Graves on the back of his shoulder. “You sure can put on a performance, son.”

Son. Huh. It has a bit of a nice ring to it, he supposes.

“Y’know, I thought I wouldn’t be able to stick out my neck for ya, but you must’ve done some Oscar-worthy acting, boy. You should’ve seen the look on that girl’s face when she begged her daddy not to let ‘em punish you too harshly. Looks like you’re smarter than you look.”

Yeah, sure. It’s a bit of a backhanded compliment, but Graves will settle for it. He just has to deal with this shit for a while longer, and soon, he’ll never have to settle for anything ever again.

At first, General McHenry thought it was a bit of a bullshit idea. The general’s daughter is much too protected by the likes of her father and his closest allies to be touched by the likes of any outsiders. The best way to have him in the palm of their hands is to hit you with it, but that provides to be a bit of a challenge. No direct attack on you will go unpunished.

Graves suggests playing the long game.

He’s read your file, and it doesn’t take a psych degree to read you to filth. You’re nothing more than a pretty girl who’s been spoiled and sheltered by her father all her life. You’re eighteen and about to begin the start of your life, and you probably feel as if you’ve never done anything exciting. Even if you act like a stickler for rules or you’re scared to face the consequences of disobeying your father, with the right words and the right timing, Graves bets planting the seeds of rebellion in your naive, little brain will be a simple task. He’s certain you’ve never had a boyfriend, never even been given the chance to go out on a date — the slightest bit of affection will have you eating out the palm of his hands. The same hands he’s going to use to force your father into the ground, allowing him and McHenry to do whatever the fuck they want.

Naturally, no good deed goes unpunished. Graves still has to scrub the bathrooms with a toothbrush for the next two nights, but it’s a small price to pay. If you truly caused a commotion and swayed your own father to change his stance all for a guy you don’t even know the name of, he’s certain in the next few months, he’ll have you craving his last name and the privilege of bearing his children.

Which isn’t such a bad thing. You’re pretty, he’ll give you that. The prettiest girl he’s ever seen, too.

“What do you plan on doing next?” McHenry asks, grinning. Graves smiles back.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it all figured out.”

Word spreads around quickly in places like these. While you saw the evidence all over his knuckles, hearing what actually transpired leaves you a bit breathless — shocked, but not necessarily because of the violence of it all. Shocked because it had all been done in your honor.

It’s only been two days since the incident, but the feeling of your locket pressed against your skin seems to burn. It serves as a constant reminder of the boy who fought to get it back for you, and suddenly, this necklace has two special memories behind it. You never want to take it off again.

You catch snippets of the recruits whispering to each other, but it’s hard to hear the full story whenever they look up and notice you’re nearby. No one has outright approached you about your connection to this whole fight, and it’s not until dinnertime that you finally get all the details.

“What’s this I hear about between you and Graves?”

“Me and who?” You continue twisting your pasta around your fork, perfectly content with eating in silence and daydreaming about the boy who retrieved your necklace for you. You’ve been texting your closest friends from high school about all the drama, questioning them on what it means. The general consensus? That boy’s got it bad for you. The thought makes you way too happy.

“Phillip Graves.” Your father says.

You shrug, still not sure who he’s talking about.

“Young lady, do not play the fool with me. According to Omelia, he’s the one who left him bloody and bruised outside the back of the gym.”

So, two things you now know for certain: Omelia is a necklace thief, and the boy you’re thinking about is named Phillip Graves. This is becoming a truly enlightening conversation.

“Oh. Well, I didn’t know his name.”

“You don’t know his name, and yet, he’s starting brawls over you?”

“Well, dad, when you put it like that—”

“[Name], what Graves did was a very inappropriate thing to do. Honorable men should never raise their fists against their own fellow soldiers, especially over disputes that could have easily been solved with a simple conversation.”

“Dad, you don’t seriously think that he’s the bad guy in the situation! He’s the one who defended me—”

“I’m just saying, sweetheart, that he used unnecessary force—”

“Omelia is such a jerk! You weren’t there that day. He totally humiliated me in front of everyone in the canteen whenever I tried to make ‘simple conversation’. He wouldn’t listen at all.”

“There’s going to be a meeting to discuss what Graves has done. I personally believe that he should be punished in accordance to what’s written down for men who act as rashly and harshly as he did.”

“Dad!” You gasp, dropping your fork entirely. It makes a tiny sound as it hits the porcelain of your plate, but you ignore the clanging noise. “Don’t you think that’s unfair?”

“Omelia has a broken nose, [Name].”

“Omelia stole the last piece of mom I have left. He would have never given it back if his nose wasn’t broken.”

Looking back, maybe the violence was harsh and uncalled for. A punch might have sufficed. The brutality he’s capable of is simply excusable in your untainted mind. You reason that all soldiers must be capable of going through great lengths to protect and defend others. Isn’t that what he was doing? Protecting and defending you?

“If you vote to have him punished horribly, I won’t forgive you.”

Even if your bottom lip is trembling and your hands are shaking, your father can see that there’s some conviction behind your words. He’s never been one to deny you, his only daughter, and perhaps Graves is just young and brash.  

“Fine.” Your father says, appeasing you.

The clink of his fork tapping against his own plate sounds a bit too much like the first domino of his downfall.

“You never told me your name,” you’re standing with your arms crossed against your chest. The sunlight coming through one of the large windows hits your necklace, making it shine. He takes in your entire form, memorizing the shape and silhouette of your body. You’re a sight for sore eyes, at least.

“I’ve got a feeling you already know it, though.” He watches the way you fight down a smile at his remark. He bets you have a pretty smile.

You pull out the seat that’s across from him.

“I didn’t know you read.” You say. You’ve been plotting running into him for the past week now, and you know that he frequents the library every day for at least an hour. You’re not sure what he likes to read, but you doubt brushing up on the hockey romances on your Kindle will provide much conversation. You downloaded The Art of War and only made it past the first three pages before deciding that you’ll just manipulate the conversation into something not about books.

“You think about my literacy levels on your freetime, honey?”

All common sense evaporates the moment he calls you honey.

He teases you every time he talks to you (which, then again, isn’t very much), and so you’re certain there’s nothing genuine behind the pet name, but it still makes you undeniably giddy. No one’s ever called you something so sweet before.

Trying to appear unfazed and not as flustered as you feel, you eloquently reply back, “Um— I— No.”

He laughs, the same nice laugh that you can’t stop thinking about. It almost makes up for the fact that he’s most certainly laughing at you.

“Don’t feel bad. I think about you during my freetime, too.”

He can’t just go around saying stuff like that! It’s unfair! It’s… No one goes around saying stuff like that!

“What? Nothing to say to me now?” He’s grinning at you, book in his hand long-forgotten. You notice that it’s not mean, though, which makes you relax just the slightest.

“You shouldn’t joke about things like that.” You tell him. “People might take you seriously.”

“Well, they should. I am serious.”

And for a split second, he thinks he’s being a bit cruel. Mean, at the very least. The way you’re looking at him makes it plainly obvious that you’ve never been flirted with a day in your life.

The hopeful gleam in your bright eyes makes him believe his own lie, just for a brief moment.

It could be worse, he reasons with himself. There are worse people to pretend to fall in love with, after all.

You’ve never been gifted flowers before.

Maybe Phillip knows this. Maybe the insane amount of bouquets he’s gifting you is to make up for all that lost time. Maybe he’s just one of those people who believe in going big or going home.

Maybe he likes you as much as you like him.

You know how your father feels about dating. He’s a rather traditional man. Believes in the whole entire “ask him for permission before taking his little girl away from him” type of shit. Graves is thorough with his research, and even gathered the courage to ask your father for the chance to take you on a date.

It had been a risk—

—one that almost didn’t pay off.

He thinks his ears are still ringing from the shouts of your father. He’s heard reports that he’s a stoic man, for the most part, and isn’t one for conflict when there’s an option that avoids it. But he’s also a reasonable man, and so, Graves can’t necessarily fault him for the rant he went on.

You’re six years older than her! The hell are you doing trying to take her on a date?

He eventually calmed down, of course. Graves took the brunt of the screams pretty well, gave a whole long lecture on how he would never harm a hair on your precious head. He didn’t anticipate on liking you so much, and believe him, he’s been trying to fight down the feelings he’s harboring for you, but he knows he’ll regret not at least trying.

Your father is soft on you. You must talk about Graves more than he realizes it, because General [Surname] gives him his permission a lot easier than he planned on.

He almost feels bad for the way he’s playing your family like a fool.

Then he remembers the power he’ll receive once all is said and done, and he can almost ignore the lingering feelings of guilt.

He forgets everything when you walk through the doors of the library, surprised at the sight greeting you.

He’s made sure that everyone on base knows to avoid the library at all costs tonight, and he even retrieved the key from the librarian on hand after slipping him a twenty and whispering a quick threat about what will happen if he isn’t left alone in this building. Dealing with the closest florist available and strategically arranging all the bouquets to the point where the whole front entrance of the library is covered in red roses. The spines of the books, the front desks, every table — none of them are visible due to the sheer amount of flowers obscuring them from view.

“I don’t–? What?” You take in the scenery before looking at him. He’s got a large bouquet in his hand and a proud smile on his face, like he’s pleased with your reaction. You think this is a good thing.

“Told ya I was serious. Now you believe me?”

There are weeks that go by without the two of you ever even talking. Most days, you’re lucky enough to be walking past him on the base, and for a fleeting moment, he’ll shoot you a smile that’s so quick, you blink and he’s already long gone. You convince yourself that there’s a meaning to all of this, though. That distance must truly make the heart grow fonder, because why else are you collecting all the scraps you’re given and convincing yourself that they’re the only things keeping you full?

(It’s hard to face reality when you find yourself falling in love with the image of his back turned, walking away from you.)

And in your mind, you’re right. You’re pleased to find out that you’re not just some silly little teenage girl, falling in love with the first person who will give her the time of day. After all, this isn’t necessarily your first time experiencing what it’s like to be crushed on.

It is your first time being wowed by someone so much older and therefore unattainable.

It’s addicting — his attention. He can only gift you his affections so few and far between; every time you find yourself on the receiving end of it, you get dizzy from excitement and joy. This is someone who likes you. Someone who likes you so much, he does grand gestures like this to properly court you.

It’s not your fault, is what you’ll tell yourself in the future. Anyone would have fallen for his tricks.

Anyone would have fallen for him.

Being with Phillip is exciting. Your friends from school tell you it’s simply because he’s your first boyfriend — the word still makes you smile every time you think about it — but you know in your heart that it’s because it’s him that makes it exciting.

You like the way he teases you, not to mock you or to bully you, but because that’s just how he shows his affection. You like the way he’s better than all of your friends’ boyfriends because unlike them, Phillip is actually a man. He’s older, making him more knowledgeable about a lot of things. You like the way he never makes you lift a single finger; you think you’re almost forgetting how to do basic things, like opening doors and pulling out chairs and even putting on your seatbelt yourself. But he makes up for it by teaching you things.

Things like spreading your legs for him when he tells you to, even when you’re not expecting him to.

“Phillip, I—” You forget what you’re about to tell him the moment the moan escapes from your lipglossed lips. It’s your nineteenth birthday. Dad’s away on a mission. Phillip tells you he had to pull some strings to not get sent away, either, and the lengths he’ll go to keep you happy makes your heart flutter.

The two of you get into his fancy sports car, and he drives upstate to a quaint little bed and breakfast that he knows you’ve been doing research on. The two of you were supposed to be heading out for dinner right about now, but when you finished getting ready, something in your beloved boyfriend seemed to change.

Now you’re not having a birthday dinner.

Gripping the sheets and gasping as the cool air hits your bottom half because of the way Phillip flipped the skirt of your dress, you realize that at least one of you will be eating tonight.

“Phillip, we—we don’t have time to be doing this.” You weakly protest, no true conviction behind your words.

Before him, you would have never imagined how good one person can make you feel with just the tips of their fingers or strategic movements with their mouths. Now the flood of pleasurable memories travels from your mind to in between your thighs as you remember just what exactly Phillip Graves is capable of.

“Fuck, baby, you’re already so soaked. I haven’t even done anything yet.” He murmurs, ignoring you entirely. He licks his lips, pressing quick, wet kisses against your inner thighs.

“Phillip, wh—what about dinner?” You fight the urge to instinctively buck your hips, but it gets harder to think reasonable thoughts whenever you feel him tugging at the waistband of your panties.

“You should’ve thought about that before wearing this slutty little dress. Were you trying to get the whole restaurant to fuck you with their eyes?” He practically spits out the sentences, and you’re momentarily shocked.

“I didn’t think it was…slutty.” You say, voice sounding as small as you feel. He can feel you practically shrinking away from him, and he mutters out a swear.

He doesn’t mean it. Doesn’t mean to be harsh with you; he knows you’re a sweet girl. He knows you would never have bad intentions.

But he’s not sweet. And he never has good intentions unless he’s the one benefitting.

And he can tell McHenry and even himself that this is all just a ploy to take down your father, but the moment he knew he had you wrapped around his finger was the same moment he realized that if he’s not the one protecting you from the dangers of men like him — maybe even men worse than him — then who will? It’s not like father dearest, for all his overbearing efforts, is doing that great of a job. Look at how easily Graves slipped through those defenses.

He’s doing right by you, is what he tells himself as he strips you of your panties, leaving you in just your pretty pink sundress. Men are wolves. They’ll take one look at you and eat you alive.

At least he has the decency and heart to make it a good time for you.

He presses a kiss against your clit, and you almost forgive him for his cruel words. Phillip makes everything so easy, including forgetting about any of his minor transgressions.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean it like that.”

You nod, even though you’re sure that he can’t even see the movement. He’s too busy with his head buried in between your thighs, kissing all over you, sucking hickeys on your thighs before his mouth meets right where you truly need him. You can’t even remember what he’s apologizing for the moment you feel him lapping up your juices before plunging his tongue inside your needy cunt as if it’s his right to do so.

Your hands find purchase in the thick locks of his hair rather than the bedsheets. Phillip has been doing this lately — eating you out, that is. The first time he had done it, you nearly cried from the sheer embarrassment of having someone so close to a part of you that is so intimate. You suppose, though, that if it had to be anyone, at least it’s him.

You always want it to be him.

You wonder if all men are like this. If all men plunge so deeply into the wet depths of their girlfriend’s pussy. Your walls flutter around his tongue, and the tip of nose seems to brush against your clit every so often, only adding to the overwhelming stimulation. Maybe it’s because you’ve never done this before him, or maybe it’s because he has a stronger effect on you than he should have, or maybe it’s because you’re just a sensitive girl — maybe it’s all of the fucking above. No matter the reason, all you know is that the pleasure Phillip is capable of handing out is nothing short of overwhelming.

You gasp and mewl out his name, letting out breathy moans of curse words — such filthy words have never left your mouth before he tainted you — and you keep tugging at his hair. He pulls away, your weak grip doing nothing to keep where you want him. Before you can complain, he immediately replaces his tongue with two fingers, scisscoring them inside of you, trying to stretch you out.

“Such a tight, little pussy.” He breathes out, chin wet with your slick and eyes darkened with lust. “Wonder if my pretty, little girlfriend can make me proud.”

“Huh?” Your pleasure-addled mind makes it hard for you to keep up with what he’s saying, and he only chuckles darkly at your clear confusion. He’s only been eating your sweet pussy for a few minutes, and you’re already too fucked out to even make conversation.

Cute. You’re too cute.

Fuck — he wants to keep you by his side forever. Even after his little con is over, and he gets the position he wants.

“You know what I wanna give you for your birthday, baby?” He’s still slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of your tight hole, and he relishes in the feeling of your walls contracting and squeezing against him. He decides to add in a third finger, which makes you gasp. He takes that opportunity to press his lips against yours, forcing his tongue inside your mouth and giving you a sloppy kiss. You think you can taste a hint of yourself on his tongue, and the dirtiness of it all makes you moan into his mouth. Everything right now is so filthy. You don’t know why you’re enjoying it so much.

“I wanna give you something special.” His voice is rough with lust, and the feeling of him curling his fingers in your tight cunt makes everything so hard to keep track of. All you can focus on is the heat coiling in your belly, and your eyes are glazed, barely able to look at him straight. “I want to give your little pussy something you deserve. I’m going to fuck my cum in you, and then when we go out to dinner, everyone is going to be able to see your wellbred pussy. How does that sound, hm? You want it? You want me filling your cunt with cum for the first time?”

If you had been in your right state of mind, you would have had the decency to be embarrassed at the way you cum all over his fingers, his words bringing you right to the edge.

“Oh? I think my baby likes the sound of that, huh? Just turned nineteen and already such a slut for me.” He’s still lazily thrusting his fingers in your cunt, and your walls are still spasming from the orgasm. “But you only act like this just for me, right?”

You nod too eagerly. “Yes, yes, yes. Only you. Only your slut, only want your cock, your cum.”

He’s already unzipping his pants, tugging down his briefs, freeing his cock from its confines. He removes his fingers from your wet hole, and your cum and juices act as lube as he uses it to wet his cock. In the back of his mind, even he’s aware of how far he’s taking this.

There’s no coming back from this — he knows this. But he’s still going to do it.

“You trust me, baby?” His eyes search yours for any hint of hesitation. He knows that he’s taken advantage of your naivety already; if you tell him to stop, he will. He expects to see nothing pure in your eyes, certain that he’s your ruination, only to have his heart skip a beat when he realizes that there’s only love and reverence in them. You’ve fallen for him, and he has no idea why he feels the way he does. Swallowing hard, he ignores his uneasy feelings in favor of giving into the one he knows he can actually control: lust.

You nod your head, eager to please him. His rough hands are gripping both your legs, easily exposing yourself to him, and you should feel incredibly vulnerable, but all you really feel is safe. It’s Phillip, after all. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.

“Good girl.” His eyes travel down your body, stopping once to admire the amount of marks he’s left on your soft skin, and then stopping again the moment he sees his prize. Your pretty pussy is slick with arousal, tiny hole clenching around nothing. You want him; it’s clear as day. And he’ll give it to you, give you everything; any part of him that he can afford to give is yours for the taking.

What he’s doing is unforgivable.

He doesn’t want forgiveness, though.

His hands grip your waist as he sheaths himself into your virgin cunt, your previous orgasm allowing the movement to be slick. It’s far more gentle than Phillip would treat anyone else, but it’s merciless all the same. There is no room for resistance, and all you can do is moan out in pain and pleasure as you feel yourself stretching to accommodate his length and girth.

You thought your first time would be romantic. A room full of roses, at least, like when he first asked you out.

But it’s Phillip. As long as it’s him, you’re happy.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans out, voice sounding raspy as he watches your tiny hole taking his dick like it’s supposed to. You feel full, filled to the fucking brim, and the foreign feeling of it all has you confused and overwhelmed. There’s a slight sting, and you think you should wait for the pain to subside, but he’s already shallowly thrusting, and you choose to shut up.

Phillip knows best. Phillip would have waited if you were supposed to wait.

“Forgot how good virgin pussy feels.” His touch is possessive as his hands travels all over your body, exploring areas he’s already well acquainted with before gripping your hips once more. His thrusts are starting to get more aggressive, but you find that the pleasure outweighs the pain. All you can feel is Phillip.

For a second, you wonder how many girls he’s been with before. Then he leans down to give you a kiss, and you forget what you were worried about.

“Don’t worry too much, baby. Just relax, and let me fill your pussy. Then, I’ll take you out to your birthday dinner. How does that sound?”

Nice. It sounds nice. Actually, you wonder why you even cared about something as silly as a birthday celebration. Isn’t this good enough?

“Should I make you go out with no panties? You’re squeezing me so tightly, I bet your cunt can hold my cum all night.” He kisses your forehead, the action far too sweet, juxtaposing the rough thrusts of his hips slapping against yours. “Or maybe I’ve loosened you up too much, and it’ll just drip all over your thighs and onto the floor. Wouldn’t that be a shame?”

You moan, imagining the filthy scenario in your head. Everyone would see; how humiliating. How exhilarating.

“At least everyone would know that you’re. Fucking. Mine.” He starts to punctuate every word with an especially rough thrust, and you can only moan as you lie there, taking it all. Taking everything he’ll give to you, and turning it into something sacred.

“I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours!” You cry out, and you prove it. You’ve proved it by the slight blood painting his cock from when he took your virginity, and you prove it a step further by cumming all over his cock. This is the first time you’ve ever came on it; Phillip vows to make sure it’s not the last.

Even if it jeopardizes his own personal mission.

“Atta girl.” He groans out, practically hammering into you at this point. You’re fucked boneless, left to just serve as a cocksleeve as he chases after his own pleasure. Phillip is surprisingly meticulous. He’s usually better at keeping himself composed, never one to give in to instinctual, animalistic pleasure.

In the back of his mind, he knows the risk, has even calculated it. He’s never done something as stupid and reckless as fucking a girl raw.

But no girl has ever been as sweet as you, as trusting as you. It’s the lust talking as he imagines you as the mother of his children. You’d be kind and patient, teach them to be better. They wouldn’t become fuckups like him if you’re there to raise them.

He can see it. He’s always been good at envisioning his future. Coming home to you barefoot and carrying his kids isn’t so bad. It’d be nice. He’d build you your dream house, make sure you always stay bred and dripping with his cum, keep you safe.

All of these thoughts only serve to bring him to the edge, and he makes sure he’s as deep in you as possible as his warm cum shoots inside. He refuses to pull out, and you don’t tell him to. Why would you? You feel closer to him than ever, and he’s kissing your forehead now, cooing that you’ve been such a good girl for him.

You’re tired. You felt like you’ve barely done anything, and yet your eyes are droopy and your vision is getting blurred. You still find the strength to mumble it out, though.

I love you.

He freezes up immediately, but when he looks down at you, you’re already fast asleep.

He’s got you hook, line, and fucking sinker.

So why doesn’t he feel like celebrating?

“Dad, what’s going on?” Your confusion is evident on your face. Your father has his hands pinned to his back, and there are men in scary uniforms yelling at you, and you’re frozen in place. “Dad, tell them that this is a mistake!”

“I’m going to be okay. Nothing bad is going to happen to me.” Your dad’s words of reassurance do little to console you; it’s kind of hard to believe what he’s saying whenever he’s quite literally getting arrested by men who are supposed to respect him.

You’ve just gotten back from a date with Phillip. He had seemed a bit off, but you brushed aside his odd behavior as a result of his nervousness. After all, he ended up presenting you with a promise ring. You don’t think he’s ever given someone something so precious and important.

Your good mood obviously disappeared the moment you walked through your front door.

“You’re innocent. You know nothing. They’re going to make sure that you stay in a safe place while I’m gone, okay? Just do what they tell you, and wait for me to get back—”

“Dad, I don’t understand. What are you talking about?” The desperation and anxiety in your voice makes him frown, but there’s nothing he can do as the officers drag him out of the house. Despite your screams of protest, they don’t stop, and even you know hitting an officer would only make things worse. It’s not as if you could have done any real damage anyway.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

The worst part is, you don’t even know what he’s apologizing for.

They’re calling your father a traitor. And by extension, you are one, too. A child is but a reflection of their parents, after all.

Your mother was an enemy spy, and your father knew. Even worse, he protected her. Broke his own moral code, broke the rules of his training, destroyed everything — all for her. The proof was hidden inside his own office, and you don’t even know how someone could have broken in to obtain such incriminating evidence.

Now everyone is treating you like a criminal, down to giving you only one phone call. Naturally, the only person you can think to phone is Phillip. He’ll understand. He’ll calm you down, explain everything to you because that’s just what he does. He’ll know what to do. He’ll get you out of this mess.

You bite down on your lip, impatiently waiting for him to pick up. Usually, he picks up after the second ring, but the dial tone goes on for what seems like ages until you hit the automated voicemail message. You frown, wondering if he’s been sent away. You try again for good measure, but he doesn’t pick up the second time, either. You’re about redial and try for a third time before the woman supervising you snatches the phone away.

“It’s supposed to be one call, remember?”

You don’t talk back, afraid to make things worse, but you don’t think it’s fair. Phillip didn’t even pick up for it to count as a phone call.

You try again and again. Every time they make you move to a different safehouse, you waste that one phone call opportunity on him, daring to hope that he’ll pick up.

After a month, the dial tone haunts you in your sleep.

Hindsight truly is 20/20. When you’re free from the haze of first loves and rebellion, when the smoke of lust has dissipated from the air, when you’re given nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company, that’s when everything starts coming together.

That’s when you can see a traitor for what they are, not what they tell you to view them as.

On the way to the next safehouse, they had to stop at a gas station. You had to learn to be sneaky these days, and the old you would have felt incredibly guilty at the idea of stealing a pregnancy test, but you refuse to ask your handler for one. Pride is the cause — or maybe shame is more accurate.

Whatever the reason is, you find yourself locked up in a gas station bathroom, your worst fears confirmed.

[zeondraws]

It is 4AM in the morning, I should hit the bed asap. But I needed some time on my own tonight, because I've been supressing feelings way too much the past months. (Thought post about random thoughts, no clue if they make sense it's 5AM when I post this)

I found it really hard to talk to friends about my emotions as of recent. One reason might be, that I still suffer some pain I endured from the old work enviroment.

Somehow I often just want to be left alone, I feel very drained most of the time. But that often leads to a loop effect and I isolate myself further.

Like, at the old workplace I was expected to do something constantly, if I wasn't working on anything for over 3min I'd get scolded or yelled at. Or my coworker would become an adult baby and behave strangely. The other coworkers never saw anything wrong with him, so I was extremely afraid that everyone else had something against me. My old boss would side with him from time to time. The constant demand to stay productive was so draining.

In the end I got replaced, I mean I thankfully found a new job by then. But a new person came in, another inexperienced young person who seemed nice and all. Not sure how she is doing in that place, either she fits right in, or my coworker is making her endure the same pain, or he just overworks himself as he usually does. A person who had my job before I came, became extremely demotivated there and simply left to another workplace.

I try to explain this a bit to highlight some difficulties I am experiencing atm... I don't talk to family about my feelings that much. I tried but, they get easily offended if I vent too much. I have no called my dad back in a while, I already know when I call him back he will only be offended. Or maybe I am spiraling rn. My head makes things appear worse than they actually are.

You guys see how much stuff I have been doing on tumblr the past months or so. I don't remember how long it's been, but... I am still in this mindset of constantly working and staying productive. I rest when I can but I always get the feeling "I have to stay productive" and work on stuff, even when I am sick. In a way it helps to not fall into thoughht spirals, tho then I don't give myself enough space to rest.

I don't know what my end goal with this endless productivity is supposed to be, I want to be helpful in some way and feel like I belong somewhere. But even right now I feel like something is missing... I can't grasp this thought, I don't know what my end goal is. Been messing with fmodel so much to get the game work on this for datamining, I posted a thread on the fmodel server and they said the game is fully working with it. Which suprised me, that I was able to achieve that. Was I the first one to do so? I always thought there is someone better than me already. I often just think I will be some replaceable object, where someone else just takes my place. And this thought... spirals in a way- where I think very less of me. Stuff like I will be forgotten anyways or hmm someone better comes.

My family treated me like an object at times, not letting me decide what to do. Old coworker did the same and I am expected to just agree to everything they say. I tried extremely hard to fight back at the old workplace but I was always met with a wall.

Sometimes I would struggle venting to friends, because when I felt the lowest I get very clingy. I think when I saw Muir in game I noticed some similarity in him in me for example. Even tho I hate to admit that thought, but I have gotten way better at being less clingy. Maybe it's because I grew up a bit more. I definitely ain't the same like 4 years ago. But not to sidetrack too much... sometimes I would vent to friends and they'd bombard me with advice or, maybe some advice felt off for me. One friend once said that we're replaceable (job related) and that didn't sit right with me. Some of this advice would put me off so much that I would stop talking about my feelings with anyone, or just one small friendgroup. But I don't mention a lot there. I think... I think what I can see with myself is, I distance myself so much from everyone, I don't dm people to have a normal chat (I think I get very confused when I hear people dm each other all the time, what do people dm each other for...?I wouldn't know what to talk about), maybe I hang out on servers. I don't want to look at my main phone because suddenly so much makes me nervous again. I want to be alone the entire time and the meds stop some emotions from popping up.

So I have random outbursts where I would cry. and I really need to sit down after sleep and find a new group therapy.. today

I put ridiculous standards on myself sometimes, not wanting to appear weak and appear "professional". But my imagination of being professional is basically be emotionless and work without problems. Tho this doesn't make sense, perhaps I worry too much since I noticed some people really like what I do here. And I don't want to let people down in that regard. but I don't know how.

Earlier I was debating on wether it is strong if I show my weakness or if it's better to hide it. Tho hiding doesn't bring much for me, it's rather bad.

Yknow an earlier post where I mentioned I really like Roper? I get the feeling one of the reasons I find him interesting is, because the way he appears. He doesn't seem to show emotions that much, rather monotone and seems to be a hard working individual. Who sadly needs to do way more because Rennick makes things more difficult. Tho like, even if you see him in Marine Control later... he just suffers in silence. Ain't like Trots who went full bananas, or Muir feeling extremely anxious and all. Or Addair wanting to call his kids and Rennick just flat maniac. Roper just, sits there and tries to avoid saying much. Only thing he says is to keep Rennick away. Maybe the deleted soundfile of the scene says otherwise, but in my view it feels like idk he just ain't somebody who would talk about his feelings. Maybe Roper is some visual imagination of what I think a professional is, but I think he probably has different problems that could be way worse. Suppressing feelings is not good, I still have a lot to work on, on myself.

I am sadly getting too tired to continue this string of thoughts...I always feel very awkward posting my feelings on the web. I wouldn't know where else to thow them.

I will post something silly after sleep. I made some dumb screenshots ingame that literally made me giggle for half an hour ioudhwioeu. Okay, goodnight

[silriven]

Thoughts on the Waking Shores Campaign

The one thing I wholeheartedly like about the Waking Shores quests, and by like I mean "oh, man, I think I seriously love this a little more every time I rewatch it" is this conversation between Wrathion and Alexstrasza. There's a lot going on here that I adore*

*but...

The reason why I like this exchange so much is because I am an idiot reading Wrathion as a sympathetic character, and I'm pretty/definitely/99.9% sure that was NOT the intent behind this scene.

The thing I've been wrapping my head around is that I really, really like the premise of this storyline: the pressure of being one of two surviving black dragons (as far as he and Ebyssian know) to return to the Dragon Isles and take responsibility for their flight's inheritance causes Wrathion, who is relatively young and inexperienced, to crack. He starts compromising his morals, lashes out and gets sloppy. Blacktalon notices and they're concerned. Ideally Ebyssian would be here to comment on that and call it out, too. Then Sabellian shows up, Wrathion's insecurity tanks, and things get worse. I love the idea of throwing this problem at Wrathion.

The problem is that would require the narrative to frame all of this as somewhat sympathetic, not JUSTIFIED, not EXCUSABLE, but as an understandable character reaction. And it just does not.

"My condolences for having to deal with those two for as long as you did."

"The red dragonflight is charged with the preservation and nuturing of all dragons, even those we may tire of at times." Wow, Alex, really?

So when you get to the end of this questline and there's this exchange between Alexstrasza and Sabellian: she's reprimanding him and seems to be denying him entrance to the Ruby Life Pools. Sabellian is present for the renewal of the ruby oathstone and oversees the eggs placed in the black dragonflight's life pool, anyways, but that's not really important.

What IS important (to me, the idiot who's a fan of this character) is that Wrathion is hanging back, observing everything at a distance. For all of the fuss he made about being involved in this task, now that he's here, he doesn't know what to do. He's out of his element, he isn't comfortable.

So when I first saw this, I thought: "Oh, now's a perfect time to tie up that loose end from the argument. Alexstrasza can notice that Wrathion is hanging back, beckon him forward, maybe say something sympathetic or poignant alluding to the way he was created by her flight. She could say something like that she wishes he had been better cared for, like these eggs will be, because Alex is supposed to be, you know, a kind and empathetic character.

This bullet cuts right through Wrathion's impressively thick emotional barrier, which was already pretty cracked from the stress he's put on himself. Wrathion apologizes for being a self-centered asshole and pledges the black dragonflight's defense of the Life Pools (the Obsidian Citadel is practically their neighbor, after all). Alex forgives him, blah blah blah, nice emotional landing just like all the other leveling campaigns have. Cool."

But we don't get anything remotely like that. The thing that struck me while playing through the Waking Shores a second time is how the purpose of the black dragonflight in this story is ultimately to service the red dragonflight's arc. The ruby oathstone is what gets a nice, tidy emotional resolution, the black dragon eggs are more like props.

Sabellian doesn't comment on how he feels about his flight finally being able to rear children on Azeroth again after "millennia" of struggling to survive on Outland. Wrathion has absolutely nothing to say after the shock of realizing that he and Ebyssian are not, in fact, the only black dragons left.

Another thing that I thought was a missed opportunity is what if Sabellian wasn't allowed into the Life Pools and it was up to Wrathion to oversee the placing of the black dragon eggs? Wrathion finally gets a taste of what he wants, he's the leader here, and he's utterly at a loss for what to do. These aren't his eggs, he doesn't know the broodmothers, he doesn't know how the hell his flight used to raise their whelps, he's not good with kids, etc.

Instead of leaving him flounder, Alex beckons him forward and teaches him what to do because, again, she's supposed to be an empathetic character.

I think I would've liked Dragonflight a lot more if Wrathion had had some moments to breathe in-between the arguing and the showboating. It just really doesn't feel like he was written to be a sympathetic or even likable character, not at least until Aberrus and the final chapter of Embers of Neltharion, "A Flame Extinguished."

I really like this next bit I've taken a screenshot of, too. I love the way Alex's voice actor says "Please, find Wrathion" in exasperation. You can tell she cares about him and empathizes with him even though she's clearly frustrated with the way that he's acting: stubborn, tunnel-visioned, and insecure.

tldr; to have a line like "My heart aches, I worry for Wrathion" conclude with only "the red dragonflight is charged with the...nurturing of all dragons, even those we may tire of at times" with that extra insult of "my condolences for having to deal with those two" just absolutely boggles my mind. There's so much more that could've been done with this setup.

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

JON SNOW FORTNIGHT EVENT 2023

Day 6 - Shadows of Heroism

“Gared was near as old as I am and longer on the Wall,” he went on, “yet it would seem he forswore himself and fled. I should never have believed it, not of him, but Lord Eddard sent me his head from Winterfell. Of Royce, there is no word. One deserter and two men lost, and now Ben Stark too has gone missing.” He sighed deeply. “Who am I to send searching after him? In two years I will be seventy. Too old and too weary for the burden I bear, yet if I set it down, who will pick it up? Alliser Thorne? Bowen Marsh? I would have to be as blind as Maester Aemon not to see what they are. The Night’s Watch has become an army of sullen boys and tired old men. Apart from the men at my table tonight, I have perhaps twenty who can read, and even fewer who can think, or plan, or lead. Once the Watch spent its summers building, and each Lord Commander raised the Wall higher than he found it. Now it is all we can do to stay alive.”

- Tyrion III, AGOT

This fandom rarely ever acknowledges the skills that got Jon his place as Jeor Mormont’s steward - which subsequently marked him as next in line to lead the Watch. It seems that most people think it was purely because of Jon’s identity as a Stark, which doesn’t seem to track with what we’re actually shown in the text.

Because up until this point, Jon didn’t register in Mormont’s conscious.

Mormont frowned through his thick grey beard. “Snow? Oh, the Stark bastard. I think not. The young ones need to forget the lives they left behind them, the brothers and mothers and all that. A visit home would only stir up feelings best left alone. I know these things. My own blood kin … my sister Maege rules Bear Island now, since my son’s dishonor. I have nieces I have never seen.” He took a swallow. “Besides, Jon Snow is only a boy. You shall have three strong swords, to keep you safe.”

Jon is, as of now, just the Stark bastard. That’s all he is. And Mormont can barely recall him in conversation. As far as the Old Bear knows, Jon is merely a privileged lordling who is yet to earn his place at the Wall. And we must recall the tragedy of Waymar Royce, an inexperienced lad who was thrust into a position of leadership a bit too early - something Mormont deeply regrets.

So what tipped the scales in Jon’s favor?

He told them all of it, even the part where he’d set Ghost at Rast’s throat. Maester Aemon listened silently, blind eyes fixed on the fire, but Chett’s face darkened with each word. “Without us to keep him safe, Sam will have no chance,” Jon finished. “He’s hopeless with a sword. My sister Arya could tear him apart, and she’s not yet ten. If Ser Alliser makes him fight, it’s only a matter of time before he’s hurt or killed.”

Chett could stand no more. “I’ve seen this fat boy in the common hall,” he said. “He is a pig, and a hopeless craven as well, if what you say is true.”

“Maybe it is so,” Maester Aemon said. “Tell me, Chett, what would you have us do with such a boy?”

“Leave him where he is,” Chett said. “The Wall is no place for the weak. Let him train until he is ready, no matter how many years that takes. Ser Alliser shall make a man of him or kill him, as the gods will.”

“That’s stupid,” Jon said. He took a deep breath to gather his thoughts. “I remember once I asked Maester Luwin why he wore a chain around his throat.”

Maester Aemon touched his own collar lightly, his bony, wrinkled finger stroking the heavy metal links. “Go on.”

“He told me that a maester’s collar is made of chain to remind him that he is sworn to serve,” Jon said, remembering. “I asked why each link was a different metal. A silver chain would look much finer with his grey robes, I said. Maester Luwin laughed. A maester forges his chain with study, he told me. The different metals are each a different kind of learning, gold for the study of money and accounts, silver for healing, iron for warcraft. And he said there were other meanings as well. The collar is supposed to remind a maester of the realm he serves, isn’t that so? Lords are gold and knights steel, but two links can’t make a chain. You also need silver and iron and lead, tin and copper and bronze and all the rest, and those are farmers and smiths and merchants and the like. A chain needs all sorts of metals, and a land needs all sorts of people.”

Maester Aemon smiled. “And so?”

“The Night’s Watch needs all sorts too. Why else have rangers and stewards and builders? Lord Randyll couldn’t make Sam a warrior, and Ser Alliser won’t either. You can’t hammer tin into iron, no matter how hard you beat it, but that doesn’t mean tin is useless. Why shouldn’t Sam be a steward?”

[…]

Maester Aemon was gentler. “Is your friend a hunter?”

“He hates hunting,” Jon had to admit.

“Can he plow a field?” the maester asked. “Can he drive a wagon or sail a ship? Could he butcher a cow?”

“No.”

Chett gave a nasty laugh. “I’ve seen what happens to soft lordlings when they’re put to work. Set them to churning butter and their hands blister and bleed. Give them an axe to split logs, and they cut off their own foot.”

“I know one thing Sam could do better than anyone.”

“Yes?” Maester Aemon prompted.

Jon glanced warily at Chett, standing beside the door, his boils red and angry. “He could help you,” he said quickly. “He can do sums, and he knows how to read and write. I know Chett can’t read, and Clydas has weak eyes. Sam read every book in his father’s library. He’d be good with the ravens too. Animals seem to like him. Ghost took to him straight off. There’s a lot he could do, besides fighting. The Night’s Watch needs every man. Why kill one, to no end? Make use of him instead.”

Maester Aemon closed his eyes, and for a brief moment Jon was afraid that he had gone to sleep. Finally he said, “Maester Luwin taught you well, Jon Snow. Your mind is as deft as your blade, it would seem.”

- Jon V, AGOT

It must have been Jon advocating for Sam. He told Aemon how he stood up for Sam and led the other recruits in making sure that he wasn’t excluded. He correctly identified that the Watch needs all sorts of people and comes up with a workable solution for Sam’s inclusion. And given that Aemon is one of the higher ranking officers in the Watch, it’s more than possible that he told Mormont of everything Jon had said and done. And Mormont saw in Jon a man who was quick on his feet, knew how to lead and delegate, and knew how to tackle the Watch’s weaknesses, which are identified by Mormont himself a few chapters earlier.

So Jon proved his worth. He proved that he was a man who could inspire and lead, plan ahead, and take action. Remember that by Jon V (when he becomes steward), he has all but taken control of the Watch’s new recruits and become the de factor master at arms (thereby supplanting the thoroughly ineffectual Alliser Thorne). He has also proven that he has an analytical nature by rightfully acknowledging that the Watch lacks learned men like Sam and he tackles that problem by placing Sam near Aemon thereby ensuring that the Watch will always be served by a learned and skilled maester.

Jon is already thinking like a Lord Commander, and he’s only a few weeks in! He knows the Watch’s weakness and correctly identifies how to bypass them. It’s all the more impressive when we note that this is quite early in his AGOT arc, meaning that his ability to plan ahead was not gained on the fly in A Dance with Dragons, but is a skill that he has always had and was slowly developing over time.

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

People nedd to stop infantilising helaena.

That's literally one the most annoying things that some of her "stans" (i doubt those are her real fans) keep using. Like, she only wants to play with her bugs, leave her alone. And apparently her evil brother is weaponizing her and doesn't respect her autonomy because he wants her to join him against Daemon's army? What's unreasonable about it? She should have accepted to harm the man who was behind her son's gruesome death. Dreamfyre avd Vhagar would have killed Caraxes and decimated Daemon's army. But she doesn't want tk burn anyone. Sure, but the war is an extreme situation, even Rhaena who is also shown not to be a fan of violence and is more traditionally feminine is going to fight because she is obviously getting Nettles' arc. They are changing everything from the book, unless the change could be beneficial to the greens. And the so called fans are cool with it. I mean, if this was their plan for helaena, they should have just copied her arc form the book since by making her a dragon dreamer they only made everything more nonsensical and annoying.

Another thing: it's funny how people were predicting for a whole season to whom are her words about playing a part and fulfilling the destiny were directed- Aemond, Alicent, even Aegon. But no, it was her for some reason helping and guiding the f***ng Daemon. I guess she can leave her bugs for a moment to do that , according to her supposed fans. It's infuriating.

Hello!

Even before the leaks came out, I questioned Helaena's virtual disappearance from the plot. But now it's quite clear that the writers turned her into a prop (as the author of one of my recent asks very aptly put it).

I mentioned my opinion on Helaena in season 2 here, and I want to emphasize that my quarrel is not with the character but with the writers. Just like Aegon, Helaena is blatantly being used to show how dysfunctional the Greens are as a family - and to highlight the flaws and sins of other characters. These characters being mainly, once again, Alicent and Aemond.

Alicent is a bad mother because she is shown to be more worried about Helaena seeing her having sex with Criston than about Jaehaerys' death and then forces her traumatized daughter to go through with the public funeral and traumatizes her even more. And now Aemond gets violent with her and trying to force her to do something she is not willing to do.

Whether it is a good call to ask her to fight or not is one question. A lot of people say something along the lines of "If only Aemond had not burned Aegon...". True, Vhagar plus Sunfyre would be better than just Vhagar; but, firstly, even this duo (okay, trio if we count Tessarion) would still not be enough to counter Rhaenyra's four dragons (with Caraxes and Sheepstealer - six), and, secondly, Sunfyre for all his spirit is young, inexperienced and quite small (Tessarion is also basically still a baby, by the way). Would Aegon, had he remained in power, have abstained from asking Helaena to join the common effort?

The thing is, post B&C Helaena became almost a non-entity. She easily gets over the horrific death of her child - and then does nothing. What is left of her? Why is she supposed to be treated as if she is made of glass? Because of the mere fact that she is a woman? Not enough. Because her child was murdered? She seems to have got over it: she is nowhere near the mental state her book counterpart was in. And don't get me wrong, I am not of the opinion that only badass dragonrider ladies are supposed to be respected and cherished while peace-loving and gentle women deserve nothing. This is not about badassery: as you said, the situation is dire. It's not about Helaena doing it for Aemond, it's about the survival of their family: Alicent, Aegon, Otto, Helaena herself - and her little daughter about whose existence many viewers have probably already forgotten. But she refuses to join Aemond because "I don't wanna and because you're a bitch". Awesome.

However, she is indeed ready to guide the murderer of her child. When I understood where this whole thing about "fulfilling destiny" is going I couldn't believe it for a second. And for me it was the final nail in Helaena's character coffin. Phia's acting was great (in the scenes where she was actually given the chance to act) but the character development... RIP, Dreamer Queen, it was nice knowing you.

P.S. Gosh, I completely forgot about Moondancer and Vermax while counting TB dragons. So, even with Aegon and Sunfyre safe and sound - but without Dreamfyre - it would be 3 against 8. Helaena, would you like to rethink your decision?

[lirri-eats-eyes]

i got. way too into this. reminder i have no idea how to write a book and this is my own (inexperienced) opinion. i love the skyborn books and i think khoury is leagues better at writing than me i just think twig being half-crane is absolutely bonkers.

.

.

.

deep breaths. hold on.

so i went to check the books again to see what twig's other wing was and. CRANE. FUCKING CRANE????

idk why this was so surprising me to me. actually i do.

1) his cover wings do Not make it look like that. like. the book makes it clear that his crane wing is "snow white." chief neither of those wings are pure white.

2) that's so wacky. like. look at this mockingbird's wings for example

and now look at this crane's wings

DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT? THAT'S ABSURD. AND WE KNOW IN THE BOOKS TOO THAT THE DIFFERENT BIRD SPECIES HAVE DIFFERENT BODY SIZES, AND THAT TWIG IS NOTED TO BE "SMALL."

so what are we left with?? like what is he doing with his wings?? is he beating his mockingbird wing twice for every one crane wingbeat? did the doctor spend 2 mintues cutting off his mockingbird wing adn the remaining hour working through his crane wing??? what are you talking about, "his other wing is a crane wing?????"

are we supposed to believe that maybe his mockingbird wing is larger than normal, or his crane wing is smaller than normal, or both? That's still weird, they're completely different shapes!! how is he flying!!!

3) and finally. not to read too much into this but i find it morbidly funny that if we are to take skyborn species as a metaphor for race (which like. I know it's always a bad idea to make fantasy species a race metaphor, because making a race metaphor out of biologically different species is always a recipe for disaster, but i really believe that was what khoury was alluding to at the very least) twig is an example of a mixed-race character, and like. commonly the criticism people writing mixed-race characters recieve is that they only focus on the aspects of being one of those races and don't bother to acknowledge the unique experience of actually being both, and what that might mean for the character.

so it's just so funny to me that twig, THE metaphor for a mixed race character...is only ever presented as half-mockingbird. like i forgot he was half-crane and somehow made up a false memory that he was half magpie instead because it was that forgettable. his weird telepathic powers are his mockingbird trait. he is never ever mentioned flying weirdly due to having different shaped wings. he has a thing about being percieved as weak because he's small in the third book which uh. Like I don't think a crane clanner would have that problem. Him being half-crane is completely glossed over. Khoury didn't even have to know what it was like to be half Real Race and half Other Real Race. she could have just made up a fake culture for cranes and mockingbirds and then made up a fake experience that we could take as truth because no one in the world is actually half crane or half mockingbird.

and part of why I'm getting so deep into this is because of how fucking wildly different crane and mockingbird wings are. It really feels like khoury thought "man, cranes were cool" and didn't put any other thought into what that meant for twig's character. (or, maybe she planned to put more but then had to cut it out to fit three books, in which case, okay, fair. that wouldn't have been her fault.)

Because if we take skyborn books at face value as NOT a metaphor for race, it could potentially be really cool. A lot of the time fantasy species are better interpreted as different kinds of othering, and it would be interesting if maybe twig has trouble flying initially but learns from another piebald how to flap his wings in a different rhythm to balance them, and now it's a story about how piebalds are completely functional but since they're seen as unlucky, they're cast out and young piebalds have no guidance from older ones as they've been eliminated as a community.

even ignoring the egregiously different wing shapes, what about abilities? I can suspend my disbelief when it comes to twig's silly ass flying pattern, but in khoury's own world which she made up, she doesn't even let twig have an ability that's a combination of crane and mockingbird. it's only mockingbird telepathy. it would be so cool if twig got a weird combination of both, but no, for the purposes of the story he's effectively just a mockingbird, and that's sad

one more thing. twig getting his wings cut off...i really have to stop thinking about symbolism but man. now he's even more isolated. he was once a piebald and that should have been a Huge part of him but now that's gone. he's even more cut off from this collective species so involved in flying, and he'll never be recognised as that again. whadda hell.

[habeascorpseus]

👉👈 can you tell us more about the fnc angel/demon au? 🥺 pretty please?

oh CAN i? okay first things first. this is entirely because of good omens s2 and particularly uses concepts from episode 3 about "angels/demons who go along as best they can". also canon gillion and chip are very azi/crowley coded to me (cmon, gill's a literal paladin sent to the oversea to portend the rapture that he's now doubting the need for and chip is a mischievous little bastard with too much charisma and until recently no concrete stake in anything except for protecting his crew) so yeah. anyways the information will be delivered in bullet points for each person

CHIP

was an angel. a pretty young one, at that. possibly came to existence around the 3rd millennium of mana's society

pretty mischievous and self interested for an angel. lets just say he fucked around and found out, and for it he was kicked out of heaven and fell into hell, but managed to crawl out like the stubborn bastard he is

the form he fell and crawled back to earth in was a young human looking boy. involuntarily, of course. but he often struggled to change his form in the past, instead letting it be dictated by his emotional state (another fairly chaotic and unangelic thing to do), and right now he feels small, weak, and vulnerable

he's picked up by the black rose, and, desperate to belong, he goes along with their assumption that he's just a normal kid, too weak to use much power or even change his form. for the couple years he lives with the crew, he doesnt grow. (this is chalked up to malnourishment.)

unfortunately, now that he's a demon, he has an Energy. and that energy attracts things. in particular: bad shit, and other demons. niklaus takes notice of this crew claimed by a seemingly inexperienced demon and decides to sink it for fun and to see what chip will do.

chip washes ashore on another island with two thoughts: one, he doesnt think he's allowed to be attached to anything good anymore without poisoning it, and two, he needs to be scarier in order to not be fucked with.

so he spends ten years hanging around ruben price, a man who acts so comically, stereotypically evil that chip occasionally doubts how mortal he is, but it seems like price just Like That. a handy trick of being a demon now is that chip can Sense types of energy- positive, negative, etc. what's scariest about price is chip gets nothing off of him, which is why he's the perfect person to watch

things come to a head when price forces chip to kill a man. and, well, its kind of what he's supposed to do, as a demon- but he hates it. in particular, he hates not feeling in control, and it angers him enough that hes finally able to use some demonic power to set price's warehouse ablaze and disappear into the night. (his hands are now blackened from where they caught fire and he now has a tail, being so unused to using magic that using it burnt away his human form to reveal the true form beneath it. he cant really disguise them back to normal because, again, bad at form shifting)

he sets sail on the sea and lands on an island where he follows a particularly strong negative energy to a tavern where he meets...

JAY

girl who's family basically run the navy.

her older sister was just mysteriously murdered around a year and a half ago, and she's going through it

by which i mean, She's Pissed. she wants whoever killed her to be found and brought to justice, preferably with the business end of her own pistol, but her father (an admiral) has fucked off to gods-knows-where and there's not really any leads at home beyond being surrounded by what her sister left behind... she's getting desperate.

she's bartending at her mom's tavern one evening when a guy her age walks in but he's.. wrong. somehow. there's dozens of lanterns and candles in the room, and yet he seems to cast a long shadow behind him no matter where he turns. also his hands are dark claws. she's pretty sure he's a demon honestly.

she's getting desperate and she wants leads. his appearance makes her feel almost irrational in how suddenly she remembers she needs to find her sister's killer.

so, with some part of her screaming that she is being very, very stupid, she offers a deal. vengeance for her sister in exchange for her soul. the demon looks weirdly surprised at this and tells her that her soul won't be necessary, that he needs a crew on his ship and all she needs to do is travel with him. so she accepts, they shake hands, and jay tries to ignore how much her instincts are screaming this is a bad idea.

they set sail two days later on the demon's dingy little ship and begin sailing towards where jay thinks the next largest navy outpost is, and on the way they meet...

GILLION

gillion is an archangel. he's pretty young, all things considered. he's not sure when he came into being, but he's pretty sure he's a replacement for.... someone.

gillion has a destiny, that's for certain. the heavenly council has been training him since his creation for some kind of destiny, though he hasn't really thought to ask what it is. he's sure it's good, though. the heavenly order would never mislead him into committing morally reprehensible acts in the service of a greater cosmic good, right?

his "life" is pretty rigid though. all training, no play, and certainly no contact with the mortal realm, that is, until he follows some of his superiors on their way to bless some admiral of some mortal navy. except... this guy is evil. its written in his the fake smiles, his body language, the way he listens to them with greed in his eyes.

and gillion was destined to smite evil, so he attacks him.

heaven, of course, doesn't take kindly to this, but instead of kicking him from heaven outright, they propose a test of faith: be stripped of most of his divinity and fulfill his destiny within a year in the mortal realm. it's not like he has a choice, so they kick him down to mana with only his sword and a little bit of armor.

he falls into the sea, deep, deep into an undersea trench, where the first thing he sees are a couple tritons. and, yeah, tritons seem pretty cool. so with the last vestiges of whatever divine energy he carries, he becomes a triton and uses his wings (oh thank gods he still has his wings) to propel himself to the surface of the sea.

for a while, he floats adrift, taking in the feeling of being wet and having the sun burn his body where it rests above the waves and the taste of salt on his tongue and the dark spots in his eyes that appear every time he stares too long at the sun. but that's fine. it's.... nice. he can almost forget it's a punishment.

after a day of listless floating, Something appears on the horizon, and then grows closer. its large, and brown, and honestly kind of shabby looking. but it looks cozy, a bit more hospitable than the ocean, and he sends out a dozen silent prayers and thank-yous when the ship suddenly changes course and begins heading Directly for him.

a man pokes his head over the railing of the vehicle and asks if he's okay. his hair is a really pretty color. his eyes kind of remind him of the fires lit to burn sacrifices that he's seen humans make a couple times. a blackened, clawed hand reaches out to grab his, and when they touch, it the crackle in the air feels like the moments just before a smiting lightning strike. he feels forbidden. but gillion's beginning to appreciate the idea of a rebellious phase, so he grips him tightly and lets himself be pulled onboard.

ITEMS OF IMPORTANCE

chip knows what gillion is, gillion does not know what chip is. chip is completely fine with this and is deciding to use it to his advantage in order to do minor devilish activities

what follows is basically the same plot until episode 14, though chip leans a lot more heavily into trickery and temptation

when it's revealed What chip is, gillion is not only Pissed but afraid for jay's soul, convinced that chip has been traveling with her in order to prey and feed upon it. he and chip duel, and gillion wins, as good so often does against evil— but before gillion can smite him and send him back to whence he came, jay steps in and stops him long enough for chip to slip away below deck. she tells gillion she made a deal with him and he blatantly refused her soul, which is why she's travelling with him instead. gillion, now hopeful that he can redeem chip, lets it slide, but. has chip promise to cool it on the demon shit.

the reason why gillion couldn't sense chip being a demon for so long is because he, for some reason, doesn't feel fiendish to him. unfortunately, gillion is too stupid to further entertain this train of thought.

both gillion and chip regain power at the same rate, though their progress is accelerated whenever gillion feels they did something good, and when chip is feeling angry. (this will eventually change)

chip is very bad at being a demon, to the point where he's begun talking jay out of vengeance entirely because it makes him feel bad about making her worse. gillion, ironically, says she should hold herself to her principles and seek justice, in a comical subversion of the angel and devil on her shoulders. they have many an argument about this.

nobody knows chip is Fallen. its one of the main sources of his insecurities and hed rather not have gillion judge him harder, thank you very much.

when chip is offered to have a memory removed by blangus, he attempts to remove his memory of being an angel. this doesn't work, because the memory is a core part of What he is and forgetting that would unmake him. he decides to give up killing a man instead.

gillion's destiny is to bring the rapture. kind of a bummer! gillion's a little in denial about it and the longer he spends with humanity and witnesses their good and their bad and the hope they all carry within them, the more reluctant he is to fulfill his purpose. (it's fine. he has 6 more months to decide. its fine. it's fine. time goes painfully slow for mortals)

eventually the truth of chip's past is revealed, and gillion is Pissed, though not at chip. in hindsight, it's obvious that he was created to replace chip when he Fell, meaning if not him, chip would have been the one to end the world, and that thought sits worse for him than imagining himself doing the deed. perhaps when he gets back to heaven he will demand chip's status be reinstated.

chip is caught between encouraging him to forsake his destiny (he likes humanity, and he likes fucking with heaven's plans) and going along with his destiny to not get kicked out of heaven. falling is painful and awful and he cant imagine gillion playing any role other than good, and he doesn't want him to, because if you're not With heaven, you're a victim of the rapture, and he doesn't want that.

gillion is already halfway on his way to letting himself fall on purpose the more he spends time with jay and chip. he wants to be with chip as long as he can be but every time they touch gillion gets the feeling hes skating on thin ice.

jay is the safest pirate on the sea in terms of other demons and angelic presences trying to fuck with her, both gillion and chip have a deal to smite her father next time they see him.

in chips solo mission with price, he ended up sending him to hell instead of giving him the eye. it is not at all disconcerting that chip can do this

edyn is an angel who helped raise gillion and gave him an immortal soul as a pet. when he was sent to earth it manifested as a frogtopus, and after gillion was sent away edyn followed him to earth and settled down in allport to keep tabs on him through the navy

caspian is Lizzie's guardian angel

anyways theres more but thats the long and not-at-all short of it. hope you like!

[bucketsofmonsters]

To Kill the King - Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

find the full book here

“Leo can we please talk about what just happened because that was weird,” Everand pleaded with him.

“That’s Sir Leo to you, my boy.”

It didn’t feel like the most relevant thing at this exact moment, but Leo had never been great at priorities anyways. “Yes of course sir, sorry sir. I just mean, the princess deciding to save us, did that not strike you as odd? Why would she do that, what does she gain from it?”

Leo gave him a patronizing look as he said, “Now I know you’re quite young and… we’ll say inexperienced but trust me, there are many young women who…”

“No, not… sir she was staring at me the whole time.”

Leo threw back his head as he guffawed. “You always know how to make me laugh, Everand. That’s why I keep you around. Now go tend to the horses, I have to figure out where I fit in in this place.”

“But sir I don’t know where the…” Leo walked out of the room before Everand had the chance to finish his sentence. “Where the stables are, not that you care. I’ll find them myself, it’s fine.”

Everand took to wandering the castle, hoping to stumble upon the stables sooner rather than later. After what felt like an hour of aimless walking, Everand realized he was going to have to find someone to ask for help. Amidst his wandering he saw several busy people he couldn’t quite manage to grab the attention of before they blew past him. He was growing frustrated, determined to pull the attention of the next person he crossed paths with as he turned the corner and saw the same mage girl he’d seen earlier, minus the ridiculous hat. She didn’t seem to notice him, focusing instead on scribbling into a notebook she had pushed against the wall. He slowly walked backwards, not particularly wanting to interact with the girl who had been giving him a death stare earlier. As soon as he quietly left her possible line of sight, he spun around to retrace his steps as far away from her as possible. He rushed off, checking behind him, making sure she wasn’t heading this way and, as he looked behind him, he ran directly into something he was certain hadn’t been there before.

A dark-haired girl stood in front of him holding a big basket full of white cloths. She looked a little dazed but luckily didn’t seem too shaken up by Everand walking directly into her.

 “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. You alright?”

She waved his concern aside as best she could with a basket in both hands and responded, “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” Then her head cocked to the side for a moment. “Were you not just walking the other way? I’m almost certain I saw you in passing.”

Well, that wasn’t ideal. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m very lost.”

“Oh, I can help you with that. Where are you headed?”

“Uh, the stables ideally. Someone took me and my knight’s horses there when we arrived and I’m supposed to be tending to them.”

“You and your… oh you’re Sir Leo’s squire, aren’t you!”

And there went Everand’s amicable attitude. Of course she got excited as soon as she realized he knew Leo, this is how it always went. Didn’t make it any less irritating though. “The one and only. You were showing me where the stables are?”

“Right of course, apologies. They’re not far from here.”

She gave him a quick rundown of where he needed to go and he headed off immediately, not particularly keen on continuing this conversation any longer. With a rushed, “Thank you” shouted behind him, he hurried off to his destination. 

The girl’s instructions were good and he reached the stables within a few minutes. He felt his annoyance and tension leave his body as he saw Lilypad standing in a stall next to Destrier. He was glad to see they’d been taken care of and he was happier amongst the horses anyways. Leo always told him he was meant to take care of Destrier first but Leo wasn’t around and he had a soft spot for Lilypad. He walked in her stall, giving her some gentle pats along her neck. “You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had, girl.”

“Do you always talk to your horse?”

Everand nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard someone speak from directly behind him. He whirled around, only to see the young mage sitting on a bale of hay inside Lilypad’s stall, right next to the entrance.

“What are you doing here?” And how did she get here so fast? He couldn’t actually ask her that, he didn’t want her knowing he’d seen her earlier, but she’d been further away from the stables than him and he had come here immediately after seeing her in that hall.

“Looking for you, squire boy,” she said, hopping up to her feet as she did.

“My name’s Everand.”

“I’m sure it is, squire boy.”

He let out an irritated huff but decided not to press it, there were more important things to say. “Why were you looking for me?”

She tilted her head to the side and looked him up and down. He got the distinct impression she could see right into his head and wondered if that was something mages could do. “Why don’t you tell me squire. Why was I looking for you?”

He didn’t have the time nor the patience for this. “I wouldn’t have asked if I knew, mage girl.”

“It’s Mari, actually.”

“Alright, mage girl.” To Everand’s annoyance, she didn’t seem to much care what he called her, or at least not as visibly as Everand did.

“Yeah alright, well I came to find you because you are clearly up to something.”

“The only thing I’m up to is trying to take care of my horse, thank you very much.”

Mari redirected her attention to the aforementioned horse. “She’s beautiful by the way, does she have a name?”

Everand’s voice softened. “She’s called Lilypad.”

Mari laughed to herself, trying and failing to cover it up with a little cough. “Yeah alright, I guess that’s kinda cute. Does she help you commit crimes or do you do those on your own?”

Everand snapped. “For the last time, I just got here and I have no ill intent. I don’t know why you are so convinced I mean harm but I swear to you, I don’t. If you’re so set on bothering someone, go bother Leo. He’s the one who got banished, I’m just here to take care of the horses. I could not care less about you and your stupid little kingdom. You’re magic right? Shouldn’t you be able to test my intentions or read my mind or something instead of poking around in someone else’s business?”

For the first time since they’d started speaking, Mari seemed thrown. She mumbled to herself, barely loud enough for Everand to hear, “I’m not going to waste magic on a nobody like you.”

Everand threw his arms in the air. “If I’m such a nobody, why are you so intent on following me around, huh?”

Mari rolled her eyes again. “Alright, I’ll let you off easy this time, squire. Just know if you do get up to anything you will regret it.”

Everand rubbed his temples. “I’m sure I will. As long as you’re here, you might as well make yourself useful. I’m supposed to go to the squires’ quarters after this, where are they?” He hated asking her for help but he hadn’t seen anyone else in the stables and he didn’t want to have to repeat his little trip around the castle.

“Uhhh, if you go out the backdoor and to the right you’ll see a hedge pathway, it’ll spit you out right at the squires’ quarters. Anyways, just remember I’m watching you. See you around, squire boy.”

Everand muttered to himself, “Unfortunately you probably will.”

She poked her head back through the door and asked, “What was that?”

“I wasn’t talking to you, go away.”

She snorted. “I forgot you talk to your horse, carry on.”

And with that she was gone

. . .

Everand spent as long as he could with Lilypad and Destrier, but eventually he did have to part with them and find his way to his quarters. By the time he left, the sun was just beginning to set and he headed out the backdoor, looking for the hedge pathway Mari had described. He found it pretty quickly, an opening in a massive wall of bushes that led forwards, both sides surrounded by the hedges. He assumed it was some sort of garden he’d be heading through, hoping it was somewhere he was allowed to be. 

He hurried inside, wanting to find his quarters before night fell. The pathway took a right and then another right, which confused him, appearing to loop back on itself. As he continued forwards he found a fork in the path. Wanting to ensure he didn’t double back on himself, he took a left. He’d assumed it would open up to a garden or more open path but the hedges continued to surround him. By the third fork in the path, Everand realized what had happened. The mage hadn’t told him how to get to the squire’s quarters, she’d led him into a maze. Despite her trick, he could find his way out easily enough. He’d only taken about five turns and he definitely remembered them but when he went to return to the fork in the path he’d just travelled through, it was gone. He followed the path back further but the only thing he could find was a single bend to the right that had not been there moments before, no fork in the path to be seen. 

His breathing got heavier as he continued to move through unfamiliar territory that he would’ve sworn up and down did not exist mere minutes prior. As he travelled forwards, not only did the path seem unfamiliar but it gradually got narrower. Not liking the rapidly enclosing space he turned around but as he headed in that direction, the path only continued to get smaller and smaller as he progressed. He could feel the walls bearing in on him. He started to run, wanting to be free of the maze as quickly as possible. He wasn’t sure what was happening but he knew he had to get out so in a moment of panic he threw himself at one of the walls.

It was far easier to break through than he had anticipated and he found himself barreling through the hedge into a thankfully open pathway and slamming into something solid, or perhaps he should say someone solid, who fell to the ground with a yelp. 

“God this keeps happening, I’m sorry the maze just-” And then he looked up and saw who he ran into. The princess rose slowly from the ground, brushing off her white skirt to try and get rid of the dirt the fall had left on it to mixed success. “I am so sorry, I didn’t realize.”

He went to help her stand up properly but she waved him off and gave him a smile. “You should watch where you’re going.”

“Yes princess, sorry princess.”

“That’s really not necessary. You can call me Lorelai.”

“I can’t-”

“Oh of course you can, I insist. Wait, you’re the new squire, aren’t you? I remember you! I don’t think I caught your name.”

“It’s Everand princ- uh Lorelai. My name is Everand.”

She smiled wistfully to herself. “Everand, I like that. It suits you. You look like an Everand. Well, you look like a lot of things.”

Everand knew he should stop this conversation in its tracks but he couldn’t bring himself to. Her voice was kind and her gaze soft and he just wanted to talk with her forever. “What other things do I look like princess?”

She laughed to herself as he called her princess again but she didn’t correct him. “Well, Everand, you look very angry and very tired, and I would say that you look kind.”

Kind wasn’t one he heard often. He would hazard a guess that she thought many people were kinder than they were. That’s the thing about people with soft gazes and sleepy smiles, they liked to see the best in people. “Well, I hope I don’t disappoint you princess.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you won’t. Now what are you doing all the way in here? You just got here and you’ve already decided to try and best the maze? How brave of you. It can be quite tricky.”

“No, I didn’t mean to. I asked for directions from the mage and she told me to go through here because she was trying to kill me or something, I don’t know.”

A hand flew over the princess’s mouth and it almost sounded like she was fighting back laughter. “You’ve met Mari I see. She can be like that with newcomers, terribly sorry about that. I promise you she meant no real harm, she can just be… mischievous at times. She’ll come around though, I can feel it.”

“Didn’t mean me any harm? The maze tried to eat me!”

She nodded solemnly. “She wouldn’t have known that. She doesn’t believe in the maze. Not really. But don’t worry, I do. I think it’s just not your time to be here yet, Everand. Or maybe it is your time and the maze doesn’t like what that means. Either way, I would stay out of here if I were you. Until something changes.”

He looked around at the surrounding walls nervously. “Trust me, I intend to stay far away from this place. Right now, I’m just worried about getting us out of here.”

The princess laughed again. “Oh, don’t worry about that, I can show you out.”

“But the maze-”

“Trust me, Everand, we’ll be alright. Now where were you headed? If I know where we’re going the maze will take us right there.”

“Uh, I was going to the squire’s quarters?”

She nodded and shut her eyes very tight for a few moments before spinning around and looking at the hedges around her. “Please?” Everand could’ve sworn he heard them shifting around them.

Then the princess grabbed Everand’s hand to lead him along the path and he almost fainted. He knew that of all the things he shouldn’t have been doing, holding the princess’s hand alone in a maze was pretty high on the list. But was he going to pull away from her? Not in a million years.

She led him forwards for barely any time at all, no more than thirty paces and already Everand could see a gap in the hedges that lead out to some sort of small building. He held his breath whilst they slowly approached the exit. As the princess walked through the gap, Everand found himself speeding up, not wanting to be in there for too long while the princess was outside the maze and he was not. Suddenly he was very happy they were holding hands so the maze couldn’t slam shut with him inside. As soon as he exited, he finally let himself breathe, letting out a massive sigh of relief. The princess dropped his hand and turned to him with a proud smile plastered across her face.

“I told you I’d get you out of there!”

He couldn’t help but smile back. “Yeah, you did. Thank you.”

She dropped his hand and reached up to brush a strand of hair out of his face, one that had probably fallen there when he’d accidentally slammed into her minutes ago. “No Everand, thank you for trusting me. It means more than you know.”

Before Everand got the chance to respond, or maybe just stare at her dumbstruck, the door in front of them flew open and a kid came barreling out of the door, looking like he was barely fifteen. They seemed to be starting squires off younger and younger lately. When he saw who was standing outside of the door, he came to a screeching halt, staring with wide eyes.

The princess leaned down a little so she was closer to his height. “Hello. This is Everand, our new squire. Can you take him inside and introduce him to everyone for me?”

The kid nodded, awestruck, and the princess ruffled his hair. “Thank you so much. I will be seeing you around, Everand the squire.”

For once he didn’t particularly mind being called a squire. “I look forward to it, princess.”

She gave him one last smile and then turned and walked back into the maze. Everand instinctually went to tell her not to, that it was too dangerous, but he stopped himself. She seemed like she knew what she was doing.

[meanderfall]

on my hands and knees, BEGGING the fandom to stop saying Qui-Gon abandoned Obi-Wan on Melida/Daan.

Look, if you haven't read the book, THIS is how the confrontation actually plays out:

I feel like even without the added context of the entire book, it's pretty clear that Qui-Gon is giving him a CHOICE, one that Obi-Wan seems pretty well-informed about what it means and the consequences for him.

But like, fine. Without context, it might seem that Qui-Gon isn't being fair because all Obi-Wan wants to do is help these people. I have two arguments against though, 1) other options as to how to help these people are brought up during the narrative, ones more in-line with how the Jedi operate, and 2) Obi-Wan's predominant reason for wanting to stay is not because he wants to help.

This is one of the very first options we encounter as to how this issue could be resolved, or at least helped:

This is shortly after they first meet the Young and comes from Cerasi herself, one of the leaders of the group. Asking for more Jedi support or at least broadcasting the situation so that maybe other organizations within the galaxy can help. Which is well-within their means as Jedi to at least try and get more support, and doesn't go against their roles as diplomats and peace keepers. (Obi-Wan, of course, doesn't even bother trying this route, nor does he bring up this possibility with Qui-Gon so we could at least see it being debated and how viable it would be.)

And of course there IS a more hands-on approach that they could take:

Qui-Gon himself tries to come up with a more diplomatic and objective way to broker peace. And the mission was already completed by the way. They were only supposed to rescue Tahl and MAYBE broker peace, but rescuing the other Jedi was the priority. Yoda even tells him before this moment to leave the planet with Obi-Wan as soon as possible because the situation is just too volatile, and he almost lost one Jedi in an effort to help. Qui-Gon is only doing this because he knows how important this has become for Obi-Wan. (And if anyone tries to tell me Qui-Gon doesn't love Obi-Wan, imma start swinging)

It doesn't work, of course. Everyone living on this planet has been steeped in so much anger, hatred, and revenge, that no side, not even the Young are actually willing to talk and really reach for peace. For all that Cerasi and Nield say they want Jedi support, they don't. Not really. Qui-Gon gets stonewalled by them. Both of them mock Obi-Wan whenever he listens to Qui-Gon. What they actually want is for the Jedi to join their army and help them make the Elders listen to them. This is why Yoda wants them to get the hell outta dodge and Qui-Gon feels uneasy and like they can't actually help here. No one actually wants to listen to reason, and the Jedi are not supposed to be soldiers fighting in wars. It gets incredibly obvious in the next book, especially on Nield's end that he wants revenge (a young little warmonger, his parents would be so proud), but honestly? I think we can see it even in this book.

Hey, did you guys know there's a bunch of kids living away from this war. Like, thousands of them, actually. They literally do not have to fight. Nield could take his group of kids (taking the factory working and conscripted kids with him) and fuck off and let the Elders kill each other, and only this generation would be left. They could ask for resources and protection for their new settlement from the Jedi or galaxy instead of manpower to back up their cause and help fight in a war. If Nield ACTUALLY cared about stopping the war and wasn't out for revenge, this would probably be the best choice.

But this possibility never gets brought up, ever, because Nield hates the Elders and wants "justice", Obi-Wan is too inexperienced to realize this is an option, and no one tells Qui-Gon until it's already too late and the Young have declared war on the Elders if they don’t agree to a cease-fire.

All of these options are a more Jedi way of handling the situation in my opinion. Unbiased and working towards actual peace and the end of violence instead of perpetuating it.

And as much as I love Obi-Wan and I know his heart is in the right place, Obi-Wan doesn't care about that, about doing things the Jedi way. Obi-Wan is very clearly taking a specific side in this conflict. I'm not going to put up all the screenshots I took because there are already a lot in this post (and there are. so many more i could put up), but I have quite a few where it's explicit that Obi-Wan is not taking the side of the Young because it's the objectively correct thing to do, but because he likes them. He feels a sense of community with them. He wants to help them, not as a Jedi but as a friend. He is getting involved. Attached.

And, look, I'm not here to argue the morality of that choice. Choosing a different way of life isn't a failure or flaw. Helping your friends in whatever way you can is good. Wanting to stop war and reach for peace is right. There's probably a bunch of people who think Obi-Wan is making the right choice here, and while I might disagree, I can certainly see where they're coming from. I just feel like there's a huge misconception of what actually happened on this planet and what Qui-Gon’s ultimatum is actually about.

Obi-Wan has snuck out time and again to help the Young.

Obi-Wan has used their starfighter, their ONLY transport off the planet, to help the Young on a mission that could very well have shot down the ship. They could have ended up stranded on this planet and might have lead to Tahl's, the rescued Jedi's, death.

Obi-Wan has not been acting like a Jedi. Qui-Gon knows this. Obi-Wan knows this. And in that moment, Qui-Gon is telling him "helping and supporting the Young in such a personal and attached manner is not the way of the Jedi. Do you want to continue on this path?"

And Obi-Wan makes his choice.

(And if anyone tries to argue that Qui-Gon should have brought Obi-Wan with him anyway instead of letting him stay on a war-torn planet, I'm going to start screaming. Yeah, no shit. In the real world, that's probably how he should have reacted.

But this isn't the real world. It's a kid's book. Where kids are the main characters and they go into dangerous situations. So the children reading can see themselves in them and learn how to be brave. How to navigate difficult situations. To learn it's okay to choose a path and maybe realize at some point it isn't what you wanted at all.)

[kyglow]

she was making it difficult when he attempted to repress his guilt for the trouble he had caused and his crazed brutal actions of eliminating her group and leaving her alive. eyes were heavy with seriousness yet concern as he stared down at the young woman seeing her as a person rather than a creature who should be eliminated as most hunters were never this forgiving. " you're right i am - - " he stammered over his words uncertain of what to say or how to make it better yet he knew his actions were unjustly even if he was a hunter hellbent on revenge and getting justice it wasn't fair on her. " - -i am sorry. " placing his hand on his hip as he uttered an apology once more with eyes looking shamefully at the ground as he felt uncomfortable he was growing to care for her even if they had just met. she had every opportunity to kill him yet she refrained in doing so and spared his life which meant to him that he was in her debt and owed her. his eyes would slowly lift meeting her gaze with his head tilting off to the side as he would pay her his full attention when she clarified and explained her side of the story addressing that she hadn't been at ' maple ' drive on that evening. he suspected that she could be telling the truth but it wouldn't be the first time he was tricked by a vampire. " i suppose i should take your word on it then. i mean if you were the actual killer who murdered those people in cold blood then i would be dead already. " coming to a conclusion to which he was intending to stick with while his demeanour would appear to be much more stern and serious with eyes scanning over her features studying her noticing something seemed off about the way she was acting very weak now. a sigh left his lips feeling slight pity for her. " if it wasn't me then it would have been some other hunter or a group of them who would have found this nest and done a whole lot worse. some of us aren't as kind or rational towards vampires. some hunters see it as a game or prefer to kidnap and torture vampires like you for kicks. " van helsing would state drawing from experiences he witnessed from other hunters he had disdain for as most killed for joy or fun or preferred to torture vampires.

van helsing flinched as he muttered. ' christ ' under his breath as eyes would widen when he witnessed her abruptly launching her own self against the nearest wall further away from him. he placed his hands out and would slowly approach eyes would stare into her own with concern. " i am not going to hurt you, i promise okay. " he assured her. he also noticed she acknowledged his injury caused by her which was kind in a sense. " you can feed on me. i won't mind but we're going to have to do it some place else. " he offered himself up mostly because he was worried if she were to lash out of hunger at anyone else then it would be dangerous. " three months ago you were turned? so you're a young vampire, that makes sense. " she was a newborn in the vampire world and inexperienced. helsing couldn't help but feel compelled to take care of her even though it was against his code. he didn't want to immediately start demanding exactly who it was or what the person who had turned her looked like as they were on limited time before the hunters arrived. " look we'll talk about this later but we have to go please. i promise you i'll protect you. " he firmly would state although he wanted her alive since she was valuable to him. she had information on the killer.

It was impossibly hard to control her emotions, the kind of issue she had while being human and now only worse as a newborn. Her family left behind, as she couldn't go back to them like this, and now everyone she knew that was like her dead in the hands of this hunter. Once he brought up the reason why he was here and it only made her sob more. "If you call a mistake killing everyone you found on the property, sure..."she huffed and sniffled. His scent being so close to her, enveloping her due to his jacket on her shoulders made her focus even more messed up. She could smell the blood coming from him, and as he looked up the young vampire could tell he was hurt due to her tossing in like that across the church.

The mention of Maple drive sounded familiar to her, she's heard something of it before, but also knew they weren't there on the night he mentioned. "We were never there... whoever killed them, it wasn't us..."she murmured weakly. At him mentioning she should leave as more hunters would find their way here, she slumped her shoulders in defeat. "Perhaps I should just let them have me, then. I have no where to go, no where to turn to now, all thanks to you."Inez shot him a gaze. As the hunter extended his hand towards her, Inez got up and in a blink of an eye launched herself back against the nearest wall. "Stay away. You're hurt and I --- I haven't fed in a couple of days. I don't want to hurt you more than I already did."she exclaimed. "I don't know if I'll be of much help to you, I... I don't know that much, I only went where they went, I - I might heard of that drive you mentioned, but I just..."she shrugged, losing her train of thoughts. "Um... around three months ago. I was out with some friend, they all died... but they turned me."

[jackrrabbit]

Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. ���Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything��s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.

[fleet-admiral-hiba]

TROUBLE IS ALWAYS AROUND THE CORNER

A/n: it seems that there is no peace for our lovely Ash. As a says goes “ there’s no rest for the wicked”, and we mean this…literally

There is no fucking way. Everything was against him. As if the constant pain wasn’t enough, the various health problems and the ever present feeling of exhaustion, a new young butler got in the way. He couldn’t rest normally, but this time, it had been too much.

Usually you never worried about people coming in your part of the house, cause it had been made abundantly clear to all the members of the staff, that no one apart family members and two trusted butlers could come and go inside Zeno’s residence. No one, especially young inexperienced butlers. For both their sake and Ash’s one. He had the right to all the rest he could, and the last thing he needed was the hovering of trained who didn’t know their left from their right.

But one young butler missed the memo apparently. And it lead to a gruesome end.

Ash had been ill for most of the week, his fever so high it caused concerns among the family. Given his medical history, it had been quite the scare when the fever wasn’t breaking. His breathing became labored and the doctors had to perform an emergency check up to be assured. Fortunately the day after, his temperature dropped to a more stable level, but the strain left him extremely exhausted.

All Zeno asked was to leave him alone and let him sleep. They all knew how much he needed those few hours he could rest easily to recover from this episode.

The entire mansion was strangely quiet, everyone was trying not to disturb the sleeping man upstairs. But a young butler was tempting fate. Going against specific orders, they slowly made their way to the upper floor. Nobody knew if it was because of their crush for the man or out of pure stupidity. Making their way to the massive door, they made sure to check the halls. When nothing was noticed, the door was slowly being pushed open. The place was massive. Historic furnishings adorned the main room. It was like they expected.

Taking the far right corner, the butler looked for the master bedroom, and it didn’t take much time to spot it. The door was made of oak, and it seemed heavy. Pushing with all their might, the butler saw who he wanted. There on the bed slept Ash Zoldyck, one of the most guarded people of the house. Even though they heard of his illness, they still found him incredibly beautiful. Now they understood why Zeno had chosen him.

Coming closer the gloved hand almost touched the pale skin, when a tired voice spoke up. “ What…are…you…doing here?” asked a really tired man. He had heard the front door open, and when he didn’t recognize the footsteps, he pushed the call button on the nightstand. Better to be safe than sorry.

The butler looked shocked. Ash was supposed to be resting. “I’m..uh, just checking on you sir. I was sent here by master Silva”. Although he was very tired, he could detect the blatant lie. “ I…believe…you are…telling a lie, young ..one”. Taking a deep breath, he tried to sit up, and with some difficulties, he leaned against the bedpost. Breathing deeply, he glanced at the butler, pitying them a bit for what was to come. “ my husband…won’t be pleased..to find you here. Leave, now”.

He had the butler best interest at heart, but he felt something wrong. The butler in front of him had other plans. “ sir, not to be rude, but I think you are delirious. Let me help you” and again, the gloved hand was coming incredibly close to his pajama jacket. Before the hand could open the first button, a powerful aura encompassed the entire room. The butler fell to floor, wheezing, and even Ash had trouble catching his breath. Zeno was too enraged to notice his husband struggles. It wasn’t until he heard the pained voice of his beloved that he lifted the aura around him. “ Are you alright? I apologize for this slip”, coming closer to him he handed his man a glass of water. While Ash gradually drank, Zeno rubbed his thighs soothingly. “ Did they do something?”, shaking his head he laid down, already feeling the effect of today’s strain on his body. “ Go back to sleep. I will come soon”

Ash fell asleep. And Zeno didn’t waste time in dragging the butler to the dungeon. He would have liked to deal with the trash, but left it to Killua and Illumi. He had better places to be. He ought to start teaching the new recruits some manners. But all in due time. After all there is no rest for the wicked.

[kuma829]

Sacrifice◆Resurrection Sunday of the Undying Chapter One

Cast: Adonis, Souma, Koga

Author(s): Akira

Season: Spring

Proofread by: Gelyan

(I let myself indulge in him… I shamelessly came closer to him, as if nothing had occurred)

Chapter One Regeneration: Souma: Adonis-dono, I have finished my writings for my journal.

Adonis: Aah, just as I’d except of you, Kanzaki. You make fast work, yet your penmanship remains as brilliant as ever.

Souma: Hahaha! Our homeroom teacher, Sagami, does not seem to share the sentiment. “Your handwriting is way too good to read,” he rambles. Ever since I was but a young child, I have had a fondness for calligraphy, so it is safe to say I have a certain confidence for it.

Adonis: I see. I’m envious. I’m still no good at writing in Japanese.

At fan signings, I’m always the last man standing when it comes to giving autographs… It’s always a bother for everyone there.

Souma: Ah, likewise I have made a similar mistake. I always begin to carefully stroke each singular inkline for perfection, much to the dismay of Hasumi-dono and Kiryuu-dono.

They tell me to be mindful of “Tea Pea Oh…” 

However, what is this “Tea Pea Oh” they speak of?

I attempted to search the corners of the dictionary for it, but had no such luck. Adonis-dono, perchance, do you know what it means?

Adonis: It’s an acronym for words in English, you’ll better know them as the words “Time,” “Place,” and “Occasion.” 

Souma: Aah, I suppose I understand.

Why would someone go through the trouble of saying something shorthand, of an English word no less… I wish they had said so from the very beginning. Not to mention, just the first letters of English words, yes?

Adonis: Mhm. Shortening longer phrases to just their initials can save time, useful in situations where you’re in a hurry.

Your senpai in AKATSUKI must think you're talented enough to handle such first class work.

I can’t help but be jealous, everyone at UNDEAD treats me like I’m a child.

Especially Sakuma-senpai. Everytime I’m worried over something, he seems to coddle me. It seems like he’s going to say, “there, there” and start patting my head if I try to brush him aside.

Souma: Are you unhappy, Adonis-dono?

Adonis: It’s more like, I am grateful.. But I’ve gotten stronger.

I want to be seen as someone who can be dependable, someone who can support others and not be the party who has to be supported by everyone… No… I wish to be seen as their friend.

That’s why I’ve been increasing the weight loads of my workouts. I want to work my biceps to their ultimate form. Being reliable is to be strong, and to be strong is to have muscles.

Souma: Oooh… You have such, well developed biceps. But do not forget yourself, as muscle is just meat, as it is in the name. Excessive exercise will just wear you down overtime and limit the range of your movement.

And, if your muscles kept expanding and expanding… They would only get in the way when you dance. Do not force yourself in the name of “torainingu,” you can naturally acquire the strength you are in search of on your own.

Such is the workings of the human body. It is why I have a distaste for Western training methods, for they are too extreme in their ways.

We are still growing, training yourself too much may impact you later as well.

Adonis: Mhm… I do see your point. But I still believe it is necessary to train in preparation for future threats.

Souma: Mhm, that remains true. However, we are still fairly inexperienced, so please hear my plea, Adonis-dono.

Well, we are getting ahead of ourselves. Come, let us finish up our daily duties. You must stay vigilant in your work.

Adonis: Aah, yes, All we have left is to lock the doors and deliver the class journal to Sagami-senpai.

Souma: Fufu, because our names are close by on the attendance, I was blessed by the God’s to be able to work with Adonis-dono for daily duties.

We are quite compatible with one another, for we can compensate for what the other lacks. Our relationship is truly wonderful… Adonis-dono ♪

Adonis: Is that so? If Kanzaki thinks so, that makes me really happy…

(I’m glad. I can talk to Kanzaki normally…)

(I, or rather… UNDEAD, rebelled against the student council in the DDD, and the S1 lives)

(We were one of the factors for the reason of them losing their power)

(In the S1, we faced off face to face with AKATSUKI, and in the DDD it was fine… We fought against the lord that Kanzaki cherishes, the lord he has served for so long)

(We became his enemies. I wouldn’t blame him if he resented me, but… Kanzaki has always, from the day we first met to this very day, been a refreshing presence in my life)

(I let myself indulge in him… I shamelessly came closer to him, as if nothing had occurred)

(I hurt my friend, and I didn’t even apologise…)

(I’m… Weak)

Souma: …Hm? Something the matter, Adonis-dono? Is there something on my face?

Adonis: Er, no… Uhm… Kanzaki, can I talk to you about something?

Koga: Booyah! Move it, comin’ through. Yo, Adonis? Ya in here? Let’s go to lessons together!

Adonis: …Oogami. This isn’t a good time.

Souma: This… You must be Oogami-dono, yest? Open the door with more care, quietly. Be polite.

Koga: Eeeeh? Oh, yeaaah, where’s my manners, eh?

‘Scuse me for being a stray dog that ain’t potty trained, eh? Wait what are ya calling a dog? Imma damn wolf…!

Souma: No one is saying anything of the sorts… You are a brute, are you not? I suppose one’s conduct is a reflection of their family’s.

Koga: …Oh? Is the only things ya proud of are yer upbringing? I don’t like that shitty grin you’re wearing, ya spoiled brat!

Adonis: …o-Ogami. Why are you always looking for a fight? Get along.

Koga: Tch. Like I’ve got any reason to ! This dude’s our enemy. The moment he lets his guard down I’m going to rip that throat of his out with my own damn mouth!

Souma: …Do not be mistaken, I am not so out of practice that I would lose to a ruffian like you.

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[babymetaldoll]

DIWK - Chapter one: "Yes, I'm a genius"

Word count: 10,5 K

Warnings: Cursing, but it's mostly a fluffy nerdy start to our story.  Mentions of the L.D.S.K episode (Season 1, E06) and A real Rain (Season 1, E17).

Summary: Spencer meets the BAU new member, a young S.S.A. who happens to be just as nerdy as he is. (Y/N) is excited to join her dream job finally, but she is decided to create an imaginary barrier between her personal life and her job 'cos she doesn't want to make the same mistakes her father had done.

A/N: It's happening!!! I'm so excited!! I'm sorry it's gonna be long, so I hope you enjoy the ride 💕. Let me know what you think!  

Series Masterlist

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five | Chapter six | Chapter seven | Chapter eight | Chapter nine | Chapter ten | Chapter eleven | Chapter twelve | Chapter thirteen | Chapter fourteen | Chapter fifteen | 

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Spencer's point of view

I remember everything that happened the day (Y/N) first arrived at the BAU. It was Monday, November 7th, 2005. Morgan had teased me for a whole week already, as soon as Hotch told us a new member of the team had been selected.

I first saw her when she had her last interview with Aaron and Gideon. My eyes were glued to her from the moment she stepped into the bullpen, and of course, Derek saw me.

- "What caught your eye, kid?"- he asked, walking to my desk. He sat on it and cut me one of his smirks, telling me he knew something was going on. I cleared my throat, trying to turn to my pile of paperwork, going through the papers, and narrowing my eyes, pretending to read.

- "What?"- I know I couldn't fool him, but at least I tried.

- "Do you know her?"

- "Who?"- Morgan looked at me in silence. He knew I knew what he was talking about- "The... no, Hotch is talking with someone..."

I was completely flustered.

- "That I can see, do you know her?"

- "No..."- I whispered and looked over again, this time staring at the scene inside the office, trying to figure out what they were talking about.

I could see (Y/N) smiling at Hotch, and he... smiled back, which still surprises me. Our Unit Chief never smiles in the office, and somehow, (Y/N) always manages to make him grin and express tenderness. I guess that's one of the things about her I love, the way she always manages- somehow, I still don't know how- to make everybody around her happy. Especially me. I had never been as happy as I've been since I met her.

- "Hey, Hotch!"- Morgan waited until she was into the elevator to call Aaron and start asking questions- Who is she?

- "That's Supervisory Special Agent (Y/F/N) (Y/S/N) (Y/L/N), and she is going to be part of the team, starting next week."

My heart stopped. (Y/N) was gonna work with me. I was never going to have another intelligible thought or idea if she was going to be around. Of that, I was sure.

Derek turned to me with a grimace of taunt as I tried my best to look away and hide my red blushed cheeks. Damn it. I hate it when he makes me feel like a kid. He did that then, and he still manages to do it now, even when I'm already thirty years old.

- "Did you hear that, pretty boy?"- I was so glad it was just him and Hotch. I didn't want anyone else to listen to that conversation- "You are going to get many chances to talk with that pretty girl."

- "We are going to have to go through the fraternization policy then."- Hotch joked. Yes, he joked and smiled as he walked away.

I could barely talk or even look at her during her whole first day. I was so embarrassed that week 'cos I had just failed my firearm qualification, and I knew everybody was judging me. At least that's how I felt. It didn't work that Morgan welcomed me that morning with a freaking whistle. I felt like the mockery of a Supervisory Special Agent of the FBI, and of all days, (Y/N) had to arrive that morning.

We had a long briefing that day, JJ catching (Y/N) up with a few cases we were reviewing, and Hotch gave her the proper induction to the team. Penelope loved her. It was friendship at first sight.

- "I'm so happy you are here to stay! There aren't enough girls here at the BAU!"- she nearly squeaked as soon as we left the meeting room- "I want to know everything about you! We are going to be best friends. I can feel it!"- (Y/N) smiled at Garcia and nodded.

- "If you are a cat lover and a sucker for nerdy things, then I guess we are already family."

Her answer made Penelope shriek in excitement as I walked back to my desk quickly. I knew Derek wasn't going to waste the chance to embarrass me in front of her, and I needed to avoid it no matter what.

- "Considering it's your first day, and so far we haven't got a case, I say we should all have lunch together. There's a small place nearby"- Morgan smiled sweetly at (Y/N), and she nodded.

- "I'd love to."

- "Spencer here was just telling me how he wanted to know how you got to the BAU so young; he is excited not to be the team's baby anymore"- I turned to Morgan slowly. I swear he could feel the daggers from my eyes.

- "How old are you?"- she asked, and her smile left me speechless. I tried to answer, but I couldn't make any sound but an awkward stutter.

- "He's twenty-four"- Elle had to answer for me, 'cos I had literally lost all my verbal abilities- "His birthday was a few weeks ago."

- "Congratulations! I'm twenty-four too! I'm so happy I'm not the youngest! My brother teased me about it for the last couple of days and got me all freaked out."

She looked so happy to be there. When you spend day after day surrounded by the worst of humankind, you seem to enjoy and appreciate the little gentle things in life. Her excitement was one of those. It was refreshing.

- "That's..."- it was so hard to pronounce any word at that moment. I was flustered and mortified 'cos I was making a fool out of myself.

- "That's great."

That was all I managed to say. Then, I looked down at the papers on my desk, doing my best to avoid any conversation. JJ and Elle talked to her for a few more minutes before returning to their duties, and Derek tapped my back as he walked to his desk.

- "Way to go, Romeo."

- "Shut up."

We never made it for lunch that day, 'cos we were called for a case in Illinois, and I was embarrassed in front of (Y/N) for the very first time. The first of many.

.

(Y/N)'s point of view

I could never forget the day I met Spencer. We were just kids. We were both twenty-four, and that was the first thing that caught everybody's attention on my first day at the BAU. We were the youngest, though he was a genius. I was an average kid who graduated high school at sixteen, got good grades at college, and got into the academy at twenty. Somehow I managed to kick ass until I got the position of my dreams in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I felt too young and inexperienced to be there, but seeing Reid's face made me feel a little better.

Hotch introduced me to everybody: Morgan, JJ, Elle, Penelope, Gideon -the legend- and Doctor Spencer Reid. He didn't shake my hand, explaining he has a "germs thing." I waved and said I understood him because I've always had a "hug thing," so we are both on the same page.

- "I don't like people touching me if we are not close friends or family."- I explained, and he smiled right away. That smile. It lit up my days for years to come.

- "Me neither, so don't worry, I'm not gonna try to touch you"- I bit my lips as I nodded, and his cheeks turned blood red with embarrassment immediately

- "Sorry, I mean, I'm not going to do anything that might bother you, like hugging you or..."

- "Don't worry, Dr. Reid, I understood what you were trying to say"- he kept nodding and excusing himself, and I tried not to laugh. He seemed to be so nervous it was endearing.

- "You... you can call me Spencer, or Reid"- he added- "You don't need to call me doctor."

- "You can call me (Y/N)"- and he nodded again, looking like a ten years old kid.

I remember clearly that second, right away, I thought he could be my new best friend. There was something about him that made me want to get closer to him.

- "Great! Now we've got two weird kids."- Morgan quickly said, chuckling, and I frowned at his words. I wanted to give him the snarkiest answer, but I remembered it was my first day, and I was still trying to give a good impression to my new coworkers, so I just stared.

- "You know, treating them like kids won't make you look wiser."- Elle whispered, though I heard her perfectly, as Hotch called to the briefing room.

- "I'm just joking with them! Don't you get a joke?"

I thought it was rude to joke around with someone you had just met, but soon after that, I realized Derek Morgan meant no harm. He was like that. And soon, he became the older brother I never thought I was going to need at work. After all, it was my first official job, and it was a very stressful one.

.

My first case was nerve-wracking. Gideon snapped in front of me, and I felt I wasn't helping at all catching the sniper. We are not supposed to use that word, but fuck it. Besides, Spencer and Hotch were kept hostage by the unsub. And Aaron had to beat the shit out of Reid to save all the hostages. Reid was so embarrassed, and I was so scared.

Scared of looking weak in front of my team. Afraid of not deserve being at the BAU.

I remember Elle brought me a coffee on the jet on our way back and said the words that resonated in my head when she left.

- "No one expects you to be perfect at what you do. We just need someone who gives the best every day."

I looked into her eyes and nodded. That was one of the few intimate conversations we had. Elle wasn't the one to open her heart and share her feelings. But she was always someone who could tell you the truth and support you when you needed it.

.

- "Hey! Reid!"- I waved at him from my car as I stopped next to him outside the BAU. It was already two in the morning, and he was outside the main building waiting for a cab.

- "Hey (Y/N)."- he whispered as I rolled up the window and looked at him.

- "Do you need a ride?"

- "No... no, thank you"- he hesitated and waved- "I already called a cab."

- "Are you sure? it's gonna start raining any minute now."

And just as I predicted, a few seconds later, Spencer's glasses were covered with tiny drops of water. He smiled and took a step closer to the car, opened the door, and got in.

- "Th... thank you"- he whispered as I smiled

- "It's ok, I couldn't let you there, on your own, waiting for a cab, not after coming back from a case."

- "I'm ok..."- maybe he thought I was implying the beating he got from Aaron earlier that day, so I did my best to tell him otherwise.

- "I bet you are, but it's fucking freezing, and we are all tired. There's no way you are waiting for a cab if I can drive you over... what about your car, by the way?"

- "I'm not a fan of driving; I take the subway to work every day."

- "Really? Why not?"- I was surprised by his answer, but I was way more surprised we were talking, finally.

- "I don't know, I don't feel comfortable driving... the guys say I'm weird."

I turned to him, raising an eyebrow. He looked so nervous it made me feel bad. Maybe I had done something that had bothered him and never noticed it.

- "That's not weird"- my voice was soft, trying to calm him down. Spencer looked like a scared kitten sitting on my car's passenger seat.

- "If you don't like driving, that's ok... I don't like talking on the phone with people. It makes me anxious for no reason."- I confessed, keeping my eyes on the road. But I know he turned to me and nodded.

- "That's completely normal. It's called "telephone phobia" or "phone phobia," which refers to the irrational fear or discomfort with speaking over the phone. Psychologists believe that this condition is related to social anxiety, which causes a person to avoid situations where they will need to act. Making a call is essentially a performance, and some people dread making a mistake, freezing up, being ridiculed, or not being able to perform in front of an audience."

- "Really?"- he just nodded and kept his eyes on the road- "I didn't know it had a name! My insurance should cover it."

And he finally laughed, which made me feel he was maybe a little more relaxed around me.

- "This is me."- he announced, and I parked outside his building. It was a nice place, and conveniently, it was very close to my house.

- "Great! I live just a few blocks away. I can give you a ride to work whenever you want"- I might have sounded a little more excited than I should have, but I wanted to be friends with him. He was the closest in age with me at work, and he looked so shy and friendly. He was a magnet. Spencer Reid was calling for my friendship. I could feel it.

- "Th.. thanks"- he stuttered and nodded as he opened the door and step out of the car- "Thank you, again."

- "You are very welcome!"- I answered with a big smile. He stared at me for another second and waved before turning around, basically running into the building.

I wish I could go back in time to those days. Everything was more uncomplicated, we were getting to know each other, and everything was brand new: Reid's rambling, my bad jokes. I miss that. I miss us.

It wasn't easy to get close to Spencer. It wasn't easy to get close to the team, probably 'cos I was overthinking every single thing I did. In my first couple of weeks, I was as friendly as I have ever been and made my best to be the (Y/N) I had to be as an FBI Agent. I was making a tremendous effort to fit it. I was nervous and walking on eggshells the whole time. Every time Hotch talked to me, I was sure he would tell me I was fired. When Gideon looked at me, I was sure he thought I was the dumbest agent he had ever met. And every time I spoke at the morning briefings, I just could feel Spencer thinking I was stupid.

.

- "(Y/N)! (Y/N)! I was looking for you!"- Penelope ran into me outside the lady's room and jumped on my face, making me scream- "Sorry!"

- "It's ok, you just almost killed me of a heart attack, but that's ok... I'll survive."- I joked as I kept feeling my heart jumping in my chest.

- "Sorry, I'm just excited 'cos everybody is in for a little gathering tonight at my house. I need to give you a proper welcome! You've already been here for nearly a month, and we still don't get to know much of you."

Hanging out with my coworkers outside the office was strange. Not that I didn't want to get to meet them, it's just that... they were FBI agents. Sure, so was I, but it was my first official Supervisory Special Agent job, and I was only twenty-four. There were so many of my teenage days I still wasn't ready to let go. And so much of it, I didn't want them to know.

- "Sure!"- I replied and smiled at her face lighting up. You could tell Penelope was excited to host a party at her house.

- "Great! Tonight! my place! I'll text you the address! you have to be there!"

- "I will, I swear!"

Spencer's point of view

Oh, man! The first time I actually talked to (Y/N) was on a get-together Penelope organized at her apartment a few weeks after (Y/N) joined the team. Garcia made an effort to make her feel welcome, she even invited Elle, and we all knew those two weren't incredibly close.

Derek drove Elle and me to Penelope's, and I was mortified every minute I spent in that car. He wouldn't stop teasing me, and Elle asked over and over if I had a crush on (Y/N).

- "No! I don't have a crush on her! can you knock it off?!"- I finally snapped as I got off the car outside Garcia's building.

- "Just because she is my age doesn't mean I have or should have a crush on her! she is our new colleague! so please! Stop!"

I slammed the door and walked inside. Did I make an unnecessary scene? Yes, but I couldn't handle anything better at that moment. They were driving me crazy.

- "Welcome! Welcome!"- Penelope opened the door and invited us in. (Y/N), and JJ were already there, holding a beer and laughing. I stared at the two of them and knew I wasn't going to say a word the whole evening.

Back then, I still had a small crush on JJ. We had a terrible date after Gideon gave me tickets for a football game with her favorite team. That was his way to encourage me to ask her out, which I did... but apparently, I sucked at it, 'cos she never got it was a date and invited Penelope to come along. Worst date of my life. But still, I got flustered around her, and my mind kept coming back to her from time to time.

- "So, pretty girl, why did you want to be part of the FBI?"- Morgan asked her after a while of small talk. She was sitting on Garcia's coach, next to our host and JJ. I turned to look at her from my chair, and I swear I felt Elle's eyes on me for a few seconds.

- "Do you usually call girls names?"- (Y/N) answered the questions with another question and frowned at Morgan. He just wide opened his eyes and smiled, surprised.

- "He calls everybody names."- JJ replied, chuckling

- "Hey! he calls me sweet names! Just me!"- Penelope got all jealous and possessive right away.

- "Did you know according to some studies, the reason people in relationships use pet names for their partners is that they're harking back to their own childhood experience and their first love, which usually relates to their mother"- facts came out of my mouth faster than I noticed. I didn't have a chance to stop myself.

Derek frowned right away and (Y/N) bit her lips, trying not to laugh. Elle lost that fight and let out a burst of loud laughter along with JJ.

- "Are you trying to tell me I've got mommy issues, Reid?"

- "No, no, of course not!"- my voice was agitated as I shook my head and hands frenetically. If there's one thing I never want to do is get Morgan mad. He is scary when he is crossed, and back then, we weren't as close as we are now. Let's say I was a little afraid I might say the wrong thing. I always said the wrong thing... I don't know when to stop.

- "I call people pet-names too, once I get to know them, so don't worry"- (Y/N) smiled at turned to Derek with a smile- "And to answer your question, why did I join the FBI? I guess I tried to follow dad's steps. He is chief of police here at Quantico... and my older brother is a detective at NYPD, so... I guess I never really thought about it. I knew where I wanted to be."

- "I bet they are proud"- JJ smiled at her, and I held my breath for a second. I don't know why I did it; I just remember feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden. Not because of JJ, but because I wanted to learn more about (Y/N). I wanted to know everything, but I had no idea how to ask her anything.

- "Well, my brother is very jealous since I joined the BAU"- she chuckled with a playful smile- "Now I'm dad's favorite."

She told us about her academy experience, and we all told her a little bit about ourselves. Morgan was nice enough to tell her everything about my degrees and IQ because, well, my IQ dropped to twenty when it was my turn to talk to her.

I found out she has a MA in Linguistics and was considering doing the DA, which she did. That's when I managed to speak, and we talked about our college experiences for a while.

- "Oh, no! I wasn't popular at all. When your dad is a cop, kids usually don't wanna talk to you or invite you to parties."- she explained as we stood at one side of the room. Talking to her on our own was a little bit easier than doing it with everybody else watching. I don't know why. So I took my opportunity when Derek was out getting more beer with Elle, and JJ and Garcia were in the kitchen.

- "Being fourteen and riding my bike to college didn't make me very popular either."- I confessed, and she chuckled

- "Sorry."

- "Don't be"- I smiled and looked down at my shoes- "I guess at a certain point in our lives, we have to start laughing about some of the bad things that happened to us"- her cellphone rang that second, and she looked at the screen with a small smile.

- "Sorry, I have to answer this, it's my boyfriend."

Boyfriend. I should have seen it coming.

I walked to the kitchen, defeated, and sighed. I left my empty can of Coke and looked at my friends.

- "I think I'm gonna go home."

- "What? No! It's too early, Spence!!"- JJ argued right away- "You never want to hang out with us outside work!"

- "Yeah!! Don't you want to have fun with us?"- Garcia begged and pouted. I wasn't sure I wanted to be there. I was very uncomfortable 'cos social gatherings weren't my thing (they are still not my thing anyway) until I heard her voice.

- "So, what are you guys doing?"- (Y/N) walked over and stood next to me

- "Who were you talking to?"- Penelope asked right away with a wink.

- "My boyfriend"- she was joyful, I could feel the happiness in her voice- "He just wanted to know if I was ok."

- "Boyfriend?"- JJ smiled, and I could feel her eyes glance over me.

- "I need to know everything!"- and Penelope hyperventilated right away- "How long have you been dating? Are you getting married soon? Is he the love of your life?"

- "Who's getting married?"- Morgan walked in and wide opened his eyes as he questioned the room.

- "(Y/N) is getting married!!"- Penelope nearly shrieked as (Y/N) shook her head laughing.

- "I'm not getting married! Paul and I started dating just a month ago; it's nothing serious."

I took a sip of the beer Elle gave me and sighed, staring at the bottle. I made my best not to look at Derek for the rest of the night. I didn't want him to give me any sorry glance or anything that might make anyone believe something that wasn't real.

It was a fun night, after all. After my beer, we talked; I felt a little looser and managed to ask (Y/N) about herself and told her I had overheard her telling Garcia she was a sucker for all nerd things.

- "Yeah, I'm a huge nerd"- her cheeks blushed with her confession.

- "I bet you can't beat baby genius here"- Morgan chuckled and tapped in my back, making everybody laugh... at me.

- "I've got the feeling I can top him... you have no idea the kind of geek I am"- she looked straight at me- "How many Star Wars conventions have you been to this year?"

- "Just one, you?"- I raised an eyebrow and watched her chuckle.

- "Five... last two I was in make-up and custom"- I wide opened my eyes as she bit her lips nervously.

- "And Doctor Who conventions?"- I asked her, way more intrigued than I had been about her before.

- "Only two this year, the academy and school got in the way of most of my fun..."

- "Do you have a favorite doctor?"- I had to ask

- "From the new series, ten, the classic Doctor who I have to say four."

- "Tom Baker is by far my favorite doctor of the whole series."

- "But you can't overlook the fantastic job David Tennant has done! He is the one who managed to charm a whole new generation with the show!"

- "Yeah, he is excellent! but he ain't no Baker"- I loved that conversation

- "Baker's popularity is 80% because he had Sara Jane, who is by far one of the best companions the doctor has ever had. She made him human and relatable"- she had a point, but I needed to argue with her. I opened my mouth to answer, but I couldn't because Morgan's voice was louder than my thoughts.

- "Ok, geeks, you can ramble about your tv shows and nerd things some other time, now let's make a toast. To our newest member, we hope you feel welcome working with us, 'cos you are gonna see us way more than you see your boyfriend"- she chuckled at those words and nodded.

- "Thank you, guys. You have been so nice to me these couple of weeks. I've got the feeling we are gonna get along."

.

- "Do you need a ride?"- (Y/N) turned to me as I grabbed my satchel, and she put on her coat.

- "Thanks, but Morgan is gonna take me home."- I whispered, scared to be alone with her again.

- "Actually, kid, I was planning to hit the club right now, it's still early, and we don't get many free nights, so..."- he looked at us and shrugged.

- "You don't mind?"- I asked her, and she gave me the warmest smile.

- "I just offered to do it, of course, I don't mind at all."

- "Thank you."

I didn't know if I wanted to kill Morgan or thank him. Either way, (Y/N) waved goodbye to everybody and walked out of Garcia's with me, after thanking everybody for the hundredth time for everything.

- "Are you tired?"- she asked me as we both sat in her car. She started it, and the music that came from the radio was so loud, I nearly covered my ears- "Sorry! Sorry! I was rocking my favorite album on my way over."

She quickly turned off the radio and gave me a guilty smile

- "It happens when you drive alone a lot."

- "Did you know listening to loud music helps you liberate stress?"- I started rambling- "There is a direct connection between your inner ear and the pleasure centers in the brain. Shortly explained, when you listen to loud music, endorphins are released, that act on the opiate receptors in our brains, they reduce pain and boost pleasure, resulting in a feeling of well-being."

If I was going to work with her, I had to find a way to talk to her. Even if that way was to ramble facts over and over again. Anything was better than silences, I guess.

- "Yeah! and it also works like a stimulant, which I needed after the week we just had..."- I chuckled, and she looked at me for a second- "By the way, I noticed you have a problem with coffee and sugar"

- "I don't have a problem with coffee!"- I felt nearly judged by her statement.

- "And sugar!"- she added and snickered

- "You know you shouldn't profile other profilers"- I made my best to make a joke, and I guess I nailed it, 'cos she chuckled.

- "That's hardly profiling, Reid! that's just watching you prepare your coffee every morning"

- "Have you been spying on me?"- I could help but to chuckle at that conversation. I was having fun.

- "No way on earth! I just happen to like to drink coffee too, which leads us to the question I wanted to ask, it's still early; Morgan was right, do you want to have a coffee or something... I'm in the mood for something sweet."

- "And you were judging me for my coffee with extra sugar!"

- "I'm not judging you! I'm just pointing out that I noticed what you are doing and wondering how many cavities you already have."

I laughed. An honest, real, pure laughter. She has always made me laugh as I've never had. Like there are no problems, no worries, no traumas. Nothing bad.

- "I have no cavities, thank you very much!"

- "Fine! and are you in the mood for a late coffee and cupcake with me?"- I stayed quiet and looked at her- Don't feel pushed to do it just because I'm giving you a drive

- "No, no, it's not that. I just don't wanna bother you"

- "If I am inviting you, Reid, it's because I want to do it, not because I'm feeling forced to do it"- she kept her eyes on the road, but her voice was so reassuring I couldn't doubt a word.

- "Wouldn't your boyfriend get mad or something?"- I whispered the question 'cos I was scared of the answer.

- "Why should he?"- she looked shocked by the questions- "If he gets jealous, then he is not the guy for me."

I cut her a short smile and nodded. Her personality was so different from mine. It was exciting to have her around.

- "I could eat a donut"- and she clapped at my answer, thrilled with the plan.

- "That's the spirit! I know just the place!"

We talked until four in the morning that night. I don't know how I managed to do it, not because I was tired, but because I was very nervous. Well, I was at the beginning, but talking with (Y/N) has always come easy to me, somehow. To the guy who was never able to speak in public or with any girl, spending three hours in a cafeteria talking, eating donuts, and drinking coffee in the middle of the night was the most significant achievement.

.

(Y/N)'s point of view

- "How do you know a place open at this hour?"- Spencer asked me the very first time we were out together for coffee. It was already close to four in the morning, and I had started yawning, 'cos even with all the sugar and caffeine I had consumed that night, I was weary.

- "Sorry to break the news, doctor, but are not the only one with a sugar problem"- I licked a little frosting from my finger and grinned- "Sometimes after classes, or when I was too stressed studying, I would come here, get a coffee, a cupcake and just... do nothing for a while, just to let my brain rest I guess"

- "That makes total sense. The brain needs free time to process new information and turn it into something more permanent. Though the amount of time a mind needs to construct a durable memory probably varies from one person to the next, it also depends on the complexity of what that person is trying to learn"

- "Well, believe me, it felt like I needed two weeks to process all the information, but I only had half an hour if I was lucky"

- "Then you are already trained for this work. We don't have much time to do anything when we are on a case"

- "That's what I've seen so far... but at least you all get along. It would suck to be stuck in a team that fight egos and divisions."

- "Yeah, you are right, we are lucky to have very nice people working with us... everybody brings something different to the team"- I nodded at his words and looked down at my fingers as I tried to wipe the leftover sticky glazed with a napkin.

I had been working there for four weeks already, and I still felt like I didn't belong. Honestly, it was such hard work being there, not because they weren't a great team, but because it was more challenging than I ever imagined. Profiling and traveling all over the nation catching serial killers was... stressing, to say the least.

- "You bring a completely different point of view in every case"- he continued speaking and looked down at his cup- "And your knowledge in Linguistics adds more information to the profiles, which helps working faster and better."

I held my breath at his words. I knew he was just polite, just trying to make me feel better about my job performance these weeks.

- "I can assure you, you have been an incredible addition to the team"- he stayed quiet for a second, still just staring at his cup.

- "Thank you."

- "It's true; I'm not telling you this 'cos I think you need to hear it. I wanted you to know 'cos that's how we all feel."

I know I was blushing. I don't know how to take a compliment. Not that I get many, but it's always weird to hear someone telling you so nice things about your work.

- "Thank you, Spencer"- he finally looked at me and nodded. We stayed in silence for a few minutes. I didn't know what else to say, and he seemed to be embarrassed.

- "Thank you, actually"- he finally whispered.

- "Why? I didn't do anything"- I was confused, but he was earnest about his words.

- "Thank you, 'cos you have been very nice to me, even though I am a barely tolerable person."

- "What? Barely tolerable? What the hell are you saying?"

- "I mean, I know I drive people crazy 'cos I am always rambling and giving unnecessary facts all the time"- I narrowed my eyebrows, not getting why he was saying those things.

- "You do not do that."

- "Maybe you haven't been here long enough to realize I am always giving facts, and..."- he was honest. He actually believed people were annoyed by him. It hurt me to know that's what he thought of himself.

- "I realized that within the first three hours into the job, but I think that's amazing."

- "People would always say it's annoying."

- "Why would they say that?"

- "Because... I know they do."

- "Well, whoever says or thinks that are assholes, I like your rambling."

Reid snorted, and I hit his arm with my knuckles softly. I really felt bad he was so insecure, and most of all, he thought everybody hated him.

- "I mean it, Spencer, I wish I knew half the things you know, and if being with you means having to listen to your rambling, I think it's incredible, 'cos it gives me the chance to soak some of that knowledge."

The way he smiled, it was like his whole face lit up. He blushed, obviously embarrassed, and it also blushed me, 'cos he was gorgeous when he smiled.

- "So please, don't stop the facts, not with me"- he nodded and sipped what was left of his coffee.

After another few minutes, we left, and I drove him home. We were in a small sugar rush; we were too tired to have a full effect. I knew all I wanted was my bed and sleep the whole weekend.

- "I had a great time tonight"- I parked my car outside his building and smiled- "At Penelope's and with you"

I was so excited we had finally talked and gotten closer. I wanted to be friends with him so badly. Why? I don't know. I just knew I needed him in my life, from that minute on.

- "I had a great time too"- he smiled and held his satchel- "See you Monday"

- "Yeah! See ya!"

- "Drive safe!"

- "I will!"

I got home that night and laid on my bed, fully dressed. I barely took off my shoes and fell asleep right away. I was too tired to think, too tired even to put on my pajamas. But I wasn't too tired to remember Spencer's smile while he ate donuts. His dorky glasses, the way he gesticulated everything he said when he was excited about a subject. I was glad I had finally gotten to talk to him for once. And I couldn't wait to do it again.

Back then, Paul and I had just started dating. I wasn't in love with him, but he was a nice, funny guy I loved spending time with. I met Paul a couple of months ago at a friend's party. He was fun to be with, and we had a lot of things in common. We were both into music. He had a band, I didn't back then, but eventually got mine over time. He was like me, nothing like my friends at the BAU.

I thought that was cool, 'cos he represented a part of me I didn't want to lose working at the FBI. I was terrified I was going to lose myself in my new job. I saw how it affected dad's and my brother's life, how they were consumed by it in almost every single way. It was why my parents got divorced. It was why my brother couldn't keep a girlfriend for longer than a few months. 'Cos work was first, and their job was everything. The crazy hours, having to answer every call, no matter how busy you were. I thought it was sick how work could be your whole life. I was decided not to let it happen.

Yeah. I had no idea what I was getting into.

Soon after I joined the BAU, the nightmares began. I guess nothing prepares you to see so many people die. And nothing prepares you to kill someone, no matter if that someone is a child abuser.

I took the shoot, didn't even hesitate. It went right between his eyes. It was him or me, I know that. He was going to kill me. But still, it was hard.

Derek turned to me as I stayed still, in shock. It took me a few seconds to even breathe. I had just killed a person. It wasn't just some random thing.

- "(Y/N), are you ok?"- he landed a hand on my shoulder, and I quickly nodded.

- "Yeah, I'm ok... that was fast"- it was all I could say and turned to him. He gave me a short warm smile and wrapped an arm around me. I flinched at his touch right away and held my breath again. I don't know if he felt it, but still, he didn't let me go.

Derek has that thing when he doesn't care if you want it or no; he will give you his love and friendship when he feels you deserve it. I guess I'm lucky to call him my friend. And he really pushed that hug thing I still have.

- "Are you ok?- Spencer's voice was a sweet whisper. He sat carefully next to me in the jet and gave me a warm cup of tea- "I made you the one you like"

Of course, he had noticed my favorite brand, 'cos that's what Spencer does, he takes mental notes of everything and never, ever forgets. I wonder if that's a good thing or not. I guess it depends on what you remember.

- "Yeah, just tired"- working at the BAU, you can hide any kind of feeling behind the "I'm so tired" excuse. Mostly because we are indeed tired the whole time.

- "It was an extreme case"- I sipped my cup of tea and nodded at his words- "Do you..."

- "No, I'm ok, I don't wanna talk about it"- he bit his lips as he smiled. We both stayed quiet for a while. He read (somehow, at a relative normal peace), and I drank my tea. I couldn't concentrate on anything, so I just looked outside and tried not to think about the unsub's face and how he looked when I killed him.

- "How was your first time?"- I finally asked him, and I think my question caught him by surprise, 'cos he nearly jumped on his seat- "Not your first time in the sack, the first time you had to..."

- "No, I got it, I got it"- he was already blushing, it was adorable- "My first time was actually the first time you drove me home"

- "Really?"

- "Yeah"- he made a pause and gathered his thoughts, I guess- "I didn't really go out to the field a lot before 'cos I didn't have my firearm qualification"

And suddenly I remembered how embarrassed he was about it on my first day at the BAU. Derek made sure everybody knew about it 'cos he thought it was hilarious. And I thought he was a jerk for making fun of him.

- "And did it affect you?"- it was a stupid question. I knew Spencer was a sensitive person; of course, killing someone was going to affect him in many ways- "I mean, how did it affect you?"

- "I couldn't feel anything at first"

- "Shock?"- he nodded and sighed- "Gideon said that maybe I didn't know what I felt and that's why I thought I didn't feel a thing, but that wasn't it, it was like I was numbed inside... but then when it hits you"- he murmured- "And you can't stop thinking about it"

- "I think it hit me sooner than I thought"- I closed my eyes and sighed, but even then, I could feel those empty dead eyes staring at me.

- "Wanna know what helped me?"- Spencer's voice was velvety and soothing. It felt relaxing talking to him.

- "What?"- I whispered and turned to look at him

- "Remember two things: you did what you had to do"- I sighed at that with a small smile. It didn't sound like something I could believe at that moment.

- "And the second?"

- "A lot of kids are alive and safe because of you"

Now, that made me feel a lot better. Reid was right. I did what I had to do to help people. That guy wasn't going to stop.

- "Thanks"- I managed to give him a slight smile, and he did the same.

- "I'm here to talk if you want to"

It felt like he was really making an effort to say those words. I didn't know why it was still so hard for him to talk to me. Maybe it was still a sensitive subject for him, so I did what I do best: I joked about it.

- "Thank you... I'll try to avoid the issue as much as I can, but when I collapse under the pressure, I promise I'll come to you"- he chuckled at my answer and nodded right away.

- "Great plan."

And a few days later, I couldn't sleep anymore. I kept waking up to those eyes. I kept feeling guilty for killing a child abuser who was trying to kill me. I relived in my mind that moment over and over again.

- "Babe, come back to bed"- Paul found me sitting by the kitchen island staring at a herbal teacup at two am. It was my third insomnia night.

- "Yeah, I'll be right there"- he turned to walk back to the room but hesitated and looked at me again.

- "Do you want to talk about it?"- I shook my head, still not taking my eyes from the cup. He slowly walked to me and held my hand - "Come on, babe, everything looks worse at two am."

And he was right. Everything seemed to be worse when it came to my mind in the middle of the night. But it didn't get any better during the day either. He cuddled with me in my bed and fell asleep soon after. I just stayed there, feeling his chest moving softly with his soft breathing, thinking I had killed someone, and it wasn't going to be the last time I was going to face something like this.

.

Spencer's point of you

Do you want to know something sad? I was excited we had an unsub in New York 'cos I had never been there. Back then, I didn't know my colleagues were going to tease me about it. I didn't give it too much thought. I honestly wasn't good at leaving my house when we weren't in a case. Most of my traveling had been due to work, and other than La Vegas and Pasadena, I hadn't been to many cities just to sightsee.

Why am I thinking about that right now? 'cos we were in New York the day (Y/N) gave me her first gift.

Everybody had made fun of me during dinner because I didn't know how to eat with chopsticks. JJ tried to teach me, which also caused hours of Morgan's teasing for the rest of the trip. Thankfully, they dropped the jokes when we went back to the police station to take one last look at the profile after we got a call out unsub had killed a cop this time.

But after two hours of thinking, neither of us was honestly able to give any new idea to the case. Hotch insisted we head back to the hotel to have some rest. (Y/N) was one of the last ones to leave, along with Gideon and me.

- "Stop looking at the board"- she said, standing by my side, bag in hand- "Let's go. Your big brain needs to rest."

- "I won't be able to sleep knowing I'm missing something"- I answered, not taking my eyes from the board

- "Come on"- (Y/N) playfully hit my arm- "You need your eight hours of sleep to be a fully functional genius"

- "You should try to get a full night's sleep as well"- I turned to her and watched her eyes widen- "What? Do you think I didn't notice you haven't been sleeping?"

- "No, but I thought you were going to wait until I had a mental breakdown to force me to talk about it; that was the plan, right?"

I tried not to laugh, but it was hard; she is so funny, though I knew that was a sensitive subject, it had been weeks since the incident, and it was clear (Y/N) wasn't processing everything right. If anything, her jokes were a coping mechanism to avoid talking or even thinking about what had happened.

- "We can also talk about it, just... talk"

- "I know what happens with me, Reid"- she whispered and looked around. Gideon was outside, no way near us, but still, she kept her voice low. It made me see she was scared he would hear her, 'cos she didn't want him to think she was weak.

- "I guess I just have to make peace with it. It was gonna happen, and it will happen again, it's my job, it's part of what I do, end of it."

I looked at her and nodded in silence. There was so much I wanted to tell her, but I couldn't shake the thought she was going to laugh at me.

- "Do you want to?"- I made a pause and took a deep breath. Yes, I was very nervous- "Do you want to walk back to the hotel? it's just a few blocks and maybe... fresh air can help you relax?"

I didn't mean to hesitate so much, but it was scary for me to ask her to spend time on our own. I don't know why. It wasn't just with her; it happened with everybody at that point in my life. I was sure no one wanted to spend time with me. Why would they?

- "Can we have a midnight cupcake?"- she asked and smiled. I bit my lips and pretended to give the idea a lot of thinking, though I was craving donuts ever since we didn't have time for dessert at dinner.

- "Just one, and no coffee"

- "What are you? The sleeping police?"- she teased me and led the way. We waved at Gideon and walked outside the police station.

For a rainy night, it was freezing. But I didn't care much. I was too busy looking around, it was technically my first night out in New York, and though I was just leaving work and walking back to the hotel, it was the biggest adventure I have had there so far.

For the first couple of minutes, we walked in silence. (Y/N) looked at her feet, hands stuffed in her pocket as I walked next to her, holding my umbrella for the two of us. I tried to take in everything that was going on around us. It was exciting, being there, alone. I was a twenty-four-year-old Supervisory Special Agent of the FBI, and I was excited to walk with a friend in the New York city streets. No wonder why Morgan called me "kid."

- "Did you know more than 800 languages are spoken in New York City? that makes it the most linguistically diverse city in the world"- I had to start rambling facts after a while because I guess I couldn't help it.

- "Vraiment?"- she answered, and I chuckled. Of course, Master in Linguistics.

- "Oui"- I thought we could have a whole conversation in french; it would have been fun and fascinating, but my French was very rusty, and I didn't know if she was fluent or just learned a few things.

- "When I was a kid, I dreamt about living in New York. I was obsessed with it"- she kept looking down at her feet as she spoke, and I turned to look at her for a second. She looked sad somehow, or that's what I read from her. I've always done my best not to profile profilers. It's harder than you imagine.

- "Why?"- she chuckled at her thoughts and kept her eyes on her shoes.

- "You know how they always make you feel no matter how weird you might be, you are still going to fit in New York?"

- "You are not weird"- I couldn't help but frown and look at her- "You are..."

- "I am weird, we are all weird, that's what makes us great"

I loved that thought. That's why I've never forgotten it. Lie, I can't forget. I remember everything we've said to each other because I want to, not because I have an eidetic memory.

- "But when you are in school, everybody is trying to fit it and be normal, and that wasn't me at all..."

I didn't see that coming, and I have to admit it, I loved it. I often felt I was an outsider at the BAU. Hotch, Gideon, Morgan, Elle, JJ, they all fit in everywhere we'd go. Meanwhile, everybody looked at me, wondering what the hell am I doing there. I could read it on their faces. The fact the team had to introduce me as "Doctor Spencer Reid" is a sign they are making an effort to make me look older and more experienced. Reliable, even.

- "Why would you say you are weird?"- I had to ask- "You look very normal to me, I mean it"- she raised an eyebrow and didn't say a word. She just pulled my jacket and dragged me to a coffee shop.

- "Cupcakes, Reid, you can't expect me to tell you embarrassing facts about my life without a cup of coffee and a mountain of sugar."

JJ always said I ate like a kid, too many pastries and candy, no salad. Meanwhile, (Y/N) kept pushing sugar into my body. I liked that. They were both so different. JJ treated me like I didn't know how to deal with life. (Y/N) treated me like I could help her deal with life. JJ wanted to help me grow up. I could feel (Y/N) wanted to be my friend, and I loved that. I had never felt someone longing for my company. It was always the opposite. I usually felt people were stuck with me.

For months I kept comparing the two of them in my head. JJ had such condescending manners, it sometimes made me think she might actually have feelings for me. Other times, Morgan would call her my mom, which took all the hopes from my mind.

- "What do you do in your free time, Reid?"- (Y/N) sat in front of me in a booth. Right in between us, a table with two coffees, a red velvet cupcake, and a chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles.

- "I read, study..."- I didn't give much thought to my answers- "I also write a letter to my mom every day"

- "That's so cute"- I felt how my cheeks turned blood red, and she smiled at me sweetly.

- "Thanks..."- I sipped my hot cappuccino and winced as the coffee burned my tongue, and she chuckled.

- "Slowly, doc, or are you in a hurry?"

- "Definitely not, I have no other plan, I mean, I could sleep, but I know I won't, and, and I know you won't sleep either, so"- the words left my mouth at such a fast pace, not even I got them all. (Y/N) nodded and started taking apart her cupcake, little by little.

- "That's awesome, 'cos I like hanging out with you, and I don't feel like hanging out with Elle tonight. We are sharing rooms."

- "You don't like her?"- now that was breaking news- "I thought you two got along"

- "Don't get me wrong, I like her. I just don't feel like being the version of myself I am when I'm with her"

I looked at her, not sure of where she was going. She took a piece of cake and ate it slowly.

- "You lost me"- (Y/N) sighed and ran a finger around the edge of her cup.

- "Are you really you the whole time when you are at work, Reid?"

- "Well, yes?"- I wasn't sure that was the answer she wanted, but it was the only one I had- "I don't know how to be anybody else"

That was the whole truth. That's still the truth. Maybe that's why I have never been popular. People say I have no empathy, that I can't read any social cues. If I knew how to be someone else, I would probably try to change that and be a Spencer that's entirely sympathetic and social, like everybody else. But I can't force myself to act differently.

She stared at me, and I could feel the frustration piling behind her small smile.

- "Do you want to know something weird?"- her eyes shone as she stared into mines asking the question

- "Always"

- "You are the only person at the BAU I feel I can be myself with"- she whispered and sipped her coffee again.

- "Thanks?"- I was confused- "But... you are not that different with me than you are with the rest of the team"

- "Well, I am... I don't share who I really am at work because I am afraid"

- "Why? What scares you?"- she sighed and laid back on the seat. I kept my eyes fixated on her until she furrowed her brows, staring back at me

- "Are you trying to profile me, Spencer? 'cos we are not supposed to profile each other. I'm pretty sure it was in the contract I signed"- I smiled, busted, and nodded.

- "If it makes you feel any better, you are hard to read"

- "I'm a good liar, don't tell anyone"

She was proud of her answer, and I guess she should have been. You have to be an excellent liar to catch unsubs, get in their head, play with them when you have to make them talk. I guess she was ahead of me in that area.

- "Well, If it makes you feel better, I feel more comfortable around you than most of the team"

I closed my eyes as I spoke, and I knew my voice had been so low and soft, it hadn't been surprising if she hadn't been able to hear me, but she did.

- "Is it because I don't like touching people either?"- she joked, and a small smile stretched across my lips

- "It is because you"- I stopped and rearranged my thoughts. You could tell she was eager to hear the rest of my answer, and I was making sure not to make a fool out of myself.

- "It's because it feels you don't judge me for being me"

- "That's exactly how I feel, Spencer"- her smile was so big it made mine grow bigger as well.

- "But, why can't you be you with everybody?"- (Y/N) took a big bite of her cupcake, feeling more confident about our conversation and nodding.

- "Mmm, this is so damn good, you should try it, Reid"

- "Answer the question, (Y/N)"- I ignored her random comment and asked again- "Why can't you just be you?"

- "There are two answers to that question, and both of them are real"- she finally confessed and bit her lips, playing again with a little piece of cake on the dish.

- "I'm waiting"

- "You know, for someone who said has all the night off, you are indeed in a hurry now!"- she snickered and stuck out her tongue at me.

- "Fine, here's the truth: I don't want to share my whole real me at work because I am scared people will judge me and think I'm weird and too immature for the job, but at the same time, and this is the second reason, I don't wanna show my whole me at work 'cos I am afraid I'll lose it along the way, I am worried the FBI will take that weird part of me and will turn me into an SSA."

- "You are an S.S.A., (Y/N)"

- "I know, but I'm afraid I might end up being an ASS, Reid"

Her joke made me laugh so hard, tears fell down my cheeks. And she looked pleased to see me laughing.

- "See? That's me, the girl telling weird jokes the whole time 'cos can't stand a serious "grown-up" conversation. Can you imagine this (Y/N) talking with Hotch? Seriously, Reid, can you imagine?"

- "No, I can't"- I shook my head, still chuckling, and took a bit of my donut- "But I would definitely love to."

- "Do you want to know what I do in my free time?"- my mouth was still full, so I just nodded, feeling a little guilty I hadn't asked about her when she had asked about my hobbies.

- "I ride my longboard and play bass, do you think an SAA should be doing that? Do you think Elle does it? JJ? they are the perfect fit for the role. I am that kid at the back of the class who got a stroke of luck and managed to hang out with the cool kids"

- "Am I one of the cool kids?"- I had to ask

- "Yes, Reid, why?"

- "I've never been one of the cool kids before"- she gave me a severe look and sipped her coffee.

- "Here I am, pouring my heart and soul out for you, and all you care about is being one of the popular kids. That's being a lousy friend, Reid."

She was joking, and we both chuckled, but my chest tightened at her words, and the smile on my lips grew wider. She called me her friend for the first time that night.

- "I think you are overthinking this whole thing, (Y/N)"- she sighed at my words and finished her coffee- "We are all weird, you said it yourself"

- "Some on us more than other"

- "Yes, but that's what makes us great and unique. I told you, your vision brings a whole new point of view to the profiles, and I know what it's like to feel insecure people will judge you for being too young"

- "I know, that's why I'm glad you are here"

I am sure I was blushing, and I am absolutely certain she noticed because I heard her giggle as I looked down at my empty dish and fidgeted with my cup.

- "And... are"- I stuttered and narrowed my eyes. I knew I had to stop being so nervous around her; she was my friend, she had said it herself- "Are you ready to talk about your nightmares?"

- "Are you profiling I have nightmares?"- she raised an eyebrow and questioned my question

- "I am staring at the back rings under your eyes. It's clear you haven't been sleeping and considering we both know you went through a traumatic incident, to call it that way, you are clearly going through night terrors or nightmares"

- "Did you go through the same?"

- "Yes, I did"

- "And how did you overcome it?"

- "I haven't. I just made my peace with it"- you could read the deception on her face. That wasn't the answer she was waiting for.

- "They will be more sporadically, I promise, (Y/N)"

- "That's what's scares me too"

- "What?"

- "That one day I won't have the nightmares 'cos I'll be used to seeing the darkness and horror around me."

When we left the cafeteria, it was two in the morning, and the night was freezing. It was no longer raining, and the cold wind could freeze your skin in a second. (Y/N) looked at me as I shivered and opened her bag.

- "Here, put this on"- it was a purple scarf.

- "Thank you"- I was so cold I didn't hesitate. The wool was warm, soft, and it smelled like her- "It's pretty"- I felt I had to compliment it, 'cos she was too nice with me.

- "I made it myself"- you could tell she was proud. I tightened it around my neck and continued our way back to the hotel.

I hadn't felt I could count on someone at the FBI as I did with her. She wouldn't think I'm a kid; she wouldn't be forced to hang out with me. It felt pretty good to have a friend again. Ethan had been the last one I had lost. I always lose the people I love.

- "Thank you"- we were standing outside (Y/N)'s room back at the hotel. I took off the scarf and tried to give it back to her, but she didn't let me.

- "Keep, it's a present for being my first and best BAU friend"- I felt profoundly flattered, and I'm pretty sure I giggled, blushing- "Besides, purple looks good on you"

- "It's my favorite color"- I confessed- "And I'm not saying it just to make you feel good"

- "Then you have to keep it. It was made for you even when I didn't know it"- she smiled one more time and opened the door- "Good night, Reid."

- "Good night, (Y/N)."

----------

Series Masterlist

Chapter two

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[therealvinelle]

do you have any thoughts on bree tanner?

On Bree Tanner herself, not so much. I did read her book, and from my recollection (I lent it to a friend who never gave it back. And I’m pretty sure she didn’t even read it(!)) Bree is pretty much what she’s presented as. 

She’s not stupid, but she’s not particularly intelligent either, she’s nice, but not a saint. She has been a vampire for only a few months, but she has already lost her empathy for humans. She’s an introvert who cares deeply for her friend Fred and crush Diego. She was never inclined to fight anybody, and spent the newborn battle just sort of mingling in quiet terror.

She’s a sweet person I’m sure would have made a pleasant addition to the Cullen coven, but ultimately she’s not remarkable.

When it comes to Diego, her supposed mate... hm. For those who didn’t read the book, Riley told the newborns they had to stay in the shadows or they’d burn in the sun. Bree gets a huge crush on one of the other newborns, and they find out vampires actually sparkle. This changes everything! Diego goes to tell Riley about the sparkling. Diego goes to live on a farm after that. No, really, that’s pretty much what Riley tells everybody. Diego is fine, he’s on a very special assignment, next question. Bree eventually figures out that Diego is dead, and her grief combined with a lot of other factors lead to her concluding life is miserable. She dies thinking “Oh well, guess I had a good run.”

Not unsurprisingly, I not only don’t believe in mates, but I also don’t think Diego was anything close to it for Bree either. They were close friends, Bree found out he was dead, and had no time to process it. More, vampires feel very strongly, and this was the only truly emotional event to befall Bree. It knocked her out completely. So, that she then decides she doesn’t mind dying because there’s no point living in a world without Diego seems to me to be a reaction born of her being young (both for a vampire and a human), emotionally inexperienced, and having been hit by this news less than an hour earlier. Had she lived, she would have been just fine.

So, those are my thoughts on Bree Tanner as a person.

Bree Tanner's impact is a different matter.

I think her death was one of the catalysts for the plot of Breaking Dawn.

The vampires in Seattle all died, Victoria included. There were no one left who knew Bree, and her life would have been a moment lost in time, like tears in the rain (Sorry, couldn’t resist).

But there were the Cullens. More specifically, Carlisle.

Carlisle had spent his formative years in Volterra, and parted with Aro in friendly terms. He remained fond of Aro, and continued to think highly of him. He and Aro would have spoken of the Volturi, of the Volturi mission, of how such a law is enforced, and it is prudent to also assume that Carlisle would have witnessed at least a few trials. He came away from all that thinking of the Volturi as strict, but fair rulers. 

Jasper, by comparison (I’m bringing him in because I think he’s more representative of how your average vampire who hasn’t been Aro’s boytoy for decades would view the Volturi), shivers in fright at the mere thought of the Volturi. To him they were executioners. But, again, fair. You break the law, and the Volturi descend upon you like God of the Old Testament.

Then cut to Eclipse, Victoria’s got a newborn army wreaking havoc in Seattle, attracting a lot of attention in a developed country in a time of globalized news. They’re on CNN daily. They might as well write “Fuck the Volturi” in the sky.

And the Volturi do nothing.

Now why, Carlisle and his family wonders, would they do such a thing?

Edward has all the answers, of course - that Aro is choosing not to intervene because he doesn’t like how large and powerful Carlisle’s coven has gotten, and Victoria’s newborn army will take care of that for him. Edward also goes on about how Aro desperately wants him and Alice by his side, which does prompt an “... you sure about that?” from Carlisle, but ultimately Aro’s inaction on the subject speaks for itself and Carlisle can’t make any excuses for it.

Regardless of Aro’s motives, that the Volturi would not be coming to enforce their own law became very clear. As a result of their inaction, Carlisle was forced to betray several of his own principles. He had to ask Jasper to teach the family how to kill others, he had to accept the aid of teenagers who could very well get themselves killed, he had to put his beloved family at risk, and he had to kill other vampires.

Aro’s inaction put him through hell and could have gotten his family killed. Would have, if it weren’t for the wolves.

Jane then decides to make her entrance right after the battle ended, while the fire is still going. The timing could not be more clear: the Volturi were waiting it out, letting the Cullens be culled.

We then get to Bree, who was an innocent in all the ways that counted, and not at risk of repeat offenses. Jane executes her anyway. Not just that, she makes sure to torture Bree, twice, entirely gratuitously:

“She’ll tell you anything you want to know,” Edward said through his teeth. “You don’t have to do that.” 

 Jane looked up, sudden humor in her usually dead eyes. “Oh, I know,” she said to Edward, grinning at him before she turned back to the young vampire, Bree. (Eclipse, page 333)

Even if the execution can be justified, the torture cannot. Jane abuses her power because she can, and there’s nothing the Cullens can do about it.

Then you have the fact that Bree had overheard a conversation between Jane and Victoria in which Jane gave Victoria explicit permission to take out the Cullens on the Volturi’s behalf. Bree replays this for Edward to hear before she dies, validating every paranoia he ever had about the Volturi. Just because he didn’t tell Bella, doesn’t mean he didn’t tell his family. He certainly would have told Carlisle and Alice.

Over the course of Eclipse, Carlisle sees the Volturi neglect to enforce their own law because culling his coven is a higher priority to them, torture and execute a mostly innocent vampire, and then he finds out that they made a deal with Victoria.

Not only would he be massively disillusioned by the Volturi, but by Aro himself. The man he met in Volterra was a lover of the arts and the academics and spoke of justice among vampires, and then Carlisle gets to experience first hand just what kind of justice this is. Aro was not the person he thought he was, and their old friendship doesn’t count for much either.

Look then to Breaking Dawn, where Carlisle has a vampiric child, but not an immortal one. Like Bree, he is innocent in all the ways that counted. This did not help Bree, and given the events of Eclipse (and remember only six months have passed), it won’t help him either. The Volturi have made it clear that they want to take out his coven, and whether or not the Cullens are actually innocent won’t matter.

The only way he can hope to slow them down, to force some kind accountability upon the Volturi (an accountability that might have preserved Bree’s life: she died because Jane had none), is to have there be witnesses to their trial.

And we get the clusterfuck called Breaking Dawn (or as I like to call it, Aro and Carlisle Break Up).

Relevant meta.

Edit 16th of April: Aro’s side of things