#or when I did - felt painful shame N guilt so often. so i am still in some ways rehabilitating myself W drawing 💜🌱

[krockat]

(to the tune of ymca)

it is fun to draw OOBJECTHEADS

So yea i am drawing out some designs for objecthead characters.

The scissor head one I think I'm gonna call Sax, which is swedish for scissors, and I think it sounds cool pronounced both in english and swedish.

Also yea i Ship them, but mostly Sax and another lightbulb character, which i might make siblings with the one featured here, unsure.

but most of the art ive drawn of that char is nsft haha.

they were the one who made me wanna continue drawing this objecthead story to begin with :D

I'm having fun!!

[darkstar225]

Twice's 10th member has an eating disorder

A/N: I got two similar asks on Tumblr and Wattpad so I put them together, hope the anon and my fav writer from Wattpad @emmlovesmarvel like it! :) emlovesmarvel

The requests: Are you sick of me yet? Haha. Could you write one where Mina picks up on the fact that Y/N has an eating disorder and Y/N gets super anxious about her finding out? I'm such a sucker for fluff (A/N: I'll never get sick of you bae)

can you do twice 10th member having an eating disorder? only if you are comfortable with it! (A/N: You're too sweet, ty for asking and I am! Feel free to ask, if I'm not comfy doing it I'll answer the ask saying so :D)

PS: Tysm for everyone that reads what I write, I hope I can bring a smile to your faces every time I post! I'd like to thank whoever sent me this idea 'cause I loved writing it <3

__________________________________________________________

Y/N had always admired her Mina unnie, the graceful and talented member of TWICE. As the youngest member of the group, she often found solace in Mina's presence, feeling a sense of security whenever she was around. Mina's gentle demeanour and kindhearted nature made her approachable, someone she felt like she could confide in when the weight of her secret became too much to bear. But there was one secret that the maknae had been carrying for far too long, one that weighed heavily on her heart and consumed her every waking thought. She had been battling an eating disorder silently, trapped in a cycle of self-destruction and denial. Even if she had become skilled at hiding her struggles, wearing a mask of contentment whenever she was in the presence of her group members, it was still really hard.

However, the youngest's attempts to conceal her pain did not go unnoticed by Mina. As observant as she was compassionate, Mina couldn't help but pick up on the subtle signs of her sister's disordered eating. She noticed the way Y/N's eyes lingered on food, filled with a mix of longing and fear. She noticed the guilt that flickered across her face whenever she took a bite as if each nibble was a source of shame. (A/N: Just wanna let you guys know that if you feel like this, you are free to talk to me. You guys are beautiful inside and out and I understand that it's hard but you have people that love and worry about you guys S2)

Mina's heart ached for her honey. She understood the weight of secrets and the toll they could take on a person's well-being. Determined to help her young sister, Mina made it her mission to approach Y/N delicately, offering a safe space for her to open up. One evening, as the members of TWICE gathered in their shared dorm, Mina took TWICE's sugar aside. They sat on the edge of her bed, the atmosphere heavy with anticipation. Y/N's heart raced, anxiety coursing through her veins, fearing that her darkest secret was about to be exposed.

Y/N - Mina unnie, is something wrong?

Mina reached out, gently placing her hand on Y/N's trembling one. 

Mina - Lovebug, I've noticed that you've been struggling. I've seen the signs. Please know that I'm here for you, and I want to help.

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes, her façade finally crumbling under Mina's compassion. She nodded, unable to form words and let the tears flow freely. Mina wrapped her arms around her sweet dongsang, offering comfort and understanding, allowing her the space to release the pain she had been holding in for far too long.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/N managed to find her voice again. 

Y/N - Unnie, I... I don't want the others to know. I'm not ready for them to see me like this.

Mina listened attentively, her expression filled with empathy. 

Mina - I understand your hesitation, baby, but sometimes, sharing our burdens can make them feel lighter. We're a family, and I believe the girls would want to support you through this.

The maknae's heart wavered, torn between her fear of judgment and the longing for the love and support of her TWICE sisters. She took a deep breath and spoke softly, her voice barely audible. 

Y/N - Promise me you won't tell them just yet. Give me some time to gather my strength.

Mina nodded, respecting Y/N's wishes. 

Mina - Alright, darling. I promise. Take all the time you need. But remember, we're here for you whenever you're ready.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N began the difficult journey towards recovery. With the support of her sweet Mina unnie, who served as her confidant and guiding light, TWICE's honey took the first steps towards healing. She attended therapy sessions and sought professional help, slowly untwisting the tangled web of her eating disorder. As her progress became more evident, Mina couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride. Watching her young sister find the strength to confront her demons was nothing short of inspiring. Mina knew that it was time to share her battle with the rest of TWICE, to let them in on the secret that had haunted the youngest for far too long.

Gathering the group together one afternoon, Mina took a deep breath and mustered the courage to speak. She shared the truth about their dongsang's eating disorder, her voice filled with love and concern. The room fell silent, the gravity of the situation sinking in. One by one, the members of TWICE embraced the maknae, their eyes brimming with tears and hearts filled with empathy. From that moment on, Y/N's journey towards recovery became a collective effort. Her sisters from her chosen family in TWICE rallied around her, offering unwavering support and encouragement. They attended therapy sessions together, ensuring that she never had to face her battles alone. They shared meals, celebrated every small victory, and helped redefine their kiddo's perception of beauty and self-worth. In the safety of their sisterhood, TWICE's babygirl discovered the strength she never knew she possessed. She learned to love herself unconditionally, embracing her flaws and imperfections. And as her body and mind healed, the girl found solace in the fact that she was never alone in her struggles.

The road to recovery was not without its challenges, but the maknae knew she was never alone. With Mina by her side and the unwavering support of her other sisters, Y/N found the courage to conquer her eating disorder, emerging stronger and more resilient than ever before. And as she stood on the stage, bathed in a sea of adoring fans, TWICE's angel felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Gratitude for Mina, who had seen through her façade and offered a lifeline. Gratitude for her unnies, who had stood by her side through every step of the journey. Most importantly, she felt gratitude for herself, for finding the courage to fight, to heal, and to become a beacon of hope for others who may be trapped in the darkness of their own secrets. As this happened, the unnies looked at their baby with adoration in their eyes and a single thought:

We are proud of our dear maknae.

A/N: I apologise for any errors, English is not my first language. Pls, let me know if there's something wrong, ty for reading <3

[nowritingonthewall]

P.S. I love you!

Fandom: Moon Knight

Characters: Steven Grant, Marc Spector

Pairing(s): Steven x gn!reader, tiny hint of Marc x gn!reader

Summary: The postcards that Steven received from his ”Mom“ were just a bunch of made-up lies. Or weren’t they? Steven is a sweetheart and Marc deserves all the love in the universe.

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse. Please be aware that Steven refers to Marc as “man” because he isn’t aware of the term “alter” (yet).

A/N: Hiya :) This is the very first blurb I have ever written, so any type of feedback would mean the world to me 🥰

“Morning Gus & Gus! How are we doing lads, sleep all right?”

As Steven started his morning routine by sprinkling their favourite fish flakes into their tank, the fish remained emphatically nonchalant.

“Still giving old Steven the silent treatment, are we? Because I couldn’t take you with us to Egypt?”

Chuckling quietly to himself, he kept watching them for a moment before his gaze wandered towards the collection of postcards framing the fishes’ home. While each of them held a special little place in his heart, it wasn’t difficult to spot his favourite one among them.

If the large pyramid and the brightly coloured “Greetings from Cairo” on its front hadn’t been enough of a giveaway, the worn edges and creases clearly would have indicated how often he had held the postcard in his hands to read it over and over again. Just like he did now:

“My dearest Steven,

I am sending you the warmest greetings from the land of the pharaohs! Every morning I look out the window of our hotel room and see the Great Pyramid of Giza and every time I do, I think about how much you would love it here, my darling. I am looking forward to the day that we are going to go on an adventure like this together!

Love and hugs, Mom”

Love and hugs…

Letting his fingers trace over the biro indentations, he tried to imagine what it must have felt like for the man who had written these lines for him.

Maybe he had just returned from a mission protecting the travellers of the night, all bloodied and bruised, aching and in pain, writing this postcard instead of tending to his injuries. Painting a picture of a caring mother filled with warmth and kindness and love, while his heart and soul were bleeding from the countless wounds that she had inflicted upon him as she had turned his own life into a living hell.

Maybe he had been sitting on the bare cot in his storage locker, surrounded by nothing but inanimate coldness and relentless emptiness, with nothing to offer even the tiniest bit of relief or distraction from his shame and guilt and pain and loneliness.

Maybe he had written it right in this flat, before carefully smoothing over the sand around their bed and applying a new piece of tape to their door. Always making sure that every little detail was exactly as Steven had left it, always fearing that one day he would make that one final mistake that would make his carefully constructed world for Steven crumble into dust.

Deeply lost in his thoughts, he felt it before he could see or hear anything. A warm and comforting presence, like a soft and reassuring embrace that told him that he was accepted and safe. Like coming home and knowing that you are protected. That you are loved.

Who could have anticipated that Steven would find what he had been longing for all his life in the very same man that had seemed to have been the reason for all of his nightmares only a few weeks ago?

His eyes softened as he smiled at the reflection in the fish tank. “Marc…”

“Hey, Steven!” Even though Marc’s eyes no longer held the heart-wrenching despair and agony finding their way through the cracks of his mask like when he first met him, Steven could sense the guilt and pain slowly creeping back in.

“I can throw them away for you, if you want to,” Marc offered in a small voice.

“Why would we want to throw them away?” Steven’s brow furrowed in mild confusion.

“Well, because they are… they are just a reminder of all the lies I told you to…” his voice trailed off.

“…to make sure that I was able to live a happy, simple, normal life?” Steven finished the sentence.

Marc lowered his gaze for a moment before nodding and simply answering, “Yes.”

“No, Marc, I don’t think they are.” Steven slowly shook his head.

“You see, to me… to me they are a reminder that all my life I’ve had someone standing in my corner, who cared about me and who looked out for me. Who would always protect me, no matter what.

And when all is said and done, it doesn’t matter that this person wasn’t our mother. Or our father. Because you… you have loved me in the same way that they should have. And I think that… I think that, in the end, that’s all that matters.”

Whatever Marc had intended to say was drowned in a half-stifled sob as his eyes began to glisten with tears.

“Hey!” Steven said softly while tenderly laying one hand against the glass of the fish tank.

“Hey… it’s okay, Marc, you don’t have to say anything. Just… just know that I am here for you, too, yeah?”

He was still standing there like that when you wrapped your arms around him from behind to press a gentle good morning kiss to his temple. “Mmmmhm morning, sweetie, what are the Gusses telling you?”

“Mhm? What? Oh… they still refuse to talk to me. And I wasn’t… I wasn’t talking to them just now.”

“Oh...” As realization hit you, you gave him another peck on his cheek. “Good morning, Marc!” Your smile turned into a frown when Steven still seemed rooted to the spot.

“You guys okay?” you asked carefully. 

Finally turning around, he gave you a little smile. “Yeah, I think… I think he just needs a minute!”

Bringing your hand up to his face to caress one of his cheeks you ask, “Anything I can do to help? Or would you rather be alone?”

He hesitated for a moment. “Could you… can you give Marc something from me?”

“Sure?”

“Could you just…” and with that he pulled you into a long and heartfelt hug. Holding you as tight as he had held Marc when he had hugged him for the first time, but instead of conveying desperation and fear, his embrace was filled with gratitude and warmth and comfort and tenderness.

“I think he’ll love that,” you whispered.

Letting go of you just enough to be able to look at you, he gently cupped your face with both hands before placing the softest of kisses on your forehead.

“I think he’ll love that very much!”

[somnianyx]

Gender Neutral Reader || Soulmate Au || Angst

Sealed with a kiss: Your soulmate's name appears on your wrist after you admitted you fell in love with them. You'll die after a year if you failed to secure a kiss with them. - Riddle

Warning: Death.

A/N: Idk even know if this can be called a Riddle x reader cuz...Trey got more screen time but eh. Also not a cheating fic. Riddle is not cheating.

Once upon a time...

What hurts worse than falling in love with your soulmate who already shared that special bond with someone else?

There was a pair of soulmates

Nothing. Knowing that you'll die after a year is just rubbing salt into the wound. Can you believe that? Just because I finally admitted to myself that I'm in love with that rose red tyrant, who's dating my sister.

Who realized they loved each other too late.

I should've just deny my feelings till the very end. I shouldn't even fell in love with him in the first place. This is my punishment, for the sake of their happiness. Still...

Until death do them part

I'll continue loving you until my last breath, Riddle Rosehearts

You surprised Trey by knocking on his apartment door at 3 am. Before he could scold you, he was already trapped in your embrace.

Trey comforted you as you cried in his chest, rubbing circles behind your back. It had been a couple of hours since you've admitted your feelings, the dreadful hours you spent looking at his name that was etched onto your wrist until you die. Visible only to you.

When your sobbing had died down a little, he guided you to his kitchen and sat you down. He prepared your favorite snacks and drink and watched as you munch them sadly.

You explained everything to him. When he didn't respond, you looked up to find a surprising sight. His mouth agape, eyes wide, he looked like he was about to cry.

And he did.

The usual calm and collected big brother Trey, was crying. You panicked a little, as it was your first time seeing him like this, you didn't know what to do.

Afraid of making things worse, you opted to hug him and let him cry it out. Like he always did for you. He wrapped his arm around your waist, burying his face into your chest.

You proceeded to pet his hair, also what he always do to you, his sobbing dying down into sniffles. Even when he calmed down, you didn't stop.

He hesitantly let go of you, wanting to wipe his glasses that's covered in tears.

"We should go to Rosalie's house," he stood up, grabbed your wrist and headed straight to the door.

"What? Why?" You tried to stop and pull your hand away, it only made his grip on you tighten.

"We have to tell them everyth-"

"Wait! Hold on! Are you insane?! No fucking way!"

"Yes fucking way! Do you think I'm gonna sit here and watch you slowly wither for a year?!"

"T-Trey please! It's hurts!" You cried in pain.

He stopped in his track, finally realizing what he's doing and you immediately pulled away. Rubbing your wrist, you just hope its wouldn't cause any bruising.

He looked down with guilt and shame written on his face. Though he was panicking, he shouldn't have hurt you. "I- I'm so sorry (Y/N). I-"

"Trey. It's fine. Thank you for apologizing." You cut him off, knowing that he's just gonna go on an apology rampage.

You spunned him around, cupping both of his cheeks, "Listen, Rosalie is planning on proposing to him soon. I don't wanna mess this up for them. You'll do it for me won't you?"

Looking into your pleading eyes, he hesitantly agrees. You smiled at him, "Let's keep this a secret between us and make this the best year ever!"

Nothing had changed much from that day, well except for the fact that you had gone on more adventurous trips with your best friends. You're eating expensive meals, going scuba diving etc. Trying out all the fun stuff! You felt so happy to be able to spend more time with them.

Half a year passed by before your health started to slowly deteriorate. You became weak, lethargic and clumsier than usual. You would doze off, daydream more often and even wander around aimlessly until your legs couldn't support you anymore by the 9th month.

Your parents had been trying to figure out ways to help you. They hired the best doctors, psychiatrists, anything! None of them could find out the source of your illness.

Whenever a new one came every week, Trey would bite his lip and avoid any sort of contact with them. He feared that if he even look at them, he would break down and confess everything. Breaking his promise to you.

Riddle had been trying his best to seem calm but anyone could tell that he was growing irritated and anxious day by day. You feared that one day he might just snap and collar an innocent doctor for not being able to cure you.

Riddle had been staying by your side and tending to whatever you needed. He would hold your hand, fix your hair and talk to you even with the lack of response. He never once left your side unless he had to. He even moved in with you.

You loved his affection of course but you couldn't help and wonder if Rosalie was fine with this. If she was unhappy, boy she's doing a hell of a fine job masking it. Or maybe because your mind is growing fuzzy that you couldn't tell people's emotions as well as you used to.

"My rose, it's almost lunch. I'll go prepare your meals" Riddle says as he tried to stand up before you caught his wrist, gripping it tight.

You mumbled something in a soft voice, one that's almost impossible to catch if he weren't listening.

"I...I love you Riddle"

You confessed, grip slipping as you took your last breath.

Riddle was stunned, he stood there for a few good minutes. Trying to process your confession before realizing what's happening.

"(Y/N)?" He called out, gently nudging you for any sort of reaction. Nothing.

He began furiously shaking you, "M-my rose! T-this isn't funny! Wake up!" Still nothing.

He knelt beside you and held your hand tightly, "My r-rose...p-please wake up. I love you too so please-"

His pleading was cut short as a golden glow emitted on his wrist, leaving only your name behind. The truth dawned on him but it was too late to regret it now.

"This must be my punishment.."

[todoshotoroki]

𝐼𝑡 𝑊𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝐻𝑢𝑟𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑆𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝐿𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒

Warnings: smut, mutual masturbation, oral f receiving, f reader cheating on Bakugou x pervy Deku. 〤 Minors DNI

Word count: 2.6k

   I shouldn't. That’s exactly what ran through Izuku’s mind as his rough, scarred fingers traveled south, deciding to distract himself by staring up at the dark ceiling of his bedroom. What time was it now? If he had to guess, he’d say close to 2 am. I won't. He promised himself he wouldn’t play into this far away dream of his, it only made it harder to look you in the eye. That’s why his fingers played with the hem of his shirt, instead of slipping into the waistband of his shorts like they usually did at this time of night. But fuck, he really wanted too.

   It was difficult enough to resist his sexual fantasies about you, but deciding to become roommates with one of his best friends, and childhood crush, only made it that much harder, and he wondered why he put himself in these situations. Oh yeah. That's why.

   He could hear them. Your moans through the wall.

   The 2 bedroom apartment you two shared had paper thin walls, or it could have been that Deku purposely aligned his bed to be on the same wall as yours. Either way, You had a boyfriend. But still, every thought that ran through his mind was dirty.

   If only Kacchan knew of the things Izuku Midoryia thought of at night, there would be nothing stopping the explosive blonde from trying to kill him.

   Though Deku could feel his resolve slipping, the further his fingers slipped past the waistband of his shorts, the less he found himself caring. He knew it was wrong, he had absolutely no right to invade your privacy like this, especially just to further fuel his own addiction that was you. But all of those thoughts that had at first been restraining Izuku from taking things further, slowly morphed into guilt as he began to accept the fact that he was simply too deeply in love with you.

    Although he knew he’d forever be stuck in the friendzone, he couldn't help feeling blessed to be able to live with you. It made it easier to imagine spending your life together, waking up and having breakfast with you, starting your day just to come home to each other at night. It was only a shame that he could never wake up with you in his bed, but he didn't want to be too greedy. There had to be a line drawn somewhere.

   That line was drawn when Katsuki started showing up more often, about a month ago.

   Ever since then, the distance between the two of you was slowly, but gradually increasing. Izuku couldn't stand it, it physically hurt him not to see you every day. It pained him to know that the moaning on the other side of the wall wasn't because of him. Sure, Katsuki wasn't here tonight, you had to be touching yourself. But still, he wanted it to be him.

   Fuck, he could make you feel so good if you let him.

   On the one night Deku did overhear you and Bakugou having sex, he could tell you weren't enjoying yourself. He was sure you didn't like it rough, or at least, that’s what he told himself as he listened to your high pitched whines that night, engraving them into his memory. Given the chance, Izuku would take his very precious time with you while savoring every moment. “Y/n..” His fingertips grazed the wall as he whispered, as his dominant hand fully disappeared into his shorts.

   He wondered what you were thinking about. Was there any part of you that ever pictured it to be him with you in those scenarios? Did you think of him when your finger’s ended up not being able to reach to places he could?

   “Hff, hmph, mmh” The sounds you made grew a bit louder, and Izuku finally allowed himself the pleasure of wrapping his hand around his cock.

   You were trying to be quiet, he could hear your beautiful voice being muffled. Were you biting onto your pillow to conceal your moans? Please don't.. Please, louder, for me.. He always knew you were dirty, there was no way he wasn't crossing your mind right now. Even if all it ended up being trying not to let him hear you, he was still on your mind in this exact moment, and that was enough for Izuku’s cock to throb painfully hard in his pants.

   “Fuck, fuck, shit.. Mmph”

   Izuku pushed aside every remaining bit of guilt for the moment, and pulled his cock free from its confinements. You were getting close, he had spent too much time belittling himself for invading your privacy, so much so that he had to speed up the movements on his cock to catch up. He let out a low groan, and his bottom lip was caught between his teeth.

   His eyes closed, and his head leaned back into the pillows. He felt like he was high on every noise you made, so it didn't take him long to get close enough to his orgasm. Now, all he had to do was wait for you.

   Fuck, he’d wait as long as it takes.

   The rough hand tugged at the veiny length of his cock, using his index finger to tease the head of his cock and smear precum up and down his shaft. He could picture it, you in your bed just inches away from him, your back arching so beautifully. Izuku wondered what would happen if he accidentally let your name slip from his mouth. It was possible you could hear his moans, after all, he could hear yours.

   His hand gripped tighter around his cock, quickening its pace at the thought. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Tonight just had to be full of slip ups, he felt as if his body was completely throwing away its self restraint. “Fuck, Y/n” It was loud too. He didn't mean it, he wasn't supposed to let the intrusive, impulsive, naughty thought win. The second he did, he slapped his free hand over his mouth as tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. Instant regret. You’d probably tell him you're moving out tomorrow now.

   “Izuku-” You were cumming.

   Midoryia couldn't even begin to believe his ears as he came all over his chest, within seconds from the shockwave your voice had sent through him. The hand at his mouth fell to his side, desperately clutching onto the sheets beneath him for some form of support. “Shit- you- Y/n, you sound so pretty” He was sure if you hadn't heard him before, then you had to have heard him now. “So sexy, Angel”

   Izuku’s mind ran rampant with all the possibilities that could have been the reason for you to moan his name, but he found it hard to focus as the floodgates of his emotions were ripped open. Were you thinking of him beforehand? Had you been holding it back and it accidentally slipped out? Did you hear him and then fucking moan for him?

   Was it him saying your name that made you cum?

   He had to know.

   Deku didn't have time to think over his actions, nor did he realize you had suddenly went quiet on the other side of the wall. He was already out of bed, his feet stomping across the floor as he swung his door open. He stood right outside your bedroom door, staring at it while panting for breath as the rest of his face flushed red.

   “Y/n” His voice was a cautious, but gravelly whisper. He thickly swallowed down his nerves, and rested his forehead up against the door with a ‘thump’.

   It was silent still, forcing Izuku to overthink this entire situation. Did you really say his name? Or had he been so far into his fantasy that he just happened to make it up?

   Did he fuck up?

   He listened to the soft patter of your feet against the carpet, and he stepped back to see the door swing open in front of him. His breath hitched in his throat, and his eyes slowly widened as he licked his suddenly very dry lips at the irresistible sight. You stood in front of him, your hair messy, your cheeks flushed just as red as his. The only thing stopping Izuku from seeing your naked body was a thin, white sheet that you had bunched around your torso that just covered below your hips.

   Neither of you could say a word, Deku couldn't tear his gaze away from you, and you couldn't look him straight in the eyes, choosing to glance at everything but him.

   Slowly, experimentally, Izuku stepped forward to see if you would choose to let him into your bedroom or not. His heart was racing so quickly, he wondered if you could hear it or not, because at the moment, it was the only sound that filled his ears.

   His mouth ran dry once again as your grip on the door handle tightened, but you stepped to the side, allowing your roommate into your personal space. He closed the door, and turned to look at you. “Y/n..” He began, taking another step forward. Both of you were already sweating, and as Deku lifted his hand to cup your cheek and force you to look at him, the temperature of the room only grew.

   “P-please, don't think any less of me” His eyes scanned over your face once more, taking in your shocked expression before closing his eyes and passionately pressing his lips to yours. He knew this was all wrong, Kacchan was in love with you, he had to listen to his friend rant about how he wasn't sure about confessing to you or not. And when he finally did, Deku felt like he was pulling the rug beneath his feet.

   He didn't care right now.

   It didn't matter when you were in his arms, his mouth pressed into yours.

   Midoryia opened his mouth to run his bottom lip against yours, begging for entry as he slowly began to back the two of you up until the back of your knees hit the bed. The sound of wet lips slapping against each other was enough to fill the void of everything left unsaid, because Izuku’s teeth tugging desperately on your bottom lip felt too damn good.

   As your back fell into the messy, fluffy comforter underneath you, Deku’s hands landed on your hips, shoving you backwards until your head hit the pillows. He hovered over you the entire time, afraid to detach your lips from his and let you get away. As you reached your destination, your hands reached up to grip at his tousled green locks, gripping onto them tightly to pull his face away from yours.

   Izuku let out a small whine of protest as your lips parted with his, but with the way your hand pulled at his hair made everything in his body tell him to listen to you. “Izuku..” Your eyebrows furrowed, and your bottom lip was caught harshly between your teeth. Deku watched your expressions with a dreamy sigh through half-lidded eyes. “Talk to me baby”

   He leaned down, ghosting his lips along your jaw before settling a wet, sloppy one right behind your ear. “Tell me what you wanna say, I'll listen” He reveled in the way your eyes closed, and your mouth fell open as if you wanted to respond, but the feeling of his tongue and teeth scraping against your jawline was too distracting. He didn't even realize it when his hand ghosted up your inner thighs, slowly inching the sheet up your legs.

   “W-we shouldn't do this- what about- about Katsuki”

Ouch.

   Deku closed his eyes, slowly taking a brief inhale as he ceased his attack of sloppy kisses. “Forget about him” He whispered in your ear, nudging his nose against your jawline affectionately. “He won't know, he doesn't ever have to know” He tried his best to sound comforting, gentle, affirming.

   Maybe you just needed a little encouragement. He needed to show you what he could make you feel. “I just wanna make you feel so good Angel…” He confessed, his hand slipping underneath the sheet to ghost along your very sticky thighs. “Your already soaking wet for me, so dirty Y/n”

   He started his kisses once more, this time they began on your neck, slowly trailing down to your shoulder, then your collarbone. Soft little gasps left your lips, a fresh wave of cold air hitting you with each kiss of his that drifted lower than the last, before his lips ghosted along the sheet that had just barely been able to hide your nipples. “I just want to please you, pretty girl”

   “Zu-Izuku but i-i-”

   “Shh, baby, let me be your secret sin” His teeth gripped the sheet, just barely tilting his head back enough for it to fall down your sides when he let it go from his mouth. He groaned at the sight of your hard, perky nipples right in front of him. He looked up at you in a fuzzy haze, a small bit of drool falling off his tongue and onto your nipple as he panted from above you.

   “Y/n.. please, you have total and complete control of me..” Deku’s eyes travelled from your breasts to the lusted over look in your eyes. He could see how badly you wanted him, and was clear about how much he needed you at this point. He had come this far, to turn back and act like nothing happened now would kill him. “So just, let me show you how good you could have it with me”

   You let out a strangled, conflicted whimper in response, your body squirming nervously under your roommate’s intense gaze. “Okay, ‘Zuku- hhnmh-” Midoryia couldn't wait any longer, the second the new nickname fell from your lips, his tongue ran across your nipple that had already been soaked with his spit from simply hovering over you. You let out a gasp as his teeth gently nipped at the bud. “N-no marks, can’t let.. Him see- fuck, Izuku”

   Deku’s hand yanked the sheets from your body, completely airing you to the cold. No marks. He knew that, after all, it was his life on the line here. But something about you bringing him up again made him want to clear your head of any other thoughts but him. “Your skin is delicious” You looked embarrassed at his praise, and it only pushed him to go further.

   He looked up at you through dark, hooded green eyes as his tongue traced a line down the middle of your stomach. It was beautiful, better than his imagination as he felt you arch your back to press further into his mouth the closer he got to the precious place between your legs. He had yet to break eye contact, taking your legs and hiking them over his shoulders.

   His hot breath fanned across your clit, forcing you to bite the inside of your cheek in embarrassment and look away from the man between your thighs. “Hey” You yelped as his sharp teeth gently nipped the skin on your leg. “Don't look away from me, watch what I can do to you” As you met his gaze again, he leaned forward with a devious smile, and flattened his tongue to lick a long stripe up your sopping clit. “What I can do for you”

   Deku was more than satisfied to be between your legs, he knew he could die here, and if Kacchan ever did find out, Izuku would still be left with no regrets. His only regret would have been leaving this world without at least getting to taste you.

   “ ‘M gonna make you cum all over my face Angel, ‘m gonna make you mine forever”

   Yeah, with your legs wrapped around his head, suffocating him as you moaned and arched into his tongue and yanked at his curls like this, Izuku Midoriya would die a happy man.

𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒, 𝑚𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ♡

© all copy rights reserved, do not claim, copy, or repost

[earlgreydream]

doubts.

| loki x reader | fluff |

anon requested. loki kinda degraded sub!reader and she scrunches up all tiny and sobs afterwards because she thought he meant what he said

cw: slightly smutty, slightly angsty

You begged Loki to let you come, fighting against the magical restraints your dom had placed around your wrists and ankles. 

“Oh, you want to come so bad you’re crying? You desperate, pathetic whore. You’re so fucking filthy, have you no shame?” Loki sneered, the words sending arousal pooling deep in your belly, even though you fought against it. Your body jolted at the slap administered to your inner thigh, a pained cry escaping your lips. 

You’d been acting up and testing Loki’s patience, which is what earned you this punishment, your pleasure being dangled in front of you, just out of reach. You’d broken his rules, and he’d had enough of your attitude. 

“Come now before I change my mind,” Loki’s tone was dangerous, and the pressure inside of you shattered. He followed your lead, finishing inside of you before he pulled out and made the restraints vanish. 

As the pleasure wore off, his words echoing in your mind, You desperate, pathetic whore. You’re so fucking filthy, have you no shame?

Loki stood off of the bed, going to run you a hot shower. As soon as he’d stepped away, a sob tore through your chest, your shoulders heaving as you cried. You curled up in a ball, feeling small and alone on his massive bed. 

Loki heard you crying, and he felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. He abandoned the shower and ran to your side, kneeling down on the bed. You looked so tiny and fragile, folding in on yourself. His chest ached when he heard your soft sounds and saw the way your hands trembled as you tugged at your hair, trying to self-soothe. He reached out to pull your hands away, wanting to keep you from anxiously tearing the hair from your sensitive head.

“My darling-” his voice cracked when you jerked away from him. You hiccuped on your broken sobs as they wrecked you, emotion flooding every last thought and turning you into a mess. 

Loki’s magic sparked around you, cleaning you up and leaving you both in loose clothing. The green shimmer surrounded you, Loki’s fruitless attempt to touch you without frightening you. It was warm, and seemed to buzz with its own life, but didn’t make you feel any better. 

“My darling, have I hurt you? Tell me whatever is wrong so that I may fix it,” Loki begged, wanting nothing more than to pull you into his arms. 

“Don’t touch me, please,” you tried to catch your breath, wanting to get your keys and leave. 

He sank back, giving you space. His eyes were concerned and sad, and he fought against the urge to pierce into your mind, ripping the truth from you. The door vanished from the wall as you tried to run out, and you whipped around to face the god, who was kneeling on the bed and looking wounded. There was no exit, Loki keeping you contained to the bedroom until your devastation was resolved. 

“Y/N, I won’t let you leave when you’re so upset. You cannot drive safely. If you wish, I can take you anywhere you want to go,” Loki fretted, and though you knew he was right, you only grew more and more upset. 

“Come to me, darling,” Loki opened his arms, the authority in his voice making you comply. You knew this was a fight you couldn’t win. You’d end up in Loki’s arms confessing your pain whether by his will, or your own.

Your sobs broke his heart, and he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you down into his lap. He held you firmly, and eventually your struggling subsided as you let yourself weep against his chest. 

“Please don’t make me pry the truth out of you,” Loki begged softly into your hair. He didn’t want to add to your pain, he only wanted to fix it. He was very aware that sifting through your mind to take your private thoughts was something that made you feel extremely violated. He wanted you to tell him on your own, but he wouldn’t let you keep such heartbreaking secrets from him. 

“Y-you... did you mean what you said about me? That I was pathetic, and d-desperate and a whore?” You sobbed out, stammering over your words.

“Oh, oh my goodness. My darling, I am so sorry. I never meant any of that. I thought you understood I just said it in the scene... please my love, I adore you more than all of the stars. Never think you are not the most perfect, beautiful, eloquent, and lovely person in my eyes. I love you, I will never say such horrible things again.” Tears flowed freely down Loki’s face. You were startled, unused to seeing raw emotion from him, especially not guilt. It hadn’t occurred to you that the words Loki had spoken were just part of the scene, part of the sex you were having. He wasn’t typically fond of degradation, but he was experimenting in the moment, never expecting it to be received as genuine. 

There was no room for doubt in his words. He meant his love then, and he would spend the rest of his life proving his love to you.

His strong arms cradled you against his body, trying to hold you together.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” he breathed apologies like a repetitive prayer.

You listened to his heartbeat, letting the rhythm slow your racing mind. Your sobs eventually subsided, calmed by the steady circles of his hand on your back.

“I forgive you,” your lips moved against the underside of his jaw.

“Please always stop me, tell me then, if anything at all makes you feel even the slightest bit unsafe. I never want you to feel this way again, certainly not at my fault,” Loki begged, and you nodded before burying your face back in him.

“Do you still love me?”

“I love you the most,” you promised.

Loki talked you into staying the night, doting on you to the point you were almost smothered. His magic conjured everything you wanted, even in the back of your thoughts.

“Do you want to go get some?” He asked, and you turned, tilting your head in confusion.

“To Paris. For the macarons.”

“You’re reading my thoughts,” you sighed softly, but a smile graced your expression as you kissed him.

“No, I’m sleepy. Maybe tomorrow?” You asked, and he nodded, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you back to bed.

You situated yourself in his arms, your back against his chest. His larger frame shielded you, wrapping you in safety and warmth. You slept soundly with him, the pain and uncertainty from the afternoon long gone and replaced by his love.

The smell of coffee rose you out of your sleep. Your eyes took a few moments to adjust to the soft light spilling in through the windows, and you sat up, suddenly realizing you weren’t in Loki’s bedroom at his apartment, where you’d fallen asleep.

“Loki?!” You called, and he leaned in the doorway.

“Good morning. I didn’t mean to frighten you. We took a short trip in your sleep. We’re at my Paris flat.”

You smiled, stretching your arms above your head as you yawned. Loki put a coffee in your hands, leaning down and kissing your forehead.

“If I cry will you spoil me more often?” You teased lightly, and he shot you his signature dom look of warning, making you shudder.

“It breaks my heart to see you cry, my darling,” Loki’s tone was apologetic, guilt still left over from the day before. You squeezed his arm as you sipped your coffee.

“I’m okay,” you swore, earning another kiss from your lover.

“Mm. Finish that up and we’ll go to the patisserie down the street.”

“Yes, sir.”

He smiled, happy you were cheered up and back to normal. He moved his fingers and a pretty sundress appeared hanging on the back of the washroom door for you, delicate white flats placed below.

“Dressing me up like your little doll?”

“Careful, or I will dress you, after I get that attitude in line.”

“I love the dress. And I can put it on by myself,” you apologized, pecking his lips before walking to the bathroom.

You returned in the sundress, a white beret adorning your head along with it. You relished in the bright smile Loki rewarded you with. In a shimmer of green, he was dressed in pastels that matched your own. You loved to see him in casual clothes instead of the Asgardian armor he frequently wore, and he indulged you for this small Parisian vacation. 

“You look stunning, my darling.”

Giggles erupted from your lips, making Loki’s heart soften. He dipped his head down to kiss you, making your nose scrunch up in the cutest way that he loved. His long, slender fingers folded with yours, holding your hand as the two of you made your way out of the flat and onto the bustling street. You were thankful for the sunny weather, greatly improving your mood from the rough night in New York’s rain. 

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” you nodded.

“Let’s get some crepes. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect, Loki.”

The young god pecked your lips before pushing you inside of a patisserie. 

“Salut,” the girl working called to the two of you as the bell clinged on the door.

“Darling, what would you like? We can take some macarons to go,” Loki asked, pointing to the pastries behind the glass.

You chose a few, and Loki rattled off your order in French to the shopkeeper, taking the bag from her and moving you to sit at a table in the corner for your crepes. 

“Can we stay in Paris for a couple of days? Just us, not any of the distractions from New York,” you asked, leaning your head against his shoulder and accepting the bite he fed you. 

“Most certainly.” He kissed the sugar off of your lips before the two of you left for a park with your snacks for later. Loki held your hand as you walked along a low stone wall beside him, your eyes level with the extra height. 

“Y/N, you must know that you are so, so terribly loved.”

You turned and snaked your arms around his neck, looking deep into his crystal blue eyes.

“I do not doubt your love, Loki.”

[marwritesgood]

Only You | S. Basset

Pairing: Simon x WOC!Reader

Timeframe: Season One

Summary: While Y/n prepares to leave London, Simon is confronted by Philippa.

PART ONE

masterlist

A/N: One more part after this :)

Y/n sat with the eldest of her cousins in the drawing-room. Despite the number of workers present and eligible, young Elizabeth begged her older cousin to braid her hair before she left. Y/n could not resist her sweet smile. She also knew she would miss Philippa’s children terribly, just as she would Philippa.

“There you are!”

Y/n and Elizabeth jumped at Philippa’s abrupt call. 

“I’ve called for a carriage as you requested, my dear,” Philippa began as she sat with her niece and daughter. She could no longer bring herself to hide her concern and sorrow. “Though I hope you know there is still plenty of time to reconsider your decision.”

Even if it were at the very last moment, if Y/n were to say she wanted to stay, Philippa would be ready to call it off in a moment’s notice. 

“My mind is decided, aunt Philippa,” Y/n responded monotonously. She intentionally averted her eyes from her aunt. Philippa knew her niece far too well. Y/n’s best chance at concealing her genuine emotions was to avoid looking her aunt in the eye.

Truthfully, she was terrified. Y/n had become accustomed to floating through seasons with no intention of marrying anytime soon. The prospect of finally accepting a marriage proposal, to a man she had no sincere desire to marry, was frightening. She could not let Philippa know for fear that she would convince her to do otherwise. 

“Lizzie,” Philippa whispered to her daughter. “Dear, please join your siblings in the other room.”

Y/n sighed defeatedly. She should have known better than to think she could keep anything from her aunt. Her cousin exited the room in a half-done braid, leaving Y/n to stare at her hands while her aunt studied her intently.

“You must understand the magnitude of what you plan to do,” Philippa said worriedly. That is what she feared most of the situation. She could not bear the thought of Y/n being miserable because of a decision she made in the heat of the moment. “I know you are hurt, dear, but you do not have to leave so soon.”

Y/n sniffled, taking her aunt by surprise. She could no longer hold back her tears. Not after the exhaustingly painful week, she had endured. 

“I do, aunt Philippa,” Y/n cried, laughing bitterly. Philippa’s brows knitted together in both confusion and concern. “I cannot bear to stay in London another day... The longer I stay here, the harder it will be to leave.”

Philippa frowned, lifting her hands to wipe Y/n’s tears away. She had not yet found out what happened between her niece and Simon. All she could conclude was that Y/n’s heart was broken finally again.

“He admitted to courting Miss Bridgerton,” Y/n explained. It pained her to recount what Simon said the night before, but she felt it was the only way to put rest to Philippa’s attempts to keep her in London. “- and he admitted he intends to marry her.”

Philippa inhaled sharply, closing her eyes tightly as she did so. Though she did not have an incredibly close relationship with Simon, she always believed him to be a good man. A man who cared deeply for her niece. 

Glancing back to her niece, Philippa pursed her lips and pulled Y/n into her arms, hugging her closely. As she cried softly into her shoulder, anger began to erupt within Philippa. Y/n was the last person she deemed worthy of such heartbreak.

“The carriage will be here before evening,” Philippa informed Y/n, who was grateful that she would no longer keep her from leaving. “I have one matter to attend to, but I will be home before you to leave.”

Y/n nodded before returning to her younger cousins. Once she left, Philippa called for a carriage to take her to the Danbury estate. She had more than a few unkind words to offer the Duke of Hastings.

***

Simon found himself, yet again, standing idle in the maze’s centre outside the Danbury estate. He had barely any rest the night before, so he headed straight to the maze once there was sunlight.

Before he could leave, however, of Daphne being introduced to Prince Friedrich reached him. Thus there ruse was no longer necessary, subsequently leaving Simon in dire need of a moment alone with his frustration.

If he had only told Y/n the truth the night before. If he had only kept her from leaving. If he had not rejected her in the first place. Perhaps he would not be in the situation he was in. 

“Your grace.”

Simon’s train of thought was abruptly broken when a worker approached him. He turned to face the man, eyebrows raised. The worker held his hands behind his back.

“You have a visitor waiting for you in the sitting room,” he explained. When Simon remained silent, the worker specified who it was. “... Lady Bennet.”

Simon’s heart began to pound. He nodded and returned inside with haste. Philippa Bennet, though kind and friendly by nature, could scare him half to death. Simon remembered watching how she would fearlessly berate and humiliate any man who so much as treated Y/n less than kindly. 

He never imagined he would be one.

Once he was inside, he halted outside the entrance to the sitting room. There was no telling how Philippa would treat him, especially after the way he had treated her niece before. Simon took several deep breaths before he cautiously entered the room.

“Lady Bennet,” he greeted as he walked in, his head bowed partially in shame and partly in fear.

“Your grace,” she responded, her tone sharp and piercing. 

She stood from her seat and glared at the duke as he made his way in. She spoke previously to Lady Danbury, who left just moments before Simon entered. It wasn’t until the worker exited the room, closing the door behind him, that she began to raise her voice. 

“You can be of no loss to understand why I am here.”

Simon remained silence, which provided Philippa with as much of a response as she needed.

“My niece just informed me today of your revelation to her at the gala,” she stated, referencing to him admitting to courting Daphne with the intention of marrying, which was not the truth. “I assume you have an explanation, your grace... Otherwise, you truly are the deceitful, heartless man I never imagined you would become.”

Simon winced at the description. It resembled too much of his father, which was the last kind of man he ever intended to become. Philippa raised her brow and remained silent, waiting for the explanation she knew would eventually be provided.

“I was dishonest,” he confessed, his expression overcome by the shame and guilt he been burdened by for the past week. Philippa remained puzzled, though relieved that there was more to the story than what her niece was led to believe. “My courtship of Miss Bridgerton was all an act... To help attract more suitors for her, and to improve my image in the public eye.”

Philippa folded her arms. While she was glad to hear that he was not actually courting another woman after Y/n, she was still angered by what he had done. Not to mention the immense pain it inflicted upon her niece.

“I assume you lied to my niece as a means of upholding your ruse?” 

He was taken by surprise, having expected her to scold him for his stupidity, just as he believed he deserved. His expectations were not necessarily misguided. Philippa intended to do just that. However, she first sought clarification.

“Yes,” Simon admitted sheepishly.

“I heard from Lady Danbury that Miss Bridgerton will soon be courted by Prince Friedrich... Does this mean your lie will no longer continue?”

Simon nodded, causing Philippa to sigh. Her line of questioning made incredibly clear to him how unnecessarily reckless he had been with Y/n’s heart. She was astonished by his foolishness. He could tell.

“I am deeply sorry, Lady Bennet-”

“I do not care for your apologies,” Philippa hissed, causing Simon to sink back. “You are to explain this to my niece yourself... She must hear the truth from you.”

Though Philippa was desperate to race home and tell Y/n the truth, she knew there would still be heartache on her behalf. Only Simon could indeed amend the issue.

“I cannot,” Simon cried, before inhaling sharply as he went to complete his sentence. “-I cannot bear to face her... I imagine I am the last person she wishes to speak to.”

“You are mistaken, your grace,” Philippa said flatly. He could not have been further from the truth. “I have often, particularly now, struggled to understand why... but she cares for you. Very much so. Even despite all the pain, you seemingly continue to cause her.”

“That, I struggle to believe,” Simon mumbled.

Philippa scoffed. It was a wonder Y/n was in so much pain. He seemed to consistently underestimate just how much she cared for him. She pondered for a moment, thinking of the best way to clarify to Simon the extent to which Y/n loved him.

“This is her second season,” Philippa stated, slowing her speech just to make absolute sure Simon could understand her point. “-and she has yet to be married... why do you think that is?”  

He stared blankly at Philippa, which only infuriated her more, though she continued, despite it.

“I was incredibly confused when I received a distraught letter from my sister at the end of last season,” Philippa began. “-She informed that Y/n had received 3 proposals... all from, what she described as, honourable men.” 

Philippa studied Simon’s reaction closely, hoping he would catch on soon. He was taken back. During Y/n’s first season, he feared the day she accepted a marriage proposal. 

“My confusion was then, of course, put to rest when I remembered Y/n confiding in me about her affections for you.”

Simon furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief. It was not possible, he believed. After he turned Y/n away following her confession, he assumed her feelings would fade. 

He deemed his love for Y/n inevitable because loving her was easy to do and difficult to avoid. But he believed loving him was a challenge; a chore. He saw himself as broken. Haunted by the trauma inflicted upon him by his father. His vow to never marry was, truthfully, not the only reason he rejected Y/n.

Simon did not believe Y/n truly loved him. He struggled to imagine anyone could.

“You cannot possibly insinuate that I-”

“You idiotic fool!” Philippa blurted, interrupting Simon from, yet again, downplaying just how much Y/n cared for him. “Forgive me, your grace, but she confessed her feelings to you, did she not? Thus surely you must know how much she cares for you... you must know, Simon.”

He was dumbfounded. Overwhelmed by the prospect that Y/n’s love for him was true, tears stung the corners of his eyes. Philippa could not believe it. She knew of Simon’s past, but she was shocked to see how much of an effect it had on the poor duke. How unwilling he was to accept that he was loved. 

Sincerely and unconditionally.

“She intends to leave London this evening,” Philippa sighed sadly. Before she spoke again, she moved closer to Simon, looking him in the eye intently. She felt sympathy having understood why he acted the way he did, but she would not let him continue to do so. “If you truly care for my niece, you will not allow her to leave today without knowing the truth... She deserves as much after all she has done for you.”

Philippa exited the room briefly afterwards, leaving Simon to contemplate how on earth he would earn Y/n’s forgiveness and her trust.

***

Lady Danbury was puzzled as she watched Philippa Bennet rush out of her estate hastily. They had shared a brief conversation before she left, just as Simon arrived in from outside. Philippa had informed Danbury of Y/n’s plans to leave London and accept Mr Graham’s marriage proposal. 

While she knew the situation was tense, Lady Danbury sat with ease, on the outside seating area towards the left side. Of the many roles she played in her life and society, the matchmaker was one she most enjoyed. 

She hummed to herself as she took a sip of her earl grey tea, amused by the thrill of the current situation. Once Philippa’s carriage was out of sight, Lady Danbury began to count backwards from twenty. As she reached one, the sound of Simon’s quick-paced footsteps became increasingly loud.

“What seems to be troubling you, your grace.”

Most would have been startled by how Lady Danbury spoke with her back to Simon, but he had grown used to her being a step ahead of him. In fact, that was the very reason he found himself turning to her.

“I presume you already know,” he answered as he sat in the chair beside her.

Danbury chuckled, placing her cup back on the table before turning to her pseudo-nephew. He loved him as her own son, but she was far from oblivious to his flaws. 

“I expected you to be eager to follow Lady Bennet.”

“Quite the opposite, my lady,” he frowned, glancing down at his hands that could not seem to stop trembling. For most of his life, he carefully considered every decision he made to ensure perfection. This was unchartered territory.

Simon half-expected Lady Danbury to laugh, or to smile warmly at him before offering her advice. She had done just that for as long as he knew her. 

However, Lady Danbury did not respond in such a manner. She scoffed loudly before gripping her cane and turning to Simon with a disappointed glare. 

“Well then you are a fool,” she spoke harshly. 

Simon’s eyes widened. If he were not already sitting, he likely would have stumbled back. Despite his apparent shock, Lady Danbury was not fazed. Instead, her glare grew more intense. 

Similar to Philippa, Danbury was subject to Simon’s countless confidences regarding his feelings for Y/n. She was past waiting excitedly in anticipation for the two to finally be united. Now, she was irritated at how long it was taking Simon to act on his affections. Mostly after Y/n had already made clear hers.

“You care for her, do you not?”

“I do,” Simon answered, not a moment after Lady Danbury spoke. 

Silence fell amongst them. Danbury’s eyes narrowed in both confusion and frustration. Was it not clear to Simon what he needed to do? She held her cane with both hands. Simon sighed.

“That is precisely why I cannot go to her,” he explained. Lady Danbury groaned audibly, prompting Simon to further clarify his defence. “After all the pain I have put her through, do I not owe it to her to give her peace?”

“She will not have true peace until she knows.”

Simon averted his head slightly, his posture slumping down significantly. Lady Danbury began to realise that there was more to it than he was admitting to. 

Simon looked out towards the maze’s direction, and all he could think of was her, and the night before. All he could see was her expression when he lied about the nature of his relationship with Daphne. Not to mention how she walked away from him crying, and the way he let her go.

“I... am terrified,” Simon whispered, his voice shaky. Danbury inhaled sharply, before looking at him intently, remaining silent all the while so that he could continue. 

After a moment, Simon turned to face her. His eyes were glassy, and the wrinkle on his temple deepened as he furrowed his brows. He was no longer trying to defend himself. No longer trying to uphold a ruse or a confident demeanour. 

He was exhausted from doing so. All he wanted was to fix what he had broken.

“Every attempt I have made at explaining myself only seems to hurt her more,” he frowned. “She is leaving today because she seeks to be away from me... and I will honour her wishes, so as to not subject her to any more pain than I already have.”

It made sense to him. He had no luck when it came to making amends with Y/n. He felt incapable of fixing anything. It was clear that, as well as happiness, he was also incapable of giving her peace. And she deserved that, at the very least. 

“And then what will you do?” Lady Danbury questioned, curious to know the extent to which he believed what he was doing would fix anything.

“I... will wait,” he replied, confident in his response, leading Danbury to worry. He did not have the luxury of time, and it seemed she was the only one out of the two of them who knew this. “When she is ready to speak to me, I will explain the truth to her... and hopefully by then I will be able to do so in a way that does not hurt her.”

“Simon,” Lady Danbury said gently. She knew she was right to have called him foolish. However, Danbury realised that he was foolish out of his love for Y/n and lack of trust that he could love her. “She is not leaving London because she seeks to be away from you... She is leaving to accept a marriage proposal.”

Simon’s blood ran cold. He felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. Before, he sat content in the comfort of knowing he had time to wait. Now all he could sit with was the terror of uncertainty.

“Your life decisions have been largely based on fear and on vengeance, but you do not have to continue to live this way,” Lady Danbury said, reaching out for his hand and taking hold of it firmly. “However, you cannot do so if you continue to deprive yourself of what brings you joy.”

She had held onto these words for a very long time after Simon announced he would not marry or have children. Danbury had always hoped that Simon would have a heart change eventually, but it was clear that they were running very short on time.

“You deserve an abundance of happiness and of love, just as anyone else in this world does, your grace,” Lady Danbury said with conviction. She was ashamed; it took her so long to realise how badly Simon needed to know this. “But you will only receive as much as you pursue. So allow me to ask again; what will you do?”

Simon lifted Lady Danbury’s hand and kissed it affectionately- his way of thanking her for, yet again, talking sense into him. Without waiting another moment, he raced towards the stables in search of his horse. 

***

Philippa stood sadly as she watched Y/n say goodbye to her cousins. Significant time had passed since she arrived home and Simon still had not arrived. However, despite the dire circumstances, she refused to give up hope.

As Y/n pulled away from her cousin, Elizabeth, she turned to Philippa, who stood between her and the carriage. Her bags had already been taken into the carriage. Everything was in line for her departure. All she had to do was say goodbye to her aunt, yet somehow that seemed to be the most challenging step.

“Aunt Philippa,” Y/n said cautiously, after noticing her sorrowful expression.

“You do not have to go,” Philippa cried, reaching her arms out and placing her hands gently on her niece’s shoulders. She did not care if she sounded like a broken record. “Please, my dear, if you possess even an ounce of doubt, you mustn’t go.”

“I have already made my decision,” Y/n replied, trying to comfort her aunt, who she knew was only concerned for her well-being. She wanted desperately to put Philippa’s mind at ease. “He is a good man... I will have a good future with him.”

“But you do not love him,” Philippa argued. Y/n quickly realised just how much her aunt had rubbed off on her. She could not yet figure out whether that was a good or bad thing.

“I cannot be so naïve as to base my choosing on love,” Y/n criticised.

“Yes you can,” Philippa insisted.

“How can you be so certain?” Y/n inquired, trying her best to refrain from scoffing at the irony in her aunt’s argument. “You are married to a Lord. You will never need to worry about bearing financial burdens, and it is because you accepted the proposal of a man mama matched you with.”

Y/n expected this would end her aunt’s argument against her marrying Mr Graham. 

“Your mama did not match me with Lord Bennet,” Philippa confessed, taking Y/n by great surprise. “Your mother asked me not to tell you at the time, but... Lord Bennet and I met during one of our visits to London. We remained in contact for the better half of my first season, and we eventually married because I fell pregnant... with Elizabeth.”

Y/n’s internal conflict increased significantly in intensity. She always admired the love shared between her aunt and her husband. She always admired the life they had together. However, she also accredited this to her mother’s strong-willed matchmaking and stubbornness.  

Her aunt noticed her reaction and sighed. She reached out and took hold of her niece’s hands, gripping firmly. Philippa had been saving that revelation for when her niece was grown enough. It frightened her how quickly that moment arrived.

“I know that the odds have always been stacked against women like us... but that does not mean we settle for men who do not care for us,” Philippa posited, challenging what Y/n previously believed to be true when it came to love and marriage. “You are allowed to prioritise what you want in a husband as well as what you need.”

Y/n’s heart began to pound. She had craved to hear those exact words ever since she prepared for her first season. If only she had heard them before she found herself in the situation she was in.

“You deserve to be with a man who you love and who makes you happy,” Philippa added, causing Y/n to flinch. She knew where her argument was headed. “A man like-”

“-Like Simon?” Y/n questioned in annoyance.

Philippa sighed, answering her niece’s question. 

“I know that you hoped it would be his proposal I would be accepting... I hoped for the same,” Y/n sighed. Having her aunt as her confidante meant their hopes for her future coincided—all except this time. “But I have waited for too long. I cannot keep putting my life on hold out of hope that he will have a change of heart... and that he will show up at the last minute on a white horse. I cannot do it.”

“Then disregard Simon for a moment,” Philippa said. “- and answer me this, will Mr Graham make you happy?”

Y/n scoffed. She could not keep relaying the same message to her aunt.

“I have told you, marrying him will guarantee me a good life-”

“I have no doubt that he will provide you financial stability,” Philippa interrupted.

Y/n was startled. Until then, all she was focused on was securing a promising future for herself. Until then, all she equated that it was a future free of any financial burden.

“But will he make you happy?” Philippa asked, narrowing her eyes. “When you are forced to endure his arrogance, his ignorance and his temper daily. When you are inevitably made to bear his children, thereafter reduced exclusively to their mother and his wife, and are no longer your own individual person. When it dawns on you that you will be stuck in this position for the rest of your life... Do you truly believe you will be happy?”

Y/n could not answer her aunt. Philippa knew her answer. They stared at one another, each with an expression far different from the other. While Y/n was started and frightened, Philippa remained concerned yet hopeful that her niece would finally change her mind.

Before either of them could speak, a worker approached Philippa and beat them both to it. 

“My lady, the carriage is ready for Miss Y/L/n’s departure.”

Y/n was quick to turn away from her aunt. She glanced at the other worker who stood by the carriage, holding the door open for Y/n to enter. She turned back to her aunt, who visibly feared what she was about to do next.

“Goodbye, aunt Philippa,” 

Y/n pulled Philippa into her arms and hugged her tightly. She knew her aunt was still very much worried and concerned for her. However, she hoped that Philippa would cast them aside for just a moment, and let her see this through.

When Philippa hugged her back and smiled wearily at her as she walked away, Y/n knew she was doing just that. And for that, she was extremely grateful.

As the doors to Y/n’s carriage closed, she closed her eyes and braced herself for the future she was going to commit to the day after. In an attempt to forget what her aunt had said to her, Y/n waved goodbye once before looking away. 

She glued her sight to the road ahead, refusing to look back to the street behind her, or the gates to her aunt’s home.

The very gates Simon would ride through moments after, only to realise that Y/n had already left. That he had spent so much time hesitating and waiting for the right moment, he missed his opportunity to see her before she left.

That he was too late.

NEXT PART

@deakesthegreatest @smol-grandpa

[nanagoswife]

Noticing You, Noticing Me

Summary: You're the daughter of King Organa, but many outside of your kingdom don't know you. Your brothers Anakin and Varlo are the ones who are in the spotlight. Then your father holds a celebration in your kingdom for many others to attend. Will a certain someone notice you there?

W/C: 1.7k

Warnings: swearing, fighting, light angst

- - -

A knock sounded at your door.

“I didn’t know you were expecting anyone,” your eldest brother, Anakin said with a cheeky smile.

You rolled your eyes as you went to answer the door, “You know exactly who it is. This time, can you at least pull yourself together long enough to not drool over her before you leave.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle as he adjusted his position on his chair. “I’m afraid, little sis, that would be impossible with how close I am to marrying her.”

Once again you rolled your eyes before greeting your best friend, Padmé.

Anakin and Padmé had been together for as long as you could remember. It was a wonder that it took this long for them to get married. Yet, they still aren’t. Their wedding isn’t going to take place for nearly a year from now.

To your surprise, you were met by a very annoyed look on your friend’s face which immediately filled you with concern.

Before you could ask what happened, Padmé answered for you.

“Varlo is a right piece of shit,” she said angrily.

Although you couldn’t see, you knew Anakin had straightened in his seat as he listened. The smallest thing that happened to his fiancé tended to always throw him into an immediate protective mode. Well, that happened with whoever he was extremely close to.

“What did he do this time?” you asked as you guided her into the room. Varlo, your other older brother, had a tendency to be a bit of a pain. Although the two of you were super close, he could sometimes go too far. Especially when it came to people other than you and Anakin. The only person he didn’t mess with was any of the guard or your father, Bail Organa.

Your friend plopped down on the sofa beside Anakin’s chair with a sigh.

“Nothing today really,” she said, sighing once again. “Just playing games that I don’t have the energy to deal with today.”

“Would you like me to talk to him,” Anakin cut in, taking Padmé’s hand and gently massaging it. He was sitting on the edge of his seat, ready to go find Varlo to set him straight. You had to stop yourself from chuckling.

Padmé only shook her head, meeting Anakin’s gaze. Right then, was when you rolled your eyes for the millionth time as he did exactly what you asked him not to.

Clearing your throat, you took your place beside your friend.

“Anakin, didn’t you say you would meet Ahsoka, Sir Fisto and Sir Koon at the training grounds?”

An alarmed look took over your brother’s expression.

“Oh no. What time is it? They’re going to kill me if I’m late again.”

Both you and Padmé looked at each other with looks of amusement as Anakin shot out of his chair. After he gave her a quick kiss goodbye, he fled the room. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he ran to the training grounds.

The two of you burst into laughter once the door had closed.

“You’re marrying that,” you said through your laughter.

“True, but you’ve dealt with that your whole life. He’ll still be your problem.”

Padmé’s statement threw you into another fit of laughter.

Once the two of you had calmed down once again, you turned in your seat. She mirrored you.

“So, what brings you here today other than obviously wanting to be in the presence of the best person in the world?”

She beamed and looked as if she wanted to tease, until some sort of realization came over her. “Have you not yet heard?”

Confusion filled you. “Heard what?”

“About King Organa’s celebration at the castle next week. Has he not yet told you?”

You shook your head. “Anakin and I have been here all morning. So was Varlo for most of it.”

A look of understanding came over her. She knew how close you and your brothers were. So much so that the three of you would always find days where you would all spend time with each other. Whether it be in one room or going out to a nearby village to have some fun.

“I heard that King Qui-Gon Jinn and his son, Prince Obi-Wan Kenobi would be attending. There’s also…” Padmé trailed off when she saw your far off gaze. “Y/N?”

“Padmé, you know no one will notice me. Hardly anybody knows I exist. So many think my brothers are the only children of my father,” you replied as you felt your throat tighten. Although you tried not to think about it, it was still painful.

Padmé moved closer to you and took your hand with a caring smile.

“The only thing that matters is that we care for you. The people in the villages care about you and all the good you do for them and helping the poor. If other kingdoms don’t see you because they only see your brothers, who cares? Anakin and Varlo love you. Your father loves you. And you have me.”

You gave your friend a grateful smile. She always knew how to cheer you up, and this was no exception. Every time you felt like you would never be noticed, she always reminded you of how you were. Deep down, you knew you were. Other than your family and close friends, you also had people like Ahsoka, or Snips as Anakin likes to call her, and others like Rex, the head of the royal guard, and Sir Kit Fisto and Sir Plo Koon. Not to mention the multitude of guards that you were friends with. Especially Fives and Echo.

The more you thought of it, the bigger you smiled.

“See,” Padmé started as she squeezed your hand, “there you go. Your kingdom loves you.”

Before anymore could be said, another knock rang out through the room. When you answered, your father was there.

Looking over your shoulder, he chuckled, “I see you already found out about next week.”

“I did.”

When you looked over at your friend she couldn’t help but smile sheepishly. She tried her best to let your father, the king, be the one to give you the news of these things, but she usually got to you first.

You knew, though, that your father preferred it. He was busy enough so it was nice for him to save some time.

“I also wanted to tell you that the first guests will start arriving six days from now.”

For a moment you thought to yourself. “Father, that’s the day I said I would go to the Naboo village to assist in the set up of a small festival.”

Although it was true, your father knew of your true intentions. It’s not that you didn’t like greeting parties, but you knew you would most likely be looked over. So, in your mind, what was the point?

You were expecting your father to try and reason with you, but a sympathetic look came over him as he smirked.

“Alright, my sweet. At least promise me to tell Anakin-”

You opened your mouth to interject but he raised a hand to silence you.

“You get to tell him. Not only that, but you must also promise me to come to the ball that will be held.”

A smile crossed your lips at the mention of a ball. It was always a time where you and your brothers and Padmé could really have fun. Most of the night you and Varlo would dance together while you stole a couple dances with Anakin. If you weren’t dancing, you were with Padmé. Sometimes the two of you would sneak off and she would tell you of the gossip she had heard. Balls were events you hardly ever dreaded.

“It’s a deal then?” your father asked as you reminisced in the memories.

You smiled brightly as you caught a glimpse of your friend who still sat on the sofa. “Deal.”

-

“Come now, my prince. I heard that King Organa has a daughter,” Cody, Obi-Wan’s best friend and protector, said as they sparred.

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Do you really think I’m that desperate?”

Dodging his opponent’s strike, he was able to push Cody back far enough to where they were circling each other, looking for an opening. It was nearly impossible as the two have sparred with each other for so long that they knew every move the other was going to make before they could even act. This left this period of time to be dragged out as they used it to catch their breath, wiping sweat away from their eyes.

“Desperate? No. But you never know.”

“I wasn’t even aware that King Organa had a daughter,” Obi-Wan said as he finally broke the still moment.

Cody laughed, “Not many do. Not when you have two famous brothers like Anakin and Varlo overshadowing you.”

​​ The two stayed silent for a moment as they fought each other off. Each block and strike being made with precision that drew the fight out longer.

“I guess you have a point,” Obi-Wan grunted out as he locked his sword with Cody’s, bringing them face to face.

“She does amazing things for her kingdom too. It’s a shame that no one pays attention to any of it.”

Obi-Wan felt a slight sense of guilt fill him. It only built as Cody explained more of what you’ve done for your people. How had he never heard of you? Why were none of your accomplishments well known in other kingdoms?

He got so lost in thought that he left an opening for Cody. Being the talented fighter that he is, he took it, throwing Obi-Wan to the ground and pointing his blunted sword to Obi-Wan’s throat.

“Are you sure ‘desperate’ isn’t the right word?”

“More like entranced, my friend,” Obi-Wan said with a fond smile at the commander.

Cody rolled his eyes before offering a hand to the prince. “I should mention her more often if it means I’ll win.”

Shaking his head with a soft chuckle, Obi-Wan turned to put away his training gear. Now thinking that the trip to your kingdom may not be too bad after all.

- - -

@stardancerluv @where-fantasy-meets-reality @jaydenwoo @madmax2003 @mackycat11 @generousrunawaydonut @imabeautifulbutterfly @animalgirl05 @blondekel77 @cosmicsierra

[rumblelibrary]

Hello,

Can you do a zemo or Laszlo x reader where he is helping the reader get away from an abusive boyfriend?

Also happy (late) birthday!!! 🎁 🎉💐

Acceptance [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Reader]

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: mention of abuse

A/N: I had to do Laszlo, mostly because I feel like Zemo's way with you in an abusive relationship would be like: consoling you while accidentally getting your ex murdered.

Laszlo was quietly dictating to you while you typed quickly onto your typewriter. You were his private secretary and you helped him with correspondence and noting down ideas and reflections during his sessions or while he planned a new article or book.

You loved your job, you learned so much and your vision of the world broadened widely since you met with the alienist.

Somebody that wasn't happy with this arrangement was your fiancé. Your engagement was going on from few months but he courted you a lot before, your father adored him because of his military background and your mother would have prepared you to move into his house in a second just because of his last name.

You weren't deeply in love with him from the beginning but at least he gave you the feeling that you could earn some happiness, some kinship maybe with time.

But then the twist of fate, your friend Sara found you this job opportunity at the Institute and you begun enlarging your circle of friends and then Dr Kreizler taught you a lot about human mind, about what is instinct and what is feeling, about how some ideas that they put in your mind were just the easy way out to complex questions about women’s bodes or human mind.

He trusted you and you trusted him.

You fiancé seemed unsettled by the situation and often gave out remarks on how Kreizler kept you out at ungodly hours and it wasn’t respectable for your name and how you should be more careful. You found Dr Kreizler an handsome and interesting man from the moment you shared the first courtesies, so you didn't feel like getting mad at your boyfriend since you had a little pin of guilt in you, even if in reality nothing ever happened beside a very good friendship, but in such times even that could be seen as too much and you, being you, knew perfectly how your mind travelled discreetly toward the handsome doctor.

The situation with your partner started quickly deteriorating, your family admired him so much and saw him as the perfect candidate for you that they didn't even consider something could be going wrong. When you slowly begun to put together how he talked to you, the words he used to address you started striking in, from remarks to proper insults until they felt like a judgment given from above to you. You talked about it with your parents but they justified him. He probably meant it to 'wake you up'. You're too sensitive. He is a hard man, he probably means it in the best way and you're overreacting.

When words became actions, you didn't know who could you talk to so you kept quiet.

Under the heavy cloths of the victorian Era your shameful secret was guarded, the tickling clock toward your wedding day felt more and more like being condemned to life sentence in prison.

"Damn"

You hissed as you typed the last sentence wrong and you had to do it all over again.

"Y/N" Laszlo said as he leaned his head on side, cursing from you was rare if not completely unexpected.

"I apologise doctor, we can keep going and I will adjust it alone, I don't want to rob you of your time"

It was a tendency that you took up lately to be a bit too much apologetic. You apologised for everything, he almost expected you to be apologising for breathing. Which wasn't healthy but he promised himself not to be his usual alienist self with you and start analysing every change.

But he hated to see you like this, you were disappearing for some reason. You brought sunshine in the Institute and in his office, you decorated your desk with your favourite items and colours and he missed to see them, to see you express yourself, your smile, your questions always giving him the chance to rethink, to revise theories he gave as granted.

"Come, stand up" Laszlo said as you looked up at him surprised but he was already walking away so you had to follow up.

He guided you out of the office and up over the stairs, you climbed more and more behind him huffing because of the clothing giving you little space for movement until you arrived to an heavy door that Dr Kreizler opened with a key he kept in his pocket alongside with others.

Little it took you to understand you were on the roof of the Institute, the cold breeze hitting on you as he held the door open for you and you came out with him. It wasn't too cold, the sun was still up in the late afternoon.

"I hoped you'd like to talk to me here, I lock this place because kids would come here and it is not too safe, but i often come up here to reflect"

You nodded slowly as you stared at the buildings and then at him again.

"I am fine"

He stared at you as he leaned his head on side as he leaned over the edge of the roof in a relaxed sitting position, the wind blowing lightly his perfectly combed hair "Take your time"

"Dr Kreizler, I really don't"

"We agreed about you calling me Laszlo, did I do anything to have you taking this privilege away?"

You stared at him, breath clung into your chest.

"No, it is not that, it is, well, it is not easy with my fiancé, I mean to have me working for a man and call you by your first name is not, well, appropriate”

He stared at you as he could tell it was a truth, but it wasn't enough.

"Did he want to call off the engagement? I can talk to him, reassure him that nothing happened and of my integrity toward you and the absolute respect you ever had toward your profession"

He said as you bit the inside of your cheek, but you tried to hide it.

"I think it is not needed"

"So it wouldn't be enough for him, that's what you mean?"

You almost chocked on air because it was true, it was an hazard he did from that comment but the result made it worth it.

"Y/N" he said taking a deep breath in and moving closer to you “I am not here to tell you how to live your life, I am nobody’s counsellor about right choices”

You looked up as he was so close to you and he was staring directly to you.

“Don’t take this as me talking to you as an alienist or your chief, but as a friend who is deeply concerned about your current state”

He took a brief pause and the fact you were too afraid by that closeness to reply, it just showed how much there was underneath the surface.

“Nothing can’t be undone, not even an engagement” he finally said “It is some time that you’re not only distant and that’s since that ring appeared on your finger, but you’re also deeply sad and I am afraid to ask what is going on with your left shoulder to make you always wince when you lift even a pen”

You bit on your bottom lip as you trembled on the spot biting so hard, almost to the bleeding point until he pushed gently his hand to touch your jaw making you undo that silly torture onto yourself, the lump that you kept for month in your throat finally ready to be set free as you let to a sob of pure pain.

“I-I..”

He looked at you and smiled warmly, welcoming

“..I am so scared”

He leaned his hand on your back gently pulling you into a hug as you begun to cry like one of the kids in the Institute.

A cry made of heavy tears of fear, of loud uncontrollable sobs and your hands clasped over his jacket like for a dear of life.

“It is okay, I am here, you can stay here for the night and we will make everything alright”

His voice calm, warm like the home you daydreamed when imagined to have a family yourself.

“Doctor, I swear I am not lying”

“I know Y/N, I know, I believe you” he said as he gently held you resting his hand on your back, gently caressing you into warm circles “You are being so courageous to do this first step, no fear now, I won’t let you live another day like this”

“But”

“I told you” he murmured looking down at you “I believe you”

You nodded as you finally accepted it, he could really help you, even if you said barely anything he saw it, he saw your pain and your pain could have been caused by a needle, an angry cat or an abusive man.

It didn’t matter, your pain was now his, and he won’t let you live with it any time soon.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved@fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44@apparrio @hb8301@whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl@obsidianlaszlo@alindeluce@zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling

Let me know if you want to get tagged to my publications too <3

[lovelypale]

Teacher!Rengoku x Student!GN Reader

nsfw teacher!rengoku x student!reader? 🥺

I got you boo! Ask box is being funky so I hope you see this! This started as hc’s and now it’s??? Hope you’re cool with it anyway haha.

18+ up guys!

Warnings: Reader is 18 but he liked them before so vaguely underage for 2 seconds, sketchy themes.

Just getting something straight: he wouldn't be the one to boldly make a move on you. He actually prays that nothing ever occurs between the two of you, because he knows his resistance is getting weaker.

You would have to be the one to push him, and it wouldn't be easy at first either. He'll ignore all your attempts. Even if you admitted your feelings honestly he'd find a way to purposely misunderstand you if not straight up reject.

He's ashamed to admit that his feelings for you started when you were his class. You were younger than you are now, still naïve and cheerful. You had a way of always grabbing his attention. You worked diligently, took good notes, and tried to be as active in class discussions as you could be. It was admirable.

In his admiration, a thought floated by, a simple one about your looks. The way you strained yourself when you were trying to raise your hand higher than your peers. It made his heart stir. He tried to dismiss it but it haunted him.

He was relieved that you had graduated to the next grade, but you weren't happy at all. You joined a club he sponsored, and you excelled at it. For a while he was good at pretending, acting like your hugs, compliments and body didn't make him see stars. As you grew it only worsened. Now that you were 18 his desires had hit a peak.

The first sexual experience would probably happen after a club meeting. You would often stay behind to help him clean balled up paper, silly string, various other items from simulated battles. Usually he would curtly thank you and take off, but you've been able to keep him around longer lately.

"Rengoku-sensei!"

"Yes?"  He turned to look at you with his usual beaming smile.

"My feelings for you haven't faded."

He gave a hearty laugh, causing your serious expression to waver. "It doesn't have to, but I am your Teacher y/n so I can't further this conversation with you."

His usual response.

You stood from your spot and approached him, the closest you've ever been. "You didn't say those feelings weren't returned, just that they were unprofessional."

He couldn’t laugh his way out of this one. The air felt heavy in the classroom. He's taken too long to answer you, the answer was obvious. As long as he didn't say it, he could pretend it wasn't true. "You're correct."

You closed the gap and looked into his eyes. He wanted to move away from you but he couldn't. He couldn't push you away, couldn't move away from your kiss, he couldn’t stop you. He didn't want to stop you, he should, but your grinding was a tragedy he couldn't deny.

You didn't want him to touch you yet; you wanted to convince him that you could be good, that you were serious about being with him. You fell to your knees and began unbuckling his pants. "Thank you Sensei."

The first time he treated you like glass. He was scared to hold you while you sucked his dick. You looked up at him with that same pleading look that drove him crazy, that look that you would do anything to satisfy him. The way you moved up and down him was too good. Your warm mouth slid off him with a pop, lips smooth from the moisture, you had tears in your eyes from all your efforts. Your hand continued to stroke him until completion, thick cum pumped out of him in beads that you eagerly licker. You looked up at him with a smile, your voice coming out with a shake, "Did I do good?"

The gravity of the situation hit him. His previous student, a current student, just gave him a blowjob in a classroom after hours. He used your mouth inappropriately, but God if you didn't look good doing it. "You did amazing."

The threshold had been passed. If he was going to do this he was going to treat you better than fucking you in some classroom.

You clearly couldn't go home, and he couldn't take you to his out of fear that his brother might recognize you. For all the fervor you had in the classroom, you became very timid.

You confessed that it was your first time, and his thoughts went haywire. He knew better than to get ahead of himself, and instead took it slowly. He wanted to make sure you felt good and safe.

Good isn't enough to describe what you felt. His mouth was heavenly, enough to make you cover your mouth in shame of all the noises you were making. His movements were so vulgar against your sex, he was very clearly experienced. You couldn't imagine that the man between your legs was just your teacher a few hours ago.

His praises would help your pain as you adjusted to the feeling of him inside of you. He loved cooing such soft things to you as you groaned from all the pressure. As usual, your persistence was admirable.

Whenever it seemed like you were overwhelmed he would lock a free hand in yours and check to see if you were okay. It made you melt.

He liked holding you down through your orgasms. Not in an aggressive way, just enough to prevent you from hiding yourself. He wants to see every expression, hear every gasp, and feel every twitch.

He doesn't let himself come until you're spent. Only then does he feel like he's earned the right to release. Despite his usual demeanor, he's not loud in bed besides his grunts. However, he couldn't help moaning your name as he came.

From that day on you two developed an odd relationship. You two saw each other so much that the hotel room felt more like home than either of your homes.

He’s not a fan of fucking at school but he's done it before. You sent him some very revealing photos in the restroom. So he canceled the entirety of the club meeting after school just to pound you silly.

Sometimes you two get to it so quickly that neither of your uniforms properly come off. He'd never admit it but his own guilt turns him on. Seeing your poor outfit that he shouldn't be ruining in disarray gets him so excited.

He definitely loves you and he's scared that all the sex gives you the wrong impression about the relationship. He tries to say that he loves you often to quell his own fears.

Lucky for him, you do genuinely love him. The morality of the situation isn't solid, but you don't plan on disappearing from his life any time soon.

Whether or not that happens only time will tell, but at least in the moment, you two are satisfied with each other.

[all-about-seggs]

Dropped Façades-

Rating:❌ 18+, Explicit ❌

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x shy! female reader

Word count: 2K

Warnings: Masturbation, fingering, vaginal sex (on the rougher side)

 A/n: This is a happy!AU where everything is good and nobody dies OKAY?!ಥ_ಥ

Shining bands of morning light filled your vision making you squint from its brilliance but the sunny whether didn’t do much to deter the hazy clouds looming over your sunken heart.

   “ I’m heading off then”, the apathetic tone of your boyfriend’s voice matched his equally deadpan look as he called out to you from the front door.

 Another night of Levi staying over at your place came to a monotonous end. Ever since the beginning of your relationship, your nights have been a predictable cycle of him cooking for you, a few kisses exchanged before bed, that too if he’s feeling generous and then going your separate ways the next day.

Your shyness combined with the intimidating aura of the drill sergeant you were dating held you back everytime the sun went down and the ache in your core begged for attention.

Being an astonishingly disbalanced mix of prim and proper and foul mouthed, Levi didn’t left much to the imagination when it came to his likes and dislikes so you often ended up being what you figured he needed the most.

Be it keeping up with his mandatory cleaning or intervening everytime you know he’s on the cusp of whiplashing his subordinates, you were what placated him and brought serenity in his life.

You thought being in love with him and have it reciprocated would make the entire process as natural as breathing but the longer it went on the more harder it became to get out of your shell. Maybe it’s not the most idealistic phase of your relationship, self sacrifice was afterall, just a pretty word.

And the primary cause of your concern was completely at odds with the noble emotions of the duty you took upon as Levi’s girlfriend.

Lackluster was what the current state of your sex life could’ve been described as if it existed in the fist place. For the first three weeks of your budding relationship, not only work but your internal conflict was getting in the way of your understandable desires. And the fact that even he didn’t tried to make a move on you got you wondering if he was even interested in sex or in you physically.

Pushing the thoughts of potential sexy times with Levi away you walk over to the front door to send him off him, every second of the ten step way filled with the silence of unspoken words.

Even after he left, your stared at the empty place getting more and more annoyed by your own incompetence to speak out. Wanting to distract yourself from your current trail of thoughts you started to think of stuff to do until your laundry basket caught your eye.

There among your clothes laid your boyfriend’s shirt that he wore last light and despite your attempts at talking yourself out of the upcoming urge to play with your untouched pussy you find yourself grabbing the article out of the basket and onto your bed.

Spreading the shirt over your pillow, you take in Levi’s lingering scent. It was an embarrassing sight of considered from a second person’s point of view, creepy even. But right now this was all you had to calm your sexually frustrated self. Lying sideways on the bed you shoved your pants and underwear down your legs to get better access to your core.

As you caressed your clit you thought about how his own fingers would feel, the calloused and roughened tips of his fingers that held more strength than one cannot even imagine, just the thought of those digits entering you and stretching you out fuelled your arousal.

You were sure he could make you cum with his hands in less than half the time it takes you but gosh did you wanted his cock. You wanted to see it, touch it, suck it and choke in it if possible, how it would feel stretching your cunt and hitting that g-spot which made you shiver and scream for more. Thoughts of your pussy being filled to the brim with his girth overtook all five of your senses.

Letting your imagination run rampant your trembling body was practically making the bed creak, not even sensing Levi’s presence even when he was standing next to the bedroom door, arms crossed with a look of utter disdain.

“Have you been spending the past three weeks getting off of your hand?”, his annoyed voice overtaking your soft mewls pulled you back from the edge. Recovering from the initial shock, your naked body splayed out on the bed clammed up under his sharp eyes, thinking it’d be best to not hide your visibly throbbing pussy so you waited for him to continue, face and neck growing hotter by the second in shame and guilt.

   “ I forgot my shirt so I had to come back, but”, eyeing up the spit covered clothing he strutted towards you, “ it seems you’ve already taking a liking to it”.

Now taking a spot right next you, his one arm reached out, taking your chin in between his hand, he gave it a hard tug, to make you face him from an angle that made his callous eyes seem downright frightening.

“Look at that mess. Who do you think is going clean it up? ”, Levi’s voice was almost a hiss, an icy thread crackling along the cold air of your bedroom.

Drooling all over his shirt, you haphazardly started fixing your clothes you pushed yourself in a sitting position.

“I’m- I’m sorry! I’ll clean that up!”, You squeak, searching for some tissues or towel to wipe the fabric and making it a point to avoid eye contact. Watching you panic like he just caught you committing a crime, he heaved a sigh, half exasperated and half amused by your shyness.

His face didn’t give away his thoughts but surprisingly, his words did.

“I wanted you to feel comfortable enough to bring it up”, eyeing at the slick that covered your inner thighs he dropped his gaze to the ground before starting back up, “ but I guess I am partly at fault too for not taking any initiative either”.

“well?, it’s your turn to tell me what you want”, The stiff tone of his voice was offset by the gentle look of his eyes.

All his straightforwardness came to a halt when he saw you sitting there shell shocked. Your dazed look, induced by his unexpected words, became still for a while. Not wanting to be the only one who kept their cards closed you forced yourself to speak.

  “ Then, I want you to stay here……. And”, trailing off you meekly take a hold of his crisp dress shirt, still unable to look at him directly and hoping he’ll get the gist.

The next couple of seconds went by in a flash when your top came off and got thrown to the floor, with him pinning you down, Levi takes off the rest of your cloths and his effortlessly.

With only his boxers on he sat next to you, taking one of your thigh in his firm grip, he spread your legs open. Sharp gaze falling on your already moistened core he wordlessly slipped two of his thick digits inside, making you jolt at the contact.

“Move”, his command seemed both out of place and erotic at the same time, making you struggle a little before finding the right pace.

Back unintentionally arching against the bed you lift your hips, bucking against his hand while he leaned down to bit your nipple, coaxing a cry of pleasure out of you. Your entire body trembled with the sheer amount of effort it took for you to move.

“I saw you move your hips better than this when you were fucking yourself y/n. Faster”, his every word sent pleasant shivers up your spine, making you wonder if you always had such an authority kink. Or if you  were just naturally submissive in front of your deliciously dominant boyfriend.

You rolled your hips faster, gyrating them deeper into his fingers, only for them to be abruptly pulled out, making you feel empty. But in your daze you noted Levi's own impatience when he got off the bed to reach for his pants.

The thumping of your heartbeat filled your ears as you watched him take out a condom from his pant pocket. Revelling in the fact that he too wanted this to happen sooner or later.

Rolling down the latex over his shaft, Levi didn’t wasted a single moment before sliding himself into your sopping wet hole. His length stretched you enough to make you cum on the spot but you wanted him to take you higher so you waited for him to move. Settings his own pace he started plunging in and out of you ruthlessly, filling your senses with both pain and pleasure.

“You- You’re being …Too rough!”, Voice cracking by the force of his thrusts your entire body shifted higher up the bed and for a split second you worried about the state of your bed.

“Well we did decided to be more honest with each other”, with his voice as steady as his hard thrusts, Levi rammed his cock into with an unforgiving pace right off the bat “ and this is my way of doing this”.

It didn’t take him long to hit your sweet spot, your high pitched yelps just confirming his perfect angle and he snapped his hips again and again to reach the depths of your cunt.

The constant pounding of his cock was bringing you closer to your release, the toe curling pleasure just within your reach made you impatient so you bucked your hips to match his movements.

Levi’s pulsating member inside you soon gave you the final push you needed to experience the mind numbing euphoria you wanted for so long and with a few more rolls of his hips you felt him follow right after, with some low grunts of his own.

His muscular body falling on top of your, he breathed in your raw scent, tucking his face in the crook of your sweaty neck and for the first time ever you saw the sight of a disheveled and messy Levi Ackerman.

It was undeniably sexy, the way his bangs stuck to his forehead, body gleaming with a sheen layer of clean sweat. The pleasant fatigue you were experiencing took you in a dreamlike state from which you didn’t wanted to wake up from until,

“Get your ass off of the damn bed and go shower”, abruptly rolling you off of you, Levi’s words are almost like a warning.

“I’ll clean up in here”.

“Wait- what happened to my sweet and gentle aftercare?!”, Feeling a bit dejected you whined as you watched him put on his boxers, the seriousness of his face told you it’s better to just get off the bed without any questions. Your desire to bask in the afterglow of your hot sex coming to a premature end was expected. Yet you couldn’t accept it so this time you let your hesitation go, not wanting to repeat the same cycle of frustration you had experienced a while back.

“Then……..Can I expect some action in the bathroom too?”, biting your lips to hold back your smirk you turn to look at Levi for a response to your obvious attempt to elongated your intimate time together. “what?! Can’t blame me for asking you to make up for the past dry three weeks!”.

“If you behave like a good girl then I’ll give you something in the bathroom too”, not even glancing in your direction, he spoke nonchalantly, making quick work of the dirty sheets.

“ like what, a bath?”, Sceptically eyeing his face you silently hoped you had a longer night ahead.

“You were not the only one who was waiting for this you know”, his uncharacteristically soft voice made you do a double take.

Levi was smiling. But for all his delicate features, his smile was like a knife.

And this was all the confirmation you needed to know he’s gonna wreck you good and long.

[dorotharry]

i want to write you a song

pairing: modern!bucky x singer!reader

warnings: nothing i don’t think just fluff eeeek (maybe mention of parents that have passed away) (ignore lack of capitals i wrote this on my phone)

blurb: where bucky has trouble dealing with his past and constantly feels he’s not good enough for reader. so her being a musician/singer she writes him a song.

a/n: i thought of this a little while ago but i decided to write it while i was bored on the plane. hope you enjoy :)

MY MASTERLIST

it had been a year for bucky. a year since losing steve and a year since the final battle.

after everything bucky was still plagued with nightmares. shuri had removed all the awful things hydra had put in his brain, but he still constantly felt shame and guilt for his past.

so when he met you 6 months after thanos, and coming back after the snap it had been hard for him to accept your love. and to realise that even through the nightmares and mental torture you still loved him.

unlike bucky you weren’t one of the lost. you had to live in a world for 5 years without many of the people you cared about.

you had always had a passion for music but in a time where the world was broken you turned to music even more. and even though it was a sad and hard time you had 3.5 billion less people that could want to be a musician and so people started to actually hear your music. most people turning to it for comfort.

you had always felt pain, even before the snap; having lost your family years beforehand. and so when anyone you had considered close left there was nothing left for you besides music.

when people actually listened, it made you feel like finally you had a purpose in the world.

in those 5 years you became a house hold name. so many people listening to your music which sang the words impossible to speak when most felt numb.

5 awful years went by, and finally the rest of the world came back after the final battle. you became even more of a well known name then as familys and friends shared your music with those they had lost to tell them what exactly had gotten them through. your music.

you felt honoured. and yet there was still a hole within you. a hole that had been there even before everything.

it was one day 6 months after everyone had returned when you had left your apartment in new york to get a coffee at your favourite local cafe. you had your usual cap and sunglasses on, in an attempt to disguise yourself.

without paying attention you swung the cafe door open hitting another customer with two coffees in hand, sending his drinks flying. like you he had a cap and sunglasses on.

“oh fuck, i’m so sorry” you rambled pulling your sunglasses off in hope he could see your sincerity. by now he’d removed his sunglasses himself but he was looking nervously at the ground.

“no it’s okay i shouldn’t have these on insid-“ his voice cut off as he looked up at you. “you’re (y/n).”

you sent him an apologetic look, but it quickly turned to a smirk. “that i am. and your bucky barnes. but no it’s my fault, i wasn’t paying attention.”

his gaze suddenly seemed more nervous again. “your one of the few people that hasn’t referred to me as the winter soldier” he spoke letting out a small smile.

you smiled back at his response. “why would i? anyway please let me buy you some new coffees” by now the staff had started cleaning up the mess sending you both glares.

“no you don’t have to i can get some new ones.” he responded shrugging.

“no no, it’s the least i can do bucky.” you responded giving him a big grin.

“fine” he finally sighed. “if you you insist,” his poker face turning to a smile.

you both walked over to the counter walking around the now clean but wet floor. you ordered yours and his drinks giving the cafe a $50 tip as an apology for messing up their morning.

while you were both waiting for your drinks you continued your conversation. “so how does the bucky barnes know who i am?” you asked wiggling your eyebrows as you emphasised his name.

his face blushed as he laughed at your expressions. “well my best friend steve listened to your music a lot when half the world was gone. myself included. and so he showed me it once i came back. thought i might enjoy the sadness of the music.”

you jaw dropped as you gasped. “you mean to tell me the captain america knew who i was?! that’s way more cool than you knowing who i am”

it was buckys turn to gasp. he placed his hand over his heart in a dramatic manner, “i’m hurt doll, truly hurt.”

your heart fluttered at the pet name he had just given you but instead of showing it you just stuck out your tongue in cheeky manner.

more chatting went on between the two of you until finally you got your order. unfortunately the perks of going to a very busy cafe.

you exited the warm cafe and were met with the cool winter air of new york. pulling you jacket in closer to yourself. your sunglasses already back on.

“now i don’t really know how to do this anymore. the last time i flirted was in the 1940s but i was wondering if i could get your number?” bucky asked cautiously. you could tell he was nervous.

your heart fluttered again. he wanted your number? you fumbled with your words. “y-yeah of course!”

his face fell slightly noticing your nervousness. “if you don’t want to give it to me don’t feel like you have to” he replied.

“no no it’s not that bucky. i just would never have thought someone as attractive as yourself would want my number.” your eyes fell the ground in embarrassment.

it was buckys turn to be surprised. “if anything it’s the other way around doll” he replied as he handed you his flip phone.

after you had given him your number you had continued to walk with him to the avengers compound. (for once not having anything on this morning). you had resisted the urge the entire time to make fun of his flip phone.

it didn’t take long for you to become attached to bucky as the months went on. much like he did with you.

you had begun dating a month in and would see each other as often as both your schedules would let you.

you had tried to keep the relationship hidden for a while. but it didn’t take long for the public to notice that ‘the winter soldier’ was dating the worlds beloved ‘(y/n) (y/l/n)’.

of course rumours spread and though both of you had anxieties that neither of you were good enough for the other. it was bucky who it affected more. constantly acting as if you would just disappear one day and he’d be left an empty shell of a person like he once was.

after around six months you had become so comfortable with one another. and so his insecurities were something you could never understand, having never endured what he had. to you he was the strongest person. to him you were the strongest person he knew.

it was your 5 month anniversary of dating coming up and though it was drastically important it meant a lot to you so you wanted to do something special. something to ease his insecurities so you did what you did best. make music.

you were in your apartment the only light around you being the glow of candles. just having finished dinner as you snuggled up to him on your couch.

you looked up to the beautiful man you felt honoured to call your own.

“i have a gift for you.” you spoke softly.

“oh yeah?” he smiled giving you a kiss on the nose causing you to blush.

“yep” you replied, “but i’m gonna have to go get it.” you jumped up out of his arms and he pouted as you ran off.

seconds later you returned with your guitar sitting back down next to him. he raised an eyebrow at this.

you gave him a kiss on the cheek and then leaned back again, “i wrote you a song to tell you just what i see from my eyes when i look at you.”

this caused bucky to blush but he stayed silent, encouraging you to begin.

and so you began to pick a simple and soft melody.

i want to write you song

one as beautiful as you are sweet

with just a hint of pain

for the feeling that i get when you are gone

i want to write you song

i wanna lend you my coat

one that’s as soft as your cheek

so when the world gets cold

you will having a hiding place you can go

i wanna lend you my coat

oh, everything i need i get from you

oh, and giving back is all i wanna do

i wanna build you boat

one that’s a strong as you are free

so every time you think

that your heart is gonna sink

you know it won’t

i wanna build you a boat

oh, everything i need i get from you

oh, and giving back is all i wanna do

you began to play a little interlude and bucky took that as his time to speak finally grinning, “i like the part about boats.”

you rolled your eyes. “shut up bucky i’m not finished” causing you to giggle as you began to sing again.

oh, everything i need i get from you

oh, and giving back is all i wanna do

i wanna write you a song

one to make your heart remember me

so anytime i’m gone

you can listen to my voice and sing along

i wanna write you a song

i wanna write you a song

as you finished the end of the song you suddenly felt very vulnerable. but once you looked at bucky all you saw in his eyes was admiration.

“bucky everything i sang then i meant, you truly are the strongest person i know. and i love you more than anything.”

he carefully took the guitar from your hands and placed it gently on the ground. grabbing your waist he pulled you close resting his forehead against yours.

“doll, if anyone is to say the words you just sang it should be me. i have lived in darkness for so long. and anytime i have felt the smallest amount of happiness it’s been taken from me.”

a tear fell down your face. you hadn’t known him that long but you knew he was your soulmate.

“i love you.” you whispered looking at his beautiful blue eyes.

“i definitely love you more,” he responded pulling you into a soft but passionate kiss.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 18 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Reader finds more productive ways to spend her time, including babysitting Henry and volunteering at the local inpatient hospitals.

A/N: That’s my gif so please give credit if you use it 🤗 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader 
 Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Oral (female receiving), addiction, relapse, discussions of death/murder, unsub talk, hospitals, inpatient ward Word Count: 13K

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

The next morning felt strangely similar to the morning of the day we’d gone to the bank. . Waking up in Spencer’s bed and smelling the unmistakable, comforting scent of old book pages and stale coffee. I’d told him when I first came to his place that it reminded me of a library, but it was more like that quiet local hole-in-the-wall bookshop.

It almost felt like that morning, but there was one glaring difference: Spencer wasn’t in the bed.

When I sat up to try and locate him, I was reminded that there are consequences to my actions. My stomach hurt like shit, and I swore I blacked out for a second from the pain. It would pass, though. Considering I had gotten through the night without waking, it clearly wasn’t that bad.

I thankfully managed to get out of bed myself and take the pain medication I kept in my purse. And armed with the knowledge that the pain would subside within the next half hour, I hobbled toward the distant sounds of… vomiting.

Not even bothering to stop yet, I made my way to the kitchen to grab the poor guy a glass of water. It was the least I could do for his comfort considering that I was about to make his headache much, much worse.

Peeking my head through the open door, I frowned at the sight of my boyfriend half asleep on the toilet.

“Hey old man. I brought you some water.”  

Finally looking up, not having noticed me until I spoke, Spencer groaned as he backed up to lean against the wall instead of the dirty porcelain. “God, when did I get this old?”

“Hmm. I’m guessing sometime in the past 30 years.” I hummed, joining him on the cold tile floor. The two of us just rested there, his hand reaching out to take mine with a solemn smile.

“You’re cute.” He mumbled.

“I know, thanks.” I joked back, knowing that I really looked like a whole mess, with my hair desperately needing to be brushed. He never seemed to mind, though. I was glad for the lighthearted domesticity of the moment, because I knew I was about to shatter it like a brick through glass.

Softening my features as much as possible with the anxiety coursing through my veins, I squeezed his hand before finally whispering, “You know your age isn’t the only reason you’re sick though, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He snapped back with about as much hostility as I was expecting. He ran a frustrated hand over his face, his breathing picking up almost immediately as he tried to calm himself down.

“I know you’re just trying to do what you’re supposed to, but please…” The waver in his voice broke my heart and turned my stomach to knots. With more force, he held his hand in the air and continued to stare straight ahead. “Just... don’t. I’ll call my sponsor.”

I tried to keep my voice quiet and nonthreatening as I pushed, but I knew that it wasn’t going to make much of a difference either way.

“We have to talk about it, too, Spencer.”

“No, we really don’t.”

“You’re going to get your chip taken away,” my voice broke in half as the word fell from my mouth, “I know that that’s important to you. We can’t ignore it.”

Speaking faster, our urgent pleas overlapped to create a small cacophony booming through the acoustics of the bathroom. “(Y/n), seriously, stop. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A silence fell between us, and I let it sit there for a minute. I wouldn’t get anywhere with him if he was defensive, and that’s exactly what he was at the moment. But I wasn’t trying to chastise him; I’m not his mother, I’m just his worried girlfriend. I loved him and I knew something was wrong, and I just wanted to help.

I didn’t know how. The men I loved never made it far enough for me to be able to help.

“You didn’t even tell me you were coming home. We need to talk about that, at least.” I offered the narrowed scope, hoping that he would take it without any more of a fight.

He didn’t. Instead, he took back his hand and turned it to a fist in his lap. That time it was my breathing that became unsteady, and I tried to touch him, but he recoiled when I came too close.

“You didn’t seem to mind me being drunk last night.”

Although I knew it was coming, the words hurt just the same. I resisted the urge to mirror his actions. I wasn’t angry. I wouldn’t be angry, because that’s what he wanted. If I reacted that way, he could write off my responses.

“I’m not going to agitate you or shame you when the damage is already done, Spencer.” I said as confidently as I could, “I knew you needed affection and you weren’t going to ask for it yourself.”

He finally looked at me again, and in doing so, realized he was making a mistake. The anger melted from his face within seconds, being replaced with overt sadness and guilt. “I could have hurt you.” He whispered through the tears that started to fall.

“But you didn’t.” I said with a gentle smile, reaching over to wipe the saltwater from his cheek. “That’s not a very good excuse anymore.”

“It’s always a good explanation.” He clarified, chewing on his bottom lip. His hands released from their tense state.

My fingers couldn’t move fast enough to clear his tears, but he brought his own hands up to rub the tired eyes. I used the freedom to run my hands through his hair, pulling him closer to me.

Resting his head against my shoulder, he let out a deep, shaky breath. I continued slow, soft strokes along his arm, listening to the rhythm of his breath slowly recalibrate. Once I was satisfied with the pattern, I tried again.

“What happened on the case, Spencer?”

The tension returned, but subsided quicker than it had before. He took a deep breath and spoke through the exhale, trying to rid himself of the thought as he said it.

“We had to kill someone.”

My movements paused for a second before I reminded myself to continue, but my confusion remained. “I understand trauma is complicated but… You guys have to do that pretty often.”

Spencer wasn’t the kind of person who liked to share his thoughts. I knew as much; even his coworkers hadn’t seen the parts of him that I’d seen. There was no way for me to know if I knew them all, but I figured that I didn’t. I was almost certain there was a side of Spencer Reid that even I didn’t know. The only reason I didn’t try to figure it out was because I knew he liked it better that way. He designed his heart that way for a reason, and I wasn’t going to try and pry it out of him.

But he was scaring me. He almost never talked about his job, which didn’t bother me when it was obvious that he didn’t bring it home with him. Him getting drunk and defensive, though, were very different circumstances than the usual.

Understanding that there was no other way out of this, he continued to talk, hushed and slow. “I was alone with the guy, and I had the opportunity to kill him, but I didn’t. I didn’t kill him, even though I really wanted to.”

‘I really wanted to.’ The words stuck out in my head, no matter how quickly he tried to bury them.

“But after Hotch showed up, he had to do it. We didn’t have a choice anymore.” His arms crossed over his chest, but he pressed himself harder against me in a strange, contradictory stance.

I couldn’t respond to the most important part of his confession just yet; I knew the story wasn’t over. Like I’d told him, trauma and grief are complicated; however, there was something else he needed to admit before I could address the part of his admission he seemed most affected by.. “Spencer, that’s okay. That’s not your fault.” I reassured, trying to coax his arms away from his chest. I’m no profiler, but I felt like if he stopped trying to build walls, things might be easier. I could at least try to break down the ones that were tangible.

“I’m not worried about it being my fault. I’m worried about how… angry I am.” He said in defeat, dropping his arms back to his lap. He still didn’t want to touch me, it seemed. Like the same hands that had wielded a gun against a man were too tainted to share.

“I’m angry because… I wanted to kill him, I wanted him to suffer for hurting innocent people and —“ He covered his mouth, and I think the motion surprised himself.

I couldn’t help but feel partially responsible, no matter how illogical I knew that was. It felt like yet another morning was being taken away from us by what had happened before. I didn’t want to think about it; I didn’t want it to torture Spencer the way it did me. It was wishful thinking, and the stupid kind, at that.

Spencer would always blame himself and care too much. While he was always trying to work on the former, I hoped that the world would let him keep the latter. His compassion was one of the many reasons I fell in love with him. The thought of losing the man who felt the need to confess to me that he’d lied about checking me out in a crowded club invoked a sadness I never wanted to experience.

Although, the prospect of that loss paled in comparison to the acute sorrow I was feeling right then, holding Spencer while he failed to hold back tears, choking on his words. “I didn’t do it, and then he almost hurt someone else.” He said, his voice growing more frantic as he broke from my hold, grabbing his hair and pulling it like it would do something to stop the thoughts.

“And I’m angry that I wasn’t the one who got to do it. I wasn’t the person who got to kill him.” He spat, rocking forward as I tried to wrap my arms around him again. He didn’t let me, putting an arm out to hold me away from him. Still, he looked at me when he forced himself to say the conclusion that I’d reached the second he told me he had wanted to kill someone.

“I’m angry that I didn’t kill someone, (y/n).”

There were so many things I wanted to say to him that my mind literally couldn’t pick any of them. All I could do was stare at the man I loved, stopping me from doing the only thing I wanted to do. I just wanted to hold him; to remind him that I would love him no matter what. Just like we always did, I wanted my body to express the things that my mouth wouldn’t articulate.

But apparently, I was capable of doing that without even touching him. Because the longer we sat in silence, the more his enraged grimace warped to a frown. “Please, don’t look at me like that.” He begged, unable to take his eyes off of mine. I wondered if he could hear my thoughts, because before I even spoke, he pulled his arm back. “Don’t look at me like I deserve sympathy for that.”

Ignoring the pesky numbness forming in my lower half at the awkward position on the unforgiving tile floor, I thanked the lord that I was finally getting some relief from the narcotics, which allowed me to climb on Spencer’s lap. He’d finally ceased his valiant efforts to keep me away from him, accepting me with his hands on my hips.

When I tried to kiss him, however, he turned his face away with a sharp inhale. Careful not to use too much force, I use a tender hand on his cheek to lead him back to me. His eyes bounced between my lips and eyes, almost like he was asking me to try again.

“I’m not going to pretend you’re a monster to make you feel better, Spencer.” I whispered, attempting to infuse the words with everything I felt.

Whether it worked or not, I could never be sure, but Spencer’s small smile sneaking over his cheek was enough for me. “I’m pretty sure it’d make me feel worse.” He croaked, laughing as he bit his tongue to stop any other jokes from slipping out. Like he was betraying the pain by letting it go.

“Well I’m not going to do that, either.” I returned with a laugh. Then, satisfied that he would accept my affections, I closed the gap between us. The kiss was so soft I could almost question whether our lips touched. But his hands slid over my lower back, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me against him.

Eventually, it became obvious just how tired the both of us were. With a quiet thanks, he rested his face on my shoulder, enjoying the calm after the storm of his feelings that he’d finally released.

“Can you come back to bed?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He mumbled, holding tighter for a second before he started to help ease me off his lap. “Let’s go, little girl.”

The return to my nickname made me happier than I’d like to admit. At this point, the use of my real name was like a litmus test for his anxiety. And although I could feel Spencer slowly opening back up to me, he still felt so far away when we crawled under the covers.

Turning on my side to face him, I saw something in his eyes that alerted me to just how deeply rooted this problem was. It wasn’t just the event we’d discussed; it was the knowledge that there would be many more like it in the future.

I wondered what Spencer saw when he looked at me. Did he see me like I was in that moment, or was I always going to look like I had before, choking on blood and a confession I wish I could have made more beautiful? Did he see me at all? Or did he just see all the mistakes he’d made? Would all our moments together be marred by the overwhelming tragedy of a single one? More than anything, I just hoped that he didn’t see the faces of the people who had caused us to be in that horrible tableau. I needed Spencer to see beautiful things when he looked at me, because I needed to see them in his eyes. If something so ugly was the biggest thing between us, our relationship would fray with time, each of us unable to truly see the other.

“You’re the best man I’ve ever known.” I said into the silent early morning air of his apartment.

As expected, Spencer’s precarious smile broke almost immediately, replaced with violent sobs and an attempt to hide his face from me by burying it in my chest. I let him, wrapping my arms around his head in the hope that I could act like a shield for the world that never let him rest.

“I’ll love you forever,” I let my voice break, but I didn’t let that stop me. “And nothing will ever change that.”

—————————————————

One of the things people never warn you about when you’re dating a bona fide genius is that there is no such thing as a surprise. It was like every time I came up with an idea, Spencer could see it on my face within seconds. I was never really sure how he did it, although he usually had the decency to wait until a normal person would have figured it out to say something. For example, when we were about three streets away from his best friend’s house.

“Why are we going to JJ’s house?” He finally asked, turning to me with a confused but excited expression that almost hid the residual negative feelings that insisted on sticking around a week later.

I glanced over at him, laughing at the way his fingers bounced on his lap. He never was subtle with his emotions. “I may or may not have offered us up as babysitters so she and Will could have a much needed date night.”

From the way his shoulders dropped, I could tell it wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. Still, it didn’t seem like he was disappointed— he was simply trying to read my motivations that were seemingly counter-intuitive.

“Really? Isn’t that gonna be a lot for you?” The concern was evident in his voice, which I found both endearing and a little annoying. It wasn’t this fault, really. I was just so freaking tired of not being able to do basically anything I wanted to. Especially when the thing I wanted to do was watch my boyfriend and his godson.

“Henry may be well behaved, but he’s still a toddler.” Spencer continued, eliciting a deep sigh from me.  

“That’s why you’re here.” I half-joked, pulling into the driveway that was starting to feel familiar. If someone had told me a few months ago that I would become friends with the woman I was angrily binge watching clips of on YouTube, I would have asked them if they had me confused for another girl. But, much to Spencer’s delight, JJ and I never really had that awkward phase. From the second that I met her, I knew that we just wanted the same thing: above all, for the people we loved to be happy. And it seemed we both had a soft spot for the man currently in my passenger seat.

“Oh, running after the kid is my job?” He laughed, already unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling his bag onto his lap in his excitement.

“Yep.” I stuck out my tongue at him, which only made him lean over in an attempt to steal a kiss. I allowed it, if only to bring him within arm’s reach. When he started to pull away, clearly ready to hop out of the car and run to his favorite toddler, I grabbed a fistful of his cardigan in an attempt to keep him closer for a second longer.

“But seriously, Spencer, I…”

He settled into his seat, immediately recognizing the faint tremor in my words. His hand came to rest over mine, and I sighed at the warmth that filled my whole body in seconds.

“I want you to remember that you’re a good person.” I whispered, trying to let him feel how deeply I meant the words, “I know how much you love Henry. I think spending time taking care of someone that’s… not me… will be good for you. And me.”

Those big brown eyes glassed over, glancing down and then away from me as he remembered looking at my stomach didn’t ever do much for his self-hatred. Which, in turn, just made me feel worse. I wondered if there would ever be a day where he could look at me and not feel that way. I desperately hoped that there would be.

Spencer rubbed his eyes to stop any other emotions from spilling out. “Does JJ know we’re using her kid as therapy?” He joked between sniffles.

“She’s a smart lady.” I shrugged, smoothing out the now wrinkled cardigan beneath my fingers. “Besides, Henry said he missed you and it’s hard to say no to him.”

And just like that, Spencer’s bouncing returned, his hand reaching behind him to open the door before he could even open his mouth to speak. “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t keep him waiting, then.”

There was no stopping him at that point, and I trailed along behind him, watching as Henry tumbled out of the front door and straight into my boyfriend’s waiting arms on the porch.

The rest of the night went a lot like that, too. Once the novelty of having me there wore off, and Henry realized that my boo-boo made it hard for me to play the way little boys liked to, Spencer returned to his rightful place as Henry’s favorite babysitter.

I didn’t mind; I was perfectly content watching the two of them. Between the cheesy magic tricks that required a little bit of childlike innocence to be entertained by and Spencer’s attempts to follow along with Henry’s excited rants about cartoons my boyfriend had never even heard of, I somehow fell even more in love with the man.

And even though I had planned this for him, it was restorative for me, too. There was this weird, paradoxical guilt you feel when you’re dating someone like him. Although I know that he wanted to spend every waking second of his free time with me, it made me feel like he was missing out on something else. Something better than me.

It was so easy to forget that we could do those things together. In a way, I could thank my injury for that. When we were limited so much on what we could do together, we had to find creative ways to spend time together that were still stimulating for the both of us.

That being said, in that moment I wished for nothing more than rest. Even just watching the two boys together was exhausting, so when Henry’s first yawn sounded, I jumped at the opportunity. Because, see, Spencer was good at the playing, but I was much better at the cuddling.

It wasn’t like he could argue, either, because while Henry curled up next to me on one side, Spencer was on the other, his arm reaching around to rest on the young boy’s back. Despite picking out the movie, Henry fell asleep against my chest within minutes.

And in the quiet calmness of JJ’s house, I found myself almost falling asleep, too. My head rested against Spencer’s shoulder, moving ever so slightly with each deep breath as my eyes struggled to stay open. That was when Spencer kissed the top of my head so delicately that I almost didn’t feel it.

“I love you, little girl.”

My heart skipped a beat at the sound, and the wave of goosebumps and satisfaction covered me like a blanket. If we’d stayed for even a few minutes longer, I would have fallen asleep right there. However, JJ and Will arrived home just in the nick of time. They tried to convince us to stay, but Spencer seemed uncharacteristically excited to leave, so I didn’t question it even though I wanted to. I took the trip home to catch up on my phone and try to wake myself up enough to spend another hour or so awake with him before I passed out.

“Don’t fall asleep yet.”

I perked up in my seat, not entirely sure if he’d actually said the words, or if I’d just imagined them a little too vividly. But when he glanced over at me, I knew that he was just doing that slightly unsettling thing where he read my thoughts.

“Why? You got plans?” I said through a yawn, trying to stretch within the confines of the car.

“As a matter of fact, I do have plans.”

At first, I thought nothing of the smug way he said it— up until I felt his hand slowly slide up my thigh, the pressure of his fingers increasing when he couldn’t go any further.

“This feels familiar.” I chuckled, my mind transporting me back to our first not-a-date. The sensations caused a desire to burn through me so quickly I became lightheaded, my lungs hungry and desperate as Spencer continued to tease me by avoiding the one place he knew I wanted him to touch.

But, of course, just as I reached down to move his hand, he pulled it away altogether.

“Lucky for you, we’re almost home.”

I audibly groaned, knocking my head back against the seat now that Spencer had succeeded in waking me up. “Sometimes, Spencer…” I mumbled, “I remember why I have to be such a fucking brat.”

“It’s my fault, is it?”

There was a distinct darkness and deviancy in his words, despite the joking cadence they were uttered in. It was a voice I hadn’t heard in some time; a voice that was imprinted so vividly in my memory that even just the thought of it would make me putty in his hands. And I knew that I was reminiscing a lot, trying to relive times that had long since passed, but every time I saw a part of the old Spencer — the Spencer who rambled in museums and demanded I cover up my Lolita costume — the more I felt like my life was finally returning to normal.

“Of course it’s your fault. Have you seen me?” I gestured to myself, swamped in a sweatshirt and shorts like a weather-confused idiot. If the clashing clothing wasn’t enough, my make up had smeared from constantly rubbing my eyes. “I’m an angel.” I concluded, intending it to be sarcastic but knowing that he really saw me that way.

And sure enough, Spencer looked me over for just one second before pulling into the parking lot to his apartment complex. “You’re spoiled.” He decided.

“Doesn’t feel that way right now.” I whined, chewing on my bottom lip as I continued to wait for his attention.

But he just parked my car, leaning over to grab his bag from between my legs. Before it got too far, though, I clamped my legs around the leather. “Stop ignoring me!” I said through a pout, only getting more heated as he chuckled in response, tugging on the satchel until it slid from between my legs.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Spencer’s eyes locked with mine, his other hand grabbing my chin and forcing my bottom lip out from between my teeth. He held my mouth open against my resistance, but as soon as I gave into his hold, he relaxed his grip, leaning forward and pressing a much-too-soft kiss against my lips.

Without even fully breaking away, he turned my head to the side to whisper in my ear, “Get inside and I’ll make it up to you.”

Life was returning to normal. Together we excitedly stumbled through the Langham apartment complex until we got to his door, and he fumbled to unlock it without letting me go.

Everything about the chaos felt comfortable and predictable. I didn’t even notice the dull throbbing in my stomach because Spencer’s hands felt like home. The insistent noise of all my messy insecurities was quieted by his lips trailing down my jaw and neck as we finally crossed the threshold.

“Watching you with Henry, I just...” Spencer began to mumble against my neck, our bodies gravitating toward his room with a complete lack of grace, considering how well I should know the layout by now. We made it to the door, but not his bed, as he pressed me against the wall right on the other side.

His lips were slightly swollen from how feverishly he’d kissed me, his breathing ragged and his hair wild from where my hands had raked through it a few too many times. But his eyes were what really caught my attention, staring into me so deeply that it caused a shiver to roll down my spine. Spencer sensed my hesitance, because he brought a gentle hand to my face before he spoke, quietly but surely.

“I want to marry you one day. You know that, right?”

I thought about before; how those words would have filled me with both a naive joy and overwhelming anxiety. But as I stood there, staring back at him, I felt a genuine smile spreading across my lips.

“We speak in a lot of ‘one days,’ Dr. Reid.”

I couldn’t tell the effect the words had on him, although I had a few guesses. I’d avoided the part of the sentence he’d meant for me to hear the loudest. We both knew I’d heard it. At the same time, I hadn’t denied the idea or given any reason to suggest I wasn’t happy about the statement.  

“I’m serious.” He insisted, not ready to drop the subject just yet.

Unfortunately for him, though, I had other plans. As much as the talk of marriage gave me butterflies, there were more immediate needs I wanted him to fulfill. So, without saying anything, I subtly suggested that he put off the conversation and switch to other activities with a firm hand against the bulge that had already formed in his pants.

“God, I want to fuck you.” He immediately groaned, his head lolling forward and resting against mine. I figured that it would be harder to convince him to fuck me now that he wasn’t drunk, but he seemed even more willing now that we’d already made the leap of faith once. Nothing bad had happened to me then, and the dramatic improvement of my mood was helpful for both of us.

So I began to slide down the wall, my hands raking down his chest as I giggled, “Let me help you.”

Spencer’s hands moved so quickly and with such strength that it surprised the both of us. Luckily, he’d grabbed my hips instead of my stomach, halting me before I could drop to my knees.

“No.” He firmly corrected, lifting me back to my normal height before turning the two of us around so that my back was to the bed. “It’s my turn.”

Much gentler now, he helped lower me onto the bed, but he didn’t follow me yet.

“Take off your clothes.” He instructed me as he removed his own.

I listened, watching him intently to try and determine his plans before he actually got to me. But he kept his expressions to a minimum, only giving away his enthusiasm in watching me sheepishly remove my clothing. My shirt was still on when he climbed onto the bed and over my body.

“I want to see you.” There was something pitiful about the way he uttered the words, and my hands hesitated, holding tightly to the hem of my shirt as I avoided his eyes.

“You have an eidetic memory, Spencer. You know what it looks like.”

“I’ll never stop wanting to see you. You’re so beautiful, (y/n).” He used my name, and my body reacted just as quickly as he realized his mistake. Grabbing my arms before I could close them over me, he brought my wrists against the bed beside my head. “You can leave it on for now.”

What he said provided me all the context I needed to know what he was planning, and I locked my legs around him, hoping that I could stall him for a few moments.

“Please, Spencer. Please fuck me.” I begged, arching my back and baring my neck to him, knowing that he could see my erratic pulse in my neck.

“I can’t. Not yet.” His voice was strained, one hand raised so that his fingers could brush over my neck. “It won’t be much longer.”

Frustrated by his undying desire to take care of me, I used my hand that he’d released to grab a handful of his hair. “I want to feel you inside of me again.” I moaned through the words, my heels digging into his back and bringing his hips down to meet mine. I watched as his eyelids fluttered shut, his breath hitching in his throat.

“I want to see the look on your face when you fill me up.” I continued, bucking up in search of the delicious friction I’d been deprived of for months now. “I know what you’re thinking when you do it.”

“F-fuck.” He struggled to lower his hand to hold my hips down, but I could tell he was scared he would hurt me in the process. It was a dangerous game, to ever put me in this position when neither of us had pants on. Spencer’s confidence wavered as he choked on his words, “This isn’t going to work.”

“You can’t think about that if I’m not touching you.”

“Yes, I can.” He responded with no hesitation, his eyebrows raising in a challenge.

“But isn’t it so much more fun when it’s actually possible?” I cooed.

“It’s always possible, it’s just so unlikel— Fuck!” Spencer cut off by his own gasp when I finally succeeded in pulling him against my heat.

The noise that I gave was something between a sigh and a moan, and I swore I saw Spencer’s pupils dilate in response. There were just some things he couldn’t hide, no matter how hard he tried. But my satisfaction was short lived, and Spencer sat up on his knees to place a manageable distance between us.

“We’re not doing this.” He growled through clenched teeth, his nails raking over my thighs before he removed them entirely. “Stop being a greedy fucking brat and spread your legs.”

I waited a second, hoping that Spencer would get impatient and force my legs open himself. But he flashed me a look, warning me that if I didn’t behave, he could very easily just send me to bed without any satisfaction. And as much as I wanted to call his bluff, the idea of going to bed without getting to touch him was so upsetting.

So, I slowly dropped my legs open, running my hands over the skin still burning from where his hands had touched me. And even slower, Spencer lowered himself until his face rested against my thigh, the scruff of his cheek causing a shiver to run up my body.

“Don’t tell me that a few months of me pampering you has undone all of my hard work.” He murmured so softly I almost didn’t hear it.

But the fact that I did was evidenced by my laugh. “That would imply you’ve actually accomplished something to undo, but I’m just as bratty as the day you met me, Dr. Reid.”

He smiled, his eyes focusing on my face as I continued to giggle, now urged on by the way his breath tickled my inner thigh. “Is that right?” He said in that familiar cocky voice. “Because I happen to recall that the first time that I did this, you tried to stop me.”

The blood rushed to my cheeks as my mind replayed the memory of his smirk from when he had held my legs open for him.

‘You’re not broken, little girl. Promise.’ Just the thought of the words was enough to cloud my mind, but I was dedicated to besting him in this exchange. If he was going to be arrogant, then I would give him the best challenge I could.

“Would you rather I fought you?” I asked, beginning to pull my legs shut before he grabbed them and pulled them over his shoulders.

“No. The instructions for tonight should be very easy to follow; even for you.”

I was trying to pay attention, but it was getting harder the closer he came to actually fucking doing something. It was so obvious that he was getting off on the way my eyes were barely able to stay open, my chest moving with each half-sob that came when he would lay a kiss against my hips.

“What are they?” I slurred, grabbing handfuls of the sheets to prevent myself from forcing him against me.

It was clearly the exact question he was waiting for, a devilish smirk stretching over his cheeks as he dragged his lips down to where I wanted them, moving them against my skin to say, “Stay still, and don’t be quiet.”

While I appreciated the instruction, I feared that it was in vain. Because when Spencer finally flattened his tongue against me, I couldn’t have stopped myself from immediately crying out if I tried.

My hands retained their death grip on the sheets, partially making up for the fact that my body immediately disobeyed his command to stay still. But I couldn’t help it; the long strokes of his tongue up and down my sex felt like pure bliss. And honestly, it wasn’t even just the physical sensations. It was just the knowledge that we were back where we should be; shamelessly indulging in our need for each other without inhibitions. Spencer was clearly enjoying himself, his hands struggling to gently hold me down while he devoured me like a man starved.

I couldn’t look at him, my head bent so far back I could see the headboard. His name fell from my mouth like a mantra, my hips rolling against each motion of his tongue.

“I missed you.” I cried, my legs once again locking around him, my heels on his back as I wished I could pull him closer. “I missed this so badly, Spencer.”

He couldn’t really answer, although I think the moan that he gave was meant to be a response. The vibrations almost sent me over the edge, but right before they could, he pulled back ever so slightly.

I glanced down to figure out why, and was met with his eyes watching me intently, analyzing every response I was giving him; memorizing the way my body shook with need after just a few weeks in his absence.

“Please, don’t stop.” I begged, not caring how pathetic the words sounded when they broke in my throat.

“Oh, I’m not.” He mumbled against me, raising his lips to close around the bundle of nerves at my crest.

At first, I just sighed, appreciating the soft flicks and swirls of his tongue that would eventually build up another release. But it was when I closed my eyes that he revealed his plan.

Without any warning, I felt his finger slip between my folds, thrusting into me with one fluid motion as my wanton moans filled the room. He didn’t let them distract him, his mouth intent on the rhythm it had set, and his hand insistently working to match it.

There was nothing comprehensible in the noises I made, and neither of us seemed to mind. Spencer was only urged on, quickly adding a second finger in his ruthless pace that finally forced me to release the wrinkled sheets in my hands. Instead, they wound through his hair, pulling me against him as I chased my release.

“Please.” I whined, hoping that he would know what I was asking for. Because I didn’t even know what I was asking for— just that he could give it to me.

And sure enough, he did, his fingers beginning to curl inside of me with each motion. I used all of the energy I could muster had to keep my hips relatively still, although they were still trembling with the tension spreading through my muscles that tightened around him.

I wanted to call out his name, to give him the praise and recognition he deserved, but my tongue was tied in the haze of pleasure that overtook me. I could barely breathe, my mind transported to some alternate universe where there was only Spencer and myself. There was no point in identifying where we diverged, because he felt so much like a part of me in that moment, I could never separate from him again.

My walls fluttered around his fingers that still pumped into me with the same vigor. His tongue continued to circle my clit while he gently sucked, clearly lost in his own form of pleasure from the activity.

I wished I could touch him more. I wanted to drag him up to my lips, turn him onto his back and ride him until my legs gave out. But I couldn’t; my body tired and no longer used to the energy we once made a habit of spending on each other on any given day. It had used that energy to dull the pain so I could enjoy the relatively tame experience we had just shared.

As I came down from my orgasm, I was filled with guilt over the fact that I hadn’t so much as touched him once in this entire encounter, and now my hands weren’t even able to keep my grip on his hair as he lifted his head.

Spencer seemed none the wiser about the shame brewing in my head, and he wiped his mouth to reveal a lovesick smile beneath his hand.

“Good girl.” He rasped, crawling up to my side rather than on top of me. With a tender hand, he brushed aside the strands of my hair that stuck to the sweat on my face. “I knew you could behave.”

He sounded so proud of me, which only served to intensify the guilt now pouring from my heart and tainting the rest of what should have been a beautiful memory. I clung to the little bit of light I saw in those toffee eyes.

“How dare you imply I’m ever capable of such a thing.” I chuckled, reaching out to hold him somehow.

He took my hand in his, raising it to his lips for a brief kiss before resting them both against his heart.

“Can I help you?” I sounded drunk from my exhaustion, but hopefully determined enough to convince him I was willing. He didn’t buy it.

“No, go to sleep.”

He leaned forward like he was going to kiss me, but then brought his fingers down over my eyes, brushing over my lids in an attempt to get me to close them. To his credit, it worked, but only for a second before they snapped back open.

“That’s not fair!” I murmured, pulling the sheet over me while I tried to sneak closer to him. I noticed the way he scrutinized my free hand’s movements, ready to stop it from doing too much.

‘It’s gonna be like that, huh?’ I didn’t let it stop me from trying. I didn’t even get to his bellybutton before he snatched my wrist.

“I said no.”

“You know... I could help you without touching you.” I offered instead, pressing my hand against his chest since he wouldn’t let it move any lower. “It’s not the first time we’ve touched ourselves for each other.”

Spencer snorted at the reference, bringing my hands up to his neck, where they happily ran through his now tangled hair.

“That didn’t end well for me last time.”

“I bet you still finished without me.” I teased, my tongue slipping out from my mouth.  “Did my pictures come in handy?”

“Like you said— I have an eidetic memory. I don’t need pictures.”

The most noticeable part of his response wasn’t the way his cheeks turned pink, but rather that he didn’t deny that he’d used the pictures. Knowing they were long gone now, considering Penelope’s tendency to snoop too much for her own good, I wondered if that memory was filed away somewhere special in his mind.

“You especially don’t need them when I’m right here.” I purred, tugging him closer by his hair until the gap between us was gone, our lips pressed feverishly against the other.

It was always like that. Like the second we touched, the proverbial dam between us turned to dust. Within a matter of seconds, we’d be so wrapped up in each other that we didn’t care about the wreckage left in our wake.

Spencer didn’t let it get that far, though. He hadn’t in some time.

“You have had enough excitement for one day. I don’t need anything.” He clarified, clearing his throat and acting like I couldn’t feel his erection pressed against my thigh. Still, his next statement was so genuine I couldn’t have argued with it if I tried. “I just wanted to take care of you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

But on the topic of wanting, I knew I felt it more. “I want things to be normal again.” I answered quickly, an urgency blooming in my throat that died when I tried to finish the thought. “I feel so... useless.”

His hand has grabbed my chin before I even noticed its absence on my hip. He held my face towards him, a dark and pained timbre in his voice.

“Don’t ever think that.”

It was a plea. I wanted to give him the relief and assurance he sought, but my gut told me to be honest with him, even if it hurt us.

“It’s just that before, we... did so much more and I’m scared that I won’t...”

Why was it so hard? He was looking at me like he would do anything to stop me from feeling even the slightest discomfort, but I felt like I was suffocating. I didn’t want to disappoint him. I didn’t want him to worry. I wanted to make him as happy as he made me, but...

“I’m scared that I won’t ever be able to do it again.”

He couldn’t tell me that I was wrong. If he tried to make it only about my physical condition, he risked the chance of me telling him I don’t want to do it ever again. Did I feel that way? It was hard to tell; it was too early to tell. But the crushing despair that I felt at the thought of losing that part of our relationship suggested I did not feel that way.

“Hey. Look at me.” Spencer’s voice tore me away from the intrusive thoughts about our inevitable fallout, his hand still holding me in place in front of him, and his eyes still promising me the world.

“Just because we’ve done something before doesn’t mean we ever have to do it again.”

The words felt like the first breath after struggling for air underwater and finally breaking the surface just in the nick of time. Why were they such a relief? I couldn’t figure it out, but was too afraid to ask, fearing how Spencer might take it. Although, the tears pooling at my lashes gave him more than enough to read.

“Tell me you understand.” His request was as gentle as always. After a moment of trying, and failing, to collect myself, I nodded.

He sighed, cautiously moving his palm to cup my cheek. It was his voice that broke then. “I know this is hard, but I need you to use your big girl words for this. I need to make sure you hear me.”

“I understand.” My throat ached as I forced the words out. I could tell he wasn’t convinced but knew any argument would be meaningless while we were both so tired.

“Thank you.” He said, anyway. And like the prettiest sounding broken record, he let his fingertips trail over any exposed area he could find as he spoke the same words I’d heard before, even more insistent. “Even if you never touched me again, just knowing that you’re alive and happy... That alone makes the happiest man in the world.”

Spencer’s lips pressed against my forehead, resting there for a little too long. From the uneven shake of his breath, I knew he was hiding something, but didn’t want to ask what. I suspected they were tears.

I had disappointed him again. I had hurt him, yet again. I hadn’t meant to.

“It’s all that I need. To know that you’re happy.” There was an implicit message hiding in those words.

He was saying he wanted me to be happy, consciously neglecting to voice the resigned addition, ‘even if it’s not with me.’

“I know.” I whispered, half asleep as he continued drawing patterns on my skin. I meant to tell him that he was the only man who’d ever made me feel truly happy, safe, and loved— the only one I trusted with my heart. But all that came out was a simple, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He said back, leaving me to wonder if he’d heard what I meant.

—————————————————

After everything I’d been through, I’d sworn that I would never want to be in a hospital ever again. But, unfortunately for me, it seemed my stubbornness extended even to my own limits, which explained why I was currently walking through the doors of the residential inpatient ward. It was a good idea in theory, to volunteer in the last place I wanted to be so that I could grow used to being there again.

It didn’t have to be a scary place.

Especially since the people around me weren’t the typical hospital patients. In fact, the people there weren’t even the usual patients of the hospital. Apparently, the ward was hosting a group of traveling patients that had been deemed fit for a vacation to the nation’s capital.

My assignment was simple enough - simply meet with a person and discuss the book they were currently reading. There was no requirement that we had to have read the book before, considering that would leave most people without a partner at all.

I was expecting to meet someone to discuss some niche romance novel or whatever had recently come out in theaters, but as I scanned the list of books, one stuck out to me more than the others.

The Book of Margery Kempe (1501).

It wasn’t the book itself that piqued my interest— I’d never read it. I had, however, listened to Spencer explain the entire premise to me on several occasions. Unsurprisingly, no one else volunteered for the book from the fifteenth century that referred to the main character as “this creature.” No one until me, that is.

There was no questioning who my partner was when I entered the room, spotting her quickly on the outskirts of the room with the book in her hand, but her eyes fixed on the raindrops slowly dripping down the window.

“Hi, are you Diana?”

She jumped a little at the sound of my voice, and I tried not to be consumed by guilt for surprising her despite my best efforts not to.

“Who are you?”

“I’m (y/n). I’m sorry if I scared you. I was assigned to be your book buddy today.” I explained, gesturing to the book on her lap with a smile that wasn’t big enough to be fake. From what the nurses had told me about her, I figured it was best to just be as genuine as possible… which made my answer to her next question a little more difficult.

“You’ve read this book?”

“Actually, I haven’t. No one had.” I laughed, pulling another chair over to her before taking a seat. “But I have heard someone go through basically the entire story in their own words, so...” I never finished the thought, cut off by a slight scoff from the woman.

“I figured. You’re very young.”

“Hey! Young people can read the classics.” I defended, crossing the lower half of my legs and tucking my hands between my knees. It probably gave away some of my nerves, but I figured it was alright considering she wasn’t a profiler and Spencer wasn’t here.

“But you don’t.” She wryly noted.

“Guilty. My boyfriend does, though.” I acquiesced, albeit a bit distracted as my mind decided to focus on those memories rather than the current reality.

“At least you’ve got that exposure. It’s important to learn these things.”

For a second, it felt like I was being lectured by my boyfriend, making it hard not to laugh, which I was pretty sure she didn’t appreciate.

“Can you tell me about it? I want to know if my boyfriend was just making stuff up.” I shrugged, laughing while I found myself avoiding her eyes. She noticed that behavior; most people would.

But to my surprise, she started to explain the book, anyway. Less surprising was the realization that Spencer hadn’t made up any of it. It was clear as day from their similar words that they had definitely read the same book. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought they’d discussed it together, too.

She was more talented than he was at explaining, though. Maybe it was a little bit my fault, considering I always got distracted by his voice. But with her, it really did feel like someone sharing a part of themselves. I could tell how deeply she cared for literature, and it made me more excited to hear about the chaste holy woman that found herself tempted by jealousy and sex.

When her story was winding to an end, I was almost sad that it was over. “You must have been a professor.” I mumbled, having already forgotten the information I was given by the nurses.

She was quick to correct me, her mouth curling into a frown as she said, “I still am. I’m just not on the campus anymore.”

“Of course. Gotta stay sharp, right?” I half-heartedly joked, sitting up from my slouched position. A brief stint of silence stretched between us and glancing at the clock I realized that it would still be a little while until Spencer could come get me. So, I turned back to the woman in front of me, noticing the way she stared out the window as she chewed on her nails.

“Is that why you wanted to visit D.C.?” I wondered aloud, and her response didn’t help assuage that curiosity at all.

“I... have another reason.”

“That sounds very mysterious, Diana.” I giggled, leaning forward and whispering, “Are you secretly a rebel?”

She scoffed, but I detected amusement behind the apparent derision. “Nothing like that.”

As sneaky and vague as she was being, and the fact that I had been warned of her paranoia, I still found myself wanting to ask her what could possibly make her as happy as her current thought.

“So what is it?” I said, leaning back in an effort to seem less insistent, explaining my intentions in a rant reminiscent of my boyfriend. “I don’t mean to pry, I just... you got really happy and I’d love to share in that excitement.”

“That’s just selfish.”

She really was so much like him.

“That’s how you know I won’t judge you.” I pointed out, raising one hand in the air and placing the other on my heart.

“I’m not worried about that.” She just waved her hand at me, ignoring my dramatic gesticulations and sighing as she glanced down at the book once more. After another moment of contemplation, her eyes flicked up to me so quickly I almost missed them, analyzing my features one more time before she carefully said, “I’m here to visit my son.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Although her expression was anxious, she still seemed at least a little relieved to have shared her plans with someone.

“He is.” She returned, lightly brushing the back of the book, almost like she was trying to remember something etched on the beveled hardcover. “He’s a good boy. Very bright. He has wonderful adventures. He goes all over the country. He used to tell me everything but... he’s gotten too busy for his mother these past few years.”

As I took in the words, I felt the pain in her voice. My heart wrenched in my chest, imagining how awful it must be to not have a chance to talk to your family. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean to ignore you.” At least, I hoped not. She had so many stories to tell, even in just this short window, I couldn’t imagine anyone would want to avoid her. Then again… I knew it could be hard.

“I know he’s busy. That’s why I wanted to come here. It makes it easier for him.” She was confident in her explanation, and I nodded back with similar gusto.

“Have you talked to him yet?”

“No. I’m going to have them call him today.”

We were both happy then, and I clapped my hands together in front of me to suppress the urge to touch her as I excitedly replied, “I hope you get to see him.”

“Me too,” she agreed, simultaneously hopeful and defeated, before turning back to the window with the same wistfulness as before. “If not, the museums will be nice, too.”

“Hey, if you need a docent, I could always call my boyfriend. He would be so excited to talk to a fellow scholar who could actually follow along.” I excitedly replied, rocking forward in my chair with a goofy grin at the thought. She reminded me enough of him that I figured the two would get along. He’d at least understand what she talked about, unlike me.

“There’s no one that can compare to my son.” She warned, narrowing her eyes and pouting in a way I swore I’d seen before on another face.

“I bet. He does sound a lot like him, though. I bet they’d be friends.” The gears in my brain, rusted and slightly worn, started to turn. “They actually might be... my boyfriend lives near here.”

And that was when it hit me, the obvious conclusion I’d been avoiding for some reason. That creeping, unsettling familiarity wasn’t from coincidence; it was my brain recognizing her as an extension of the man I loved.

“...What’s your son’s name?”

She never got to answer, because no sooner had I finished saying the words thanwe both heard Spencer’s voice from the door behind us.

“Mom?”

The realization crashed into all three of us like a goddamn freight train. And even with my flair for the dramatic, I found my head spinning as I tried to will time to rewind itself.

“Spencer? How did you know I was here?” Diana said through a confused gasp, turning to me to see the equally stunned look on my face.

“I didn’t… I—“

They both turned to me, but I was too busy staring halfway between them, my jaw dropped open and my brain suddenly devoid of any helpful thought.

When it decided to finally be helpful, it was only marginally better. “Well… that makes a lot of sense.” I said with a cringeworthy laugh. When neither of them laughed, and continued to stare at me, I quickly shot up from my chair and waved a shaking hand. “You should talk to your mom. I’ll give you guys a minute.”

I didn’t get very far before Spencer’s hand caught my wrist, his wild eyes wide and insistent as he crackled, “Actually, I need a minute alone with you. If that’s okay.”

I turned to Diana for her permission but found nothing useful. She was also still caught up in the disaster that had just occurred, and turned back to her son who seemed genuinely apologetic.

“Sorry mom, I’ll… I’ll be right back.”

Spencer nearly dragged me out of the room, shutting the door and hiding out of sight of any windows. If he was ready to unleash his pent up anxiety, though, he wasn’t quick enough.

“Spencer, what the shit?!” I whisper-yelled, the sound echoing through the sterile hallway.

My boyfriend didn’t have any answers, his hands raking through his hair as he clearly tried to calm his heart and rapid breath. “I’m sorry I— I didn’t know that she was here! What is she doing here?!”

“Oh my god. Shut up. I’m freaking out. What if she thinks I’m weird?” I rambled back, grabbing my chest once I realized that I was freaking out just was badly as the idiot in front of me. Because seriously, he couldn’t tell me his mom’s name so I wouldn’t be blindsided like this?

Then again, I guess I couldn’t talk.

“What did you say to her?” He whispered back, dragging his hands over his face. He seemed eerily calm while asking, considering just how much we could have gotten into during our conversation. Although, I guess it would have been weird to share the more intimate, embarrassing details with a stranger at a hospital.

“I don’t know! We just talked about you!”

“You talked about me?!”

“Well we didn’t know we were both talking about you!” I said was quietly as possible, which was not quiet at all. Waving my arms between us, I tried to explain the jumbled mess in my head. “She was talking about her son and I was talking about my boyfriend and— Actually, that reminds me.”

“What?”

His answer came in the form of a soft thwack on the back of his head. He jumped, raising his hands to his head in both shock and embarrassment at the public chastisement, despite there being no one around to witness it.

“Call your mother, asshole!”

“Ow?! Don’t hit me!” He whined, and I could tell from the tone that the only damage done was to his ego.

“Stop ignoring your mother! You shouldn’t even be out here!” I reminded him, laying my hands against his chest and beginning to push him back towards the door. “Get back in there!”

Spencer’s hands held onto mine, and for the first time in a while I noticed that they were shaking. The lighthearted panic I’d felt seconds before vanished, replaced with a painful sadness that seemed to bleed from him into my hands.

“I’m not trying to ignore her, I just…” His eyes were struggling to focus, and the crackle in his voice warned me that there was something he was trying to avoid saying. “I can explain… This.”

I didn’t need to hear it.

“Explain what?” I meant the question to be an expression of my feelings, but it seemed to freak him out more. Like I actually expected an answer for why his mother was in a program like this. Like the reason he had kept that from me mattered. I already knew the reason he didn’t tell me— It was pretty obvious.

“Spencer, I don’t care that she’s here. That doesn’t bother me.”

From the faraway look in his eyes, I knew he didn’t really believe me. I couldn’t blame him entirely. The shame was clear on his features. But I also knew that nothing I could say in that moment would make him believe me; it would probably take a long time. That was okay. We had time.

“I’m serious. She’s your mother and you love her, so of course I’m going to like her.” I tried to reassure him anyway, and I noticed the small twitch of his pout that slowly turned into a pitiful smile.

Trying to keep that upward trend, I motioned to my absolutely ridiculous outfit and bedhead before I laughed, “I’m mostly just mortified about the fact that I just met your mother looking like this and acting like a fucking moron.”

Thankfully, Spencer laughed back. His hands gripped mine tighter, and through the tears that stayed perched on his eyes without falling, he croaked, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just… go see your mom. I’ll go hang out in the cafeteria for a minute.” I jumped up on my toes, yanking my hands back only to them around his neck.

His arms caught me like they always did, holding me so tightly against him that I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. I kissed him just as hard, trying to remind him that there was nothing in the world that could ruin the happiness I felt when he held me.

I held his face as the kiss ended, squishing his cheeks together and warping his smile in the process. I was just grateful that it was still there.

“And take your time talking to her, because I am fucking starving.” I instructed. The crisp hospital air on my skin was cold as he left, but inside my chest, butterflies erupted that kept me warm. He gave me one final goofy wave before we went our separate ways again.

As I wandered through the hospital halls, I wondered if he knew how nervous I actually was. I couldn’t tell him yet; he would misinterpret it, regardless of his profiling skills. He would see the anxiety in my interactions with her as my fear over his future mental state instead of what it really was— fear that the other woman he loved wouldn’t approve of me.

There was no sense in worrying about it yet. Diana and I had shared a great time together as far as I could tell, and I would definitely make sure that Spencer spent more time talking to her in the future. So as depressing as the hospital cafeteria could be, it wasn’t so bad that day.

—————————————————

Being alone with Diana was so much different after I’d learned that she was Spencer’s mother. Then again, we weren’t really alone - Spencer was there, he’d just passed out and somehow ended up with his head against the pillow on my lap. I was a little surprised by how comfortable he was being so touchy feely in front of his mother, but I’d also recognized the exhaustion the second he walked into the hospital. He’d been out cold for at least 10 minutes, and I was barely able to stay awake, myself.

Diana seemed wide awake, though, watching the minute rise and fall of Spencer’s shoulder as he slept. At least, I thought that was what she was watching, but it could have also been my hand stroking his arm.

“My son seems very happy.”

I looked up, shaken by the sudden sound after nearly falling asleep to the rhythm of Spencer’s breath against my knee. “I think that has more to do with you being here.” I said through a yawn.

“I’m not so sure.” That was all she said, quiet and skeptical. Her eyes were scrutinizing everything she could see, and I thanked the stars that I didn’t have to go through this without him here, at least. At least we’d had one nice memory together first.

“Are you the reason he’s been so busy?”

I was dreading the question but had already planned my response. “I hope not. His job is so stressful, and he spends so much of his free time taking care of me.” I looked down at the mop of brown hair that hadn’t been brushed.

When I ran my hand through the ends of his curls, he shifted on my lap, his hand coming up to grab my thigh as he buried his face into the pillow. I chuckled at the clingy movements, which poorly contrasted my words.

“It makes me feel awful.”

I expected her to look disappointed or disturbed by the action, but she mostly just looked… sad.

“He’s good at taking care of people.” She explained, her head jerking away to stare at the lamp beside her. “I made him do it too often.”

Her answer hurt me in more ways than one. It hurt me because I felt the guilt and shame in her voice over something that she had no control over, which was obviously something that should never happen. But it also hurt because I heard myself in it, and I had to ask myself if, just like I had found traits of my father in Spencer, he’d found his mother in me.

Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t be ashamed of being like her - she was brilliant and obviously cared for him deeply. It was the source of the shame that frightened me.

Was he just with me to take care of me? How soon would he grow tired of that? What would happen when I got better? Would I ever? Did I even want to, if that meant he would leave?

They were terrible, awful thoughts to have. So, I did what I was best at, and shoved them back into the corner of my mind to revisit when I was desperate and alone.

“I think he would disagree. He obviously loves you very much.” Was what I said, instead.

“I could say the same for you.” There was a slight bitterness in her words that forced a frown out of me. The words were forceful, almost like a compulsion that she wanted to fight but was too tired to win. She seemed to regret that, too.

“I know my son... and I’ve never seen him like this before.” She pointed to him on my lap, still sound asleep despite the conversation happening above him. “I don’t think he’s ever slept that well with me. And…”

Part of me wanted to tell her that it wasn’t always like this. I wanted her to know that it had nothing to do with any failing of her own, but a failing on the part of the rest of the world for hurting him when neither of us had been there. But she probably felt the same guilt I did that we couldn’t fix those broken parts. Her eyes met mine, and in the reflection, I saw both of our apprehension.

“I’ve never felt like a girl was taking my son away from me before.”

The breath wasn’t knocked from me, but it did fall out of me in a slow, shaky exhale. I didn’t know what to say back, terrified by the implication behind the words just as much as the fact she felt them.

“He’ll always be yours first.” I promised her, refusing to look away from her eyes even as she refused to meet them. I needed her to know that I would never be a threat to them. That all I wanted or cared about was that he was happy and safe, and that I knew she felt the same.

“Then he should call me more.” Diana said, wry humor bleeding back into the conversation despite how heavy it had become.

“I’ll make sure he does.” I answered, my hands resuming their gentle soothing motions. I saw her hand mimicking the actions against her blanket and found myself wondering about things I’d never ask her. I knew virtually nothing about his childhood aside from the prodigy thing, but it was clear that his father was not in the picture, and that he was very close with his mother.

I couldn’t blame her for wanting to protect him. Just as I had thought it, she’d said it herself.

“When you’re kind like my son, the world will eat you alive if no one is protecting you.”

Maybe Spencer had gotten that mind reading trait from his mother, rather than his profiler training, I thought.

“Are you going to protect him?”

I wasn’t ready for that question. Honestly, I hadn’t even considered it. In all the time we’d been together, I’d selfishly worried about how any harm to him would affect me. In my defense, it had always seemed the more likely scenario.

I was so worried about being the source of his hurt or not being able to fix it that I never thought about how I could prevent it. It almost felt… inevitable. Everyone who loved me got hurt, and he’d already made up his mind on that topic.

“I’m going to try.” The hesitance in my voice gave away my anxieties, and Diana spoke quicker and bolder. 


“You said he takes care of you, but what do you do for him?”

The walls were closing in on me, and I couldn’t fucking breathe. My hand on Spencer’s arm grabbed his shirt before I noticed. I wanted him to be awake, to hold me and tell me that it would be okay. I wanted to be far away from that conversation— that question.

“I-I…” I mumbled, trying to flatten my hand as his mother saw it, trying to act like I wasn’t a fucking child clinging to her boyfriend to save her from a question she didn’t have a satisfying answer to.

It was too late, and Diana covered her mouth as she looked away. “I see.” She said before we both went silent.

The silence didn’t help either, though. If anything, it felt worse. Like my chest had been torn open and she could see all the contents, and the longer I gave her to draw her own conclusions about what she saw, the worst they would become.

That was stupid, right? I couldn’t tell. She liked me, right? Did it matter?

“He told me he wants to get married and have kids and I’m just...” I started to ramble, my hands now hovering above Spencer as I stared down at him, still sleeping soundly like the world wasn’t crushing me above him. In a panic, I looked up to Diana with what I can only assume was a terrified, frantic look. “I’m worried. I’m scared that he won’t be as happy as he could be if he stays with me instead of... someone else. And that question scares me because I still don’t know why he cares about me so much when I can’t give him half of what he gives me.”

My chest heaved from a combination of the lack of breath and skyrocketing pulse. Diana peered at me through her peripherals, a battle visible behind her gaze.

“Most people would be scared to admit that. Especially to his mother.” She thought out loud, and I knew she was weighing my open admission to determine how likely it was that I was lying.

“I figured lying would be worse. I know honesty is important to your family.” I confessed, hoping that my openness wouldn’t come back to bite me in the ass. “I don’t ever want to lie to either of you.”

I left off the ‘again.’

“You know what I think?” Diana said, tapping her chin and readjusting the blanket over her legs as she found a way to be more comfortable with the tension floating in the air.

I took it as a good sign. I hoped it was a good sign. I looked at her in anticipation.

“I think... you two will be happier than you think.” Diana’s lips curled ever so slightly as she held her own hand, rubbing the back of her hand the same way Spencer often rubbed mine. “Love is more than similar beliefs. It’s wanting to share your life with someone. Wanting to see them happy.”

Despite the content of her words, it didn’t feel like a lecture. It was… warm, and comforting. Her voice sounded familiar and loving and safe. She was the one who had taught Spencer to talk.

“I love my son more than anything else in the world. I won’t let anyone take him away unless I’m positive that he will be happy.” Diana finished; the warning grave but her voice quiet.

“I understand.” I replied just as softly, finally looking back down to Spencer. My heart felt like it would burst from the image. As much as I wanted him to see me and his mother having a heart to heart, it was best not to worry him with our battling affections, no matter how minimal the risk.

“Do you love him?”

The question hung in the air because I was still so caught up in his face that I almost forgot she couldn’t read my mind.

“Yes.” I felt the tears forming in my eyes as I breathlessly repeated, “Yes, I do. I love him.”

Diana must have heard the strain in my voice and seen the tiredness in my eyes, because the threatening tone faded. “Then take care of him.” She said, more like a plea than a demand. “Take care of him like I never could, because you know how much he deserves it.”

I nodded, excitedly and happily, my voice breaking and interrupted by a hard swallow to rid myself of the lump in my throat when I said, “I will.”

With perfect timing, Spencer’s body jerked under my hand as it found its way back to his shoulder. “What are you guys talking about?” He slurred before even opening his eyes, clearly bothered by the lost time wherein his mother and I could have spoken about any number of horrifying things.

“We were just saying it’s time for me to head out.” I lied, and Diana’s sly smirk was enough of an indication for me to feel alright about it. It was funny—I’d just told her I never wanted to lie to him, but this one seemed pretty harmless. She deserved alone time with her son, after all.

“Do you want me to drive you?” He finally sat up, rubbing his face to try and get rid of the creases that had formed from the pillow’s texture.

I laughed at the question because he was so obviously not in a position to drive. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d gotten an Uber after leaving his place, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last. At least this time wasn’t a walk of shame.

“No, I’m fine. You stay here and spend time with your mom. Awake, this time.” I warned, poking him on the nose and earning a playful giggle from the grown man at my side. “She came a long way. She deserves it.”

He quickly got me back, grabbing my face and pulling me forward to plant a kiss on my forehead. And as much as I would have preferred one on the lips, I was grateful for his sudden modesty in front of his mother. It still felt strange.

“Okay. I love you. Drive safe please. And tell me when you get home.” He instructed as I nodded along, already having memorized the speech from every time I’d ever left him.

“Of course.” I murmured through a somewhat embarrassed pout before I got up and grabbed my things.

Before I made my way to the door, I stopped, turning to see Spencer take the seat beside his mother. She took his hand, but she looked at me. I thought about hugging her but knew that Spencer’s company was far superior to mine, and that every second I distracted her was one less she got with him. So, I settled for a wave and a smile.

“Goodnight Diana. Thanks for the talk.”

“Goodnight.” She returned, with a contented smile washing over her as her son rested his head on her shoulder. The final image of the two of them happy in each other’s company was enough to satisfy me until the next time I saw him. Because, like we’d just discussed, he was happy, and that was all that mattered.

As I opened the door to leave, she spoke again. “Thank you.” She said, and I knew she was talking about more than the conversation.

“Anytime.”

—————————————————

| Part 19 |

[figonas]

As Warm As The Sun-Part 2

The Light of the Moon

The scent of his skin beneath the aroma of sweet wine blurs Jude’s thoughts. She’s tempted to reach for him again, to trace her fingers along his sharp cheekbones; pale as the light from a full moon, dusted softly with incandescent, shimmering gold. 

Summary: Part 2 is Jude’s POV of the scene from Part 1. Takes place during The Wicked King pretty much right before the Queen of Mirth scene and Chapter 15. Just a soft, fluffy response to the prompt; “hug me, I command it”.

Words: 2267

Rating: GA

Links: Part 1-Cardan POV | AO3

A/N: I struggled with Jude’s POV far more than I did with Cardan’s. I think because this is a really vulnerable moment and at this point in her story like Jude isn’t prepared to be vulnerable with Cardan. Idk, this takes place a little early in twk for Jude to be admitting she has feelings for Cardan, but this is fanfic and I do what I want. @jurdanhell this one’s for you my dude.

********

Jude Duarte, former spy for Prince Dain, seneschal to the High King of Elfhame, is exhausted. If she is honest with herself, which she often isn’t, she couldn’t remember a time since Cardan was crowned where she hadn’t been tired. Nearly every day of the last five months there was always something too important going on for Jude to waste time sleeping. There was always a problem to solve, a threat against the kingdom to thwart, an attempt on her life, or Oak’s life, or Cardan’s life. What Jude really needed was a shorter list of lives she was responsible for, but for now, a good night's sleep would have to do. She was almost too tired to be angry at Cardan for having her attend this stupid revel, almost...but not quite.

Early in the night Jude was doing her best to slip away after a meeting with the Living Council, yet another one Cardan had failed to attend and Jude had fought for every word she had to say. As she rushed out of the room she nearly collided with Locke, followed closely by Cardan, Taryn, and a group of court members she didn’t recognize. Cardan’s eyes met hers and Jude knew she was in trouble the moment he got that infuriating gleam in his eye, the look that said; Oh Jude, you will absolutely hate the next words I speak. And hated them she had, Cardan launched into details about that evening’s revel which ended in him asking Jude if she would attend the revel in full that evening, his voice practically dripping with mock innocence. Before Jude could answer with a curt and resounding no, Locke chimed in and did what he was best at; started trouble. By the time he was done with his mocking explanation of why Jude’s many duties robbed all her mortal energy and didn’t allow her to attend revels like the rest of the folk, the Living Council had moved from their meeting place to gather in the hall. Jude briefly entertained a fantasy of running Locke through with Nightfell just to be done with this whole encounter, but she realized Locke’s attempt to devalue her position had garnered a substantial audience so Jude was left with no choice but to clench her jaw and bite out an acceptance of Cardan’s offer.

Now, an eternity later, Jude stands to the side of Cardan’s throne scowling at the side of his horribly beautiful face as he downed the dregs of yet another gobet. She had given up trying to count his cups hours ago but the glazed look in his eyes told Jude it is likely someone would be carrying Cardan back to his chambers this evening. She took a cursory glance around the room eyeing the dwindling guests and the King’s Guard who all made a point to look anywhere but toward the dais, and realized that someone is most likely to be her.

As if on cue, Cardan stands swaying as he attempts to step forward and nearly pitches head first off the dais.

All of Jude’s training, both in Madoc’s house and as a spy for Prince Dain, have honed her reflexes and without a second thought her hand flies out fisting in the back of Cardan’s gaudy cloak of embroidered black velvet. With all the gentleness of someone who has spent the last four hours contemplating murder Jude yanks Cardan back against her and wraps her arm around his waist to steady him.

“As much as it would amuse me to watch you fall after you made me stand here all night for no reason, I’m too tired to pick you up off the floor,” Jude hisses in his ear, she throws his other arm about her shoulders and sets off down the handful of steps leading away from the throne. Cardan leans into her, his breath ghosting across her temple; warm and sweetened by wine, Jude can’t stop the longing that shoots through her like the peeling of a bell.

“Dearest Jude, are you trying to take me to bed?” Cardan’s mouth stumbles through the words, just as his feet stumble down the steps nearly dragging them both to the floor. Jude tries to tap into her anger that seemed so palpable only moments before but she can’t think past his hip pressed against hers, his arm warm and heavy across her neck and shoulders.

“Don’t push your luck or I’ll leave you to sleep on the floor in the middle of the burgh”. He laughs, truly laughs in a way that’s free of anger or malice. Jude tries and fails to suppress the small smile that touches her lips at the happy sound she so rarely hears from him.

The walk to Cardan’s rooms takes a lifetime. They don’t speak again, but Jude can feel Cardan’s eyes on her every few moments. His proximity makes the sensation hard to ignore causing a flush to darken her cheeks. Jude tries to focus on the path ahead and clamp down her desire to return his gaze.

Once in his chambers Jude abruptly releases him and takes a half step away putting much needed distance between them, but even then he’s still too close. The scent of his skin beneath the aroma of sweet wine blurs Jude’s thoughts. She’s tempted to reach for him again, to trace her fingers along his sharp cheekbones; pale as the light from a full moon, dusted softly with incandescent, shimmering gold.

Jude, no the rational voice inside her mind nearly screams. She clenches her hands into fists, a half second from running out the massive wooden door when Cardan’s voice startles her from her thoughts.

“Embrace me again,” he says in a voice that reminds her of another drunken request he made not too long ago; kiss me again, kiss me until I am sick of it.

Jude is weary, worn down, exhausted, the kind of tired that makes limbs sore and heavy as if she’d spent the whole day throwing rocks. In that exhaustion the Cardan-shaped wall built around her heart is lowered more than Jude would ever admit; she had refused him then, she doesn’t know if she can refuse him now.

“Go to bed Cardan” it’s as much of a refusal as she can muster with his eyes boring into hers, black and wanting. Her hand flicks out to point across the suite to Cardan’s ridiculously large bed.

“But I am your king, Jude I command it,” he grins like he’s gone mad but Cardan, who is less a living being than a fae revel given flesh and bone, looks horribly and unmistakably sad. It’s gone in a moment, replaced by feigned indifference so sharp it almost burns in his coal black eyes. But she had seen it there; a glimpse of the depth of his loneliness and misery.

“So I say again, embrace me and then I will concede and go to bed,” his tone is teasing, it does nothing to fool Jude.

She opens her mouth to speak but quickly shuts it. The feeling of slick, slimy guilt roils in her belly, guilt she often pushed aside in favor of anger and self-preservation. Cardan’s pain was not all her doing, she knew of his scars, on his skin and his soul, wrought from Baelkin’s hateful hands and the cruel indifference of Eldred.

But his position as High King, his empty life beneath a hollow crown was one she had thrust upon him through lies and deceit. Facing the truth of that in his eyes made bile crawl it’s way up her throat, and if Jude was honest with herself it shattered her heart into shards of broken glass threatening to shred her apart from the inside.

Guilt was not easy to feel, it was the feeling of admitting you had done wrong paired with the admission that you haven’t yet made it right. Jude had choked on guilt before but usually pushed it away, citing the safety of Oak and the stability of Elfhame; but those excuses fall apart like strips of wet paper when pit against the emptiness in Cardan’s gaze.

Jude curses herself, wishing for the days when she felt nothing but hatred for the High King, instead of the complicated mix of regret, shame, and desire she feels now. Swallowing thickly against her guilt, and before she can examine her own want too closely, Jude steps forward and wraps her arms around him, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

Cardan hesitates for a brief moment, before returning her embrace. Jude resists the urge to sink into his warmth, stops herself from tightening her arms and nuzzling her face into his neck; it’s power over her she won’t relinquish to him and an admission to herself she isn’t ready to face.

More than anything this moment feels fragile, as if Jude, mortal among fairies, human of the earth could break it with the snap of her fingers.

“I’m only doing this because I’m too tired to fight with you about going to bed,” she lies, to herself and to him.

Cardan doesn’t reply, simply holding her in a strong, steady embrace, his cheek resting light as a feather on her forehead. The unsteady balance brought on by Cardan’s overindulgence seems to evaporate as if, he too realizes how delicate this moment is. How easily it could shatter like a stone through glass.

She isn’t sure how much time passes as they stand there tangled up in each other, but her eyelids begin to droop as Cardan strokes lazy circles on her back with his thumbs.

In serious danger of dozing off Jude yawns deeply and steps back. Cardan’s hands bracket her waist as she pulls back and he makes no effort to remove them. The warmth of his palms seeping through her jacket keeps her heart pounding out a steady rhythm. She doesn’t know how to read into this small gesture of intimacy, if it means anything at all, so she simply ignores it.

“Alright, Your Majesty I indulged your wishes,” she stops another, smaller yawn with the back of her hand.

“Now to bed with you so I can go get in my own,” Jude points again in the direction of the vast expanse of pillows and spider silk sheets.

Cardan’s hands drop to his sides, he sways unsteadily as he turns, his drunken clumsiness returning now that the distance between them has broken whatever spell was cast over their embrace. She places a gentle hand on his lower back, when he leans into her touch Jude feels a rush of warmth as she walks him through his empty rooms.

“Careful with your orders Jude or I will tell everyone that you were kind to me,” he laughs though she can’t imagine why.

“Though I don’t think anyone would believe me,” he continues softly almost as if speaking to himself. She shakes her head though Cardan is too focused on his feet to notice. He doesn’t say the words with malice or venom but something twists in Jude’s chest all the same.

“You won’t remember this tomorrow anyway”.

She gives a gentle push as they reach his bed and Cardan flops down on the coverlet, gazing up at Jude in with something soft and yearning in his eyes. She leans over him, breath catching in her throat. The intensity of his gaze pins her to the spot.

“Oh Jude, loveliest of afflictions, I will remember this night for years to come.” He makes a move as if to reach for her, but Cardan’s hand falls back to his side as his eyes flutter closed.

“We’ll see about that tomorrow,” She makes a disbelieving noise and crosses her arms. Laughing softly as she takes in her disheveled High King.

Though Cardan’s eyes remain closed, his head turns in her direction as she laughs, as if he craves her laugh as she craves his; a moth to flame.

Jude backs away from the bed, retreating to the suites main door, but something stops her as she places a hand on the knob. Turning to peer over her shoulder she calls out softly through the dark chamber.

“Goodnight Cardan,” without waiting for his response she slips into the hall and flees toward her room.

By the time she reaches her chambers Jude is dead on her feet and desperate for the feel of her pillow against her cheek.

She strips off her weapons and clothes, tucking herself into bed instead of curling up in front of the fire as she most often does. It’s cold but the sheets and pillows are soft, as she relaxes into them. Sleep hovers nearby waiting to take her the moment she closes her eyes, but Jude stares up toward the ceiling keeping herself awake for a few more blissful moments.

Jude Duarte has made herself into a fearsome creature, one of the folk in spirit if nothing else. Tomorrow she will go back to her role as the High King’s seneschal, back to her knives, and seething looks, and harsh clothes. But tonight she will allow herself one small, indulgent moment of weakness and be simply; Jude Duarte, mortal girl.

Tonight she lies in bed and thinks of Cardan’s soft breath on her cheek, the stroke of this thumb on her back, the moonlight glow of his skin in the dimness of his chambers.

Jude isn’t sure exactly when she drifted off but her dreams are filled with yearning black eyes and strong steady arms. When she wakes she smiles to herself, wide and foolish, before donning the mask of seneschal once again.

[cunningambitousdetermined]

Broken Pieces (young!James Potter x Reader)

hi! so this is for @pad-foots 500k celebration writing challenge, congratulations @pad-foots! *cheering noises* the reader being slytherin is important to the storyline otherwise it would have been non house specific. and um yeah it’s james potter x reader and hella angsty. with the prompt 10/12 “who the hell hurt you?” ahh i barely got this out on time! omg that was so terrifying to write! i hope everyone likes it!

warning: abusive family, bullying, self dislike?, swearing, SADNESS, 

The Noble House of Monroe will not be shamed. The Noble House of Monroe will not be shamed. 

Y/N traced the scars on the back of her palm methodically in a soothing motion before sighing and getting up from her spot at the base of the wall in the courtyard. It was almost dark and she would for being out late if she didn’t get back soon. She hurried down the stair toward the dungeons, glancing back and forth as she went. If she was caught and points were deducted it would only give her cousins another reason to torment her. A while back, maybe about a year or so before, her mother had convinced her cousins to get me in trouble in Ancient Runes, the professor was a friend of mother’s, so that I could write lines for a week. The Noble House of Monroe will not be shamed. It had taken weeks for the cuts of the words in her hands to heal and months to scar.  She hated that she wasn’t good enough. It was long known within her family that her father was a ‘blood traitor’. They said it made her just as worthless. They said she was weak for loving her father, though he didn’t want her. They said she was dirty for helping muggleborn and half-blood's alike. She had sullied her place in the family. She was no better then her father, a worthless blood traitor. When she first came to Hogwarts, she felt free. Free of the ideas and rules that had bound her for so long. She had spent her first months at Hogwarts helping up the boys and girls who were being picked on, hoping to gain some friends. She soon found that the world was just a cruel as her family. They hated her because of her last name, and her house, and her family. It was 3rd year and she still hadn't made any friends. She stuck to her ideal saying it was the right thing to do, but she wondered every so often if it was worth the world of pain it brought with it. She kept a void mask on, no reaction, no emotions. No emotion when her cousins shoved her in the corridors, no emotion when her mothers hand would come down, leaving more then just physical wounds. No emotion when people would jeer at her and tug at her tie. But underneath she was crying, sobbing, breaking. Her being was just composed of cracked glass that she was so desperately trying to hold together. But at some point, she was bound to shatter. 

The door to Y/N’s dorm slammed behind her and she collapsed on to her bed. Immediately she felt something burn her face and arms. She leapt up and found her arms and cheek red with burns and the bed smoking. She just sighed and picked up the sheets and gave them a sniff. The draught of the living dead. But just enough to burn. She didn’t even get mad, she knew who did this. She was too tired, to drained to be mad. She was only a shell of the happy, kind, girl she had once been. The water washed over her burns, soothing the angry red that just couldn’t seem to faze her. Throwing on an old pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt she headed out of the dorm, eyes shining and threatening to break. It was only the sanctuary of the 2nd floor girls bathroom that she broke. Crumbling, shattering, a million pieces scattered. Sobs racked through her whole body, shaking and trembling. She caught her face in the mirror and she didn’t recognize the girl that stared back. She unleashed a scream so raw that even the sun seemed to cry. Worthless. Failure. Better off dead. Disgrace.  All she could do was cry as she shattered. And she wondered if she would ever be put back together. 

James Potter should not have been out this late. Sirius and him barely fit under the cloak together anymore. But this was essential if the prank was to go smoothly. “Pads, I swear if you don’t shut up I’ll tell Remus you’re in love with him!” He whispered. He had to repress a laugh as Sirius choked on his breath.

“You would not. And I don’t. Love him. Nope.” Sirius said, defensively. James just rolled his eyes and continued walking. Sirius opened his mouth to say more when something flew past them. 

“Pads...?” 

“Yeah?”

“Should we...?” James didn’t have to finish his sentence before Sirius started guiding them down the hall where the figure had gone. They walked in silence until they approached a girls bathroom with light streaming out from under the door. Sirius nodded at James and James reached out a hand to push the door open. James peered through the slightly open door to find, a girl? A girl was sitting on the floor, head in her hands. He could practically feel her sobs as she rocked on the floor. Her hands were red, like they’d been burned, and her hair tumbled down from its bun to frame her face. She shook and trembled until her head snapped up and James jumped. She looked in the mirror and James didn’t think he’d ever seen that much pain in a person before. Her eyes were swollen and tears ran down her face. She looked so sad and small. Her hands shook as she ran them down her face. Before he could react, she let out a scream. James’s eyes filled with tears and he felt his heart drop right through his feet. The scream was so full of pain and hatred, anger and sadness that he nearly fell over. She had collapsed again and just cried. Each cry was a knife to the chest as the sobs tore threw her. He went to walk in, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Sirius was motioning him out and he widened his eyes trying to tell him that he had to go in. He had to help!  But Sirius was firm and dragged him away, prank long forgotten. When the reached the common room, Sirius sat down in an armchair across from James as he wore a hole in the carpet by pacing. 

“James,” Sirius said quietly, “sit down for a second.”

“Sit down! SIT DOWN!” James roared and then remembering that it was late, he lowered his voice, “Did you see her?! We should’ve helped her! I could’ve helped her!” James’s voice broke at the end and he looked away. 

“James, if you went barging in, do you think she would've appreciated that?” James sighed but Sirius kept going, “She needed a moment, and besides, I know her. I know her.” He trailed off at the end, his face contorted with guilt. 

“You know her?” James’s voice was soft, “Who?” He felt himself stumble back into the couch. 

“Y/N Monroe,” Sirius closed his eyes, memories washing over him, “I grew up with her. Our families were close. Her dad didn’t believe in any of the pureblood supremacy bullshit and left as soon as he found out that that’s what the family believed. She was like him. She always had a good moral compass.” A smile passed over his face fondly, “She liked to play quidditch with me...”

“Pads?” Sirius had never heard this tone in James’s voice before. Not when speaking about Evans, not when talking Rem down after a full moon, never. “What happened? Why don’t you talk anymore?”

“She was sorted into Slytherin” was the only response Sirius could provide. Silence overtook the pair, guilt hitting Sirius in waves. He had abandoned her and look what that had done. 

James was the one who broke the silence, “I’m going to be her friend.”

James was true to his word. The very next day he sat next to her and just talked. Surprisingly, she was really funny and easy to talk to. They would talk about quidditch, he would tell her about all his pranks, she would tell him about the books she read. When he invited her to sit with the marauders at the Gryffindor table, she was scared. She knew James and Sirius were friends but she was terrified about seeing him again. James assured her that he wanted to make it up to her. After a few days of begging on James’s part, she agreed. That day, Sirius had apologized and they rekindled the ashes of their old friendship. She had officially made friends in the most unexpected of people. Since becoming friends with James this fall, the year had gone from worst to best in a matter of weeks. She started spending most of her day with the Marauders and often found herself in their dorm more then her own. Her heart was suddenly light all the time and she never was without a smile. It was like a dream, she had friends she had James, and she was happy.

James was happy too. Y/N was like nothing he had ever expected. She could simply just listen to him and understand. She was funny and just so good. It was inexplicable. She was like a gentle breeze on a hot summer day. When she smiled at him, his heart grew about a million sizes bigger. When he first made her laugh, he almost passed out. It was so precious, that laugh, and he made it a goal to hear it everyday. It was like she was feeding life into him with each smile, each soft tease, each laugh. His mind would often wander back to the time in the bathroom, her tears running down her face, her body shaking with sobs. But he had to remind himself that those tears had become smiles and that her body shook with laughter rather than sobs. Everything felt better with her around. The sun, a little brighter. His flying, a little faster.  It was like she was feeding life into him with each smile, each soft tease, each laugh.  He was hopelessly in love with her. 

“You’re just jealous that Slytherin has a better keeper then Gryffindor!” Y/N laughed. The marauders sat in their dorm, Y/N tucked between James’s lanky legs. 

“Am not! He’s a horrible keeper! And ugly!” James retorted, shoving her back off his chest so she could look at him. 

“Didn’t Sirius say he was cute the other day?” 

Remus and Sirius both answered at the same time

“Sirius-”

“I DID NOT!”

“You did, but you also mentioned how he looked like a certain someone...” Y/N trailed off, smirk growing. She never missed an opportunity to make fun of Sirius and Remus after she caught them snogging last month. The two blushed and suddenly the board game was very interesting. James looked around in confusion before stretching back and lying down. Y/N glanced down and went to get up, wanted to leave James in piece for a nap. As her knees left the bedframe, a hand wrapped around her wrist and she flinched but managed to bite back her scream. James cocked an eyebrow at her, questioning. 

“You ok, love?” he asked quietly enough that she knew it was just for her.

“Yeah, just startled me is all” She managed as she struggled to calm her racing heart. Y/N cursed herself internally, usually she was fine with physical contact. In fact, she found it quite comforting. But when she wasn’t ready, all she could see was her mother’s hands and her father’s fists. 

“M’ tired love, wanna nap?” James yawned and Y/N realized with a start that he meant with him. She felt heat race to her cheeks and she gave a small nod. He opened his arms and Y/N climbed in and tucked her head into his neck. He gave a soft exhale and tightened his arms around her. His breath ruffled her hair and tickled her neck. His calming presence washed over her in waves with each inhale and exhale. She let her eyes close and for once she wasn’t scared of the things that haunted her dreams. Here, she felt safe. Safe. She hadn’t felt that way in a long time. 

Y/N should’ve known that a feeling a safety would only last so long. As she walked out of James’s dorm that night, she could feel a pair of eyes watching her. Their presence tingled on her back and her head. She slowly slipped her hand inside her robe and tightened her grip on her wand. She was nearly to the dungeons when she heard it. “Y/N/N!” a voice trilled. Y/N’s stomach dropped. She knew that voice.  Her cousins had found out about her recent bond with James and the Gryffindor's. She should’ve known that they would come sooner or later. Just another reason she was a failure. 

Y/N took a deep breath in and called back “Yes, Owen?”

Owen gave a malicious chuckle, “I have a present for you!” and with that he stepped out into the light. But it wasn’t just him. Y/N felt her whole body freeze. Her mother. Tall, commanding, cruel. And standing right in front of her. “She knows her potions, right, Y/N?” It took a moment for the meaning to hit Y/N and when it did she nearly fell over. Her mother had been behind the potion on her mattress. Why had she thought any different? She was taken back to the girl she was all those nights ago, breaking down in the girls bathroom. Broken, hurt and tired. 

“Y-you did that?” Y/N’s voice was barely audible in the large hallway, the space between her and her mother eating away at the sound. 

“Well, darling, I had to show you that we will not be shamed by you, didn’t I?” Her mother’s voice was cold and calculating, the honey she tried to inflict felt more like the lick of a whip, lashing out in every syllable. “Obviously, that didn’t work, as dear Owen says,” She stopped to give her nephew a fond look, “told me that you’d made some friends” Y/N’s mother spat the word with such disgust and her nose wrinkled as if the mere idea was repulsive. “You’ve been associating with blood traitors and mudbloods”

Y/N was cowering, each word her mother said seemed to sink her farther into the floor. 

“Maybe it’s time you really let the lesson... sink in.” Her mother crowed. Her mother advanced until she was looking down at Y/N. Her claw-like hands drew Y/N’s chin up to look at her. A palm struck her cheek.

“Worthless” The next 20 minutes were a blur of flying hands and purple bruises. Each hit broke down the glass she had finally put back together. She shut her eyes against the pain but she could still here. “Stupid”

Disgrace

Not good enough

Loser

Fat

She tried to stay strong, she really did, but tears fell in hot waterfalls down her face. Then it was over. “You are nothing.” was the last thing she heard before they were gone. She was left alone to pick up the broken pieces. Again. She slowly dragged her bruised and battered body up toward the same girls bathroom. The irony did strike her as she pulled herself in front of the mirror. The girl who stared back was purple and blue. Inside and out. The marks her mother and cousin had left would join the scars on her hands from the potion. They would join her memorabilia of pain. Of hatred. She wasn’t good enough. Worthless. Failure. GO DIE. NOTHING. The thoughts just kept getting louder and louder. Her hands were in her hair, tugging at the ends, pulling and pulling and pulling. James. Y/N wasn’t even aware of herself as she walked the halls, bloodied and limping. Her face reflected no pain, only defeat. It was only outside James’s door did she stop. Why would he want you? You, you who is nothing. You who is a broken thing. A basket case. He will never love someone who isn’t even whole anymore. Her glassy eyes pooled with tears which spilled. Her body gave out, collapsed on the floor. Go to sleep. Just die here. Her mind whirled with taunts. She just wished it would go away. She wished she could go away.

“Y/N?” James. His voice sounded so, so broken. Shattered. “Y/N, love, what’s going on?” She just shook her head. James fell to his knees next to her. His breath caught as he saw her face. “Y/N!” Tears burned the backs of his eyes, and then he felt the anger. Who? Who would’ve thought that they could hurt her? “Please-” he shut his eyes as the whisper curled out of his mouth.

“James...” her voice cracked, all happiness vanished, he was left to hear the same raw unadulterated pain from that night in the bathroom. He wrapped her up in his arms and pulled her inside the dorm room, pressing light kisses to her hair. Sirius and Remus jumped up, eyes wide, shocked. James just jerked his head to the door. They exchanged a look. James and her needed this moment. With that, they filed out silently, defeated eyes heavy on Y/N’s figure.

“Y/N, please. What happened to you baby?” It registered in neither of their minds that he had called her baby. The worry in his voice was slowly drowning her. Why did he care so much?

“I- James- I can’t” Fresh tears streamed threw James’s shirt. James pulled away, his large hand coming up to cup Y/N’s delicate cheek. His finger feathered over the bruises lightly. 

“Y/N.” his voice was firm but his hand was still just as gentle, soothing her face with each stroke, “Who the hell hurt you?” His burning eyes spilled over and he turned his head away. 

“No. Stop pretending you care! I’M NOTHING!” Y/N’s sadness had gave way to anger and she was yelling, tears still flowing. She wouldn’t stop. “I’m a basket case! Why would you love someone who doesn’t even love themselves?” James’s eyes widened. She thought he didn’t love her. Instinct took over and he reached his other hand to grasp Y/N’s wrist which was pulling at her hair and kissed her. Y/N stiffened but as James’s lips move against hers she let go. Her arms twined around his neck, digging her fingers into his hair. James was so overwhelmed with love for her that he had to pull away. Y/N was looking at him in shock. Her eyes full blown wide and mouth still open in surprise. 

“I love you. You are something. You mean everything to me. You are my life. My soul and my body. I love you even when you don’t love yourself and I will keep loving you until you do. I love you.” Y/N choked on a sob, “I first wanted to be your friend because I saw you crying, breaking down in a bathroom. I felt so helpless, so lost but when I had you near me, I was complete. You are the other part of my soul. I love you. And I always have.” James cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers again. “Tell me baby, I’m here” She just looked at him and he felt her pain, her happiness, her love. 

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips “I love you. I’ve wanted to say it for so long. I love you.” She pulled away and let a sob run through her, “And you love me.” James nodded, a sad smile gracing his strong features. 

And so she told him, told him everything. From the potion on the bed to the summers before to tonight. He didn’t interrupt, just let her talk. He gasped at parts, cried at parts and when it got hard to tell the story, he would rub this thumb over her hand and let her take a break. Y/N was exhausted by then end but she had never felt lighter. Someone knew. And someone loved her for it. James tucked them into bed, bringing her into his warmth. As the light faded from the lamp and Y/N let sleep take her away, James pressed his face against her neck and whispered his love and his apologies and his hopes. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again, my love. Never.” 

Edit: just gave this a name, i totally forgot the first time :)

[a-dorin]

stranger

pairing: the mandalorian x medic!reader 

word count: 2.69k

warnings: cursing, canon typical violence, blood, wounds, burns, references to killing/violence, the taste of blood, sewing a wound up, yearning, pining, an idiot who wears only a beskar helmet and takes on more than he can handle 99.99% of the time

a/n: hi i wrote this in like no time at all so i hope you guys like it. (also at like 2:05 in the morning) also, this takes place during season one, and diverts a little bit  away from canon because he doesn’t have all of his new beskar armor yet (oops) also, sorry if the ending line is shitty i have a hard time with it sometimes 

“i thought this was the last time you were going to pull shit like this on me karga,” you dig your index finger into his chest, your jaw clenched, lips curled in a sneer, “you always say it’s going to be the last time shit like this happens and guess what? it doesn’t ever fucking end does it? i help you one time and--”

the leader hangs his head, raising a hand in defeat, “i am well aware of how you feel about me and the way i do my business. however, this is someone i can’t turn away. and you’re the only person i trust to fix him.”

exhaling, your eyes squeeze shut, “who is it?”

“someone who has been working with me for quite some time,” greef pauses, taking a moment to gauge your reaction, “he’s a skilled bounty hunter, one of the best, actually. typically, he fixes himself right up, but his injuries are far too severe to just ‘sew up’ and go about his business. trust me, i had to do some convincing to even bring him to you.”

through the entryway, a draft rolls in, causing you to shrink into your clothes, “it’s a little too chilly to talk out here. come in, we can discuss my payment, and then i’ll make my decision.”

greef takes a step forward, clearing his throat, “i’ll pay you, and so will he. i am well aware of how you feel about giving my men medical attention. but you do know that i will pay you well for this, right?”

you nod slightly, rubbing your temple with your fingers, “how much are we talking here, karga?” 

“i would like for you to assess his injuries first,” he counters, “then we can talk about payment.”

“fine,” you mutter, crossing over to your table, “please, just bring him in. if he bleeds out on my table, it’s your fault karga!” 

“hopefully there will be none of that,” karga shakes his head, the words so low that you could barely hear him, “i’ll bring him in. let me know when you’re finished.”

swiftly, you gather up your supplies, your hands gathering as much as you could. from the sound of it, things weren’t looking good. reaching out, you pull your cart towards you, practically tossing the supplies on the metallic surface. cursing under your breath, you search for your gloves, eyes frantically searching your surroundings, yet they’re nowhere to be found. 

guess you’d have to get a little messy with this one. 

a long-winded groan startles you from your task at hand, and your heart sinks the moment karga brings him in. he’s donned head to toe in battle armor, the hues of the metal a variety of colors. the only distinguishable piece is a beskar helmet, light reflecting off its surface. 

not once did karga mention that you would be tending to a mandalorian. 

“how bad is it?” you inquire, your voice crisp and cool as you stride over to karga, helping him carry the mandalorian to your table. 

blood seeps through his clothes, soaking the garments with a horrid scarlet. in several spots, there is singed fabric, signifying that he took a few good shots. the mandalorian reeks of burnt flesh and the stench of a battle, your nose wrinkling and bile rising in your throat. 

this was far worse than karga described, and this was no time to start panicking. 

“just a few blaster shots,” the mandalorian cuts in, his voice distorted from a modulator, “nothing that i couldn’t fix myself.”

“ah, ah, ah,” karga interjects, “there’s more to it than that. i believe he has several lacerations, perhaps a few burns from blasters.”

“that beskar couldn’t stop everything huh?” you arch a brow, in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

the mandalorian doesn’t respond, anxiety bubbling up within you, “karga, try and keep him awake as long as you can. i have a few healing stems, along with some bacta shots, but depending on how deep the wounds are, i won’t be able to treat him unless we strip him of the armor.”

“i-i can’t take that off,” the mandalorian gurgles, “i-i, m-my cr-creed.”

“what creed?” you shoot karga a curious glance, guilt plastering his features. 

“he has a creed he follows,” karga inhales sharply, “it’s his way of life.”

your lips part, forming an o. you want to scold karga for not briefing you on all of the minor details, as he normally does with his men. however, there was no time for banter or bickering. 

you had to maintain your composure. 

“how much blood has he lost, you think?” 

“i can’t give you a definite answer on that,” karga takes a step back, allowing you to survey the mandalorian, “i would say a lot, but i’m not too sure. perhaps his garments stopped some of it, or the pressure of his armor.”

“that’s not enough pressure,” you murmur, plucking a pair of shears off your cart, “hey mando, can you hear me? are you still with us?” 

a feeble hand raises from the table, his voice breathy and far away, “i-i’m here. anything but the helmet, please.”

“of course,” your voice is soft and hushed, “the helmet is off limits.”

“now that i’ve got him in here,” karga gestures his head towards the nearly unconscious mandalorian, “he has something back at his ship that i need to tend to. will you need my assistance or can you handle it?” 

“i can handle it,” your voice falters, “go do what you need to do. it may be an hour or two before he’s feeling better.”

“you know how to find me if you need me,” karga’s words trail off as he exits your home, the doors sliding shut behind him. 

“all right mando,” you take his hand, squeezing it, “i’m going to start by removing your armor okay? let me know if you can’t feel anything. that’s when we have a problem.”

“i can feel everything,” he spits out, “fuck. it hurts. it all hurts.”

“you really took a beating huh?” carefully, you start by removing his boots, hastily yet with caution. 

who knew if he took a hit to the spine, paralyzing any point of his body. 

“hey,” you place his boots on the floor, “can you wriggle your toes for me mando?”

immediately, relief ripples through you as you watch his toes move, signaling that there was no nerve damage. next, you remove the plates of armor covering his shins and thighs, placing them directly by his boots. the armor was severely damaged, almost beyond repair, as it was littered with dents and holes. 

how many run-ins did this mandalorian have in his lifetime? how many of his days had he spent fighting? 

“do you have other clothing in your ship?” you press on, slicing the fabric with your shears, “karga mentioned you had a ship.”

“mmmhmmmm,” he hums, “name is the razor crest.”

“ahh,” soaking a rag with bacta spray, you wiped down his exposed legs, assessing his wounds as you did so, “that’s a wonderful name.”

the flesh was only burned, which could be healed almost instantly with the bacta spray. luckily, there wouldn’t be much scar tissue either, only a few minor scars here and there. yet, you wondered if there was an inch of the mandalorian’s body that wasn’t scarred. 

“d-don’t worry so much bout my legs,” he stammers, “it’s my shoulder that i’m worried about. i can feel the blood soaking through.”

“i’ll have to remove the rest of your armor and your tunic,” biting your lip, your hands wrap around his chest plate, desperate to find a way to get it off. 

“hey,” his voice sounds again, this time a lot clearer, “i can get it off. you don’t have to worry about being hasty about this. i’ll make sure you get your sum.”

“i-i just,” you stutter, the taste of blood hitting your tongue as he sits up, “karga sounded so worried and i want to do a good job because the way he talked, you were his best hunter and i just can’t--”

“you won’t fuck anything up,” a hand reaches out, finding yours, “this isn’t anything i haven’t encountered before. the thing is, you’re a trained medic. i’m not. i would probably make a mistake and make my injuries worse somehow. take. your. time.” 

for a moment, your eyes flutter closed, a weary sigh flowing from your lips. you can sense the mandalorian watching you carefully, studying your features through the tinted visor. 

“o-okay,” you whisper. 

the mandalorian sits up, shedding away the remaining pieces of his armor, “would you like for me to roll over?”

you nod, gnawing at your lower lip once more as you realize that this mandalorian, this stranger, was about to be nearly undressed, half-bleeding, half-conscious, on your table. and he was so patient with you. so much kinder than previous patients in the past. 

“wait,” your brow furrows, “your helmet would make it awkward for you to lay on your stomach. how about you move over a little, to the edge of the table?”

“of course.”

he straightens his back, scooting over to give you some space. clambering onto the table, you reach up to adjust your light. taking your rag, you wipe down his back and shoulders, muscles rippling under your touch. every so often, your fingertips graze his heated skin as you lose yourself in your work. 

you catch a quiet groan as you continue to work, your heart fluttering. 

the sound wasn’t drenched with pain, nor anywhere near the noise you first encountered when he was being brought in by karga. 

this was a sound of contentment, a sound of bliss. 

“how long has it been since you’ve felt someone’s touch?”

shame burns through you the moment the question tumbles from your lips, nearly consuming you whole as he tenses. maker, did you feel so guilty. he was a stranger to you. how could you just blatantly ask that? 

the answer arrives, short and sweet. 

“too long.”

leaning over, you press a piece of cloth on his shoulder, a lengthy laceration stretching from his clavicle to his left shoulder blade, “oh, i see.”

“do you usually get this close and personal with your patients?”

“depends,” you shrug, “hey, i’m about to sew you up. it may sting.”

plunging the needle in, you press yourself to his back as you start the suture, your breath fanning against his neck. the mandalorian stiffens as he catches a whiff of your scent, and how it was so heavenly as it wafted into his nostrils. 

his jaw clenches as he chokes back a hiss of pain, remaining as still as possible. 

“you’re being so good for me,” your voice floods his ear, the praise nearly causing him to crumble completely. 

within seconds, you’re all finished, sliding off the table, “i take it that karga is coming back with a change of clothes?”

“i hope so.”

gazing over at your table, you notice the healing stems, “i have some healing stems for your travels. they’ll probably help with that dull pain you’ll have in that area for a while. it won’t be an issue unless you somehow reopen that wound. if it was any closer to any major artery in your neck, you would’ve bled out.”

“i’ll take them.”

“well,” you hand them to him, “take them before you forget them. you seem like the forgetful type.”

a low chuckle erupts from the beskar, “i don’t think i could forget a night like--”

a knock on the doors interrupts the mandalorian’s sentence, cutting it short. as you make your way over, you hear a string of curses flowing from the table. more than likely his native tongue. pressing a button, the doors slide open, revealing greef karga and a strange, little creature, swathed by a bundle of clothing in his arms. 

“you were fast,” karga remarks, cradling the creature, “how is he?”

“he’s fine,” your focus is directed away from karga, honing in on the creature, “who is this?”

“this is what i had to retrieve from his ship. he’s a very precious child. extremely important to that mandalorian over there.”

the child coos, its eyes two vast pools of obsidian. he blinks, a tiny hand flailing out. you melt, lips curling into a broad smile, “hello, little one. are you looking for your father?”

“he is,” the mandalorian echoes from across the space. 

karga enters, keeping the child against his chest as he strides over, placing the bundle next to the mandalorian. from a distance, you watch fondly as the child teeters towards the bounty hunter, an incoherent blubber sounding as his guardian pats his head, reassuring him that they would no longer be separated. 

within minutes, the mandalorian was springing to his feet, with a fresh set of a clothes, the same armor strapped to his frame. the child is in his embrace now, clinging onto his thumb. karga hovers by his side, more than likely filling him in on the next mission. the next victim to hunt. 

“how should i pay you?” his voice, one you had grown familiar over the course of the hour, fills your ears. 

“oh,” you blink, “um, don’t worry about it. you have far more important things to--”

“no,” his tone is firm, “you deserve some sort of payment.”

“she lives here after all,” karga remarks, folding his arms across his chest, “i could pay her any time.”

“how about you head out so that we can discuss this a little more privately?” he turns to karga, the query almost more of a command than a question. 

“of course,” karga dips his head, shifting towards you, “i’ll see you around. hopefully this is the last time i spring a patient on you.”

“i’m sure it won’t be the last,” you roll your eyes playfully, “see you around, karga.”

“tell me, how much do i owe you? name anything in the galaxy and it’s yours.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you snort, “you don’t owe me anything. you could’ve died and you’re worried about paying me.”

“because you deserve it,” he takes a step forward, the space between the two of you dissipating, “from the sound of it, you let this happen quite frequently. you don’t get paid enough for it either.”

“how about you pay me a visit the next time you make a pitstop in nevarro,” your eyes fall to the floor, careful to not meet his gaze, “would that be enough?”

a gloved hand grasps your chin, tilting your head up. 

“oh cyar’ika, that would be more than enough.”

the child giggles, bouncing, “maybe you should get a move on. he seems hungry. there’s a cantina not too far away from here. they serve good food, even if the locals get a bit rowdy. i bet it’s nothing you run into, though.”

“it’s probably best if i leave nevarro.”

“be safe out there mando,” you whisper.

“i will.”

just like that, he’s out the door, leaving your knees weak, heart all aflutter. 

as the mandalorian made his way to the razor crest, child in tow, his mind was reeling, all of his thoughts honing in one particular thing. 

a medic on nevarro, who mentioned briefly that he seemed to the forgetful type. yeah, he traveled near and far, to all rims and edges of the galaxy, but he was one to forget people, nor faces. he encountered so many species: human, twi’leks, wookiees, chiss, you name it.

the moment he stepped foot on the razor crest, he yearned. the desire burning through him, aching and desperate. 

stars, how he longed to go back. just for one more glimpse. one more glimpse of that stranger’s face, that beautiful face. 

he was determined though, determined to find his way back. perhaps in a few days, even. the mandalorian was relentless, especially when it came to getting what he craved. and oh, how he craved to know the name of the stranger on nevarro. 

someone who would no longer be a stranger to the mandalorian. 

he just knew it.