#received some of the worst news I’ve heard in years today you know what that means

[stalvdritch]

As solo once said, let’s go on a dragon quest™️ IV: chapters of the chosen

[heykoonsy]

Word Count:  2.5k+

Pairing: Husk x Angel Dust (HuskerDust/AngelHusk), slight Angel Dust x OC

Summary: “Give him everything but your ass.” Angel Dust was tasked with one job: convince the investor to subsidize Valentino’s agency. Angel was more of a closer to Valentino, enticing the wealthier of his associates into funding projects for him. However, this latest pitch didn’t go as planned and Angel’s hubris prevented him from seeing the potential drawbacks of a one night stand with someone Valentino marked. In this slow burn love story, Angel must confront the worst parts of himself if he is going to win back his career.

Content Warnings: Rated 18+ for foul language, alcohol, smoking & unprotected sex

Author's Note: A reminder for Minors: please do not interact with this story. It contains graphic content that is not suitable for younger audiences.

“Angel Cakes,” Valentino said, spreading his arms wide in greeting. 

Angel Dust sauntered over and sat on his desk, crossing his legs at the ankle. He put his hands out in front of him, framing the fluff of his chest on either side as he puffed it up. He smiled, a devious look in his eye. 

“I heard ya wanted to see me,” Angel batted his eyelashes. 

Valentino chuckled, “I sure did,” he said with the wicked smile he was known for. 

Angel squealed, “Are there any scripts ya want me to look over? I’ve been so bored now that Vercelli’s picture is done.”

Valentino sat back in his chair, his hands meeting in the middle. He tapped his fingertips together as his smile fell. “Angel Cakes, why would you stress yourself with more work when you can relax?”

Angel Dust leaned back, his surprise registering on his face. “What do you mean?”

“With as much money as you’ve made me these last few months, you deserve a break.”

Angel stood up from his position on Val’s desk, his eyes never faltering. “But I’ve been doin’ amazing work–just look at the nomination I received.” Angel threw his hands up, walking towards the center of Valentino’s office. 

Valentino nodded, “Consider this little break a reward for your nomination, I have to treat my favorite star right.” Valentino lit up a cigarette. 

“This doesn’t seem like the time to be sittin’ on my hands,” Angel said exasperatedly, his arms going to his hips.

Valentino took a deep inhale on his cigarette.

Angel looked back at him, and began walking over. “Val–

He slammed his hand on his desk, crushing his cigarette between his fingers. Angel stopped dead in his tracks, a hand going up to clutch his chest in surprise. Valentino slowly began to clean up his cigarette, shaking off the tobacco on his hand and swiping it into a trashcan. 

“Oh good, you’ve calmed down,” Valentino said in the interim. “You’re very mouthy today.”

Angel Dust grit his teeth silently as he waited for Valentino to light up another cigarette. He took a few drags, exhaling deeply with each new intake. He flicked off the ash with a practiced hand and finally looked towards Angel. 

“Do you know why you got that nomination? I’ll tell you,” Valentino began. “It’s because I’ve been cultivating your image all these years. You think you’re doing well because you’re some great actor?” 

Valentino laughed heartily, his eyes going towards Angel.

“I’ve generated intrigue,” he said, taking another drag. “And saturating the market is how you lose it.”

His venomous words seeped into Angel’s skin. His gaze dropped to the floor, his arms crossing in an attempt to keep himself together–in front of Valentino at least. 

Valentino stood up, making his way over to Angel. “Oh, Angel Cakes,” he said softly, like he was trying to console him. “Look at me baby.”

Angel felt his unoccupied hand touch his chin and lift it up. Their eyes met, and Angel stiffened with his touch despite it being delicate. 

“You want to work, and you will,” he cooed, his eyes boring into Angel as he began stroking his cheek. “We can’t have our Angel Cakes stressed.”

Angel closed his eyes and let his body relax into Val’s.

“You’ll take this little break for me, and then we can talk about another script,” Valentino said, his soothing voice calming Angel’s thoughts. He let his eyes fall closed as he took a deep, calming breath.

“Okay Val,” Angel said quietly. He thought back to all the bullshit he’s had to deal with these last few weeks. Angel opened his eyes. “Maybe I have been stressed.”

Valentino chuckled, taking another drag on his cigarette and stepping away from Angel. “Then it’s settled. You celebrate your nomination, Jax will be in touch when you’re feeling better.”

Angel nodded and started towards the door of Valentino’s office. He looked back just before opening the door. “It will be great to have some time off, maybe I can–

“Anything, Angel baby, as long as it doesn’t taint your image,” Valentino winked. “Without it you’d just be another dime-a-dozen whore.”

Angel forced a smile onto his face. “Okay, Val,” he said sweetly.

Angel looked down at his phone for a moment, his eyes struggling to focus on the small text. He brought it closer to his face, but he laughed when he realized that the words on the screen were still swimming. With some difficulty, he was able to make out what Cherri was texting him.

Where are u

Instead of responding, Angel put his phone on the bar and waved over the bartender. 

“Hey,” Angel cooed, giving the bartender a wink. “How about another round?” 

The bartender took his empty shot glass and replaced it just as quickly with another buttery nipple. Angel blew him a kiss and then returned to his shot. He slammed it quickly, eager to get back onto the dance floor. Then, he heard his phone chime again with another text.

Angel seriously, where did you go

He left Cherri on read, turning his phone over so the screen was facing the bar instead of him. He watched as the bartender quickly got swamped with other drink requests. Angel rolled his eyes, he wasn’t going to get another drink anytime soon. He grabbed his phone and tucked it into his wristlet, rising from the stool. 

He wobbled his way towards the center of the club–where a bunch of other sinners were dancing. He locked eyes with one of them–a demon with tiger stripes that was giving him one dangerous look. Angel smirked and made his way over. Tiger met him in the middle and the two of them began dancing, the beat of the music doing most of the heavy-lifting in moving him. 

As they danced, Angel kept his hands on Tiger, worried that he’d float away if he didn’t ground himself. And it seemed that Tiger was doing the same, because Angel felt his hands in all sorts of places. Tiger then placed his knee between Angel’s legs as they were grinding up against one another and that seemed to get Angel’s attention. 

“Angel, right?” Tiger asked, his voice right in Angel’s ear. 

Angel laughed, “That’s me, and you are?”

“Rush,” he said, and Angel was a little disappointed.

“It’s great to meet you,” Angel said loudly enough for him to hear over the music.

Rush nodded in agreement and they began dancing again. He pulled Angel close, and for a moment, the two of them disappeared in their movements. That was until Rush began pulling Angel from the mass of bodies gyrating to the music. Once they were far enough away, Angel steadied himself along a nearby wall. 

Rush grabbed onto him, righting Angel so he could stand up straight.

“It’s the heels,” Angel giggled.

“Well they look damn fine,” Rush said, giving his bottom lip a small bite. 

Angel looked up at him and then let his back fall against the wall. He dropped his arms at his sides, giving Rush’s eyes a proper inspection…then his mouth. When Angel’s eyes met Rush’s again, he nodded towards the exit to their left. 

“After you,” Rush said, letting Angel lead the way outside the club. 

Once Angel felt the air hit his face, he breathed in deeply. He looked back at Rush, who was pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one quickly, a puff of smoke emanating from his lips. 

“Did you drive here?” Angel asked as he stepped closer.

Rush nodded, leaving the cigarette in his mouth as he spoke. “The red one over there,” he pointed. 

Angel stepped closer still, looking at Rush through his eyelashes. Then, ever so slowly, he pulled the cigarette from Rush’s mouth and placed it in his own. He took a slow drag on it and put it back where he’d found it. Rush was studying him close, hanging onto every slight change in expression. 

“Wanna show me the inside?” Angel asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Rush grabbed Angel Dust’s hand and the two of them made their way towards the red car parked at the end of the lot. Once they were there, Rush flicked his cigarette onto the ground. As soon as he unlocked the door to the backseat, Angel pounced on him. They hit the side of the car, and Rush’s hands were all over Angel again as they kissed. 

Angel took greedy fistfuls of Rush’s fur, forcing their kiss deeper. He slipped his tongue in, letting it dance with Rush’s for a moment before pulling away. Rush opened the door to the back seat and Angel went in first, doing his best to scoot without sitting on his wristlet, Rush followed, his body resting between Angel’s legs as they continued their feverish kiss from before. 

Rush removed his lips from Angel’s and began kissing a trail down to his neck. Once his face was buried in Angel’s low cut sweetheart neckline, Angel felt Rush’s hand grab his outer thigh. Angel struggled to reach Rush’s belt before he realized that his wristlet was in the way. He quickly discarded it and went back to what he was doing. 

Once Angel had freed Rush from his denim prison, he lifted his right leg and placed it on the other side of Rush. Then, he twisted his upper body slowly allowing Rush time to adjust to their new position as well. Angel felt Rush pull up on his dress, exposing the fur of his ass. Rush gave it a hearty slap and Angel reveled in the sound it made throughout the car. 

Then, Rush pressed himself up against Angel’s ass, making Angel bite his lip. Angel then felt Rush lower his upper body on his back–his breath on his neck. Then, Rush began kissing a trail along Angel’s spine all the way down to his lower back. Angel felt his lips travel lower and soon Rush was pulling the string of his thong out of the way. Then, there was the unmistakable pressure of a hot tongue against–

“Are you gonna get that?”

Angel picked his head up from the seat, eyes finding his wristlet on the floor of the backseat. He grabbed it quickly and palmed his phone. 

Cherri was calling. 

He answered it without a second thought.

“Yeah?”

“Angel, where the fuck are you? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Oh yeah, I left,” Angel said nonchalantly. 

“You’re not even at Leroux’s anymore?”

“Honey, I left that place an hour ago, keep up,” Angel cooed into the phone.

“You ditched me?” Cherri said, her voice shrill with anger. 

“The bartender was being a dick,” Angel said without much thought. 

“Not cool Angel, seriously. Where are you?”

“Some guys backseat,” Angel said.

“Well, I’m coming to get you, which bar are you at?”

“Armando’s,” Angel said.

“I’m on my way,” Cherri said, and it sounded like she was walking fast because her breath was heavy on the other end. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Okay,” Angel cooed into the phone before ending their call. 

He put his phone back into his wristlet and looked back at Rush. He put his head back down. What a fucking buzz kill.

“Well, that was the fun police,” Angel said. “Looks like we’ll have to do this another time.”

Rush pulled Angel’s dress back down and moved so he could swing his legs in front of him. He buttoned his pants and redid his belt. Rush opened the door to the backseat and got out, stepping away from the door so Angel could make his escape.

Angel blew Rush a kiss as he stepped past him. He wobbled slightly on his way to the front of the building. He’d wait for Cherri there.

Angel stumbled into the hotel, his feet as heavy as bricks. It seemed that the car ride here sobered him up just enough so he could come to terms with what a royal asshole he’d been tonight. But, he couldn’t have that so–

“Husky,” Angel cooed, waving to Husk from the door. “Why don’t you pour me a little somethin’?”

Husk didn’t move from where he was standing. “If you can make it over here, sure.”

Angel scoffed. “How many times do I hafta tell ya, I ain’t a lightweight.” Angel took a few steps towards the bar–but then stopped midway. His hand found the arm of the couch to steady himself. “Okay, I might have had too much tonight.”

“I’ll say,” Husk said as he made his way over. When he reached Angel, he put his arm around his waist and helped him walk over to the bar. 

Husk guided Angel over to his stool and then made himself useful. He poured Angel a stiff glass of water and slid it over to him. Angel grabbed it, the ice clinking softly against the sides. He looked into it for a moment before taking a sip. 

The only thing he felt when it hit his tongue was shame. 

Angel Dust put down the glass and it made a soft thud as it hit the bar. He rested his head on his palm, his eyes following the tiny droplets of water collecting on the sides of the glass. 

He shouldn’t have gone out tonight, Angel realized. About six hours too late. That meeting he had with Val only guaranteed his bad mood–but that’s not all that was weighing on his mind. Angel had received word from Spitzers this afternoon, right after his talk with Valentino. He’d gone ahead and told Tezan to fuck off–and Spitzers all but confirmed that Tezan knew exactly what was going on. 

It was only a matter of time before Tezan realized that Angel was involved as well.

Angel took another sip of water, forgetting that it wasn’t a cocktail for a moment. He kept the glass in his hand, nursing it every so often between his thoughts of self-loathing. He needed to apologize to Cherri. He’d asked her to come along with him to celebrate his nomination–but he ended up ditching her while she was chatting up a server.

He wanted to celebrate–he really did. But with every shot he took, he realized he just wanted to be left alone. And then when he was alone…he wanted to surround himself with people. He wanted to feel something other than guilt. Or shame. Or fucking rage. 

Angel Dust was so fucking angry. It was all-consuming–like a fire that burned away at him and left only the need to be fed. Fed by booze or sex or work–anything. In his anger, he could justify so many things. Take another shot, fuck that guy in the bathroom, use Jax and Xy to keep that creep away. And it wasn’t going to stop there–Angel knew that for a fact. 

Once Tezan knew that Angel was involved, he’d have to make that impossible choice, made easier by his ever-growing anger. 

“I’m goin’ to bed,” Angel said, his voice quiet. 

Husk said nothing in reply, he simply watched as Angel stumbled to the stairs.

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[criminalmindzjunkie]

Avoidance

masterlist

part two

Summary: Reader doesn’t know what she did to make Spencer hate her so much.

A/N: This fic is just a reminder that sub!Spencer lives rent free in my head at all times. Also, if anyone would like to be on a taglist for one shots like these, let me know! I’m going to work on getting one started.

Pairing: sub!Spencer/femdom! reader

Content Warnings: honestly way too much swearing, sexual harassment, slapping, hands free orgasm, oral sex (male and female receiving), hand job, orgasm denial, edging, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, degradation, femdom 

Word Count: 8.2k

           I have absolutely no idea what I’ve done to make Spencer Reid hate me.

           Usually, when someone despises a person to the point of complete and total avoidance, there’s a reason. No one just wakes up and decides to resent another person for the hell of it – right? Wrong.

           Because Spencer Reid positively loathes me – and I have no idea why.

           It all started on my first day at the BAU. I had somehow landed the highly coveted job of media liaison after the previous one had decided to complete the training to be a profiler. For reasons unbeknownst to me, they thought a twenty-four-year-old fresh out of college with no prior job experience was the best fit for the position. I didn’t understand it, but I also wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

           To say that I had been terrified the first time I set foot into the bullpen would be the understatement of the century. After a very formal and very intimidating orientation with the unit chief, my predecessor, a beautiful blonde named Jennifer, offered herself up to be my personal tour guide. Jennifer introduced me to the other members of the team, and with every smiling face I came in contact with, my fears of being the odd man out were assuaged. I could tell that Penelope Garcia, tech analyst extraordinaire, would most likely be my biggest ally – and it was abundantly clear that Derek Morgan and I would probably get into a fair amount of mischief together. Elle Greenaway seemed like the obvious choice for a future drinking buddy, and Jason Gideon – well, he merely grunted at me in acknowledgment before retreating back to his office. I figured three out of four wasn’t so bad.

           I didn’t meet Doctor Spencer Reid until after lunch. Jennifer mentioned something about him guest lecturing at a local university, which surprised me considering she mentioned him being a year younger than me. Apparently, the kid was an actual genius, which was more than a little bit intimidating, but Jennifer assured me that Spencer was a sweetheart.

           “He’s a little quirky, but I’m sure you’ll love him. Just don’t be surprised if he tries to talk your ear off,” Jennifer laughs. “Last week I asked him about the weather and he went off on a tangent about climate change that lasted nearly an hour.”

           By the time Spencer strolled into the bullpen at exactly one in the evening, I was sitting perched atop Jennifer’s desk, thoroughly engrossed as she told me about their latest case. When she stops talking midsentence in favor of smiling at someone behind me, I half expect that Morgan is attempting to sneak up on me, when:

           “Hey, look who’s back,” Jennifer greets, prompting me to turn around excitedly. I was eager to put a face to the man I’d heard so much about.

           And when I turn, my eyes land on the prettiest man I’ve ever seen.

           Sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jawline are framed by shaggy brown hair, complete with beautiful brown eyes and soft, pillowy lips. As if his good looks weren’t enough, he’s dressed in the most adorably nerdy sweater vest and a pair of thin framed glasses. He’s absolutely precious – a fact that Jennifer had conveniently left out.

           “How was the lecture?” Jennifer asks him as he places his satchel on the desk adjacent to hers. Spencer perks up at this, smiling excitedly from across the divider.

           “I think it went really good, actually. I incorporated this really cool joke that I heard about quantum physics. Do you want to-”

           He stops abruptly when he realizes Jennifer isn’t his only spectator, and those lovely brown eyes go almost comically wide when they settle on me.

           “Spencer, this is Y/N Y/L/N. She’s the new media liaison. Y/N, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.”

           I give him my best smile, tacking on a small wave for good measure.

           “It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Reid. Jennifer’s told me a lot about you.”

           “Uh, y-yeah. It’s n-nice to meet you, too,” Spencer stutters. He looks positively stricken and I’m fairly sure he hasn’t blinked in over a minute. I cast a glance at Jennifer, who seems just as confused as I am.

           Well, she had mentioned that he was a tad strange.

           “I’d like to hear the joke,” I offer, only to immediately regret it when I see him tense up.

           “N-No, that’s o-okay,” he chokes out as he struggles to gather the files on his desk. “It’s n-not that good, anyways.”

           And just as quickly as he came, Spencer leaves in a flurry of crumpled papers, leaving Jennifer and I wondering what the fuck just happened.

--

           Things didn’t get better with time. In fact, they got much worse.

           In the six months that I had been working for the BAU, I could count my interactions with Spencer Reid on one hand. It wasn’t for lack of trying on my part – in my desperation to figure out what I’d done to make him avoid me, I sought out the young genius every chance I got. But every time I got within ten feet of him, it’s like an alarm would sound in his head and he’d make up some excuse to leave the room.

           The others had noticed his strange behavior, too. It seemed they all had made a sort of game out of it – calling Spencer into rooms that I was in just to see him panic, or asking me to personally deliver files to his desk. At first, I played into it, hoping that their teasing would help to diffuse some of the tension.

           After a month of being on the receiving end of Spencer’s cold shoulder, I started avoiding him, too.

           I tried to act indifferent – like it didn’t hurt me as badly as it did. I no longer sought him out, and by month two, we had a sort of understanding. I didn’t go near him, and he didn’t go near me, and that’s how it went on for four miserable months.

           Until today.

           “Reid, Y/L/N, you’re in 202.”

           I damn near drop my bag on the floor. This was bound to happen at some point or another, but I hadn’t planned on that day being today, and I was not prepared. After nine hours of running around the local police department, my body was weighed down from fatigue and I was downright grumpy. Not to mention I had picked the worst possible day to try and break in a new pair of heels, and my feet were throbbing.

           Needless to say, I was in no mood to deal with Spencer Reid’s bullshit.

           “Uh, Hotch? Could I maybe room with Elle?” I ask, sending a glare in Morgan’s direction when he snorts out a laugh. Hotch raises an eyebrow at me.

           “Why? Is there a problem?”

           Yes, sir, there certainly is. And your guess is as good as mine as to what that problem is.

           “No, but I just think that-”

           “Good. Then you should be fine to share a room with him.”

           Right.

           I spare a brief glance at Spencer, who, in the last thirty seconds, has turned the color of a tomato. I pray that he’ll speak up and voice his discomfort, but just like always, he stays silent.

           Hotch doles out the room keys and I begin the trek down the hallway, my poor aching feet groaning in protest with every step. I’m vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps behind me, and it’s not until I swipe the key into the key card that Spencer speaks.

           But not to me – no, never to me.

           “Derek, please, I’m begging you. Just switch with me this one time, and – and I’ll do your reports for a month!”

           After six months of dealing with Spencer’s aversion to me, his words should come as no surprise. And really, I’d expected as much - but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

           “Not happening, kid. This is the perfect opportunity for you to get over whatever problem you have with Y/N. I bet you’ll even end up liking her. She’s not going to be rude to you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

           “… T-That’s not what I’m worried abo-”

           I don’t wait around to hear the rest of his sentence. I push open the door to the room, not bothering to wait for Spencer before closing it. I kick off my heels as soon as the door clicks shut, letting out a half relieved, half frustrated  groan.

           After claiming the bed nearest the air conditioner as my own, I pluck my pajamas and toiletry bag out from my suitcase and shuffle over to the bathroom. The way I see it, the quicker I get a shower and can go to sleep, the faster the night will pass. Before I know it, this unfortunate situation will be a thing of the past.

           After drawing out the shower for as long as I possibly could, I exit the bathroom clad in a tank top and a pair of shorts, hair dripping wet and skin freshly scrubbed clean. Spencer’s sitting on his bed, book in hand and tie loosened. He doesn’t look up at me when I walk by - not that I’d expected him to. A thick silence hangs in the air as I pull a bottle of lotion out from my suitcase, and I debate turning on the TV just to make things slightly less awkward. In the end I decide against it, because I doubt even that could make this situation better.

           I prop a leg up on the bed and begin to lather my legs in cherry scented lotion, paying special care to my aching feet before moving on. It’s not until both of my legs have been thoroughly massaged and coated in lotion that I look up.

           Spencer’s eyes are locked on me, mouth hanging open and chest heaving up and down. His knuckles are white from how hard they’re clutching the book in his hands, but despite that I can still see the way they’re trembling. When he realizes I've caught him staring, he closes his mouth and gulps hard.

           I straighten up and raise an eyebrow in a silent question, and that’s enough for Spencer to snap his book shut and scramble off of the bed. He’s clumsy as he moves to his suitcase, dropping his bottle of travel shampoo twice before he reaches the bathroom. If I wasn’t so off put by whatever the hell had just happened, I might have thought it cute.

--

           As if the universe thought my current predicament wasn’t enough to deal with, the next morning I was dealt another shitty hand. This time, my distress came in the form of a young cop who couldn’t pick up on social cues to save his life. After an entire morning of dodging sleazy advances, I finally managed to shake him when his superior sent him out to go and actually do his fucking job.

           Or so I thought.

           I’m standing in the breakroom, pouring my fourth (or is it my fifth?) cup of coffee when I hear the sound of footsteps in the hall. I don’t know if I’ve developed a sixth sense about these things, or if I’m just particularly on edge today, but I know it’s the young officer before he can even cross the threshold.

           And when he does, and he sees that he has me cornered, a saccharine smile stretches across his lips.

           “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he drawls in an accent that could probably be attractive if he wasn’t so damn skeevy.

           “Might wanna get your eyes checked,” I mutter, refusing to look in his direction as I stir my coffee.

           “Pretty and feisty. Just how I like my women.”

           “I am not your anything,” I seethe, and instead of backing off like any respectful human being would, he just chuckles and begins to saunter towards me.

           “C’mon baby, you don’t have to be that way. You don’t have to act all professional with me.”

           “Don’t call me that.” I look at him now, and the smug, self-righteous smile on his face makes my blood boil.

           “You don’t like baby? That’s fine – I’m sure I can think of lots of other things to call you,” he murmurs. He’s closer now, so close that I can practically feel his breath against my neck.

           “I’m going to tell you to stop one more time, and it would be in your best interest to listen,” I growl.

           “Or what?” he taunts. “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

           I jolt forward when a hand comes down hard on my ass, squeezing me harshly through the material of my skirt.

           Oh, fuck no.

           I’m whirling around faster than I ever thought possible, and then a harsh crack sounds throughout the room as my hand comes in contact with his face.

           My hand stings from the contact, but the pain is welcome because he flies backwards, stumbling and grasping as his already reddening cheek.

           “What the fuck?” he roars, eyes flashing with unbridled fury. I take several steps towards him, and to my utmost delight he nearly trips over himself in his hurry to put distance between us. I stop when his back hits the wall and I lean in until our faces are only inches apart.

           “Listen here, you limp dick fuck,” I snarl. “I’m getting real sick and fucking tired of pathetic pieces of shit like you thinking they can put their hands on women. What’s your problem? Are you so fucking tactless that you can’t get anyone to fuck you?” I punctuate my question by jabbing my pointer finger into his chest and cocking my head to the side. “Are you so unappealing that the only way you can get your hands on a woman is to wait until she’s alone and try to corner her?

           Or is it a power thing? You’ve got the gun and the badge so you think you’re entitled to just take what you want, don’t you? You think no one can stop you because you’re in a position of power. Well, I have some news for you – I outrank you, and you just assaulted a federal agent. I will not stop until I ruin your fucking career, and if you even think of trying to lie your way out of this, I’ll do a helluva lot fucking worse. After the week I’m having, I am just looking for an excuse to kick your fucking dick into the dirt. Do you understand?”

           By the time I finish speaking, my chest is heaving up and down and my eyes are narrowed into slits. The officer is so angry that he’s shaking, hands balled up to fists at his sides. For a moment, I think he’ll try to hit me, but then his hard-exterior cracks and the anger gives way to fear.

           “You – You can’t tell anyone about this,” he says, trying his best to sound menacing. But his voice wavers, and I can tell he’s losing his grip. “It’ll r-ruin my career.”

           I raise my hand up to his cheek, placing my palm over the red imprint I had left on his skin. And then I flash him the sweetest goddamn smile that ever there was.

           “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

           I give him a pat on the cheek before turning around and heading for the door, only to stop halfway when I see that I have an audience of one.

           Spencer stands in the doorway, a coffee mug gripped tightly in one hand, mouth agape and eyes wide. He’s standing stock still, eyes darting in between the police officer and me. I let out an exasperated sigh because of-fucking-course it would be Spencer that would happen to walk in on whatever that just was.

           “Close your mouth, Reid. That’s how you catch flies,” I deadpan, prompting Spencer to snap his mouth shut.

           Without another word, I brush past him and leave the break room.

--

           I suppose the universe had decided to finally give me a break, because that afternoon we were able to apprehend the unsub. But my good fortune only went so far, because Hotch announced that we would be leaving first thing in the morning – which meant another night alone with Spencer Reid.

           He didn’t mention what he walked in on when the two of us arrived back at our room, and I didn’t expect him to. The two of us went about the motions of unwinding from the day in complete and utter silence, and by the time I emerge from the shower I decide that I’ve had enough.

           “I’m gonna go stay with Elle and Derek,” I murmur as I zip up my suitcase and slip on my shoes.

           “Oh. O-Okay.”

           And that was that.

           It’s about an hour later when my phone is on four percent that I realize I hadn’t remembered to bring my charger with me. I contemplate just letting it die, but the idea of sitting through a seven-hour jet ride tomorrow without it sounds excruciating. Then again, so does the idea of having to suffer through an interaction with Spencer.

           The phone wins out in the end, and with Derek and Elle still snoring softly in their respective beds, I slip out of the room and into the hallway. With any luck, Spencer will be in a similar state and I’ll be able to sneak in and out without him waking up.

           I think thank my lucky stars when I slowly crack open the door to Spencer’s room and see that the lights are off. I take special care to close the door as quietly as possible before tiptoeing across the carpeted floors, feeling my way around in the dark so that I don’t trip over anything.

I make it halfway across the room when I hear it – it’s quiet, and if the air conditioner had been on, I wouldn’t have even heard it at all. It’s faint, so faint that I wonder if I’d imagined it, but then that same sound breaks through the silence and I know it’s not a product of my imagination.

I hear the covers rustle, and then a low moan followed by the distinct sound of skin on skin. My blood runs cold as the moans grow louder and more frequent, rolling off Spencer’s lips in rapid succession. There’s heavy breathing and whimpering and holy fuck I just walked in on Spencer Reid masturbating.

Spencer cries out a particularly load moan, one that sounds so pornographic that it shoots straight to my core. It’s sexy and dirty and he sounds absolutely wrecked, and the part of my brain that is still capable of logical thinking is screaming get out! Get out, now!

I begin to slowly backtrack, moving at one tenth of the speed that I had coming in because the possibility of being caught is absolutely not an option. If Spencer hates me now, he’d really hate me if he found out I snuck into his room at night and heard… that.

I’m about five feet away from the door when:

“O-Oh my God, yes! Y/N, please - fuck!”

I think then that I certainly have to be dreaming, because there’s no way I’d just heard him correctly. There’s no way that Spencer – the same Spencer that scurried out of the room when I walked in – was moaning my name while he touched himself. Absolutely not.

But then it happens again and again and again – my name falling from his lips incessantly like some kind of debauched chant.

It feels like my skin is on fire – my mind a befuddled mess – and before my brain can tell me what a terrible idea it is, my feet are carrying me back into the room and I’m coming to a stop at the foot of Spencer’s bed.

Bathed in the glow of the moonlight shining through the window, Spencer looks ethereal. There’s a thin line of sweat beading on his forehead, and his usually meticulously slicked back hair is fanned out on the pillow like some sort of halo. His teeth are nestled into his bottom lip now, and all that can be heard are tiny whimpers as his hand slides up and down underneath the bed sheets. Spencer’s always beautiful, almost painfully so. But the way he looks now, shadows dancing across his face as he works himself to orgasm, is infinitely more breathtaking than words can express.

It doesn’t take long for Spencer to release his lip from beneath his teeth, and when he does my name is flying out of his mouth once more.

I take that as my invitation to speak.

“I don’t think I’ve heard you say my name before.”

Spencer’s entire body stills and his eyes fly open to reveal two dark pools full of sheer panic.

“I-I can explain,” he stammers, moving to clutch the comforter to his chest in an attempt to cover himself.

I let out a hum and sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Please do. I’m very interested in hearing about just what you were picturing me doing.”

Spencer sucks in a harsh breath. I can practically see the wheels in his brain turning -desperately trying to concoct some kind of reasonable explanation.

“I-I… I don’t… I’m s-sorry,” he stutters, and it’s so adorable how he’s squirming underneath my gaze that I decide to help him out.

“Was I sucking you off? Or were you fucking me?” I wonder aloud. He tries to hide it, thinking the covers will mask the way that his hips buck up, but I definitely see it.

“I-I…”

“Which was it, Spencer? Was I taking you down my throat or were you fucking my pussy? Or maybe I was coming undone on your face – was that it?”

Spencer lets out a low groan, and if my patience hadn’t been running so fucking thin, I probably would’ve left it at that. But after the hell he’d put me through for the last six months, I feel like he deserved to squirm a little.

“Fucking answer me.”

“Y-You were, um… r-riding me. And you s-slapped m-me.”

Oh.

This just got a lot more interesting.

I raise an eyebrow at him and I can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps.

“So, you liked what you saw today, did you?”

Spencer nods so fervently that I have to bite down on my tongue to suppress a laugh.

“Words, baby. Use them.”

“I-I liked it. A lot.”

“Apparently so, seeing as you were moaning for it like a desperate little slut,” I breeze, my tone cool and indifferent. “Have you done this before, Doctor? Touched yourself to the thought of me, that is.”

“… Y-Yes. I’m s-sorry. I didn’t m-mean to. It just kind of happened one night, and once I started, I couldn’t s-stop.”

I reach out a hand and brush away the hair that had fallen into his face, tucking it back behind his ear before continuing.

“Why the cold shoulder, then? And here I thought you hated me,” I muse, before pausing and cocking my head to the side. “Do you hate me, Doctor?” I ask, and just when I thought he couldn’t look more guilty, he proves me wrong.

“No! I just… couldn’t be around you. I felt so b-bad. You were so nice, and I was using you to g-get off,” Spencer explains. “I couldn’t look you in the eye. Not after picturing you… like that.”

I let out a sigh. Knowing that Spencer didn’t actually hate me for the last six months was a relief. Knowing that Spencer was secretly rubbing one out to me was something else entirely. Whatever was I to do with this information?

“So, you want to fuck me, then?” I reiterate. “Why not tell me this sooner?”

“The probability of you responding positively to me telling you that I, uh, m-masturbate to you was very l-low. And after what I saw today, I think I was wise for keeping that from you,” Spencer says, the last part coming out in a rush. I can’t help but let out a low laugh.

“Yes, but the guy that was coming on to me today wasn’t someone I find attractive. He was pompous and crass and pushy - and you, Doctor Reid, are none of those things.”

“R-Really? You think I’m attractive?”

I hum.

“Very much so, Doctor. But I’m afraid you may have waited too long, and now I don’t feel as inclined to be nice,” I murmur, allowing my hand to trail down from his shoulder to his collar bones before lightly grazing his nipple with my thumb.

“O-Oh my… God,” Spencer whimpers, eyes fluttering shut as my fingers continue to dance across his skin.

“But then again, I don’t think you really want me to be nice to you. I think you want me to treat you like my little play thing.” I stop my hand just below his navel and I thumb across the light layer of hair that makes up his happy trail. “You want to be my dirty boy - don’t you, Doctor Reid?”

“P-Please,” Spencer chokes out, hips jerking up when I allow my thumb to graze a little lower.

“Please what?”

Spencer lets out a frustrated groan.

“Please, I-I want you to u-use me. However you want, just as l-long as you just do-don’t stop touching me,” he rambles. He’s shuddering underneath me, his breaths coming out in harsh pants as my hand wanders lower and lower until I abruptly pull away. “W-Why did you stop?”

“Because I don’t think you deserve to be touched just yet. You’ve got six months to make up to me, after all. I think I want you on your knees for me first,” I say, and from the way his eyes seem to dilate even further, I don’t think he has any objections. “Are you familiar with the color system?”

Spencer nods.

“Green for good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop now.”

“Do you have a safe word?”

“I… I’ve never really, uh. Done t-this.”

Oh. Oh.

I withdraw my hand from its place on his leg and Spencer lets out a distressed whine. “No, please! Don’t go. I’m not a complete virgin, I promise. I got a h-hand job once,” he argues. “And I think I’ve done enough, uh, research, and I really want to try to make you cum. I want to be good for you. Please let me try.”

Spencer looks like he’s about two seconds away from crying, and I can feel my argument dying before it even leaves my mouth.

“Oh, baby, I know you’d be so good,” I coo, and just like that Spencer’s leaning towards me, desperate to have the contact. I indulge him, placing my hand on his cheek, and he relaxes into the touch. “Are you sure you want to do this with me? I’m not what anyone would call vanilla, and I don’t think you know what you’re getting into.”

“I trust you. I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else,” Spencer whispers, and he sounds so damn sincere that I feel my resolve crumbling.

“You’ll let me know if at any point you want to stop?”

“Yes. Absolutely!”

Enthusiastic little shit.

“Safe word?”

“Um… Tolstoy?”

I let out a snort.

“Alright, smarty pants. We’re going to start now, okay?”

“Yes, Miss,” Spencer pants out.

Fuck me running. He clearly has been doing his research.

“Get on your knees for me, baby. I wanna see just how eager to please you are,” I instruct as I stand up and shimmy out of my shorts. I discard my shirt, too, absentmindedly throwing it somewhere across the room. Spencer lets out a startled squeak when he sees that I’m now completely naked, aside from my underwear.

“Y-You’re so pretty,” Spencer breathes out. “Even better than I imagined.”

The sentiment tugs at my heart, really, it does, but I specifically requested that he get on his knees and he seems a lot more content to just sit and stare.

“On your knees,” I command, and Spencer jumps up almost comically fast.

“S-Sorry, Miss,” he apologizes as he lowers himself down. I seat myself on the edge of the bed and spread my legs for him.

“Don’t apologize, just do as I ask of you, okay baby?”

Spencer nods.

“C-Can I kiss you? Like on the lips first?” Spencer asks as he looks up at me with big doe eyes. It’s a beautiful thing, the image of Spencer Reid sitting in between my legs, cheeks flushed and chest rapidly rising and falling. I give Spencer a sweet smile and lean forward, and the excitement radiating off of him is practically palpable. He leans forward, too eager to wait for me to close the gap, and the action makes my chest swell in adoration.

Just as our lips are about to meet, I pause, and Spencer barely has the time to look confused before my palm connects with the side of his face. The moan it draws out of him is obscene and his hips jolt forward, desperate for some kind of friction. His dick rests painfully hard between his legs, flushed red with precum beading at the tip.

I waste no time in taking his chin in my hand and tilting his head upwards.

“Did I say you could kiss me?” I ask him, voice sugary sweet, contrasting starkly with my actions.

“N-No, Miss. I’m sorry,” Spencer pants out. His hand twitches at his side and I can see how desperately he wants to touch himself, but his desire to please keeps him still.  

“Then the answer is no. Maybe if you can prove to me that you aren’t completely incompetent at eating pussy, I’ll consider it,” I allow a moment for my words to sink in. “Color?”

“Green. So fucking green,” Spencer whines.

“Good boy,” I praise him, and the effects of my words are instantaneous. Spencer rests his cheek against the skin of my thigh and then he’s nuzzling his face against me in a silent plea for permission. After a moment, his pleas become a lot less silent.

“Wanna be your good boy - please let me,” Spencer begs as his nose brushes against my skin. “I want to make you feel good. S’all I ever think about, since the first time I saw you.”

His words send a jolt of pleasure to my core and I reward his brazen honesty with a tender smile and a nod.

“Go ahead, baby. Let me see what that pretty mouth of yours can do.”

The words barely have time to leave my mouth before Spencer is reaching out and hooking a finger underneath the waistband of my panties. I raise up off the bed just enough for him to slide them down my legs, and before I even manage to settle back down onto the bed, Spencer literally dives in. He starts with one long lick, and by the time he reaches my clit he’s crying out lewd moans against me. The feel of the vibrations mixed with the feel of his mouth on me is maddening in the best possible way, and my eyelids threaten to flutter closed under the weight of my pleasure.

“Fuck, baby – you’re doing so good,” I sigh as I lift my hand up and card my fingers through his hair. “You look so pretty on your knees for me.”

Spencer’s movements stutter when he feels my hand tangle itself into his hair, and I let out a light chuckle. I grab hold of the roots and give an experimental tug. My actions cause his hips to jolt forward violently.

“O-Oh my…” Spencer keens, raising his glossy, lust filled eyes to mine. “H-Harder, please.”

I oblige, and Spencer lets out a particularly filthy groan before lapping at my pussy like a man possessed. His hands come to wrap around my thighs and he pulls me closer to him, causing me to let out a gasp when his nose nudges against my clit. The sound only spurs him on further – Spencer begins assaulting my clit, alternating between short, kitten licks and light sucking. The control I had so adamantly been asserting over him began to slip from my fingertips the longer he worked his mouth against me, and quiet, breathy moans started falling from my lips.

“Such a good boy, Spence,” I moan as I scratch my fingernails against his scalp. “You’re making me feel so good, baby. Love that dirty little mouth of yours.”

Spencer thrives on the praise – that much is made obvious by the way he whimpers and tightens his grip on my thighs. He’s completely submitted himself to the act of getting me off, only stopping long enough to cry out when my hands give a particularly harsh tug on his hair.

“Add a finger, baby,” I tell him, allowing my hand to drift down the side of his face, caressing the sharp angles of his cheekbones.

Spencer releases my thigh from his hold and tentatively raises a hand to my entrance, eyes raising to meet mine.

“You’ll tell me if I do something wrong?” he asks, and his concern is so endearing that I tilt his chin upwards and lean forward until my lips meet his.

Spencer gasps into the kiss, shocked, but it doesn’t take him long before his lips are moving against mine fervently. His lips are slick with my arousal, and I dart my tongue out just long enough to swipe it across his bottom lip.

           “D’you like how I taste, baby?” I murmur against his lips, pulling back slightly when Spencer tries to bring his lips down against mine.

           “S-So much,” he whispers, before letting out a frustrated groan when I tease him with the slightest brush of my lips before pulling away again. “P-Please, kiss me again.”

           I bump my nose against his before I reach down and grab his hand in mine.

           “Don’t be a greedy boy, Spencer. Greedy boys don’t get to cum,” I chastise him as I raise his hand up to my mouth. I trace my bottom lip with his pointer finger as Spencer watches on in rapt fascination, before taking the digit into my mouth and sucking. Spencer chokes out a pathetic cry and his hips hopelessly buck into the air as I swirl my tongue around the pad of his finger, taking special care to coat it with spit before releasing it from my mouth.

           I guide his hand back down to my pussy, gasping when the tip of his finger brushes across my entrance.

           “Just take it slow, baby. Start with one and move up to two once you get the hang of it.”

           Spencer nods, eyes alternating between my face and my entrance as he slowly slides his finger in me.

           “You’re so warm, oh my God,” Spencer breathes out, tentatively pulling out his finger before inserting it back in. I hum appreciatively as he begins to move faster, eyelids fluttering shut when he lowers his head and begins languidly licking my clit.

           “Feels so nice, Spence. I fucking love your fingers. Knew that they’d feel like this. I can only imagine how good your cock will feel,” I ramble, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other tugging on his honey brown hair.

           I groan as he inserts a second finger, reveling in the way he’s stretching me out.

           “Curl your fingers when you – fuck! Just like that, baby. Gonna make me cum if you keep doing t-that.”

Spencer speeds up both the onslaught of his fingers and his mouth at my admission, tongue working figure eights on my clit while his fingers brush up against my g-spot. A familiar warmth starts to spread in my lower belly, and with every swipe of Spencer’s tongue against my clit, the coil in my stomach winds tighter and tighter until, finally:

“O-Oh, fuck, Spence!”

The coil snaps, sending jolts of pleasure straight through my core. I can feel the way my walls tighten around Spencer’s fingers as my orgasm rips through me, never stopping their ministrations in an attempt to help me ride out my high. Vibrations ripple across my clit when Spencer lets out a cry of his own before his movements halt completely as shudders wrack his body.

I know he didn’t just…

           I allow myself a moment to recover before I lean forward and drag my eyes down Spencer’s slender frame – and sure enough, his tummy is covered in white ropes of cum and his now softening cock is hanging limply between his legs.

           Spencer’s eyes reluctantly open when his shudders cease, and one look at my pissy expression is enough to send him into a fit.

           “I-I didn’t mean to cum! I’m so sorry, Miss. It’s j-just that you looked so pretty when you came, and you taste so good! And you were pulling my hair, and you called me a good boy and I just couldn’t do it anymo-”

           “Shut up,” I seethe, voice cold and laced with annoyance. Spencer’s mouth snaps shut and he gulps. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t remember saying that you were allowed to come. Am I mistaken?”            “N-No, Miss.”

           “Mm, that’s what I thought,” I hum. “Stand up.”

           “B-But I want to make you cum again! Can I plea-”

           “Shut the fuck up and stand up, Spencer.”

           Spencer rushes to his feet, stumbling a bit when his legs begin to shake. He corrects himself, standing perfectly still in front of me with a shameful look on his face. I scoot back on the bed and fix him with a stony look.

           “I want you to lay on your stomach across my lap. Can you do that, Doctor Reid, or are you too stupid to follow simple directions?”

           Spencer adamantly shakes his head, scrambling to splay out across my bare thighs. Once he’s comfortable, I raise a palm to his bare ass cheek and smooth my hand across the skin.

           “Color?”

           “G-Green,” Spencer stutters out.

           “Wonderful. Since you’ve decided to be a greedy little slut and cum before I gave you permission, I’m going to punish you. Do you remember your safe word, baby?”

           “Tolstoy.”

           “Good boy. I’m going to give you ten, and I want you to count them out for me. One for every month you held out on me, and four because you’re an insolent little whore who can’t do as he’s told. Does that sound fair to you?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss. P-Please.”

           A harsh smack sounds throughout the room, and Spencer lets out a whorish moan that’s bound to wake the people in the neighboring rooms. The pale skin of his ass transforms to red, and I rub my palm across it soothingly.

           “O-One,” Spencer says through gritted teeth as he rocks his hips against my legs.

           “You okay, baby?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss. Please don’t stop. I deserve it. P-Punish me, please.”

           My palm comes down across his ass four more times, and with each strike I watch Spencer fall apart right before my eyes. Tears are gliding down his flushed cheeks, and his cock is now painfully hard against my legs.

           “Five more to go, baby. Keep counting for me, my pretty boy.”

           By the time my hand comes down against his flesh for the final time, Spencer has devolved into a mess of pathetic whimpers. His cock is smearing precum across my thighs as he rocks against me, and his ass is covered in a litany of bright red marks. Incomprehensible pleas are falling from his lips, and his hands are tightly fisted in the sheets.

           I lean forward and place a gentle kiss to each of his battered cheeks.

           “T-Thank you, Miss. Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

           “You’re welcome, baby. Can you go lay in the center of the bed for me?”

           Spencer gives a feeble nod and crawls to the center of the bed, carefully laying himself down and letting out a low hiss when his ass came in contact with the mattress.

           I let him rest against the sheets before I roll over and settle in between his legs.

           Spencer’s cock, painfully hard and leaking precum, sits against his belly. Spencer watches as I trace lithe fingers up his thigh, his chest rising and falling quickly as I get closer to where he demands my attention.

           A garbled groan rips from his throat when my hand grasps his cock, and I have to place my other hand on his hip and force him back down onto the bed when he tries to buck up.

           “Stay still, baby,” I tut as I drag my fist up and down at an agonizingly slow pace.

           “S-Sorry, M-Miss,” Spencer stutters. His brows are drawn together and his eyes are heavy lidded. “Need m-more, please.”

           “Mm, I don’t think you need more. You just want more. Dumb little greedy baby,” I tease as my thumb swipes across his head.

           “Oh… G-God, please!” Spencer mewls.

           “Is what I’m giving you not good enough?”

           “N-No, it’s just-”

           I raise an eyebrow at him and halt my movements.

           “No, it isn’t good enough?”

           Spencer lets out a frustrated groan and his fists clench the sheets.

           “P-Please, Miss! I’ll be your good boy, I promise. Just let me cum, please, I want it so bad!”

           Thoroughly pleased by his shameless begging, I start moving my hand again.

           “Let me know when you’re about to cum, baby.”

           That moment comes when, not thirty seconds later, the muscles in Spencer’s abdomen start to spasm – telltale signs of an impending orgasm. Spencer is so lost in the way my hand is moving against his cock that he makes no move to warn me, and just as I see his eyes start to flutter shut, I withdraw my hand.

           “W-Why did yo-”

           “You didn’t tell me you were about to cum. I thought you said you were going to be a good boy, Spencer? You sure aren’t acting like someone who wants to cum.”

           “S-Sorry, please, just… fuck!”

           Spencer’s whole-body folds in on itself when my mouth wraps around the head of his cock. I swirl my tongue around the tip, lapping up the precum that had gathered before I pull away.

           “You’ve got such a pretty cock, baby. Can’t believe nobody’s had you in their mouth yet,” I murmur, pausing to drag my tongue along the veiny underside of his erection. “Let me hear you, baby. Wanna know how much you like when I use my mouth on you.”

           “Love it so much, oh God… Feels so warm and wet. Thank you so much, Miss. God, it feels perfect,” Spencer keens as I take him into my mouth again. Mumbled praises fall from his lips as I take him deeper, and the second my nose hits the soft skin of his belly, Spencer’s hand comes up and begins to tap incessantly on my shoulder.

           “S-Stop! I-I’m close – Jesus Christ, I’m so fucking close and I really want to cum inside you, i-if that’s okay with you,” Spencer babbles, eyes wide and pleading. I smile up at him.

           “Do you think you deserve to cum in my pussy?”

           “H-Honestly, no, but I’m hoping you’ll let me anyways,” Spencer says, shooting me an adorably shy smile that has my heart doing somersaults in my chest. I let out a light laugh and shake my head, moving to straddle his lap.

           “Are you sure you want to do this, Spence?” I murmur as I caress the side of his face with my hands. “This can stop right here, if you want it to.”

           “Please, Miss. I want this. I want you,” Spencer reiterates, eyes shining and filled to the brim with adoration.

           “Want you, too, baby. You can call me my name now, if you want,” I say as I place a gentle kiss on his lips. I move to pull away, but Spencer’s hand is quick to grasp the back of my neck and pull me back in.

           While our lips move together, frenzied and desperate, I sneak a hand in between our bodies and grab Spencer’s cock. He gasps into my mouth as I drag his head in between my folds.

           “I-I won’t last long,” Spencer chokes out, eyes trained on where I’m rubbing him against me. “I’ll try my b-best, but I’m sorry if I c-cum too fast.”

           I sink down just enough that his head is the only thing inside me, watching as his face contorts beautifully as a result.

           “Don’t worry about me, baby. Tonight’s all about you.”

           With one last, chaste kiss to his lips, I slowly begin to lower myself down onto his length. The sound of our moans fill the room as Spencer clings desperately to me, hands finally finding purchase on my hips.

           “Y/N, fuck, you feel so good,” Spencer whimpers as I begin to slowly rock against him. “I-I knew it would feel good, but oh my God. I-I can’t… I’m gonna cum, soon. M’so sorry.”

           His admission prompts me to move faster, raising my hips until he’s almost completely out of me before I’m slamming back down.

           “Spence, you feel so good. Such a good boy – my good boy.”

           “Yes, yes, I’m all yours! Only yours, please!” Spencer whines. I lean forward, and the change of angle is enough for both of us to cry out.

           “Are you gonna be a good boy and cum for me, Spence?” I murmur into his ear, biting lightly against his earlobe. “I want you to cum in me, baby. Don’t you want to be my good boy?” I punctuate my words by lightly wrapping my hand around this throat and squeezing, and that’s all it takes for Spencer to completely fall apart underneath me. 

           “Y/N - fuck!”

           Spencer’s grip on my hips tightens as he bucks up into me, painting the inside of my pussy with his cum as he yells out strangled exclamations of my name. He presses his face into my shoulder as I ride him through his orgasm, whispering quiet thank yous and pressing open mouthed kisses to my skin as the euphoria floods through his body.

             I place a kiss to his forehead before I crawl off of him, having every intention of getting up and procuring a wet washrag. But Spencer reaches out to grip my arm, and his eyes look so sad that I stop in my tracks.

           “C-Can you stay? Please?”

           The insecurity in his voice tugs at my heart.

           “Of course, I’m staying. Was just gonna get a wet washrag for us. M’not gonna leave you, Spence,” I murmur. Spencer visibly untenses, but his grip on my arm doesn’t lessen.

           “Could you just stay here a little bit longer?”

           “Sure thing, baby,” I say, prompting Spencer’s lips to pull up into a pleased smile. I crawl back into the bed and lay on my back, and Spencer instantly plasters himself to my side. He hums contentedly as he wraps his arms around me, and I let out a light laugh when I catch him stealing glances at me.

           “What is it, baby?”

           A rosy blush spreads across his cheeks.

           “Can I kiss you?”

           After everything we just did, he still feels the need to ask permission to kiss me. What a sweet boy.

           My answer comes in the form of me pressing my lips to his, and that’s how we stay until he pulls away.

           “I have another question,” he says shyly.

           “Lay it on me, baby.”

           The blush on his cheeks gets significantly more pronounced.

           “It’s just that, uh, you didn’t get to cum again. And I really want you to, because you took such good care of me,” Spencer pauses, and his fingertips lightly graze the inside of my thigh. “C-Could I please eat you out again?” Another pause, and he retracts his hand. “I-It’s okay if not. I understand if you just wanted this to be… a one-time thing. I guess I was just kind of hoping that it w-wouldn’t be. But that’s silly – you were just doing me a favor. I’m sorry I asked.”

           Spencer cringes as he finishes speaking, not even giving me a chance to reply before he’s trying to pull away. I tighten my grip on his arm, and Spencer gives me a weary look.

           “First of all, I don’t think I would ever say no to being eaten out – especially if you’re the one offering. Second, this is definitely not a one off. I have lots of plans for you, pretty boy,” I explain, and the relief that radiates off of Spencer is almost palpable.

           “Thank God,” he sighs, and then he’s scooting down the bed and settling in between my legs.

--

           And if the rest of the team notices the way Spencer starts following me around like a lost puppy - well, they’re all kind enough not to point it out.

[heyyyharry]

Happier

(inspired by happier by Olivia Rodrigo)

Word count: 2.4k

I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

Part 1: Drivers License

Part 2: Deja Vu

A/N: I edited the original lyrics to match the POV :)

.

.

.

Harry had come up with a thousand scenarios of how this day would play out. Actually, he’d been thinking of this day since the moment he’d received the news. He didn’t dare to hope that she’d say yes to coming back for a sequel. He’d been sure that they would write her character off, give a lame excuse for how his love interest could not make a return and make his character forget about her completely to move on with a new girl in town. It would have been great if it was that easy in real life. Once someone was written off the script, they were gone for good. Real-life relationships were not that simple. Goodbye didn’t mean ‘never see you again’. You would still share the same friend circle and social bubbles, and it was worse when you two worked in the same industry. Harry didn’t know how he’d lasted a year without running into her, not since the Grammys.

“Didn’t you two date?”

“No.” Harry shook his head, but his eyes stayed glued on Y/N from across the room. She wasn’t looking his way, too busy saying hello to everyone else. “No,” he repeated, more to himself than to his co-star. “We didn’t.”

“But she wrote an entire album about you,” said the other twin. What was her name again? Lulu?

“Luna!” cried her sister, Lex. “You can’t ask him that!”

“No, it’s okay,” Harry said with a tight smile, slightly annoyed by the blonde twins, but he didn’t want to seem like an ass on the first day of filming. “And I don’t know if it was for me. You should ask Y/N.”

“Ask me what?”

Harry flinched when he looked up and saw Y/N padding towards them. She hugged the twins, who seemed way too excited. Harry guessed they were Y/N’s fans. They gave off crazy fangirl vibes, probably just pretending not to know the drama to interrogate him. He couldn’t blame them for assuming he was the villain and definitely could not blame Y/N for portraying him as one. It was more important that he knew who he was and how much he had changed since his last relationship. Maybe they could finally be friends.

“Were they bothering you?” Y/N asked him once the twins had left.

Harry nodded. “They’re your friends?”

“Oh, I met them last year on tour. I’m surprised you don’t know them. They were on Disney.”

“I don’t watch Disney,” Harry admitted with a smile. “Well, not today’s Disney.”

“Understandable.” Y/N nodded and bit her lip. She seemed guarded with her straight back and hands hidden behind her. She eyed him up and down, quite subtle yet noticeable. “How have you been?”

“Pretty good,” he said, nodding slowly. “You?”

“Yeah, but mostly tired because of tour.”

“You’re done?”

“Yup, last night was the last show.”

“Nice.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Nice?”

Harry blinked. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” Y/N giggled. “You still sound very...you.”

“Well, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, you should. But it’s been a year so…I mean, you haven’t changed much.”

“Right,” he said lowly, his eyes falling to his feet. Harry supposed he should say something else, perhaps bringing up another random topic to discuss, but all he could think about was what had happened between them. Things had been messy, hadn’t they? How could they go back to before that? Before her first song about him. Before he’d chosen someone else over her.

Or he could talk about her new relationship. She’d been in a happy relationship for almost six months, right? No wait, hadn’t they broke up two weeks ago? He wasn’t sure because he hadn’t been catching up. If they’d broken up, he’d sound like an ass to even mention her ex’s name. He should just stay quiet.

“I’ll see you later?” she said, gesturing at her stylist who was waiting by the door.

Harry could ask her right now -- the reason she’d agreed to film the sequel to their first movie together. He’d heard from a very reliable source that she’d specifically asked her agent to decline any project that he was in. So did this mean they were good? That she didn’t hate him anymore? He could have gathered his courage and got the answer right then…

“Yeah, see you.”

...but he didn’t.

And so she gave him a smile and a little wave, then happily returned to her stylist.

.

.

.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N!”

“See you, Annie!” Y/N said as she put the rest of her things into her tote bag. Her new driver had got her schedule mixed up, and so she had to wait here for another half an hour. She was in no rush. It had been a light first day, and she’d had a fun time getting to know the new cast members and catching up with old friends.

She sat on the sofa in the lobby, legs crossed, texting her best friend about her day. She’d purposely left out the short off-screen conversation with Harry, and her best friend didn’t even bother to ask. In their world, he didn’t exist, and his name was censored in every conversation like a curse word that was even worse than ‘cunt’. Nevertheless, she didn’t hate him anymore. She was doing just fine on her own, being busy with her career, and she’d been in a happy relationship after her fall out with him.

She and the guy, a model, had broken up two weeks ago due to long distance and some differences that they could not change. They had ended on good terms and decided to stay friends. They said you could only stay friends with your ex when you still had feelings for each other, or you had never loved each other that much in the first place. For her, it was probably the latter. Her previous relationship had been more platonic than romantic, apparently. So she had nothing but the best to say about him.

As she was going through her camera roll, just reminiscing about the past, she heard footsteps approaching and looked up to find Harry. He offered a smile and gestured to the spot beside her on the sofa. “May I sit here? My ride is late.”

“Yeah, sure.” She hurriedly scooted over.

“Good job today,” he said. “You were great.”

“Thanks, so were you.” She smiled, and they both looked away at the same time. This was so awkward. She hated small talk. She’d never had to have small talk with Harry. Conversations with him used to be so easy and natural and silly. Whatever this was, it wasn’t them.

“Can we just be normal?”

At first, Y/N thought she’d been the one who’d said it, so when she realised it’d been Harry, she was speechless.

He swallowed and sat a bit straighter, still not looking at her. “I don’t want us to be weird and awkward.”

“Okay,” she said.

He cleared his throat. “Wanna try again?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, not to sound like an ass but when Joey kept forgetting his lines, I was so pissed off, I could throw a chair at the wall.”

“Right?!” exclaimed Y/N, feeling free to have finally broken out of her shell. “Like, he doesn’t even have many lines. I know he’s new but damn...you can’t get far if you don’t learn your goddamn lines.”

Harry shook with laughter. “Oh God, we sound like dicks, don’t we?”

“Maybe.” Y/N laughed, covering her mouth. “But you know what? We can’t be nice in this industry. It’s impossible.”

“Shhh, if someone heard this, we would be into big trouble.”

“Oh please, I’ve had worse articles written about me than ‘Y/N speaks facts about her lazy co-star’.”

Harry tossed his head back and cackled. “The worst one I’ve got this week was ‘Harry Styles hates therapists.’”

“What?!” Y/N gasped. “No way! That’s so stupid!”

“Right?” Harry rolled his eyes. “I could get all my therapists to speak up for me but I’m kinda immune to bullshit now.”

“Therapists? Like plural?”

“Yeah, one in every city.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

Y/N rubbed her hands onto her legs. “Rough year?”

Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he leaned back. “You have no idea.” Then he swept his hair out of his eyes, sucked in a breath, and finally looked at her. “I wish I could have talked to you, though.”

She bit her tongue, knowing what she was about to say next would disappoint her best friend so much, but she had to. “So do I.”

Harry looked taken aback before his lips curled into a smile. “It’s silly, isn’t it? I haven’t talked to you in a year, and I feel like I know everything that’s happened to you except that I don’t.”

What he’d just said might make no sense for most people, but Y/N knew exactly what he meant. She nodded and wetted her lip. “You only know as much as everyone else does.”

“Yeah, I got updates on you from the news and our friends.”

“Same.” Y/N smiled back. “I hate how they write articles about your new haircut but not mine.”

“I like your new hair colour.”

“Thanks. I like your new car.”

Then they both burst out laughing. It was fun and also a little bit strange that Y/N didn’t feel the same anxiety talking to him as she used to. It must be because they had grown and were now meeting again as better people.

“Damn, my ride's here,” Y/N said as she read the text from her driver. “I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” Harry stood up and followed Y/N to the entrance. “Hey, just wondering--”

“Yeah?”

“Am I...am I still blocked?” He looked a bit flustered as she tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “On your phone. Because I remember you having my number blocked--”

“I unblocked you on your birthday.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” Y/N shrugged. “I should’ve sent you a happy birthday text but...I didn’t want your girlfriend to get the wrong ideas.”

“My ex.”

“Yeah, I know.”

They smiled at each other one last time before saying goodbye. Y/N knew it was silly, but she was hoping he would go after her.

Ding.

A notification popped up when she was in the car. She was almost home, and it was from Harry’s number. He’d sent her a link with a message that said, “Hope you like it :)”.

Curious, she tapped on it and was directed to an audio file titled ‘Track 5’. The upload date was last year. About two weeks after their short conversation at the Grammys.

Hurriedly, she fumbled inside her bag for her iPods and put it on before she pressed play.

“Hey, Jeff, I couldn’t sleep so I wrote this song. Listen and let me know if it should go on the album.”

Then came the piano intro. It sounded good, so Y/N wondered how it hadn’t ended up on his last album.

But when he started to sing...

We ended a while ago Your friends are mine, you know, I know You've moved on, found someone new One more guy who brings out the better in you

And I thought my heart was detached From all the sunlight of our past But he’s so nice, he’s so funny Does he mean you forgot about me?

Oh, I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

And does he tell you you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen? An eternal love bullshit he might not even mean Remember when you were with me I meant it when you heard it first from me

And now I'm pickin' him apart Like cuttin' him down will make you miss my wretched heart But he’s charming, he looks kind He probably gives you butterflies

I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better

I hope you're happy I wish you all the best, really Say you love him, baby Just not like you loved me And think of me fondly when your hands are on him I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

The song was for her. He’d written it when her new relationship had gone public. Y/N sat there, staring blankly ahead until the honking of a car tore open her inner peace, and reality came crashing back in. The driver dropped her off at her house. Instead of going inside, she stood on her front steps and replayed the song one more time. When it ended, she decided to text him: Why didn’t this make it to the album?

She didn’t know where he was now, but it showed ‘typing’ in less than a second, as if he’d been waiting in their chat since he’d sent that link.

You would’ve hated me, Y/N.

True, she replied. Still, I would’ve loved the song lowkey. And added, I love it btw.

He took so long to type that it was driving her crazy. She flopped down on the concrete stair with her phone clutched in her hands, her heart thundering against her ribcage. Anxiety popped like a balloon when his message appeared: Were you happier?

She reread it again and again.

No.

I wasn’t either, he responded. I kept getting deja vu.

Ha, nice reference.

That song is my guilty pleasure. Love listening to you roasting me on loop.

That last message made Y/N bury her face into her palm and giggle like a fool. She thought for a second and wrote: I could come roast you in person now if that’s what you prefer. I think we’ve never had a proper roasting.

Can we meet, Y/N? Or are you busy now?

No, not busy.

Great, I’ll pick you up.

Just tell me where, she responded with a smile on her face. I got my drivers license now :)

[bostongirl13]

Mentally tired

A/N: The story is based on my personal experiences from a few days ago. Even though I didn't have a person like Chris in my fanfiction, I still have a lovely friend who helped me. Please do not let anyone ever bring you to this state, because no matter what others say or do, YOU are the most important, YOUR mental and physical health is the most important and it is not subject to discussion. So remember that if something disturbs your well-being, cut yourself off from it if possible. Health is very important and nothing can replace it.

Summary: You always considered yourself a mentally strong person, but suddenly someone managed to break you in a way you didn't think you could. For the first time in your life you felt so many things at once and you were powerless, there was nothing you could do. Fortunately, there was someone in your life who, although only hugged you, made you feel that you had a place in this world.

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: AGE GAP, angst, anxiety, depression state, fluff and happy end, mistakes

 Masterlist

There's a kind of tired that needs a good night's sleep, and another that needs so much more. It’s like a certain level of tiredness that equates to insanity. You always considered yourself a mentally strong person. Hardly anything upset you, made you cry from a feeling of helplessness or simply mental exhaustion. However, on that one day, in which very little happened, your strong psyche was broken. For the first time in your life, you felt that you were powerless and mentally exhausted. 

You finished work late and tired as usual. All day on high brats, in a constant run and only half an hour to eat breakfast. A job that required so much of you was not the height of your dreams, but the fact that you needed money did not give you much choice. You had to accept what you had.

The air was sweet, the weather was fine even if there were clouds in the sky and you could feel the wind on your skin. You got in your car and turned on the radio. You should be on your way home, but suddenly someone flips a button in your head. You burst into desperate crying without knowing where you had so many accumulated emotions that led you to such a state. Tears ran down your cheeks, your hands clenched on the steering wheel until the knuckles on your palms turned white. Your lungs were running out of air, and your open mouth let out a silent scream that you wanted someone to hear, come and take what you felt.

You took your phone out of your purse and, with shaking hands, eyes still blurry with tears, you wrote a short message to the only person who knew he would be able to help you, or at least you hoped so.

"I can call?"

After a while, you received an answer: "Of course, Princess"

You pressed the button and after a few chimps, you heard Chris's voice.

"What's up? Everything's okay?"

You were silent for a moment and tried to control yourself, but it didn't help you, because the moment you opened your mouth to say something, another wave of tears flooded your mouth.

"I can't anymore, I don't want to work here. It's the first time I'm so mentally tired ... I ... I ..." you didn't even know if your gibberish and cry made Chris understand anything. “I…I'm so tired"

"Hey, take it easy. What's wrong, Y / N?" Chris immediately started to panic, he wanted to be next to you and beat everyone who made you cry so hard.

"Work. I can't work here anymore. Still, someone wants something, they move me from place to place, they treat me like a parasite, and the worst thing is that because of the number of fucked up rules, I have a headache" you cried all the time, unable to calm down "I eat breakfast on the run or not at all. Everybody expects me to do my 100% as if I've been working there for years. Nobody takes into account that I'm learning everything and I'm new here” you were crying on the phone.

"I know it probably won't work, but try to calm down. And tell me where you are, I'll come to get you."

"I'm trying, but I can't" you sniffed trying to breathe evenly and stop crying "You don't have to. I'm in the car and ...."

"Then take a few deep breaths and come to my place. I live closer and I won't let you be alone today. Not like that." he says firmly. You knew that a discussion with him would be useless because he was able to come to you, pack you and bring you to his home.

"Ok"

"Ok?"

"Yes, I'll be there in 20 minutes," you said and after a few words of comfort you hung up.

Even though you tried to stop crying, you couldn't. Salty drops ran down your cheeks whole way to Chris's house.

When you got there Chris was waiting for you with Dodger. You felt embarrassed showing yourself in this state and uncomfortable, but you still needed someone by your side.

"Oh my god, Y / N" Chris immediately hugged you to him, and you burst into a hysterical cry again.

"Please calm down. Everything will be fine. I promise." You knew Chris was trying to comfort you, but it was not successful. The tears kept rolling down your cheeks and soaking his T-shirt.

After a few minutes, you went inside where Chris gave you his hoodie and told you to go take a warm bath or shower. At first, you didn't want to cause him trouble, after all, you were just friends with a big age difference, and you didn't feel comfortable roaming his house like that. He, however, didn't mind and practically pushed you into the bathroom and went to order some take-out.

As soon as you got in the shower, you sat down on the floor and let the water wash off you all day. You didn't even know how long you've been sitting in the bathroom until Chris knocked to ask if you were okay.

"Yes" you yelled to him and grabbed a bottle of shampoo and shower gel to get a quick wash, then put on Chris clothes and went to the living room.

"I didn't know what you wanted, so I ordered pizzas and Korean food. I remember how you used to say it was your favorite, but if you wanted something less spicy ..."

"You didn't have to" you interrupted him seeing how embarrassed he was because of such tinsel as eating. "Thank you", you smiled and kissed his cheek, and then you sat down next to him.

Chris froze at your gesture and it took him a few moments to get back to reality. He looked at you in his clothes, you looked cute in his oversized hoodie.

You ate practically in silence, except for the TV's on and the Dodger's soft snoring. You were no longer crying, but still feeling mentally tired. You didn't have the strength to go home or to work tomorrow. You wanted to run away somewhere where no one would find you. And so far that place has been Chris's house and the Korean food you chose.

"I don't know how you can eat something like this!" you burst out laughing as Chris drank a glass of water in one breath, "This is fucking hot"

"Not for me," you said, taking a piece of hot chicken to your mouth.

After you finished your meal, you sat down comfortably on the couch and played a movie. You covered yourself with a blanket and slumped slightly on the couch, pulling your knees up. You saw Chris want to ask you something, but he doesn't know how to do it.

"Bosses are assholes, and the amount of work you have to do in a short time is impossible to get done. Besides, there are no human conditions to eat a meal and the constant noise and crowds ..." you paused for a moment to wipe the tear flowing down your cheek "I can't explain it, just a red lamp lights up in my head and someone screams run, but I can't because I don't know where the exit is. I feel, I know I'm trapped and .. . "you started crying again.

You felt strong arms press you against the hard chest of the body to which they belong. You immediately hugged Chris and closed your eyes. And how by a magic wand you started to calm down. He stroked your hair holding his cheek against your head. When you got up and looked at Chris's blue irises, you felt very calm and safe. You didn't know what it is about him that makes your body relax when he touches you.

Chris placed his hands on your cheeks and wiped away your tears. You felt as if you were enchanted, but at the same time, they were doing what your heart and mind told you as if you still had full control over your actions. You bet your lower lip as your gaze traveled from Chris's to his lips and back to his eyes. And then you felt his lips on yours.

In that kiss was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment. His kiss is not at all the same as those you had before, but one steeped in a passion that ignites. It is the promise of realness, of the primal desire that lives in us all. You threw your arms around his neck and dragged him along. Chris didn't protest. He propped himself up on one elbow so as not to crush you with the weight of his body, and he rested his other hand on your cheek. In that moment of the kiss, you were in each other’s protective cocoon.

You felt his tongue gently move over your lip, subtly pleading for entry. You parted your lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He took his time, slowly revealing every nook and cranny of your lips and letting your tongues dance at an unhurried beat. Your hands moved you from his neck to his hair, tangling your fingers in brown curls. Chris growled and moved his hand to your thigh, throwing your leg over his hip, then carefully placed his body on yours.

The feeling that accompanied it all was incomparable to anything else. It felt like you were just getting to know the world as a little child.

When you pulled away from each other to catch your breath, you couldn't take your eyes off you. Each of you has been examining the face of the other, trying to read feelings and thoughts.

Chris touched your swollen lips with his thumb and smiled slightly at which you smiled back.

"You are so beautiful when you smile. I don't want that smile to fade from your face. Never," he whispered.

Your cheeks turned red, you could tell by the warmth you felt on your face. But even so, you found enough confidence to answer him unequivocally.

"So don't let me be sad"

After these words, Chris's lips were on yours again.

tags:   @patzammit @ivettt​ @mostannoyingbillioner @speechlessxx​ @angrybirdcr​ @ozarkthedog​​ @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ @sweetflowerdreams​ @worksby-d 

[women-loving-art]

Alice Pike Barney Natalie at Seven, 1883 / Natalie and Missa, 1890 / Natalie Barney in Fur Cape, 1896 / Natalie with Necklace, c. 1900 / Lucifer, 1902

Some of the paintings that Alice Pike Barney (1857-1931) made using her daughter, Natalie Clifford Barney (1876-1972), as a model. 

“As the year [1900] closed, the fallout from Quelques portraits-sonnets de femmes [Natalie Clifford Barney’s lesbian poetry collection] caused a major break in the Barney family. It had taken months for word of the book to develop a strong buzz, but by now many people had read or at least heard about it. 

Natalie had been dropped by a few Washington society matrons, meaning that they refused to receive her in their homes. At least one family friend approached Natalie that summer, begging her to give up, for the sake of her parents, the course on which she was headed.

In response to her critics, Natalie claimed that she didn’t care whether or not Madame so-and-so deigned to greet her on the street. As she once said of Colette’s first husband, Willy, “Not everyone is capable of knowingly creating a bad reputation for themselves.”

There was a certain hypocrisy to the way Natalie was treated. [...] Discretion (or, if you prefer, sexual hypocrisy) was considered a duty. Among Natalie’s past and future conquests were socialites who, though they preferred the embraces of women, led ostensibly “normal” lives. As long as they married, had children, did charitable work, and managed fine homes, nobody much cared what they did behind closet doors. In the end, Natalie’s greatest sin was not that she was a lesbian, but that she refused to be quiet and ashamed about it. 

One day, Albert Barney [her father] picked up the society gossip journal Town Topics and read a small but fatal headline: Sappho sings in Washington. With that single headline, his world exploded. Highly intelligent and far from naive, his suspicions about his beloved daughter had long ago turned to certainty.

The Town Topics piece, entwining his daughter’s name with that of a perverted Greek harlot, fulfilled his worst nightmares of scandal. The fact that his wife had contributed the artwork to Natalie’s book [three of the four women who modelled for her were her daughter's lovers] constituted a double knife thrust to the heart. How, he wondered, would he ever live this down? 

The timing and exact circumstances of what happened next are impossible to pinpoint. The entire episode wasn’t one that anyone in the family wished to  remember, let alone document. It’s telling that Alice, who scissored from the newspapers each mention of her girls for permanent inclusion in her scrapbook, didn’t bother to keep the big Sappho Sings article.

What is true is this: Albert stormed into the editorial offices at Ollendorff in Paris to buy, and then destroy, the remaining copies and all printing plates for Quelques portraits-sonnets de femmes. His action doubtless accounts for the book’s extreme rarity today. 

He then brutally pulled the blinders from Alice’s eyes about the meaning of the poems in Quelques sonnets. He berated her ceaselessly, and would until his death, for having so naively contributed paintings of Natalie’s lovers to the book. 

The revelation about Natalie’s sexuality stunned Alice. The evidence had been there for years, obvious to all, but she had been in complete denial. Now, forced to accept the truth, she was shocked and sickened. For perhaps the first time ever she was unable to apply the laissez-faire philosophy that had defined her approach to life. 

In early January 1901 the Barneys boarded a ship to New York, leaving Natalie behind. Though weakened by illness, he constantly lambasted Alice, enumerating her countless sins, the greatest of which was the evil inherent in Natalie’s character. As usual, she endured the abuse by politely ignoring him. Deep within, however, she was awash in conflicting emotions. She loved and admired her daughter, but was horrified by her lesbianism. Late in January, she made her feelings clear in a letter that must have devastated Natalie:

It has come at last. Your father is quite crushed by this and really very pathetic. How perhaps you, through your disregard for us and your callousness, may remember my disgust when you would speak of this forbidden sin—and realize that every right-minded decent person is condemning you and us—as they would of the greatest evil... I am too sick and ill to write more. I used to feel sorry for Mrs. Hoy when people said things of Mattie—and how small her sin was—if true—compared with yours, which you broadcast about, as if being evil is not bad enough.

But you must in every way, to every person, make yourself a horror and a danger... Your only chance to redeem yourself is to change your life and writings and remember that in no way can you defend yourself—or reply to this [Town Topics] article... For there is not the slightest loophole. You have closed every escape. [...] You have done a bad thing—a sin against law and mankind and I can only hope that your ideas have shocked and horrified instead of converting.

It took months for Alice to accept Natalie’s nature, but eventually the truth brought mother and daughter closer. No longer engaged in subterfuge and lies, Natalie’s new relationship with Alice was easier, friendlier, and more honest. After her initial repugnance, Alice tried to see Natalie’s sexuality as simply part of her nature—a nature similar in many other ways to her own. “How much of myself I’ve passed on to you,” she wrote years later. “You’re cultivated and I—not—but we’ve got the same traits, grabbing here and there, dashing from this to that. So much of the monkey in us.”

There would be many times in the future when Natalie and Alice didn’t get along, but at its heart their relationship remained strong and loving. Each took pleasure in the other’s accomplishments. “I’m terribly proud of you,” Alice would write; or “I can’t express my admiration, my child.” They would collaborate in writing plays, visit each other, and always, no matter where they might be, there were the affectionate letters. 

Only once, many years later, did Alice reveal the pain that Natalie caused her. It happened when Natalie made a casual observation. “Mother,” she remembered saying. “You have so happy a temperament that I cannot imagine anything that has ever been able to cause you more than a passing sorrow.”

Alice drew back as if struck. She appeared embarrassed, and looked away. Natalie laughed, curious to know what could possibly have shaken her mother’s legendary equanimity, but Alice remained stubbornly and uncharacteristically silent. 

Growing uneasy, Natalie pressed for an answer. Alice hesitated, gazing back over the years to a moment of sorrow so great that it obviously pained her to recall it now. And then, slowly, she faced her daughter, staring with profound sadness into those ice-blue eyes. “You,” she muttered, almost as if speaking to herself. “You...’”

— Suzanne Rodríguez, from Wild Heart: A Life, Natalie Clifford Barney and the Decadence of Literary Paris 

[goshikitsutomusmommy]

“Incorrect Quotes with Haikyuu Boys„

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8 , Part 9 , Part 10

Synopsis : Different Quotes From Brooklyn-Nine-Nine as Haikyuu Characters

Genre : Comedy

Pairing(s) : Goshiki x reader , Atsumu x reader , Tsukishima x reader , Lev x reader

Word Count : 1.07k

Warning(s) : She/her pronouns used , slight violence , slight timeskip spoiler

Masterlist Link : Here

*Shiratorizawa manager in this*

[Name] : Mm. All right. Haha, C’est la vie (“It’s life.” in French). Let me grab your student ID numbers ‘cause I will be filing an official student complaint with Coach Washijou.

[Name] , Semi , Shirabu : *All laugh the joke off waveringly whilst Semi and Shirabu side glancing each other*.

Coach Washijou : Why did a just receive a student complaint about ya two?

Shirabu : I can answer this. Because our manager is a goblin.

*Shiratorizawa manager in this*

Coach Washijou : Ye’ll stay after school hours at the gym for extra practice today.

Goshiki : Darn it. I had a belly dancing class today! Today is Egyptian undulation.

[Name] : Ooh!~ Show us some moves!

Goshiki : Sure! *Tries to get on top of the bench*.

Coach Washijou : Dismissed!

Kyoutani : It’s my birthday. I hate birthdays. If you wish me a happy birthday, I will punch you.

Oikawa : You’re a funny little bird, Mad Dog-Chan. Happy birthday!

*Gets punched in the guts*

*Inarizaki manager in this*

[Name] : *Holds up two pictures* Here are two pictures. One is your gym locker and the other is a garbage dump in the Philippines. Can you tell which is which?

Atsumu : *Points to the right one*, That one is the dump?

[Name] : They’re both your locker!

Atsumu : Gah! A should’ve guessed that, that’s good!

*Inarizaki manager in this*

Part 1/3

Atsumu : A can see that yer upset, but let’s just sit down and talk about it.

[Name] : Done talking! *Throws boxing gloves*, Time to dance.

Atsumu : Fine. But a should warn ya. A took three years of tap.

*Inarizaki manager in this*

Part 2/3

Atsumu : Again, [Name], it’s so good to see ya. Just outta curiosity, how did ye find out about this?

[Name] : I’m the club manager at Inarizaki High... Kita-San told me. I know you’re trying to set me up with some guy in class 7 as a joke!

Atsumu : What? That’s crazy! ‘Samu, come in ‘ere and stand in front of ma body and tell ‘er that’s crazy!

*Atsumu gets punched by the manager*

Atsumu : Ow! My lucky face!

[Name] : You gonna talk to me now?

Atsumu : Sure. If ya could be any vacation—

*Gets punched again*

Atsumu : Ow!

*Inarizaki manager in this*

Part 3/3

Atsumu : So we good?

[Name] : We good. And for the record... If I can be any kind of vacation... I’d be lake trip.

Atsumu : Classic!

*Karasuno manager in this*

Nishinoya : Come on. You’re not even moving. Let’s go.

Asahi : Get your hands off me! I’ve heard about this in the news! You’re cyber-bullying me!

Nishinoya : Shh!

Asahi : I’m getting [Name]! Get the hell away from me!

Nishinoya : No, you’re very misinformed. Please don’t get [Name]—

*Slight timeskip spoiler*

*Karsuno manager in this*

[Name] : Here’s the plan: We’re gonna go to nationals, you’re gonna enjoy and fall in love with volleyball, you’re gonna want to pursue being a volleyball player as a career. And that’s a [Surname] guarantee.

Tsukishima : Your last [Surname] guarantee you made was that you could dunk a basketball.

*Flashback*

[Name] : *In a ladder with a basketball in hand*, I never said I couldn’t use a ladder. [Surname] guarantee achieved! *Tries dunking the basketball but falls off the ladder and misses the shot*.

*Nekoma manager in this*

Part 1/3

Kuroo : Now, I have been taking notes on points of friction in this gym for three years. *Pulls out a poster that is highly detailed with work flow strategies for Nekoma*, The red areas are places where no work gets done. If we can fix these problems without anyone knowing what we’re doing, we will make progress.

Coach Nekomata : Are you saying you want to secretly perform scientific experiments on your friends and colleagues to increase efficiency?

Kuroo : Yes.

Coach Nekomata : Sounds fun, let’s do it.

*Nekoma manager in this*

Part 2/3

Coach Nekomata : Tell me about the Haiba-[Surname] reaction...

Kuroo : Lev gets cold a lot because of what he calls his—

*Flashback*

Lev : Medically diagnosed thin skin.

*Flashback over*

Kuroo : So he goes to the lost and found, and he grabs something that’s usually unflattering... That’s when [Name] usually gets involved.

*Flashback*

*Lev walking past [Name] wearing an oddly knitted sweater*

[Name] : *Condescending laughter* Sweet sweater, Lev! You look like you’re starting in an Albanian remake of The Cosby Show.

Lev : ...

[Name] : Dr. Huxtable! Dr. Huxtable!

*Flashback over*

Kuroo : [Name] is completely useless when Lev is wearing lost and found clothes.

Coach Nekomata : Well, I can’t really blame her on this one. Maybe we should just uh... empty lost and found.

Kuroo : Already done, sir.

*Lev walking past them in a white cowboy fringed jacket*

Kuroo : Don’t worry! I had a backup plan. I distracted [Name] with a mirror. She’s like a cockatiel, sir— Fascinated by her own reflection...

*[Name] staring at her reflection*

[Name] : Muah! Hello, sexy!~ How are you?

Lev : *Not glancing up* Right back at ya!

Coach Nekomata : Well done...

*Nekoma manager in this*

Part 3/3

Kuroo : Sir, I’m begging you, please, we have to stop!

Coach Nekomata : The problem is, we didn’t take Yaku into accounts. In our next trial—

*[Name] clears her throat whilst dramatically turning around on the office chair*

[Name] : Hello, boys. Welcome to your own office!~ I hear you’re trying to make the precinct most efficient.

Kuroo : [Name], what are you doing in the coach’s chair?

[Name] : I’ve narrowed the problem down to one location: The Coach-Kuroo vortex. Things would go a lot faster if the two of you did less experimenting and more working... And I’m not the only one who thinks that.

*Double clapping and the whole Nekoma team enters the office*.

Coach Nekomata : Well, I suppose it’s possible we may have been a tad enthusiastic in our pursuit of efficiency—

Kuroo : Really? A tad, Icarus?

Coach Nekomata : Fine, message received. Kuroo and I will get right to work.

[Name] : *Still in Coach’s chair*, Great, that will be all. Thank you.

Coach Nekomata : Get the hell out of my chair.

[Name] : Yeah, All right, I pushed it a little bit on that one. Okay~ Bye!

Kuroo : Today we face the worst Tokyo has to offer— Fukurodani Academy.

*Kuroo and Bokuto walking in slow motion towards each*

Kuroo : Fukurodani captain, Bokuto, we meet again.

Bokuto : Nekoma captain, Kuroo, your fly’s down— I made you look!

Kuroo : I didn’t look. And I’m wearing shorts, so there is no fly.

Bokuto : That’s not what your mom said.

Kuroo : You make no sense.

Bokuto : And now I’m inside your head.

{Pretend this is a divider pls}

Author’s Note : GAHHAHSA THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 90 NOTES, I can make this a series if you’d like, they’re really fun to make and think of as characters and I just have to write them down as soon as I see them LMAOO

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

The One That Got Away (L.MH)

Warnings : pure sadness, just absolute, pure heartbreak. 

Word Count : 2419

Synopsis : she returned after four years engaged to another man, someone minho is convinced doesn’t love her as much as he does. but as he watches them get married, he sees the love in his eyes, and comes to terms with the fact that she will always be the one that got away.

“Let’s break up.” She said so nonchalantly before taking a sip of her coffee. She sat across from Minho, one leg crossed over the other, sitting back in her chair so comfortably, Minho was envious. He was leaning on the table, both his hands wrapped around his cup, staring at the love his life.

           “Break up?” He asked, sitting straighter in his seat at the mere thought of losing her. “Why?” He could feel the tears threaten to fall, but he refused to give her that power. If she was going to leave, he wasn’t going to allow her to leave him in pieces.

           “I got this amazing job offer in New York; I’d be an idiot not to take it.” She leaned forward to place her cup on the table in front of her, looking away from Minho for just a couple of seconds, but it allowed him to come to the realization that after today, she’ll never look at him again.

           “Right. Yeah. Okay.” The words he wanted to say burned in his throat like whiskey after a rough week. “Let’s break up then.”

           “I knew you’d understand, Min.” She smiled before grabbing her purse from her lap, throwing the strap over her shoulder, standing, and walking out of the café without so much as a glance back at Minho.

           And he stood there, staring at her half drank coffee, the pink from her lipstick stained the rim. It’s like it was teasing him, telling him he would never feel her lips against his again. He would never have to wipe the smudged lipstick off his face from her kisses, and to some it would sound like a blessing, but to Minho it was a death sentence.

           It’s been four years since he’s seen her last, but everything about her is tattooed in his mind, which is how he knows that the girl wrapped in another man’s arms is her. He recognizes the way she throws her head back before meeting his eyes again, pressing a kiss to the man’s lips, as if shoving her new love in Minho’s face.

           He recognizes her laugh. Oh god does he ever recognize her laugh. It’s like music to his ears; his favourite song that he hasn’t heard in years but still memorizes every sound. The same sound that used to make his heart swell with joy and spread warmth throughout his body, now causes him a heartache he’s never felt before. Because she’s laughing at another man’s jokes, while Minho watches from afar, wishing that was him.

           He almost runs in the opposite direction when he realizes she’s walking in his direction, but her excited smile keeps him in one place. She practically throws her arms around him just like when they were together. He hesitated in wrapping his arms around her, but eventually hugged her tighter than she hugged him. “How have you been?” She beamed, pulling away from the much too short hug.

           “Good, I’ve been good.” He smiled at her, pretending seeing her wasn’t breaking his heart. He gave her a once over, noting all the changes in her style, and the way she’s grown to be even more beautiful than he remembered. “You look amazing! How have you been?”

           “Oh you always flatter me, Lee Minho.” She blushed, lightly smacking him on the arm with a small giggle. “I’ve been great! This is Hongjoong, my fiancé.” She introduced the man that stood silently behind her, eyeing Minho with the same suspicion Minho used to give to the men in her life when they were together.

           “Oh wow, congratulations!” If she noticed the less-than enthusiastic way Minho said those words, she didn’t make it obvious. He glanced down to her left hand, seeing the diamond right that adorned her finger, the same finger he placed a ring to years previous. He wondered, suddenly, what happened to that ring.

           “It was so nice running into you! Maybe you and the boys could come to the wedding? I’d love for all of you to be there.” The longer she stood in front of him, the more she spoke, the more his heart broke.

           “My number is still the same, just text me the details.” Why would he agree to watch her get married to someone that isn’t him?

           “You’re home!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck, kissing him quickly while the other seven slowly piled into the house they all shared.

           “Oh, are you going to greet us all like that?” Jisung joked, raising his eyebrows at the couple, earning a well-deserved glare from Minho.

           “Jisung not flirting with Minho’s girlfriend challenge: failed.” Felix laughed, shaking his head with his usual smile on his face. “Hi Y/N.”

           “Hi Felix.” She smiled back him, unwrapping herself from her boyfriend. “I made dinner in case anyone was hungry.” She smiled, gesturing to the set table, earning excited thanks from everyone as they took a seat at the table, digging into the food she made.

           “What did I do to deserve you?” Minho smiled, wrapping his arm around her waist, and bringing her in for a quick kiss.

           “You pestered me for weeks on end in tenth grade until I agreed to one date with you.” She reminded him, causing Minho to hide behind his hands at the embarrassing memory.

           “Must have been one amazing date if you two are still together.” Seungmin teased from the table. She only shook her head, explaining just how horrible the date was. He had planned it all out, but nothing seemed to go according to plan. But she couldn’t help but feel admiration towards him seeing the effort he put into their first date.

           “He is surprisingly charming.” She smiled as the two finally took the last two seats at the table, digging into the food like the others. Minho couldn’t help but glance at her from time to time, his heart swelling with so much love watching her interact with his best friends. It was in that moment that he knew, she was the one.

           She agreed to meet Minho for coffee a few days after they had run into each other. And now they sat across from each other in an awkward silence, much like the day four years ago when she broke up with him, leaving him more heartbroken than she ever knew. “Was there something you wanted to talk about, or did you just want to stare at me?” She chuckled, leaning forward to grab her drink, taking a sip, and placing it back on the table before leaning back in her chair.

           She sat there comfortably; one leg crossed over the other, similar to the day she left him. He couldn’t help but think back to that day, staring at her as if she was going to disappear again. And in a way, she will. Because she doesn’t belong to him anymore. She won’t leave with him, their hands intertwined as they walk back to the house they share with seven crackheads. Instead, they will go their separate ways, and she will return to Hongjoong, the man she’s set to marry in less than a week.

           “I just have some things to get off my chest. I feel like I’m suffocating, so I just really need you to listen right now.” She nodded, giving Minho her full attention. She’s always been good at that. Whenever Minho needed her, she was there with a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. “If I’m honest with you, Y/N, I never wanted to break up with you.” The words didn’t necessarily take her by surprise; she was the one to put an end to their relationship, and even she didn’t want to do it.

           Minho was her first love, that’s something she will never deny. He asked her out almost every day for a month until she agreed to what would be the worst date she’d ever go on. But Minho was handsome and he was charming. That worst date easily became one of her favourite memories, and it led to a whirlwind romance that lasted for years. If you had asked her four years ago, she would tell you Lee Minho was the man she was meant to marry. But life had other plans, and she met Kim Hongjoong.

           “I still love you just as I did four years ago.” Now these words took her by surprise. She was sure someone as handsome as Minho would have easily moved on, much like she did. It took her some time, but Hongjoong was patient with her, knowing she left a love back home that she was trying to forget.

           She was sure while she was falling in love with Hongjoong, Minho was falling in love with someone else as well. She was sure that while she was sharing new firsts, making new memories with someone new, he was as well. How had he not moved on in four years?

           “Minho, I loved you once, I really did. But I love Hongjoong now, I’m sorry. But I know you, and I know that someone is going to come along and sweep you off your feet, and you’ll fall so far in love with them, you’ll look back on our love and realize it’s nothing compared to this new love.”

           “You’re probably right.” The words he wanted to say, much like that day four years ago, burned in his throat, desperate to be heard, but he swallowed them down. He knew in his heart that he was always going to love her more than any other girl that will come along in the future.

           “What do you see in your future?” She asked as they laid in bed, their legs intertwined under the covers, while she played with his fingers absentmindedly. He looked over at her with so much love and adoration; it’s a look girls wait a lifetime to receive.

           “You.” He said softly, a smile spreading across his face as she looked up at him. “I see us getting married one day and getting a place of our own. I’d love to escape these idiots, but I’m sure they’ll be over all the time begging one of us to cook for them.” They shared a laugh at the accuracy his statement had. “I see us with a couple of kids that not only will Soonie, Doongie, and Dori adore, but so will the boys. We’d live out all of our dreams with each other. We’ll still argue, we’ll still have bad days, but the love and the good days will always outweigh the bad. I see us growing old together, spending the rest of our days together with a very large and chaotic, but very loving family.”

                   She stared up at him, her heart swelling with so much love, hoping that that’s the future the world holds for her. “I love you, Lee Minho.”

           “I love you so much more, L/N Y/N.”

           “Are you sure you want to go to her wedding?” Chan asked as they eight of them got dressed in the nicest suits they had, preparing to watch the love of Minho’s life walk down the aisle towards another man. When they pictured this day, it was different. They imagined Minho panicking, making sure everything was perfect. They imagined him practically bouncing off the walls in excitement at the very idea of marrying his high school sweetheart. They imagined they’d all be standing at the alter, watching Minho cry at how beautiful Y/N looked. Watching him cry as he shared his vows that they’re sure he’d written years ago.

           But instead, they all got dressed in silence, waiting for Minho to break. They took two separate cars to the venue, walking in and finding a row of chairs reserved specifically for them; third row from the front. Minho saw her mom talking with who he assumed to be Hongjoong’s parents, all of them smiling as people walked up to congratulate them on their children’s marriage.

           It was as extravagant as Minho pictured it would be, knowing she most likely planned this for months, and went a little bridezilla to make sure everything was perfect.

           As the ceremony was about to start, Hongjoong and his groomsmen made their way to the alter, standing there and waiting for the bride to walk down the aisle. Chan reached over and held Minho’s hand, calming him down slightly as he held back his tears.

           Then the music started and the doors opened. Everyone stood as she made her way down the aisle, her arm linked with her dad’s. And god did she look gorgeous. She was always gorgeous, but this was a different kind of gorgeous. The gown fit her like a glove, showing off all her beautiful curves. Minho couldn’t help but stare at her, his heart breaking all over again when she didn’t even meet his eyes, her gaze focused solely on Hongjoong who was shedding tears at how beautiful she was.

           They went through the usual wedding procedures, making it harder for Minho to hold back his tears. He didn’t even notice that his friends weren’t even paying attention to the ceremony, and instead were looking at him, ready to take him away when they thought he had enough. But he was staring straight ahead, wondering how different things would have been if she never left for New York.

           “If anyone opposes this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace.” Minho went to stand, wanting so desperately to object this wedding, convince her that they are meant to be. But he recognized the pure love Hongjoong held in his eyes as he looked nowhere but her face. And he could see the lovesick smile on her face as she stared up at him. It was the same look she used to give him when they were together. And that’s when he knew that she had truly moved on; she really did love Hongjoong, and Hongjoong really loved her. Hongjoong loved her just as much as Minho did, if not more, and he could see that in his eyes.

           So Minho stayed seated, his hands clasped in his lap, and a small smile on his face as the couple shared their first kiss as husband and wife. She will always be the one that got away, but he knows she’s in good hands. And so he lets her go. He loves her so much he lets her go.

[softinkshadows]

battlefield encounters (gojo, nanami, geto, sukuna) (part 3)

Some short vignettes of jjk men x female reader imagined scenarios, where reader meets them for the first time in the middle of a fight (all taking place within the same world and timeline of the manga/anime, although as parallel storylines). Geto Suguru “You disgust me.” His voice is hot against your ear as his strong hands slam you against the wall, nails digging into your flesh. “What is a filthy human like you doing here at this hour?” You try to turn and speak, but your face is pressed hard to the crushed stone wall, and you can feel a thin trickle of blood dripping down the side of your cheek. On most days, Geto would not even deign to touch a human trespasser, preferring to unleash one of his low-level curses on them instead. But today, he is in the mood to get his hands dirty. 10 hours ago, you had received a tip-off at the agency that some nefarious dealings might be underway at a temple on the outskirts of Chiba prefecture. Some suspicious deaths and probable connection to the Star Religious group, the report had said. Now, it is night, and here you are unceremoniously pinned to the outer façade of the main temple by a stranger, your hands held behind your back, agonisingly out of reach from the gun on your holster. “Talk.” His tone is sharp and dominant. A rough grip twists your head to the side, allowing you to finally catch your breath. Lessons from your years of training begin to swarm your mind. Play dumb. “I-I’m a fellow devotee,” you stutter nervously, praying whoever is behind you won’t notice the gun at your belt, and quietly thanking the gods that you wore a long coat to hide it today. “I’m a new joiner, and I heard from a friend inside that there were night sessions as well.” You are spun around, back to the wall. Your hands, still caught in the vice-like hold of his pale arms, are starting to feel bruised. A man with long black hair stands inches away from you, dark locks falling over his face, his flowing robes brushing up against your thighs. His black eyes are terrifyingly cold, piercing, and you catch them glancing to the wound on your head. For a moment, he looks pleased. A shudder runs through you. “A devotee, hmm?” he murmurs thoughtfully, though his eyes never leave yours. There’s something about his gaze, the way he’s holding you, that suddenly fills you with vertigo, as if you’ve tumbled off the edge of the universe and found yourself on its flip side, a darker, frightening world that no one should ever have to encounter. You feel your guise slipping away. Oh god, he knows. Your body tenses. His fingers now stroke the inside of your palms, running them lightly across your heavily calloused skin, the scars from all the combat you’ve faced throughout your time at the agency. The hands of an experienced fighter. His mouth turns up in a slight smirk. “You’re not a very good liar.” ---- Ryomen Sukuna “Hurry up, Itadori,” you yell over your shoulder, scaling the large stone boulders dotting the forest path, moving deeper into the trees. The sun is setting, and the way downhill will be getting dark. But the pink-haired brat is still at the clearing, gawking loudly and admiring the cityscape of Tokyo from the viewing point. So much for babysitting a small-town bumpkin, you groan inwardly, pausing to wait for him. The day before, Gojo had called in a favour. As always, that smart-mouthed ass didn’t bother to give much information. The boy known as Sukuna’s vessel was recovering from a fight with some “patchwork curse,” and both him and Nanami would be busy with jobs the next day, so “would you please look after him, being the independent ‘window’ that jujutsu society doesn’t know about, and oh, by the way everyone thinks he’s dead!” Bewildered, you didn’t have much of a choice but to accept, given how Gojo had been helping to keep your identity under wraps for the last few years. Thus resulting in you having to entertain the boy with a low-key sightseeing tour of Tokyo. “Sorry Y/N-san!” Finally, you hear Itadori’s light footsteps approach from a distance. He catches up with you easily, his physical prowess allowing him to leap from boulder to boulder with ease, even in the growing darkness. You don’t hear the chant that follows next, and neither does Itadori. “Enchain.” The forest grows cold. You feel the cursed energy leaking out from behind you like a frothing pit, curling and extending its tendrils towards your feet. The hairs on the back of your neck stand frigid. You turn around fast, knowing that the person in front of you is no longer the annoyingly cheerful brat you spent the afternoon taking care of. Why now? “Sukuna,” you hiss, moving into a defensive stance. This is a troublesome scenario. In the worst case… your eyes flit to the set of bronze cursed rings on your fingers. You may even have to use it. Not even Gojo, bearer of the Six Eyes, knew about that. He emerges from the shadows into the faint moonlight, torso bared, revealing the black tattoos running across his body. He stretches his arms as if they have stiffened from a long slumber. Now he’s awake and ready. The glint in his eye unsettles you. “I’ve been meaning to have a chat with you,” Sukuna says. His voice is flippant, though edged with curiosity. Like a king seated on his throne casting a second glance beneath him out of amusement. “To what do I owe this honour?” you scoff sarcastically, gritting your teeth. Then, sharp pain courses through you, and the air is knocked out of your lungs. You feel yourself crashing through tree bark, the wood splintering and scraping your skin. When you come to on your knees, slightly dazed and mouth tasting of blood, you realize Sukuna is already standing over you. A strong hand grabs you by the throat, lifting your body off the ground. “Now, I don’t have much time.” You can feel the pressure building in your chest, as you grasp the thick hands around your neck. In most cases, you’d have kicked your way out by now, but Sukuna’s cursed energy is so immense it paralyzes you, especially in your current state. He continues. “Gojo Satoru thinks you’re just a non-sorcerer who can see curses, but that’s not the case, isn’t it?” He rams your body against the tree, making you gasp in pain and cough from his hold earlier. Blood trickles over your eyelids. He leans close to you, nose almost touching, eyes boring into yours. His left hand remains closed over your throat. His right grabs your left hand forcefully, raising it close to his face. “This…” he smirks, pressing so hard on the cursed rings on your fingers that you wince, “has a pretty interesting ability, after all.” Your eyes widen, then narrow in irritation. Shit. Of all the people who could know about this, it has to be him. Then again it makes sense, given how long the king of curses has been around. He strokes your cheek with a finger, making you grimace. You feel his punishing fingers about to pull the rings loose. Your heart hammers wildly. “Show me my dear,” he whispers slowly, “what you’re hiding.” ---- Notes: The Sukuna portion makes some references to the binding vow made between him and Itadori Yuuji. A ‘window’, like Ijichi-san, refers to non-sorcerers at Jujutsu Tech who can see curses and help to report curse sightings/missions. Hope you guys liked this one and hope it tingled your imaginations~~ --- Taglist (っ˘ω˘ς ) : @encrytpta @wilddreamer98

[dreamingofaizawa]

Powerful Ch. 3

Yakuza! Shouta Aizawa x Fem! Reader

*Mafia AU*

Warnings: Misogyny (not from Shouta), a dagger, kinda fluffy

Word Count: 3k

Author's Note: This took too damn long but here we are. Definitely coming out with another part or two, but the next one is gonna start at a huge timeskip so yeah. That'll be fun.

Anywho, Enjoy~

For Reference, this is the dress I describe in here.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

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For your second night with Shouta you find yourself lost in thought, staring out at the stars. The stress from before the meeting never disappeared, only delayed. Now it’s all catching up, and your brain is struggling to sort everything out.

Shouta could be on the receiving end of some very misogynistic and traditional clans’ anger very soon. You’re relieved that your future husband is nothing like them, but the backlash he could be getting just by bringing you to a meeting so soon after the announcement is frightening, not to mention some irrational clans may decide to split off and find a rival Yakuza to adopt them. Even so, that’s probably the worst of the outcomes. It’s unlikely you’ll have to worry about either of your safety, though there is still a small chance.

For the second time Shouta wraps his arms around you, surrounding you with his scent and body heat.

“I hope this won’t become a habit, little one.” He presses his cheek to the side of your head, kissing your temple gently. His presence is calming, helps your overactive brain slow down.

“I just needed space to think.” He hums, the sound reverberating through your body.

“What could you be thinking about so late at night?” You don’t really want to tell him, but you figured it’s better than keeping it all in.

“I just worry about the backlash you’ll be getting after the meeting today. This organization is a traditional one, and women have always been kept away from the violent and criminal side of it for centuries. To suddenly name an onna-oyabun, and a woman that previously held a low rank at that, you’re bound to feel some sort of repercussions.” He squeezes you gently, kisses your temple again.

“That’s what you’re worrying your pretty head about? I’ll be fine, little one. Let’s go to bed.” He’s right, you suppose. There isn’t a lot that can affect him or his position, so there isn’t a lot you need to worry about. You nod, taking your weight off of him to go back to the room. You’re a little surprised when he picks you up again, scoops you off your feet and carries you to bed. He tugs you into him just the same as the night before, and once again you fall asleep to the soft thrum of his heart.

The next morning you’re woken by Shouta again. This time you don’t immediately pull away, instead choosing to bask in his embrace a few moments longer. It feels like you’ve known Shouta for years rather than hours, having seen some of the most intimate and private parts of him, and all you want to do is dig deeper. But of course, there’s time for that later.

“Come on, little one. It’s time to wake up. We’re going to see your parents today, and then we’ve got another meeting to attend.” You hum lightly then push off of him, taking a glance at his handsome face before getting out of bed to prepare for the day. You choose a dress you hadn’t worn in a while, one that felt like it would fit today’s events, a flowing black sundress with a halter neckline. Simple black heels pair nicely with it, as well as a small black clutch purse.

You aren’t anxious about Shouta meeting your parents. They aren’t as traditional as most, ideals and views closer to Shouta’s. All parties involved gave their bows in greeting, even Shouta, and brunch went by without a hitch. It wasn’t the usual cringey romcom scene where the parents ask ‘why do you love our daughter’. In fact, they know that the marriage is strategic. Of course, Shouta had made his thoughts clear, that he intends to ensure the union is enjoyable for the both of you. His honesty made a small smile worm its way onto your face, though you managed to hide it well enough.

Soon you’re on the road again, en route to the second meeting. You aren’t too surprised that Shouta already has two scheduled meetings back-to-back after the gala, he is a busy man after all.

The venue is another restaurant, this one not quite as high-end but just as beautiful, the entire massive building shaped like a circle and a koi pond around the perimeter. A bridge is all that connects the sidewalk with the building. You and Shouta are guided through by a host, and out a back door where another bridge connects to a separate island in the extended pond, the structure enclosed with sheer beige curtains.

Again, conversation abruptly stops when you enter. You’ll have to get used to it, you suppose. You sit, and the meeting begins. The subject is mostly territory disputes, bargaining for territory extensions or swaps with the others, all of them trying to work out strategies that benefit not only themselves but other clans as well. You keep silent throughout, listening carefully and learning, taking information and analyzing it. There must be someone Shouta doesn’t like in the meeting, because when the most important details are worked through, he excuses himself to the restroom once again.

You wonder, briefly, why he’d choose to play the same trick a second time in a row. If he does it too often his plan would become transparent, though one could argue not doing it enough would be just as easy to read. You don’t know how often he excuses himself from these meetings, so you decide to leave it in his hands.

Fortunately for you, it would seem no man here is willing to speak about your presence. It’s been almost ten minutes and none of them has said a word to or about you, choosing instead to discuss territories a bit further. Though you were beginning to question why Shouta hadn’t yet returned. Surely one would get suspicious, and one did, glancing toward the main building. It was then you all shifted your attention to Shouta, who stood at the opposite end of the bridge speaking into his phone. So that’s why he’s taking so long.

And unfortunately, that meant these men were relatively safe.

“So what’s the woman doing here?” It was barely a whisper, but you could hear it even over the sounds of the pond. A glance up shows the blonde to your right had leaned over to the man next to him. He’s much younger than the man from yesterday, maybe in his mid-late twenties, his hair clearly not natural. The one he’d whispered to flicked his gaze up, catching your own, and shouldered the blonde who subsequently looked to you. He cracks a cheeky smile, a poor attempt to cover himself really.

“Ah, Onna-oyabun, it’s good to finally see the Black Dragon’s wife-to-be.” It would seem news travels fast, and the blonde is much less bold than the older man. You crack your own smile, a sickly sweet show of teeth that hid a venomous bite.

“The woman has a name. Please, do not be afraid to use it in discussion. And I will tell you exactly what I told the previous oyabun who questioned my presence. I am here because Shouta wants me to be.” His smile doesn’t falter, but his eye visibly twitches at your response. It’s almost amusing to see his composure slip. It’s less amusing when he glances back to where Shouta is still on the phone.

“With all due respect I’m not afraid, I simply do not feel the need. And my question was not directed at you, but at my associate here.” He loops an arm over the shoulder of the man he’d asked, the dark-haired man wide-eyed and nervous. You aren’t sure how to answer his quip without rising tension, but Shouta made it clear you’re to be commanding a room just as he does, so you choose to strike a nerve and stir the pot. For added effect you let your face drop into a deadpan, tilt your chin up just a hair and glare.

“Most would feel it necessary to use a person’s name or title when discussing anything regarding them, especially in their presence. Therefore I can’t help but feel you may not have any respect for me when you clearly should.” You could see the muscles in his jaw clench as he ground his teeth, his nostrils flaring with his anger. You nearly let a smile crawl onto your face at the satisfaction of knowing you’d angered an asshole like him with only your words.

“Maybe I don’t respect you. What are you going to do about it?” The man still under his arm stiffens, a hand slapping the blonde’s chest, his eyes locked on the entrance to the room. Shouta stands there, but the blonde seems to either not notice or not care. You aren’t given time to answer his rhetorical question.

“Nothing. You can’t do a thing about it, because you hold no power over me.” He’s elbowed this time, the dark-haired man trying harder to get the blonde’s attention off of you and onto the man he should be fearing right about now. To be fair, Shouta stands almost behind the blonde, who sits to your right, so it isn’t hard to believe he doesn’t see him. You just let him dig his own grave.

“And you hold no power over me because you’re a woman. A woman out of her place and on the wrong side of business, let alone holding a rank much lower than mine.” The man beneath the blonde’s arm had given up, choosing to bow his head down and stay silent. It’s Shouta who speaks next.

“I believe it’s you who holds a much lower rank than her.” The blonde’s face goes pale, his shit-eating grin dropping faster than a sinking stone.

“In case you hadn’t heard the news yet I’ve assigned her a title, and I expect you to use it. She may have asked you to use her name, but you should address her as Onna-oyabun any time she is brought up in discussion, regardless of whether or not either of us are present.” He strides up behind you and places a hand on your bare shoulder, just like yesterday. You can’t help but feel his positioning is on purpose, physically placing you in front of him.

“Are you ready to go, little one?” You nod, rising from your seat and taking a small bow signaling your leave. Shouta lets a hand rest on your lower back, guiding you out, but you overhear the same blonde whisper under his breath. You’re definitely not meant to hear it.

“The Dragon can’t always be around to save you, brat.” You both freeze in your tracks, Shouta’s eyes wide and nostrils flaring with anger. Before he can turn to react you lean in and whisper in his ear.

“My turn.” He raises an eyebrow at you, then nods, crossing his amrs and leaning against the beam at the entrance. You pivot, pinning the blonde in place with a glare. If looks could kill, he’d be in a casket. Slowly, you begin a steady pace around the table.

“I do not rely on Shouta to help me in these situations. In fact, I could just as easily take a piece of your tongue myself.” You’re on the opposite side of the table now, still taking long, slow strides and glaring down at the man.

“But it is so glaringly obvious that you lack the same level of intelligence I hold, and therefore I would feel guilty to rob you of a muscle that you clearly haven’t learned to use properly,” you stop, standing stock still behind the blonde, “However.” In one swift movement your dagger is stuck in the wooden table directly in front of the blonde, your manicured fingers curled around the handle delicately.

“Should I hear another demeaning or degrading word out of your mouth, I will not hesitate to stain my fingers with your blood.” He doesn’t seem to be reacting at all, whether he’s afraid or not you can’t tell, but you don’t let that affect your performance. You lean in, your lips nearly grazing the shell of his ear.

“You probably wouldn’t even get to taste my blade, but I don’t mind taking my time if you want to savor the tang of steel.” You yank the blade from the wood and sheath it, straightening your posture.

“Had Shouta chosen another woman for his wife you may have been able to actually hurt her feelings with your childish words.” You turn, striding back to where Shouta holds his hand for you to take.

“Unluckily for you, I’m just as volatile as my other half. Be grateful that either of us are merciful. You get to keep your tongue. For now.” It’s cathartic, letting out your anger like that. It’s unlikely that the threat will get you any sort of respect, but fear works just as well in your favor. Respect is something hard to find and even harder earned as a woman in a man’s world, but fear works better against an enemy that dreads change. You can’t help but smirk as you walk away from the chaos you left behind, and as you glance up you see the faintest smirk worming its way onto Shouta’s face.

____

His chest swells with something akin to pride as he waltzes away from the restaurant. He was wrong to assume you were averse to violence, had taken your level-headedness and cool temperament to mean you are not a violent individual. To assume you were either incapable of violence or unable to handle the intensity was obviously a mistake on his part. Watching the blonde freeze up and pale under your hard gaze was extremely satisfying, and he had to admit seeing such controlled rage and sharp words pour from you was enjoyable and, among other things, wildly attractive.

Shouta thinks he should let you handle these situations more often, let you have your fun, maybe even plot to have you purposely go just a little too far and have him reel you back in. Maybe then people may start to understand that you aren’t to be treated lightly, you aren’t just a means to an end, just a glorified housewife. No, you’re much more than that and if it takes bloodied words and bloodier actions to get it through some thick skulls, well, he’s sure you know he’s willing to go there and farther.

But for now, he’d settle with the occasional threat of taking a body part.

____

Once again you stare out at the stars, thinking about the day’s events. You’re almost bouncing on your feet, adrenaline still flowing through your veins. You feel light now, knowing you can take control of an escalating situation. Whether or not you can do it all on your own isn’t a real question. Of course you could do it without Shouta present. His existence alone is enough to ward off any violence directed at you. But it’s your own actions that determine how people will perceive you.

You let Shouta control the first meeting incident, mostly because you had no clue what was going on and no information to work from. Now that you know Shouta is listening and that there’s a purpose behind his absence, you can use it to your advantage and weed out the worst of the bad apples. With that information, and confidence that Shouta will not reprimand you--but will in fact support you--for getting mouthy with said bad apples, you could let loose some of the rage that made your blood boil. It’s freeing, taking entitled men off their precious pedestals and knocking them down a bit.

Shouta wraps his arms around you for the third time, burying his face in your neck and breathing in your scent. He kisses you lightly, feather light presses of his lips against your skin. It really does feel good, being so close to someone.

“I thought this wasn’t becoming a habit.” You sigh and lean into him.

“I’m not quite tired. Honestly I’m thinking about today. I’m still on an adrenaline high just replaying it in my head, the thrill, being able to finally get a word in.” He chuckles, squeezing you a bit tighter to him.

“I’m going to assume you’d never really been allowed to do that sort of thing before.” You nod, a small smile curling your lips. Up until now you lacked any sort of standing or power, and the rush is amazing, for lack of better words. Shouta hums then nips at the shell of your ear, his voice sultry and deep.

“Well if you’re looking to burn energy I think I could help you with that.” Your breath hitches, not prepared for such a suggestion. For a second you believe it, believe he’s really suggesting what you think he is, but you can feel his hands moving and before you can react he’s digging his fingers into your sides, making you giggle uncontrollably.

He’s laughing with you, enjoying watching you try to squirm from his grasp. He releases you, and you run over to the bedroom and duck under the blanket in an attempt to hide, but he only laughs.

“You silly girl, now you’re trapped!” He finds your waist through the thick blanket and doesn’t relent until you’re gasping for air and crying for mercy. He stops, finally, and pulls the blanket off your head. Your face is flushed, your hair splayed wild over the sheets and your chest heaving for oxygen. For a moment his mind drifts to dirtier thoughts of a similar expression he’d like to see. He pushes those thoughts away as you beam up at him, your smile reminding him of sunshine. Rough fingers brush away the hair that had fallen over your face.

“Are you ready to try sleeping now, little one?” You lean your head into his hand, nuzzling your cheek into his palm. The way he’s gazing down at you now, you know you’d never felt so adored in your life.

“Let’s sleep.” He lies down and you get comfortable on top of him, resting your head in the crook of his neck and wrapping your leg around his waist. His arms lock around you, holding you in place and he kisses the top of your head.

[high-functioning-lokipath]

The Servant - Loki x Reader - Words: 4,568

A/N: Sorry for the late posting today, I had some personal issues this morning so I haven't really been online. Hope you enjoy it! 💜💚

You were orphaned at a young age, never even knowing your parents. The only thing you did know about them was on your 1,000th birthday you would receive a gift from them. Something they had planned to give you even before you had been born.

Growing up was, of course, difficult but thankfully, by your 800th birthday, you'd climbed the social ladder enough to be accepted as a servant in the palace. Surprisingly enough, after almost 50 years of working there, you still had not met the royal family. You chalked it up to working mostly night shifts and didn't give it much thought.

On the morning of your 850th birthday, having had the previous night off, you had planned on sleeping in some and then making the most of your day. However, you were quite rudely woken by 2 young maids, who you were somewhat friends with, rushing into your bedroom.

"Y/N!" They exclaimed. "Get up quickly! The queen has requested to speak with you!" You blinked a few times, not believing what they'd said.

"Did I get full last night and forget about it?" You muttered. They pulled you out of bed and selected your best dress from your closet. "What does she want to see me for?" You asked as they helped you dress. Suddenly you were feeling quite nervous and very sick to your stomach.

"We can't tell you," The one girl, Alexandria, said. "But I promise you it's all good things. You'll be very happy!" The other girl, Hildegard, didn't say anything but smiled knowingly.

Before you knew it, you were being shoved through a set of doors and staring at a table full of the most delicious breakfast foods you had seen. "Good morning," A voice greeted. You looked up at the speaker and realized Queen Frigga had been sitting at the table all along.

"Oh! My queen!" You gasped, curtsying quickly. "My apologies! I didn't-"

"Do not fret, Y/N," She smiled kindly. "Please, sit with me and eat. I'm sure you're hungry."

"I-" You paused, smiling gratefully. "I am actually. Thank you." You sat down and served yourself a small amount, not wanting to appear greedy. The Queen was surprisingly easy to talk to, asking about how various things in the palace were doing while in turn she allowed you to ask different questions about palace life. You found yourself smiling and laughing with her as you both ate.

"Do you know why I called you here this morning?" She asked.

"Not the foggiest," You admitted, shaking your head. "This is quite nice, of course, but I am a bit curious."

"Today is your 850th birthday, is it not?" You nodded quickly. The Queen took a sip from her glass, before continuing. "One of my sons is in need of a new servant. The previous one just got married to a young man from Alfheim."

"How nice for her," You smiled. Your brain, however, caught up with what Frigga was implying. "Wait. You mean you want me to be a servant to the princes?"

"Not the princes, dear girl. A personal servant to one. They each have a personal servant to care for their daily needs. You are not only qualified in skill and ability, but also in age. We never assign maids that are too young to the princes. They can be," She paused, chuckling quietly. "They can be a lot to handle. However, I think you will be just fine." You were speechless, staring at the Queen in shock.

"I-yes! Of course, your majesty. I would be honored."

I have not told you which prince you will be working for," She said, raising an eyebrow in mild surprise at your immediate acceptance.

"Does it matter?" You asked. "It is an honor no matter to be working for your family directly." Frigga nodded approvingly and smiled.

"Then you will not care when I say the position is working for my son Loki?"

"My Queen, as I said before, it would be an honor. I have never heard any ill spoken of you or your sons. So why should I care who I am to be serving?"

"Your attitude and innocence will either lead to your success or your quick demise. I wish you all the best. Now come, I will show you to your new quarters."

You and Loki became fast friends. He treated you more as a peer than as a servant, especially since you came to find out the two of you were the same age. You were surprised at how easygoing the young prince was. Working directly with the royal family, you did start to hear palace gossip about them and you were disheartened to find most of it was about Loki.

One day, when you'd finished with the daily chores you had in Loki's room, which was more like an apartment, Loki walked in and flopped down on the freshly made bed.

"Loki!" You screeched. "I just made that!" You ran over, trying to stretch the quilt where he was not laying at least. Loki smirked at you and your eyes widened. "No, no, no! Loki! I know that look! What are you up to-eeee!" You squealed as he pulled you onto the bed, officially messing up all the sheets. You both laid there for a while, laughing and simply enjoying each other's company. "Why are you back so early?" You finally ask.

"Thor was feeling sick today and-" He paused, looking away sadly. "The others had better things to do."

"They didn't want to fight with you?" You asked. He shook his head and you scoffed. "You are a far better warrior than all of them combined. They should consider it an honor to fight you."

"Y/N, love, you are too kind. But-" He was interrupted by someone opening the door.

"Prince Loki, your mother requests your presence," A young girl said. One of Frigga's maids you recognized.

"Of course," He sighed. "My apologies for messing up the bed," He said, turning back to you.

"It's alright, Lo-Prince Loki," You replied. It was sometimes difficult to remember to add the honorifics on his name after becoming such close friends. But the girl was watching and you didn't want to appear disrespectful.

It took about 2 weeks for you to finally figure out what was going on. Ever since that day in Loki's room, the other servants, with the exception of your friends Alexandria and Hildegard, had avoided you like the plague. But today it all came out. You were in the laundry about to fold the clothes Loki had asked you to wash when you heard two maids talking a few tables away. One was Frigga's maid and they were obviously unaware of your presence in the room.

"They were in bed together!" She whispered scandalously.

"No!" The other gasped. "Tell me more!"

"The sheets were quite a mess. You could tell there had been quite a bit of," She paused briefly, smirking. "Activity." The two of them laughed quietly. "And that isn't even the worst! She almost called him by his name without a title! And he even called her ‘love’!"

"Oh my!" The girl gasped. "I suppose it makes sense. She is Prince Loki's personal servant. And I suppose she should serve him personally," She winked. "Although I do not understand why he would be interested in a thing like her?"

"A whore does not have to be pretty to be talented," Frigga's maid replied. The other girl hummed in agreement.

Hot tears fell down your cheeks. You bit back a sob and hurriedly gathered Loki's clothes in a basket. You ran out of the room and straight to Loki's quarters. As much as you wanted to hide away you had to finish your chores but you couldn't stay there. When you reached his room you placed the basket on the bed as it was the best spot to use like a table. Looking at the bed though, you burst into tears, falling to your knees beside the bed.

"Norns! I've never wanted to stab someone so much!" Loki yelled, bursting into the room. You gasped, standing up quickly, trying to dry your tears.

"What happened?" You asked, turning away from him so he couldn't see your face and trying to keep your voice even.

"Odin! Blasted Odin! He dared to imply that-argh! That man, he dares to call himself a king much less a father-" Loki yelled. He was so angry he couldn't even finish a sentence. You patiently listened, trying to finish folding his clothes.

"What did he say?" You asked quietly.

"He implied things," Loki said vaguely. "About my behavior."

"Has he not done so before?" You asked, slightly confused as to what made him so upset today. Loki shook his head.

"Not like this. He-" Loki winced slightly, hesitant to explain. "He wasn't just talking about me in this instance."

"Ah," You said. "So who's honor has you so upset? Lady Sif's perhaps?"

"Why would I be upset over her?" He exclaimed, finally looking up at you. Rushing over to you he grabbed your hands, pulling you closer to him. "Darling! What happened? Why are you crying?" You pulled away quickly, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"Please don't call me that!" You cried. "I-I'm sorry, Lo-Prince Loki. I am not feeling too well. Could I be excused to my quarters? I will send someone to finish with your laundry." Loki nodded slowly, very confused, and you ran off.

As you ran down the hallway, you collided with someone and you both fell down. "Y/N! Where's the fire?" Alexandria laughed as she got up. She reached to help you and saw your tears. "Who hurt you?" She asked.

"I'm just not feeling well," You lied.

"That is a pitiful excuse. What is wrong?" She ordered. As you walked to your room with her, you explained everything. "Oh honey! I'm so sorry that happened! You stay here. I'll send Hildegard to bring you some food and I'll go take care of Loki's laundry. Ok?" You nodded sadly and laid down as Alexandria hurried out. A few hours later, after you forced down part of the dinner Hildegard had brought you, there was a light knock at your door.

"Come in," You said, voice hoarse from crying. Slowly your door opened and a raven-haired man peeked in.

"Y/N?" Loki said, stepping in carefully. "How are you doing?" You wanted to scream at him for coming. You wanted to tell him to leave. But you were tired.

"Sadly, I am alive." Loki chuckled lightly and sat on the edge of your bed.

"For that I am very much glad," He smiled, resting a hand on your arm. "Alexandria told me what happened." You stiffened at his comment, every worst possible scenario rushing through your mind. "That's actually what Odin was speaking of earlier. He said that I was of age now and, well, he said there would be no consequences if I chose to find, how did he put it? Comfort? In one of my maids?"

"I see," You said slowly. "That-that makes sense," You continued, sitting up in bed, hands in your lap. "After all you are the prince and you have more important things to worry about than where to sate your needs." You looked away, nervous at what his reaction would be. You would be lying if you said you didn't want to be with him. But you definitely didn't want to be an object. Something he simply used and then ignored when it was no longer needed.

"Oh my dear friend," Loki sighed. "Do you truly think so little of yourself? Why do you think I was so upset earlier? After my meeting with Odin?" He brushed the stray strands of hair out of her face, ones that had fallen out of place while she slept. Turning her head towards him he smiled at her, eyes brimming with tears. "You are far too precious to be treated like that. I would never want to treat anyone so,” He crinkled his nose, searching for the right word. “So insignificant.”

"I appreciate that, Loki," You replied, blushing slightly. "But that doesn't change what they think. I'm so sorry. It's not your fault. Perhaps I should go away. At least I wouldn't hear any of the rumors they have to tell."

"No! Please don't go!" He immediately said, reaching out to hold onto you as if you'd take off right then. Running one hand through his hair he sighed. "Perhaps this isn't a good time to tell you."

"Tell me what?" You asked, reaching out to touch his hand but hesitated slightly, nervous as to how he would react. Loki stared at you, watching your movement. He took you hand in his and chuckled dryly.

"I care for you deeply, Y/N. You're my closest friend but," He paused. "But I wish for more. I love you. Very much. If you don't feel the same way I understand. If you want a transfer or want to leave I can have that arra-"

"No!" You yelled, interrupting him. "No! I don't want to go! I-" You gasped. "I love you too!" You laughed happily. "I just never thought you'd feel the same way!" Loki grinned, hugging you tightly.

"I promise to love you till the end of time," He whispered. Stroking your tear-stained cheek gently with his thumb he smiled sadly. "I know things will not be easy for you with the other servants. And I will try my best to make things right. But please come to me, darling. I never want to see you suffering alone."

"Okay," You said, smiling gratefully. He leaned forward and kissed you softly, chastely.

"If I am going to court you, we're going to do this right," He said. "I shall speak with the Allfather and Allmother today."

To your great happiness, they allowed Loki to court you. However, to your surprise, they never agreed when he asked to marry you. 1 year turned into 10. 10 into 100. Soon you had found yourself having courted Loki for over 200 years. They had gone by in the blink of an eye it seemed and, though you both wished to marry, you were happy as long as you were by each other's side. Loki had asked for your hand so many times that Frigga and Odin began to answer him before he even asked. He never stopped asking though.

One day, as you neared your 1,000th birthday, you woke in the middle of the night to a loud clatter in the hallway followed by a curse. You giggled, recognizing Loki's voice, and ran to open the door.

"Loki!" You whisper-yelled. "What are you doing? It's 3am!"

"Y/N!" He exclaimed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I simply knocked over a-"

"Loki, it's ok," You chuckled. However, you noticed he was unusually quiet and wouldn't look at you. "Loki? Is something wrong?" He slowly looked at you, a cool expression taking over his face.

"I was leaving you a note on the door. You'll have a new assignment in the morning."

"Oh! Loki! Did they finally say yes?" You asked excitedly, running towards him. He quickly backed away from you, shaking his head vigorously.

"No," He said. "I-I think it best we don't see each other any more. Therefore I asked for a change in your assignment."

"I don't believe you," You replied. Loki's expression contorted into one of anger.

"If you don't believe me then go read the note I left you! After all this time you don't even trust me?" He yelled.

"Loki!" You hissed, grabbing his arm before he could back away. "I trust you with my life. Don't make this into that argument. We've been over it already. I meant I don't believe what you're saying. I don't think you truly wish our relationship to end. I think someone or something has gotten to you or threatened you and I think you're trying to 'make it easier on me' by making me hate you before you go. Well guess what? It's not going to work. We promised each other to be in love till the end of time and I, for one, am keeping my end of the bargain so if you don't get in here, sit down, and explain to me what's going on I'll go to Frigga myself and ask her."

"Okay," Loki agreed, suddenly looking tired and defeated. Following you into your room he sat on the edge of your bed, fidgeting with his hands. "Your birthday is coming up," He said.

"Yes, it is," You replied, sitting next to him. "What does that matter?"

"Recently, my mother told me that your parents left you a gift for your 1,000th birthday." You nodded, wondering where he was going with this. "I am," He paused. "Familiar with a custom of certain families, usually ones of higher ranking, that they give their daughters a husband on her 1,000ths birthday. And-" He took a shaky breath, looking away. "I fear that is why we've never been allowed to marry. I think Mother knows what your gift is."

"Oh," You said. "I-I never thought of that. I never dreamt-" You started to cry, suddenly afraid of being taken away from the love of your life. Loki pulled you into his arms and kissed your forehead softly. No more words were exchanged. Loki and you eventually fell asleep reclined on your bed, you cradled protectively in his arms.

The day finally came. You were 1,000 years old by Asgardian terms and you were terrified. One of Odin's servants came to you with a request for your presence at breakfast and an excuse from all your duties that day. You bit your lip nervously. Not having to work today meant you had no real excuse to see Loki before breakfast. You hoped he would be there at least.

"Good morning, Y/N," Frigga smiled as you walked into the dining room. You curtsied and forced a smile back.

"Your highness," You greeted. Odin walked in the room and nodded at you before taking his seat at the head of the table. You curtsied again and then heard Thor coming in with his usual ruckus. Turning around you saw Thor physically dragging Loki into the dining room. The latter quickly walked in on his own when he saw you already there.

"Y/N!" Loki exclaimed, running up to you and hugging you tightly. You giggled and hugged him back. Odin cleared his throat pointedly and the two of you quickly pulled away. Frigga shot her husband a glare and then smiled softly at you and Loki. You all sat down, you and Frigga on one side, the two Odinsons on the other side, and Odin at the head, while the servants brought out the food. You tried to help them but Frigga tapped your arm and motioned for you to sit.

"You're a guest today, my dear girl," She said. You nodded, feeling awful for not helping. Eventually, the meal was finished, though you ate very little, and Odin stood up.

"Today is a special day," He boomed, smiling at you. "I will skip over a long and flowery speech since I care for those very little and I'm sure you are anxiously awaiting your gift." You looked away, a bit embarrassed that it was so obvious. "Do not be upset," He chuckled. "There is nothing wrong with your excitement." You looked up at him again and smiled slightly. Loki was right all these years, it was odd to see Odin happy. Somehow his cheerful attitude doubled your nerves.

"Are you ok, brother?" Thor whispered to Loki on the other side of the table.

"I'll be fine," Loki snapped. He shot an apologetic look at Thor and nodded. "Just worried," He added. Thor nodded and patted his brother's shoulder firmly.

"This paper, a letter," Odin said. "Was written to you, Y/N, by your parents shortly after your birth. As you can see, it is sealed with my seal and has not been opened. I, myself, as well as the Queen were present at it's writing." He broke open the seal and started reading.

"Our dearest Y/N, our love, our daughter,

You may not get to see it until much later, but to us, your parents, your eyes hold a bright future. You've yet to say a single word but you've got us wrapped around your little finger. We can't wait to see what a beautiful woman you'll become. We have lain a path for you before birth and now that you're here, it is time to take your first steps in this new and exciting world. No matter what, you will always have our love and support whenever your life shall lead you. Whether we're far or near, we will always be there with you, every step of the way.

As we said, we have something planned for you. Something that will allow you to fulfill your greatest dreams and something that we hope will give you all the happiness in the world.

Many moons ago, your father saved a man's life in battle. The man promised to repay that debt. It was agreed that our families would be joined by the future marriage of our children. The man later had a son, and we, of course, had you."

At this point, hot tears were streaming down your face. As happy as you were to hear how much your parents cared for you. You now knew Loki's fears were correct. This was why you'd never been allowed to marry him. Each word suddenly became as a stab to your heart. Loki, for his part, was not faring any better as he listened.

"That man was our wonderful King, Odin. We hope you, our lovely Y/N, find all the joys you could ever hope for in your marriage to his son.

We want you to know how much we love you and we wish you all the happiness possible as long as you live.

Your parents ~"

Loki's chair screeched as he stood abruptly. Your head snapped up to look at him but he was already storming through the dining room doors.

"Father?" Thor said uneasily, looking quickly between Odin, you and the door through which Loki had left. "What's the meaning of this?"

"Well, my son," Odin said with a wide smile. "It means that Y/N has been promised to-"

"No!" You exclaimed, standing up. "Thor," You said, looking at him. "I love you like a brother. You'll be a fine husband one day but I'd rather die before I marry you." Turning to Odin you saw a frown painting his face. "Throw me in the dungeons, kill me, whatever you wish, but I will not marry Thor. I love Loki and I could never hurt him in such a way."

"My child-" Odin started to say but you ignored him, running out of the room. "Guard!" Odin yelled, calling for one to go after you.

"Husband," Frigga said softly. "Let her be for now. Perhaps there can be a solution." Odin reluctantly agreed and Frigga sat beside him to reason with him. Thor quietly slipped out, feeling rather awkward.

He wandered out to a secluded part of the gardens, a spot he knew Loki loved to hide in. He smiled sadly when he found you curled up in Loki's arms at the base of a willow tree. "I won't do it," You sobbed, gripping his shirt tightly as you cried into it.

"You have to," Loki said, running his hands soothingly over your back. Although his was just as upset, he was trying to be strong for you. "It's been decided," He whispered. "At least you'll be safe and cared for. Thor may be my oaf of a brother but he'll treat you well."

"No I won't," Thor said walking up. "Well, not that I would-" He sighed frustratedly. "I mean that I won't take her." Loki looked up at his brother in surprise.

"Brother, what-"

"Loki," Thor said, sitting down beside his brother. "She refused me already," He chuckled. "Father was not happy but I believe Mother is trying to change his mind." He clapped Loki's shoulder and smiled. "She's yours. I would never dare take that away from you." The three of you sat in silence for some time before Frigga came and found you.

"My children, please come back to the dining hall. I have spoken with Odin and we've made a decision." Reluctantly you followed Frigga, holding tightly to Loki's hand.

As you walked into the dining room, Odin stood up and smiled at you. It was a forced smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Y/N, you have refused to marry Thor, correct?" You nodded immediately. "And Thor, you have refused to marry Y/N?"

"I cannot take her away from my brother, from their happiness." Odin nodded thoughtfully.

"Well then, here is my decision," Odin said. Frigga cleared her throat pointedly, shooting him another glare. "Our decision," He corrected. "This letter was written a few months after you were born, Y/N. Although we'd made the agreement before your birth, it did not go into effect until it was written." He sighed loudly and looked back at the paper. "And by this time Loki was already in our lives." Loki looked at you hopefully, squeezing your hand lightly. "And the letter does not specify which son you are promised to. So it is my great pleasure," He said somewhat sarcastically. "To give you to my son Loki as a bride. Will that be acceptable?"

"Yes!" You exclaimed. "Yes! Oh thank you!" You were nearly screaming in excitement. Loki was frozen in surprise, having never expected his father to give in to their wishes.

"Really?" He asked in almost a whisper. Frigga nodded at him and hugged her son. "Thank you!" He said. Turning to you he smiled widely, hugging you tightly and spinning you around. You laughed as he spun you, happy beyond your wildest dreams.

"Oh Loki!" You cried as he put you down. "I love you so much!" He grinned, kissing you earnestly.

"I love you too, my queen," He smiled. You blushed brightly, looking away.

"Enjoy your day together," Frigga said. "Tomorrow we can make the announcement and start making plans." You both nodded and hurried off to the gardens again, this time much happier.

"And to think all this started because your previous servant got married suddenly," You mused as you walked through the gardens arm in arm.

"Oh it wasn't sudden at all," He said. You stopped in your tracks, staring at him in surprise. "We'd been planning for her departure for some time. I had seen you working and quite liked you but you weren't old enough to be a servant of the royal family yet." Your eyes widened with every word. "I made mother wait to find me a replacement until you had your birthday."

"You chose me?" You gasped. He smiled, turning to face you and brushing a few stray hairs away from your face.

"I will always choose you," He said, smiling widely. "For all time."

"Always."

Loki

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Maxwell Lord’s Aphrodite - Pt 1

Summary: When Maxwell Lord’s world comes crashing down, you, his personal assistant bring him back from the pits of despair.

Pairings: Maxwell Lord x Reader (female), Maxwell Lord x You

Rating: Mature 18+ ONLY - I’ve also put a smut alert ahead in bold if you want to skip straight to the good bits ;)

Word Count: 7,381

Warnings: Sexual intercourse, foreplay, mentions of domestic abuse, trauma, drug/alcohol abuse.

A/N: This is my first fan-fic, so the writing might not be fantastic, but if you have any pointers/advice please tell me! I always read stories about Maxwell being a domineering guy and never stories about how he can be romantic and soft. When I watched WW84 especially at the end I saw how emotional and vulnerable he was with Alistair and wanted to write a story that portrayed him as a big cuddly teddy bear under all that masculine exterior. Enjoy!

You’ve worked for black and gold corporation for the better part of 7 years. You were hired as an intern assistant at just 21, soon after the company jettisoned from its humble beginnings inside a matchbox office suite on the corner of a strip mall, to a stock market listed company leasing the top floor in the tallest high rise office building in Los Angeles. Soon after moving in, the top floor office was packed with young, vibrant men and women who helped profits soar. But even at its busiest, Maxwell always made time for his staff. No matter what he was going through, he would give his staff his undivided attention and empathy. If they were having personal or professional problems, he would do everything he could to help. It aligned with his company motto, “life is good, but it can be better”.

He believed it was important to be as personable and helpful to others as possible, he felt that it was imperative to his own success. Only you knew this really stemmed from his less than favourable upbringing, being abused by his father, bullied by his peers and having to work hard for his achievements. He could be having the worst day, but he would never make it known to his team, all except you of course, being his personal assistant. As you spent a large amount of time together, Maxwell confided in and involved you in many personal areas of his life. 6 months after you started working for Max, he invited you and your then boyfriend to his wedding, stealing a waltz from you at the Reception. A year later, when his son, Alistair was born, he would show you picture after picture of baby photos, gushing about how proud he was to be a father. 3 years later when the company had its first day on the US stock exchange, you and Max stayed up all night at the office running through press releases, interviews and planning the next 6 months of his now very hectic schedule. When Alistair would come to the office to visit, you would babysit and play with him, change him, feed him, read him stories and sing him to sleep.

As he started to grow up, you soon rivaled Max in Alistair’s favourite person to spend time with at the office. Two years ago when you ended up in a very bad car accident and broke your arm, Max showed up personally to the hospital looking frantically worried about you. He even brought along Alistair who was helping carry a giant bouquet of flowers, a teddy bear and balloons. He stayed overnight after your surgery, sleeping in the most awkward positions on the single armchair next to your hospital bed. While you were in surgery, he made sure your work health insurance covered every cent and even provided company paid physiotherapy so you could get better properly. You knew you were in love with him since that dance at his wedding, but you had too much respect and adoration for him to be a homewrecker. Plus, you just assumed as he was so involved with all of his staff, that it didn’t mean he would be into you romantically.

As you were required to attend many of the shareholder and CCO/CEO/CFO meetings to take minutes, you became intrigued with the world of business and economics. So you enrolled in a Bachelor’s degree part time through a local University. At the time, women in business was largely unheard of, and to avoid sexist comments and discrimination, you told no one. When the Global Financial Crisis hit, it slammed into Maxwell’s dreams like a meteoroid. Overtime was required at the office and you spent most of your time in Max’s office doing paperwork for staff that had been laid off due to the budget cuts. Each day he would be on the phone, yelling at other business men on the other side of the world. You watched his positive energetic demeanor slowly chip away, as his drinks cart full of spirits and liqueurs dwindled alongside. Not long after, Black and Gold’s Chief Financial Officer and advisors within the company were arrested for Insider Trading and other shady business dealings.

Throughout all of this, you had given Max as much support, personally and professionally as you could, while still being respectful and platonic as he was a married man. With most of the staff gone and the company’s finances in disarray from the GFC and mismanagement, the universe dealt Max the final blow, his divorce. His wife, who was clearly only interested in him for his money and how it could provide her a cushy lifestyle, filed for divorce as the company was failing. She tried to take him to the cleaners financially, but Max was smart enough to have a prenuptial agreement and keep what was left of his dwindling fortune. So she used their son, Alistair, as a pawn in her game. The courts granted Max shared custody, but only one visit per fortnight. This devastated him as his son was his whole world.

He didn’t want to become destitute by giving up his fortune to his wife, but he didn’t want to lose his son, either. It started to tear him apart, leading to drunken nights in his office, alone. Except, he wasn’t totally alone. Every night, after everyone had gone home, you would stay back late each night to check on him and make sure he hadn’t done anything stupid. You would sit in one of the barren office cubicles with a vantage point to his office, but invisible to see from his desk. With tears sitting at the edges of your eyes, you silently watch him drink enough alcohol to chill out a bull, take some pills, flip through photo books of Alistair and start to sob. This went on for months. Overdue bills and foreclosure notices started to pile up on his desk. Egregiously inflated child support payment requests from his ex-wife littered the coffee table in his office.

Today was an exceptionally hard day, Max had received a resignation letter from his second last employee, leaving just you and him in the office. He slept on the futon in his office the night before, waking up looking disheveled, his tie pulled loose, shirt half tucked, suit jacket on the floor and his shoes god knows where. He looked awful.

Night falls, shrouding the office in darkness. Apart from a few desk lights, the floor is cold & dark. As you start packing boxes with office paperwork and belongings, you glance over to see the outline of Max at his desk, with his back turned, silently smoking a cigarette and drinking a glass of whiskey on ice. He reaches back for a brief moment, to press the answering machine, illuminated by his desk lamp. *beep* Message received, Wednesday, 4:33 pm “Hello Maxwell this is Brittany from AMP investments, your lease agreement with us has been defaulted for 6 months now with $150,000 in rent arrears. If it is not paid by the 30th of this month, building management will deactivate access to the floor and repossess any remaining belongings on the property. *beep* End Message. Message received Thursday, 5:43 pm “Max it’s Barb, I’m cancelling Alistair’s visit this weekend, seeing as you don’t want to pay me any extra child support.” *beep* End Message. Message received today, 7:02 pm “Hey Daddy, it’s Alistair, Mommy said I can’t come over because you’re working too much to see me. I wish you weren’t working all the time so we could play together and go to the movies and-“ you hear Barb, Max’s ex wife cut him off with “Alistair? What are you doing on the phone?! Who are you talking to?” Alistair whines, “I wanted to talk to Daddy” suddenly the sound of the receiver slams into the phone. *beep* End Message. You have no new messages.

The office is dead silent, but you can audibly hear the sound of Max’s heart shattering into a thousand pieces. He begins to cry, slowly shrinking in his chair, slumping down with his forearms on his knees and his head bowed. The cries slowly become more intense, with Max gasping for air between the long loud shrieks as his whole body shakes. “Alistair! My Alistair! My boy! I’ve failed you! Your Daddy failed you!” He wails, tears freely flooding down his face and snot dripping out of his nose, both like endless waterfalls. He drops to his knees and collapses onto the carpet, like he’s been shot right through the chest. He continues to sob & wail, forgetting that he isn’t alone in the office. You walk to the doorway of his office, frozen with indecision. Your heart was pounding and eyes on the verge of tears from what you just heard. On one hand you feel like you’re intruding on something extremely personal and maybe somewhat embarrassing for Maxwell, but you’ve never seen him like this and he looked like he was physically dying.

“Mr Lord, is everything okay?” Your soft voice quietly called out from the doorway of his office. Your medicated voice jolts Max out of his catatonic state and into a sitting upright position, as he quickly wipes his face and fixes his hair. “Oh, Ug-I’m so sorry for you to see me like this, it’s quite unbecoming of me” Maxwell apologises, trying to play it off with a light hearted chuckle between quiet heaved sobs. You catch a frozen stare, peering straight into his soul past the bloodshot, weepy but warm, brown irises.

Your heart is thumping hard, as if to try and break out of your ribcage and fly over to him. Max had been there for all of his staff, especially you. You couldn’t walk away after everyone else in his life had abandoned or given up on him. “You don’t need to apologise, Mr Lord.” You slowly reply, stepping over the booze bottles littering his office floor as you walk over to him. He’s frantically adjusting his outfit and hair, to look as put together as possible before you sit down beside him on the floor. You both sit there in silence, with the odd sniffle coming from Max’s nose. You finally pucker up the courage and say “I didn’t want to intrude but I heard the voice messages, I’m so sorry all of this has happened to you, Max”.

He had never heard you say his name before, it was always “Mr Lord”. It felt like honey soothing his dry strained throat as it rolled off your tongue. You continued, “You’ve always been there for me”, you paused to redirect attention, “for all of us. What can I do to help?”. You reach out and place your hand on his. Your warm, soft touch sends a shock wave of emotion through his body. No one has cared about him like this before, let alone touched him in such a gentle way. Max stares at your now teary eyes, realising he can be vulnerable and trust his longest and closest friend.

He collapses by your side, crying into your shoulder “I’m a failure” he sobs “My business, my marriage and most importantly I’ve failed my son. I just hope one day that he can forgive me and love me and be proud of me. He is my whole life, I just want him back”. You start to choke up but you have to remain composed. You look up and away, silently biting your knuckle and blinking tears back into your eyes before responding. “Max, you are not a failure, you are an exceptional human being. You built this company from nothing and you changed peoples lives. And don’t even get me started with Alistair, you’re the best father a kid could ask for, it’s not your fault your ex wife is being abusive”. He continues to sob, so you wrap your arm around his side and let him cry for a few minutes. The smell of his chemically lightened & straightened dark blonde hair filled your nostrils as his forehead pressed against your chin.

His large fingers and palms grip your free hand. They’re surprisingly soft & very warm. You freeze as his touch sends zaps of electricity up your arm and down your body. As Maxwell leans against you, your perfume overloads his senses, bringing him back to a conscious state. What was he doing? He thought to himself. I’m a failure, and everything I get close to fails or leaves. He looks down at your hands. I can’t hurt such an amazing person. I have to rip off the metaphorical bandaid and be cruel to be kind. “Thank you” he sighs, catching his breath after minutes of sobbing “You can go home now. In fact, I want you to take a redundancy payout so you can find another job. There’s nothing left for you here. I’m a failure and I don’t want you drowning with the ship” he says, in a clinically professional voice. Max hands you a company envelope with your name on it. He sits up to take a sip on the remaining whiskey left in his glass.

Your ears begin to burn and your cheeks redden with anger. Tears prick at the edges of your eyes, begging for them to flow. “Alfred will take you home in the company car, or wherever you want to go”. He continues, now smoking a cigarette.

“But what If I don’t want to go?” You whisper, trying to hide the sobs that are trying to break through your voice. “Please, I just want you to be happy” Max replies. You take great offence at his ignorant statements, as if he knows what makes you truly happy. “How do you know what makes me happy, Max?” You huff, standing up abruptly and folding your arms. “Well, I don’t know, but I can’t exactly see how you would be happy staying here while my company fails” he answers, shrugging. You feel your heart begin to break, realising that even being single and having such a close professional relationship with you, Max seemed to hold no deeper feelings for you and was almost starting to turn on you. You stand there wanting to run for the door but trying to think logically. Men are dim, maybe he doesn’t realise your true feelings? Maybe he’s preoccupied with his own and too overwhelmed to face them?

Max’s embarrassment from being caught in such a vulnerable state compounded with offending you takes its toll and he starts to get frustrated and impatient. “I think I just want to be alone now”. He sighs, looking away. The words cut deep, slicing you apart like ribbons. You begin to feel yourself fall apart, your emotions and thoughts spilling out with force. “I can’t leave” you sob, hanging your head in shame. Hearing you start to cry, he starts to hate himself more as he's clearly made you upset. With emotions bubbling over, he stands up, looking at you with tears in his eyes. “Why? Why can’t you leave!?” He shouts, a pained look of frustration and confusion on his face as he puts his hands on your arms, gently shaking you to get you to speak.

The last of the ribbons tying up your words from coming out fall down around you. You look deep into his crazed brown eyes, longing for an answer. “Because I love you!” You blurt out, sobbing. The tension in the room is now thick enough to cut with a knife. “I’ve loved you since the night we danced at your wedding. I fell in love with one of the most empathic, intelligent, hard working and compassionate men I know. You changed my life and every day I wish I could’ve shown you the love & kindness you deserve. That you need”. You step back from his grip, straightening your pantsuit as you compose yourself. “But I guess if I’m not needed anymore, I’ll leave you alone, Mr Lord”. The duality of your emotive declaration of love against the rigid clinical final words lurched his heart forward like a freight train and then slammed against his rib cage with the force of 100Gs.

You start to stride towards the door, but Maxwell follows behind you quickly, grabbing your hand, where you turn around on your heels. He grabs both of your hands and brings them up between you, squeezing them gently. “Pl-please don’t, don’t leave me” he begs, “you-you’re all I have left”. His dark brown eyes shimmer with tears as he shoots you a pleading gaze. He drops to his knees, wrapping his arms around your legs and squeezing tight like he's hanging on for dear life. You stand frozen on the spot, feeling Max’s warm breath on your legs as he heaves a few more cries. As you start to run your hands through his dark blonde locks, the sensation calms your mind and you reach your hands down to cup Max’s face, tilting it up to look at you. “I won't, Max” you say with a concerned gaze. “As long as you don’t push me away”. Max nods silently as he reaches into his jacket pocket to pull out his pocket square. He stands up and starts to gently wipe your tears away. “I’m so sorry” he apologises “I lashed out because I felt like a failure and I didnt want to let you down anymore and disappoint you.” he continues while making sure he’s wiped all of the tears from your cheeks and cleaned up some of your smudged makeup. “You’re not a failure, Max” you reply, “You’re an incredible man and you should be proud of everything you have achieved”.

Max gives you a small smile, blushing slightly as he gently embraces you with his big arms, pulling you close against his chest. His strong cologne masked the slight tinge of body odour from not showering mixed into a masculine and attractive scent. You quietly inhale as much as your lungs will allow, savouring every smell. As he starts to brush through your curls with his large fingers, he plants a small kiss on your head, making you feel like you could melt out of his arms and into a puddle on the floor. “I’m sorry, too.” you whisper. “Sorry for what?” he quizzes, looking down at you, puzzled. “For telling you that I love you. It’s true, but I feel like it was not the most appropriate time to tell you with everything that’s going on with Alistar, the company, your-” Max interrupts your sentence “Come with me”. Max strides you across his office floor with his arm around your waist. You both walk over to an unassuming door, which you always thought led to a supply closet. Upon its opening, you step into the room to reveal a whole bedroom, complete with a dining table, sofa, TV and ensuite. You had been Max’s personal assistant for 7 years and had no idea such a room even existed. “Wow” you manage to blurt out in complete shock. “I had this room made so that when I was working long hours my ex-wife and Alistair could stay here” Max explained, adjusting bits and bobs around the room “Although my ex-wife never stayed. She always accused me of sleeping with other women in this bed when in fact I was actually working. I kind of live here now, having sold my estate to pay to keep the company running”

He gestures to you to sit on the timber art deco dining chair, as he picks up the phone on the coffee table. “Alfred. Can you please take a drive and bring back any decent takeout food you find. Make sure to get some for yourself, too”. Max hangs up the phone before turning on the radio and then grabs two wine glasses from the small bar by the lounge and a bottle of red wine. He places both glasses on the table and fills both half way. You pick up your glass and walk over to the floor to ceiling window, overlooking downtown LA. As Max is fussing over tidying and making the room perfect, he glances over to see you standing alone, looking out the window. Lost in your own little world, you feel Max’s large soft hand intertwine with your free hand. “I started black and gold in a shoebox office inside a strip mall, over there, in South LA” he points just in front of the hills. He pauses. “I expect that after I get evicted I won’t even be able to lease that same office”. You give his hand a small squeeze. “Maybe I could help you”. Max looks at you dubiously. “How do you mean?” He inquired.

Just as you were planning to answer, Alfred arrives with some food. Max walks over to your dining chair and pulls it out, gesturing for you to sit. You take your seat and he flaps a linen napkin into your lap, before sitting down adjacent to you. Alfred had bought some delicious Mexican food, the intoxicating smell of meats, cheeses and spices filling the room. “Thank you, Alfred. I’ll call you again if we need anything” Max smiles, patting Alfred on the back as he leaves. You both sit at the table for hours, eating, drinking and talking about the company. Max finally learns the secret that you’ve been hiding about studying at University. “I haven’t officially graduated yet, but learning what I have, I could probably help Black and Gold get out of its current predicament. I also might know some investors that I befriended in the same units as me from the University”. Max shoots you a soft smile. “You really are the best assistant and friend anyone could ask for” he beams, placing his hand on yours. Embarrassed by his compliment and burning with desire to want to kiss him, you stand up and head over to the couch to distract yourself from your intense feelings. Max realises the use of the word friend was probably a poor choice. He must be honest with you and tell you how he feels. Max joins you on the couch where your arms are crossed and you’re staring ahead. You’re trying to avoid eye contact else you’ll burst into flames.

********SMUT ALERT********

“I hope you don’t think I’m rude or ignoring the impassioned declaration you made earlier” Max smiles “I just wanted to give you a semi-decent first date”. You feel your cheeks begin to blush and you unfold your arms. “The truth is” Max continues, resting his hand on yours. “I feel the same way about you. Even before my ex-wife divorced me, I started to fall in love with you. The way you are with Alistair, how committed you are to helping me. I just didn’t think you’d wanna be with an older man like me and even more so when everything started to go downhill”.

You place your hand on top of Max’s, both now staring at each other softly yet intensely. “Max” you turn to face him, edging closer. Max nervously places his hands on your cheeks. “I’ve waited for 7 years, please kiss me”.

Max finally kisses your lips, setting your whole body alight. Dizzy from the sensation, you lay back on the couch as Max follows down on top of you. He begins peppering slow, thoughtfully placed kisses down your jaw and neck. You let out a whimper as your hands twirl through his hair. Every movement he makes is slow, as if he is trying to slow down time and make this moment last forever. Max comes back up and passionately kisses your mouth, your tongue begging his for entrance. As your tongues intertwine, he holds your head and neck with one hand, while stroking your hair with the other. Max holds you gently yet strongly in his arms, like he’s holding onto a fragile Fabergé egg. With the position you’re in on the couch and the impracticality of your work attire in non-work sitting positions, he senses that you’re uncomfortable.

“May I?” He asks, holding the zipper to your dress as he places his arms behind your back. You nod and he slowly unzips it, gently slipping it off you and carefully folding it over the armrest of the lounge. Overcome with passion and desire from Max’s romantic gestures, you blurt out “I want you to take me, Max”. Without a word, he scoops you up in his arms and walks you over to the bed, placing you down gently in the middle. Max sits at the foot of the bed, marvelling at your stunning body. You’re wearing stockings and a purple lingerie set, coincidentally Max’s favourite colour.

Max leans down and kisses the top of your foot, peppering kisses up your legs before reaching the clips of your garter belt. He unclasps them before rolling down the stockings, kissing back down your legs. Burning with desire, you unclasp your bra and garter belt, throwing them to the side of the bed. Max looks up from kissing your legs to see your breasts exposed in the moonlight, your nipples hard from his gaze.

“Y-you look absolutely beautiful” he chokes before climbing up on top of you to reach your face. You blush, feeling Max’s extremely hard cock straining in his suit trousers against your thigh. “Kiss me, Max” you moan, brushing your lips against his and moving your hand down towards his crotch. Max slowly and passionately begins to kiss you, your tongues swirling in each other’s mouths, the taste of wine and chilli making for a sensual combination. As your hand reaches Max’s crotch, you begin to grope and rub his sizeable length, causing him to let out a loud moan. You shoot him a cheeky sexual gaze, but he grabs your hand and brings it up for you to cup the side of his face. “Not just yet my little dove” he whispers. You pout but decide to put your hands to better use and unbutton his shirt, revealing his strong chiseled chest. Max starts to breathe deeper from arousal as you unbuckle his belt and throw it to the floor. “I want to take my time with you” Max whispers “You’ve waited so long and I want this moment to be everything you deserve. I want to worship and pleasure you completely”.

Your pussy is now completely soaked, the faint squelches from your juices against your panties sounds in the background of Max kissing your neck. Maxwell is more preoccupied with taking his time in a combination of making up for lost time with you, giving you the best first time with him and making this moment last as long as possible. “Guide me” Max sighs between kisses, giving you his free hand. Holding it with both hands, you guide him down your neck and to your breasts. Max traces your breasts, flicking your nipples as he watches you whine with pleasure. Slowly he leans down and begins to suck on them, gently swirling his tongue and flicking. He kisses from one breast to the other, squeezing them in his hand. “Your body is perfect. Your skin is so soft.” he moans. By this time you’re rubbing your thighs together in an effort to stimulate your clit without your hands as they’re gripping Max’s dark blonde hair.

“Max, take off your pants” you pant, becoming overstimulated from all this teasing foreplay. He stands up off the bed and unzips his trousers, pulling them down to reveal his rock hard cock. “Oh Max” you moan, reaching down under your panties to touch yourself as his cock twitches. Max hurriedly crawls onto the bed and back up to your face, pulling your hand out of your panties. He brings your fingers close to his mouth and rubs them on his lips before bringing his tongue out to swirl around them, sucking your juices off them. “Touch me Max” you immediately whimper “I need your touch”. Max moans before kissing you passionately. As you both enjoy your tender kiss, Max traces his hand down your body, over your breasts, along your stomach and reaches the edge of your panties. Max reaches into your panties and gently places a finger at the top of your pussy, gently but firmly pressing down as he traces over your clit and down to your opening. Your wetness has coated every inch of your pussy. “You’re so wet” he pants, the sensation starts to send some beads of precum out the tip of his cock. “For you” you moan, writhing in pleasure at his calculated & lingering touch.

Looking deep into your eyes, Max rubs your folds slowly before he inserts two fingers gently but deep inside you. He begins to switch between a circling and a come hither motion on your g-spot, sending sparks shooting up through your body. You arch your back and let out a moan, while Max kisses your neck. “Oh Max baby that feels so good” you moan, gripping the sheets. “You feel amazing” Max sighs, brushing your hair out of your face so he can study your facial expressions as he pleasures you. Just when you thought it couldn’t feel any more amazing, Max places his thumb onto your clitoris, bringing you closer to climax in a matter of milliseconds. “Oh my god Max, Max I’m gonna cum” you moan into his neck, biting him. Max continues fingering you, intently watching your face waiting for you to reach orgasm.

Between Max’s fingering, his kisses and eye contact it doesn’t take long for it all to send you over the edge, riding into a full body orgasm, squirting all over Max’s hand. “You’re so beautiful baby” Max coos, holding your body close with his fingers still inside you as your back arches and your body trembles while you let out a long loud moan. Despite this exquisite display and sensation happening between your legs, Max keeps eye contact with you, peering deep into your soul, completely enamoured. As you start to come down from your orgasm, Max slowly removes his fingers and sucks them clean. “You taste incredible, so sweet baby” he moans, licking the squirt off his hand. As you begin to catch your breath, Max kisses down your body and reaches your pussy, where he begins to lap up the rest of your juices. Very gently, Max parts the puffy pussy lips covering your clit. He starts to lick in between the folds, avoiding your clit as it recovers from the intense orgasm. He travels down to your entrance where he sticks his tongue inside, tasting your juices inside you.

The hum from his moan as he eats you out relaxes you like a lullaby. Max then comes back up to your face, kissing your forehead. “That was incredible Max” you pant, staring up at the ceiling. He rests his lips against your neck, cupping your breast and gently squeezing it and thumbing your nipple. “Let me pleasure you Max, please” you beg, giving him a pleading gaze. Max obliges as you change positions with him now lying on his back. You cup his face with one hand, giving him a loving smile as his hand grabs yours. He starts to kiss you as your hands both guide down his chest, stomach and reach his groin. You begin to tease him, tracing your fingertips around the base of his cock, then up the shaft. Your light touches cause his cock to twitch. “Your touch is magical'' Max groans as your hand grips his shaft and travels up to his tip. His precum has soaked the head, giving you enough lubricant to slowly jerk your hand up and down, gripping tightly.

The sensation for Max is heavenly, panting and moaning between kissing your cheeks and forehead as you concentrate your gaze on his pulsing cock. Your jerking movements become more intense as you look up to see Max with his eyes closed, like he’s dreaming and if he opens them you’ll cease to exist. You continue to jerk him as you kiss his neck, feeling his cock harden even more and begin to pulse rapidly, like he’s getting close. “W-wait” Max whimpers. “I want this night to be about pleasuring you. Your mere presence pleasures me enough.” He kisses your hand & cups your cheek, looking deeply into your eyes. “What can I do to please you? Would you like t-to make love?”. Your heart bursts with emotion as this man is so set on pleasuring you so much. “Yes Max, I would love that very much” you sigh.

You lay back down on the bed, Max lying by your side. He begins to embrace you, running his hands over your body before kissing down your neck and chest as he rubs your clit. Max stops for a moment, studying your beautiful naked body. He then moves down and pushes your legs up, exposing your pussy. As you squeeze your breasts and look at his chiseled jaw, Max nervously lines up his cock before rubbing it on your clit, soaking the tip in your wetness. Impatient with how he’s teasing you, you whisper “Fuck me Maxwell”. Slowly, he pushes his cock down your clitoris and through your folds before the tip pushes inside. Without even being all the way inside, he moans “this must be what Heaven feels like”. With one gentle thrust, he’s completely inside, shuddering as your warm, tight, wet walls squeeze his cock shaft and tip. “Oh my god Max. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment” you moan, as he starts to slowly thrust. “M-me too beautiful” he grunts, feeling pure ecstasy wash over him as your pussy tenses, massaging his twitching length. A few minutes go by of you both silently staring intensely into each other’s eyes, kissing passionately. With every thrust you begin to connect deeper to Max, your bodies intertwining on a physical, emotion and spiritual level. Max’s cock twitches inside you as he watches you moan and bite your lip, squeezing your breasts.

“I can’t believe you love a man, a man like me” Max says still in disbelief, watching your body motion up and down as he slowly strokes in and out of you. He studies your body intensely, watching the moonlight and shadows play across your curves as your breasts bounce with every thrust. “You’re so beautiful Hermosa”, his mother tongue now coming through “como una diosa, like, A-Aphrodité.” he sighs, cupping your face with both hands. You cover his hands with yours, interlocking your fingers, turning your face each way slightly to kiss his palms and stare back at him lovingly and seductively, feeling like you could float away. “Your Aphrodite” you sigh, arching back slightly in pleasure, gripping his hands to guide them down to your breasts for him to lovingly caress and fondle. In slight shock at your romantic response, he immediately leans down whilst thrusting and peppers kisses all over your lips, letting out a sniffle.

With his eyes closed, focusing on lasting to bring you pleasure and to hide his emotions, a few tears drop onto your cheeks as he continues to thrust, now grunting each time into your neck to cover up the small sobs. You kiss his cheek, to take his tears away, the saltiness turning into sweet nectar on your tongue. “It’s okay baby, you can be vulnerable with me, I will protect you. I love you”. You choke, now crying also. Both sharing a connection transcending physically, in that exact moment, without an increase in volume, the lyrics of the Bob Dylan song playing on the radio seem to stand out and ring true in this very moment;

Storm clouds are raging all around my door, I think to myself I might not take it any more. Take a woman like your kind, To find the man in me. But, oh, what a wonderful feeling, Just to know that you are near. Sets my a heart a-reeling, From my toes up to my ears...

Your foreheads now together, staring deeply into each other’s eyes, Max whimpers “I love you so much” as his whole body begins to tense, signalling he’s on the precipice of an orgasm. Feeling his cock become even harder as it thrusts into the deepest part of your pussy, slamming the extra nerves to unlock your powerful orgasm. “Oh my god Max I’m gonna cum” you moan, slamming your eyes shut as you begin to try and slow down so this moment can last forever. “Cum mi reina” Max pants, keeping the tempo of his thrusting steady as the waves of your orgasm reach its peak before crashing down & flooding your entire body. Your body arches and trembles as you scream “Oh Max!” while your pussy clamping down & releasing in pulses on Max’s cock. The sight of you orgasming tied with the sensation around his cock sends Max over the edge. “Cielo” Max groans, shuddering all over as his cock spurts thick ropes of cum against your sensitive cervix. You both share a passionate kiss as Max’s cock softens inside you. “That was amazing Max” you pant, your body weak from the two mind blowing orgasms Max gave you.

Max collapses on the bed beside you, kissing your neck and running his fingers through your hair. “I can’t wait for us to do that again” Max chuckles against your neck. You kiss Max’s forehead, sighing as your body still slightly shakes from the two powerful orgasms Max just gave you. “I think a shower is in order” He embraces you momentarily before scooping you up in his arms and carries you off the bed, walking towards the ensuite. “Are you ever gonna let me walk again?” You giggle, nestling into his neck. “I like feeling you be as close to me as possible” Max laughs, before your feet land back on the tiles inside the bathroom. Max turns on the water and you both step into the shower, the steam now filling the room. Max has an assortment of body washes and shampoos, ranging from musky to citrusy and floral scents. You step closer to Max as he takes some lavender body wash and begins to rub it down your back, his hands dancing over the rest of your body as he starts to wash you. “I know I keep saying this, but you are so beautiful” Max sighs, running his hands over your ass, grabbing a cheek in each hand. “You’re not too bad yourself, handsome” you giggle against Max’s neck.

You both spend at least an hour in the shower, washing each other, chatting and sharing a few more intimate moments. Soon, the wine from dinner, the warm shower water, the scent of lavender and your fatigue from your orgasms starts to take its toll and you feel your eyelids drooping. Max finishes washing you and grabs a towel to help you dry off with. As your eyelids close completely Max has already scooped you up and walked back to the bed, placing you in the middle before wrapping you up in blankets and placing a small kiss on your forehead. “Goodnight my love” he whispers. “Mmmm” you moan, already in a dream state. Max soon gets under the covers with you, embracing you tightly as he watches you sleep, twirling his fingers through your hair. The smell of lavender on your skin soon lulls Maxwell to sleep.

The next morning you wake up, dazed and a little hungover, but well rested. As you look around the room, you survey the many pieces of clothes, miscellaneous items and wine bottles strewn across the floor in a tornado of passion from the night before. As your eyes adjust to the sun, you see Max in an under-shirt and pyjama pants over by the dining table. Max, in his own little world, frantically setting the dining table with some breakfast Alfred had brought up while you were sound asleep. He’s making sure everything is laid out perfectly, straightening the cutlery and pouring Orange Juice and Champagne into a glass from the bar. He hears the cotton sheets move behind him, immediately turning around to see if you’re awake. “Good morning beautiful” Max hums, rushing over to the bed to pepper your cheeks and lips with hundreds of little kisses. “Morning handsome” you giggle, running your hands through Max’s hair, in an attempt to match your bed hair. “Are you hungry, mi amor?” he asks between kisses. “I’m famished” you reply, stretching to help you wake up more. As you writhe around in the sheets you notice you’re wearing a chiffon baby doll.

“I hope you don’t mind I uh, had it in the wardrobe & wasn’t sure if you liked to sleep naked so I put it on you just after you fell asleep.” Max laughs, scratching the back of his head. You blush, feeling embarrassed that you got that drunk, but Max’s reassuring smile makes you feel at ease. “I do usually sleep naked, but I like it, it makes me feel beautiful”. Max sighs “so beautiful”, wrapping you up in a tight embrace and planting a single kiss on your forehead. Max scoops you up and carries you out of bed before you lightly plant your feet onto the carpeted floor. As you glance over to the dining table, Max comes up behind you and helps you slip on a long beautiful chiffon robe, accented with feathers on the hem.

“Another little something for my beautiful mariposa” Max coos, kissing your cheek before pulling out your chair at the dining table. You feel like you’re walking on clouds as you step over to your chair and sit down, Max flapping a napkin onto your lap. “Oh my goodness Max you’re such a gentleman” you blush. “My mother taught me to show women the highest level of respect and care. She made me the man who I am today.” Max replies, looking out the window momentarily. You outstretch your arm across the table to squeeze Max’s hand “And she would be so proud of the man that you’ve become” you beam with a sweet smile. Max soon draws your attention to the diverse spread of pastries on the table, pointing out the different fillings of each and asks if you would like coffee. You nod before noticing a large bouquet of red roses in the middle of the table. As Max places a few pastries on your plate, you feel a sense of intense attraction wash over you like a wave.

Your internal monologue starts to read back to itself, reflecting on how loving, generous and respectful Max is towards you. How much he takes care of you and oh god, how handsome he looks…you start to feel aroused by this somewhat submissive gentleman, sensing a rising heat from your core. Max submitted to your every want and desire last night, raising you up and worshipping you like a goddess, now you wanted to submit to him. Knowing now that you can be vulnerable and honest around Max, you lean back in your chair, biting down on a blueberry pastry.

To be continued..... ;) muahahahaha

a special thanks to the users below for the inspiration and encouragment!

@pintsizemama @anaaaispunk @maxlordsgf @rav3n-pascal22, @pedrostories, @absurdthirst @pedrosbrat​

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers VANDEAD CARNIVAL ;; Present from Mukami [PART 1]

ー The scene starts in Yui’s bedroom

Yui: Today’s Christmas Eve, huh...?

( When I was still living with Father, we were always extremely busy during this time of year with preparations for the Christmas Mass. )

( We would decorate the church for the Mass...or make tons of sweets to hand out to the children as gifts... )

( Somehow that feels like part of a distant past now... )

Haah...

ー Kou enters the room

Kou: Heya~! M-neko-chan~!

Yui: ...Kou-kun?

Kou: No need to act so surprised, right? What’s wrong? You seem kind of down?

Yui: Um, could you please knock on the door before entering? I’d really appreciate it...

Kou: Eh~~? Why bother going through the extra trouble?

Besides, I live here, remember? My house, my rules, no?

Yui: H-Hm...That might be the case, but...

( I have a feeling he won’t understand... )

So, why are you here? Is there anything you need from me...?

Kou: Hm~~? I only came to hang out because I was bored~

Yui: I see. Are you off from work today?

Kou: Exactly! Today’s my first free day in a long time!

Anyway, more importantly, M-neko-chan. You were talking about how it’s Christmas Eve today earlier...Right?

Yui: Yeah...I had a bit of an ‘oh, right!’ moment.

Kou: ‘Oh, right’...? You’re talking as if you only just noticed.

Yui: Yeah...But I really did recall only now. It totally slipped my mind...

Kou: To think you’d forget about such an important event! Is everything okay, M-neko-chan?

Yui: I mean, you guys don’t celebrate Christmas, do you?

Kou: Hmー Well, we’re Vampires after all. We obviously don’t feel like celebrating it, nor are we interested.

Yui: ...Figured as much. There aren’t any Christmas decorations inside the house either...

Besides, I haven’t gone out much as of late either...

Kou: Now that you mention it, you’ve just been going back and forth between here and school without making any additional stops, huh?

If you were to head out, you’d discover that the whole city is in a Christmas mood. 

There really is no way to look past it, whether you like it or not...

Yui: Yeah, but I haven’t gotten a chance to go look...So I completely forgot...

Kou: Hmー...

Ah, say, M-neko-chan? How have you spent your Christmas Eve in the past?

Yui: Eh...?

Kou: I mean, I don’t know how normal families celebrate the holidays.

Yui: Hm...Right. My personal experience might be a little different from the standard though.

Kou: Heeh? In what way?

Yui: You know that my Father works as a Priest, right?

Kou: Ahー I feel like I heard that somewhere before.

Yui: We hold a Mass at church on Christmas day, so we have to prepare for that the night before.

Kou: Prepare? Like the Christmas lights they put up in town?

Yui: Yeah. Ours weren’t quite as elaborate, of course.

On the day of the Mass, the visitors light a candle, take a seat and pray...

Then afterwards we read passages from the Bible.

At the very end, someone will play the orgle and everyone sings together.

It creates such a lovely medley of singing voices...I loved that part.

Kou: Hmm, I see...But is that actually fun?

Yui: Yeah, it is. It is an important day to me after all.

( It’s a day full of memories of the time I spent with Father as well, after all... )

Kou: Hmー So that’s how it is. I mean, I don’t really understand but...Oh, I know!

The other day, this one person at work told me that Christmas Eve is a special day you should spend with your lover. (1)

Have you ever spent Christmas Eve with a special someone before?

Yui: No...I was always helping out for the Mass at Church after all...

Kou: I see...

ー Ruki enters the room

Ruki: The two of you are making a ruckus. At least close the door when you’re talking.

Yui: Ah, Ruki-kun...Yuma-kun and Azusa-kun as well. What’s the matter?

Yuma: We just happened to run into each other in the hallway. Ya guys were talkin’ hella loud.

Yui: S-Sorry...

Azusa: Eve and Kou...The two of you seemed to be having a fun chat.

Kou: Really? It wasn’t anything special though.

Ruki: Anyway, Kou, come with me. Livestock, you stay in your room.

Yui: S-Sure...

Kou: Eh~~...? Oh well, whatever. I got to learn something new at least.

See you later, M-neko-chan~!

ー The four of them leave

Yui: They left...

( Somehow it suddenly got quiet. )

( ...Honestly, I wouldn’t have minded talking for a little longer... )

ー The scene shifts to the living room

Kou: ...Say, say, Ruki-kun. Why don’t the four of us throw a Christmas party?

Ruki: Haah...I was wondering what you would bring up all of a sudden.

Kou: I mean, M-neko-chan seemed kind of sad, you see~

She was raised at a Church, right?

So it seems like Christmas and such brings back a lot of memories for her.

Yuma: So that’s what the two of ya were talkin’ ‘bout earlier, huh?

Azusa: ...Say, what is...Christmas?

Kou: Ah, are you interested, Azusa-kun?

Christmas itself is on the 25th of December and the day before that is called ‘Christmas Eve’.

It’s the day on which they celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ~

Azusa: Heeh, then...Today is the 24th so it’s...Christmas Eve...right?

Kou: Exactlyー! So I was thinking we could hold a little celebration?

Ruki: Azusa, did you not celebrate Christmas back when you were still human?

Azusa: ...We did not have that kind of celebration...

Ruki: How about you, Yuma?

Yuma: Hmー... Now that ya mention it, I do feel as if the city was a lil’ more lively ‘round this time of year...I think...?

I might have celebrated it back when I was a child, but I forgot.

Kou: I’m pretty sure my answer should be obvious but...Ah, you must have celebrated it, right, Ruki-kun?

Ruki: Well, yes.

Kou: Makes sense. You are a rich boy after all~

Azusa: Say, Ruki? How exactly do you celebrate it...?

Ruki: You decorate the inside of the house, say your prayers to God and enjoy a meal with the whole family.

There’s special foods and snacks which are only enjoyed on that particular day of year...

Also, you would exchange presents...I suppose that about sums it up.

Azusa: ...Exchanging presents...I honestly don’t care about the exchanging part. I’d much rather just be on the receiving end of all the punches...

Kou: Ahaha...Putting your wishes aside for a second...

Don’t you want to try and hold a Christmas party?

We’ve never really done something like that with the whole family, right? Come on, why not?

Ruki: Family, huh...?

Yuma: That bein’ said, Vampires celebratin’ the birth of Christ is kinda fucked up, no?

Kou: Should we not? Do you think he’ll be upset with us?

Ruki: ...Well, while I doubt he will be thrilled about it, that man has connections to the Church of his own, so he might understand in a sense.

I doubt he will condemn us if we hold a small celebration at home.

Kou: Right~? In that case, let’s get this party rolling~!

Ruki: Yuma, Azusa. What do you two think?

Yuma: ...Ahー...

Azusa: ...

Yuma: Oi, Kou. The Sow’s havin’ a rough time, right?

Kou: Yeah, she is.

Azusa: I...personally don’t care much about the party itself but...I don’t want...Eve to be sad...

Yuma: Nnー Well, it’s not really for her sake, but I don’t see any harm in doin’ this sorta stuff for once?

Ruki: ...

Kou: Fufu~ In that case, we just need permission from Ruki-kun...~!

Ruki: Haah...You’ll all be helping out, including during the clean-up, understood?

Yuma: Oh! Which means...

Ruki: Exactly...I suppose it will make for a nice change of pace.

We haven’t really spent much time together as a family up until now after all.

Furthermore, pleasing Livestock is part of our duty as her masters.

Kou: Hooray~~!!

In that case, we need to get started with all of the preparations!

Azusa: ...

Ruki: Oi, Azusa. Where are you going?

Azusa: I figured I’d go...tell Eve that we’ve decided to hold a party...

Kou: Eh!? You’re going to tell her?

Yuma: Aah? Should we not?

Kou: Hmー Don’t you think this is a perfect chance to make it a surprise?

Yuma: Surprise...? The fuck’s that?

Ruki: It means to catch them by surprise. In other words, you keep it a secret until the very second they arrive at the party...

Kou: I’m sure she’ll be ten times happier than if she already knew about the party beforehand!

I’m an idol, remember?

So I’ve had people throw a surprise birthday party for me before. 

I felt so happy back then!

Yuma: Hm. Is that how it works? Well, fine by me.

Ruki: Azusa, you’ve heard us. You don’t need to go inform her.

Azusa: Mmh. Understood...

Kou: Hmー Holding a Christmas party is fine and all but...

Yuma: The problem’s how to prepare for it. We need to decorate the place, but I have no fuckin’ clue which decorations to pick.

Azusa: I wonder what kind of...dishes we should serve...?

Kou: Let’s leave that part to Ruki-kun.

Ruki: Right. Just leave the cooking up to me. Which leaves...

ー The scene shifts to Yui’s bedroom

Yui: ( Hm...It’s a little chilly in here... )

( I’m pretty sure quite some time has passed since the others left as well. I wonder what they’re up to...? )

( Right. I suppose I’ll check up on them while I go grab myself a hot beverage. )

ー The scene shifts to the hallway

Yui: ...

Kou: Let’s leave that part to Ruki-kun.

Ruki: Right. Just leave the cooking up to me. Which leaves...

Yui: ( Ah...Kou-kun and Ruki-kun’s voices... )

( I wonder what they’re talking about...? )

Excuse meーー

ー The scene shifts to the living room

Ruki: ...Oh...

Kou: Eh? M-neko-chan!?

Yuma: ...Ya sure have the worst timin’, huh...?

Yui: Eh!? I’m sorry. Should I not have come in...?

Azusa: No, it’s fine...We were just talking about throwing you a surprise Christmas party

Yui: Eh...?

Kou: Waiーー!! Azusa-kun! What are you saying!?

Azusa: I mean...It’s not like we can still cover it up at this point. If we try and hide it...We’ll only end up making her uncomfortable. ...Right?

Ruki: Yes, Azusa, you are absolutely right. We could have always sent her back to her room, but I’m sure she would have been worried about us secretly scheming something behind her back.

If we upset her, we’re basically rendering our intentions null.

Yuma: Haah, I mean, that’s true but...We could have at least tried to keep it a secret...

Kou: Haah...Guess there’s no point now...

ーー And with that being said, we shall now commence with the preparations of the Mukami family’s very own Christmas party~!

Yui: Eh...!? We’re holding a Christmas party together!?

Yuma: That’s what we said earlier, remember? Are yer ears still workin’?

Yui: No, they are but...I’m just shocked...

I’m just wondering if it’s okay for you all to celebrate Christmas even though you’re Vampires?

Ruki: You don’t need to worry about that.

Kou: Exactly! Don’t fret over the small details~!

Are you not happy? You get to celebrate with us!

Yui: Of course I am...! I’m just surprised, that’s all.

Kou: I don’t think there’s any time to be surprised though? We have to hurry up and  prepare or Christmas will be here before we know it!

Yui: Ah, right!

Kou: Okayー! Let’s get started with these preparations right away!

Azusa: Eve...We’ve never held a proper party before...Can you tell us what we should do...?

Kou: First off, it’d be a great help if you could give us some pointers on how to decorate the house.

Yui: Well, we have to make actual decorations first...

Ruki: I assume it would be much quicker to just head to the store rather than explaining it here first.

Yuma: Good point. I doubt I’ll understand from some explanation alone.

Azusa: ...Yeah...

Ruki: There you have it. We are heading out at once.

Yui: Sure!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the department store

Yui: ( I never thought I’d one day go shopping with all of the guys like this... )

( That alone counts as a Christmas miracle. )

Yuma: Whatcha been grinnin’ ‘bout this whole time?

Yui: Ah, right. I’m just so happy we’re all able to go shopping like this...

Yuma: Heh, you’re gonna find yerself lost ‘gain if ya keep yer head in the clouds like that. Wouldn’t be the first time after all.

Yui: I...I’ll be careful.

Kou: Fufufu, so you’re aware of it at least.

Yui: Y-Yeah...

( It’s not that I actually walk away by myself though... )

Ruki: The food’s next on the list, huh? Oi, is there anything in particular you’d like to eat?

Azusa: ...I’d like something doused in plenty of red chili powder...

Ruki: ...Azusa, let’s try and stick to Christmas food this time.

Azusa: ...Fine...

But what exactly is ‘Christmas food’...?

Ruki: Hm...

Yuma: ...We don’t know if our personal preferences fit the holiday spirit after all.

So shouldn’t we just leave that choice up to the Sow?

Kou: Exactly. That’s why we called her over, so the two of you should talk it over and make a quick decision.

Ruki: ...I suppose it cannot be helped. That seems like the most time-efficient solution. 

Livestock, what did your family eat for Christmas?

Yui: Let’s see...I suppose Turkey or Roast Beef are both staples on any Christmas dinner table!

Ruki: You’re only naming meat...

Yui: Of course, we eat salad as well? Mixing in vegetables cut into cute shapes and such...

Yuma: The fuck does that mean? All veggies are the same, right?

Yui: You can use cutters to shape them like hearts or stars. I guess you’ll get an idea if we go to the deli counter...?

Yuma: Ready-made dishes?

Yui: Ah, I didn’t mean we have to buy anything, but I figured we could gather some inspiration.

Yuma: Geez, I thought ya were gonna take the easy way out. It’s a party after all.

So we’re obviously gonna make everythin’ at home from scratch, right?

Yui: Yeah! Of course.

Ruki: I suppose it’ll give us an idea of what we can make. Well then, let’s go buy the ingredients first.

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: I’m glad we got our hands on some delicious-looking meat!

Ruki: Yes. I’m looking forward to preparing it.

Yui: ( I managed to buy everything I need for the cake as well, so I’ll try my best at making it! )

( I hope they’ll like it... )

Kou: Say, let’s go pick out a tree next! The biggest one they have!

Yuma: Geez, are ya a lil’ kid or somethin’?

Yui: Fufu, you’re interested in decorating it, right?

Kou: I mean, it’s all sparkly and pretty, right? Just like me, no?

Azusa: Let’s buy lots of star-shaped decorations...

Kou: Come on, Azusa-kun. Don’t ignore me.

Azusa: Eh...? Ah, yeah...Sorry...

Yui: Do you like stars, Azusa-kun?

Azusa: Yeah...They’ve got these sharp and pointy ends...So I’m sure they’d hurt a lot...

Yui: S-So that’s why...

Ruki: Azusa, you better not think of tainting those stars with your blood.

Kou: Exactly! Today’s Christmas after all, a day you are meant to enjoy with your family!

Well then~ Which one to buy?

ー Kou runs off

Ruki: Oi, Kou. Don’t run off by yourself. 

I won’t allow for any extra purchases. We’ll only buy the necessities.

Kou: Eeeeeh~? Whaaat~? You cheapskate!

Ruki: I don’t mind being a cheapskate. This is important money we’ve received from that man.

I can’t be wasteful with it.

Kou: Well, I get where you’re coming from but...

Yui: ( Everyone seems to be having fun. )

( Like this, it almost seems like we’ve become an actual family... )

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: Phew, we bought more than I anticipated.

Yuma: That’s ‘cause Kou kept on wantin’ to buy all this shit, right?

Kou: Eeh~? You’re blaming me? Fufu, I won’t deny it. However, we didn’t buy anything we didn’t need, right?

Yuma: I mean, we didn’t, I guess...

Ruki: Let’s go over everything one more time. Is this pretty much everything we need for the tree and decorations...?

Yui: Yeah! We’re all set!

Yuma: We’ve got the vegetables I grew at home as well, so this should do.

Kou: Aah~ We’re actually celebrating Christmas. I can’t wait!

Ruki: Kou, you’re being way too excited. Mind your manners.

Kou: Oh come on, let me be! I never got to experience this as a child after all!

Yuma: Well then, we’re gonna be busy once we get home~!

Yui: Speaking of which...Where did Azusa-kun...? Ah, there he is!

( I wonder why he’s just standing there? )

Azusa: Say, Ruki...

Ruki: ...? What’s the matter?

Azusa: I want this knife...

Yui: K-Knife...?

( Why is he holding a knife...? )

Kou: Hold up, Azusa-kun, where did you get that?

Azusa: ...Why not? I want this to give me pain... 

Yui: A-Azusa-kun! What are you saying...!?

Ruki: Azusa, go return it to the store.

Azusa: Please? ...The shape of this blade is so pretty, and it looks very sharp as well...

Ruki: No means no. Azusa, you have to put it back where you found it.

Azusa: No way....But I want it so badly...I can’t give up on it...

Yui: Azusa-kun...

Azusa: ...Come on, I want it, no matter what...

Kou: Azusa-kun! You don’t need a knife on a fun day like this!

Azusa: No...This is special...

Yui: ( What to do? Azusa-kun’s not giving in at all. )

Yuma: Oi, at this rate we’ll never make it back home.

Azusa: Then...Can we buy it?

Yuma: Just listen to Ruki for today. Ya can buy that crap whenever, right?

Azusa: ...

Yuma: God, listen up...

Ruki: Azusa.

Yui: ( O-Oh no...Ruki-kun started getting angry as well. )

U-Um, Azusa-kun...

Yuma: Ya stay out of this.

Yui: B-But...

Yuma: Geez, guess it can’t be helped. I’ll go bring it back with him.

Ruki: My bad, Yuma.

Yuma: Yeah. ...Come on, Azusa, let’s go.

Azusa: ...No.

*Rustle*

Yui: Ah! Yuma-kun! If you grab him by his collar like that, you’ll hurt him....

Azusa: Ah...It hurts...I can barely breathe...Haah...Amazing...Uu...

Yui: ( A-Azusa-kun is...happy? )

Ruki: Azusa, don’t cause Yuma too much trouble, okay?

Azusa: Yeah...

Yuma: Che! Ya say that but you’re already bein’ a pain in the ass! Come on, walk by yerself already!

Azusa: Nn, but...It’s suffocating...

Yuma: That’ll fix itself if ya just use yer own damn legs, no?

Azusa: It’d rather stay like this a little longer.

Yui: ( He’ll be okay, right? Yuma-kun’s with him after all... )

ー Yuma walks away with Azusa

Ruki: Let’s go. We’ll head back first and get everything ready.

ー Ruki starts walking away

Yui: Eh? Don’t we need to wait for them?

Kou: Yuma-kun may be with him, but knowing Azusa-kun...

Yui: ...?

Kou: Azusa-kun has a hard time letting go of things once they pique his interest.

Yui: I see...

( It might take a while until they get back... )

I hope it won’t turn into a fight.

Kou: Hmー I guess that’ll depend on Azusa-kun’s behavior?

Ruki: What are you two doing? Let’s go.

Kou: Roger~!

Yui: ( Yuma-kun’s actually quite good at looking after others, so we can leave this up to him, right...? )

*TIMESKIP*

 ー The scene shifts to the living room

Kou: Phew~ These were so heavyー

Ruki: Good grief, I’m exhausted...

Yui: ( We’ve got quite a lot of bags... )

Ruki: Well then, we’ve got no time to lose. Let’s start preparing.

If we procrastinate for too long, we’ll only waste time.

I’m heading towards the kitchen to get started on the food.

Kou: Gotcha~!

Guess I’ll get started with the decorations then.

Ruki: We’re counting on you.

Kou: Roger!

Yui: Ruki-kun, I’ll help out as well!

Ruki: Yeah, that would be great.

Kou: I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ll make for us!

Yui: Mmh! I’ll try my best to make something delicious, okay?

*THUD*

Yuma: Honestly, I went through fuckin’ hell and back!

I’m never cleanin’ up Azusa’s mess again!

Yui: S-Sounds like they’re back. He seems really upset though. I wonder what happened...?

Ruki: I assume Azusa threw one of his stubborn tantrums. Oi, Livestock.

Yui: Y-Yes!

Ruki: Go pass on this message to them. Please tell them they should get started with their own tasks.

Yui: Yeah, sure. I’ll go tell them.

ー The scene shifts to the hallway

Yui: Welcome back, you two.

Azusa: If I don’t get that knife, I’ll...I’ll...

Yuma: Aah, let it go already! What’s so damn nice ‘bout that knife anyway!?

Azusa: ...

Yui: ( Seems like they don’t even realize I’m here. )

( That being said, if I leave them be, they’ll run late with their preparations. )

Um, you guys! Welcome back!

Azusa: ...Wah...You startled me.

Yuma: Aah? The fuck, Sow? You’ve been standin’ there this whole time? 

Yui: Yeah...Um, Ruki-kun has already started preparing everything, so he’d like the two of you to help out as well. 

Azusa: But, the knifeーー

Yuma: Ya really don’t know when to give up, huh? We’re done talkin’ ‘bout that!

Azusa: ...You blockhead.

Yuma: Speak for yerself!!

Yui: ( O-Oh no... )

( I can’t leave things like this. I have to stop them somehow... )

U-Um!!

Azusa-kun, Kou-kun has started on the decorations, so can I rely on you to help him with that?

Azusa: ...

Yui: Both me and Yuma-kun understand very well just how badly you want that knife...

But we have to get on with the Christmas preparations now, so I’d really appreciate it if you could help out...

Azusa: ...What about you?

Yui: Eh?

Azusa: What will you do?

Yui: I’m going to make the Christmas cake.

Azusa: ...Okay. I want to try your cake, so I’ll forget about the knife...For a while, at least...

Yuma: ‘For a while’, my ass! Forget ‘bout that thing forever!

Yui: Shh, calm down, Yuma-kun.

Azusa: I’ll go help Kou then.

Yui: Yeah, good luck.

ー Azusa walks away

Yuma: Heh. You’re really startin’ to get the hang of how to handle that guy, huh?

Yui: Y-You think so...?

Yuma: Well, whatever. Anyway, Ruki’s already in the kitchen, ya said?

Yui: Yeah, I think he’s getting everything ready to start cooking.

Yuma: I’ll go get some veggies from the garden then.

Yui: Ah, Yuma-kun! Could you maybe let me have some fruit to use for the cake?

Yuma: Roger. I’ll make sure to grab a few, so ya get yer ass over to the kitchen ‘kay?

Yui: Yeah, thanks!

ー Yuma walks away as well

Yui: Well then...

( I’ll try my best to bake the best cake ever as well! )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) While the holidays are often associated with family in the West, Christmas and especially Christmas Eve are strongly linked to couples in Japan. 

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[ Part 2 ] →

[qyllenhaal]

God’s Face in the Fire || Part 1

Dark!Lee Bodecker x Dark!Reader

Summary: A wife who would do anything to give her husband the world, even if it means getting herself involved with his trouble.

Word Count: 10.3k

Chapter warnings: dark themes!!! contains mention of assault, murder, non-graphic death scenes, sexual themes, oral (m receiving), smut, brief mentions of possible infidelity, misogyny, uncomfortable situations. Please heed the warnings!!! 18+ only

A/N: Sorry for the bad summary, I’ve never been good at those! This first chapter doesn’t include an awful lot of Lee but the next part will be very Lee heavy! There will only be two other parts for this mini-series, maybe another or so if I extend my ideas.

Enjoy!

The baby she held on her hip just would not stop crying. Tears stained her own eyes as she felt at her ropes end looking at her baby's red face. Nothing she had done to make her baby feel better was working. When Y/n stared at her small face, the one that looked so much like her father's, she searched for a clue on what could be the problem. All she got back was a look of anguish. She wondered if her daughter's eyes mirrored her own emotion.

"What's wrong baby? What's wrong?" She asked as if she was genuinely going to get an answer from her. Her soft voice didn't assuage the baby's cries. What baby doesn't love the sound of their own mother's voice?

Y/n tried stroking her little girls back to calm her, tried feeding her, burping her, changing her, and putting her down to sleep but all of those things failed miserably. Her daughter continued to scream her little lungs out. The tears were beginning to dry up, but she still wailed. Y/n worried if something was wrong and if they needed to go to the hospital. Her husband wasn't home and she didn't want to cause anymore trouble for him, or herself.

"Are you hot? Wanna step outside?"

She did her best to open the backdoor without dropping her daughter. The rush of cool air as she stepped onto the back porch did more to help her than it did her daughter. The porch light was nearly as loud as the cries; it was one of the first noises she had heard in hours that was something other than her daughter. She got lost in the noise as she peered into the darkness of their backyard that stared back at her. She had been afraid of the dark when she was younger, always needing a night light until she reached her teen years. It was safe here in Brewer Heights, but something about the vast darkness gave her a creeping feeling. It felt endless.

The night air was doing nothing to help her anymore, and she worried that her neighbors would hear the baby cries and think something was terribly wrong.

"Let's go inside."

The songs she often sang to her daughter that her own mother sung to her when she was younger normally made her giggle and smile. Tonight, however, it was just another thing to add to the list of things that failed to calm her down.

Around midnight she finally heard the front door opening and the heavy footsteps of her husband trudging into their home. A groan followed when he heard the sounds of his daughter crying pierce the air.

"Lee," Y/n exasperated. She came out of nowhere, blindsiding him and begging, "please take her."

Lee didn't even get a second to take his jacket off, nor was he going to be able to relax like he had planned to after his long day. This situation paled in comparison to what he had to deal with at the station today. A domestic dispute, a robbery, a bar fight that ended in a stabbing, and hefty loads of paperwork that came along with it.

"She just won't stop crying Lee."

He said nothing to Y/n as he eyed her. Y/n understood what the look he gave her meant, but she was too concerned with making the crying stop. Lee held his arms open to take the girl into his arms.

"What's wrong darlin'?" He cooed at her. He held her close, snuggling her into him and his warmth

Lee had to temper his annoyance. He didn't want to come home to a screaming baby and a helpless wife, but he was weakened by the desperation radiating off of Y/n.

"What's wrong little girl? You like givin' your mama hell?"

Y/n sighed as the screams began to die down. The sinking feeling that she was an awful mother for not being able to get her baby to calm down was present. The worst thought to cross her mind was that Lee also thought the same. She didn't want to be the wife who couldn't raise her own child and was too dependent on her husband. Lee was admittedly more present in child rearing than her own father. However, she had only started becoming so fussy in the last few months when her father decided to run for Mayor and spent more time at work than at home with his family.

When their girl was born, Lee spent an eternity staring at her face; her features were so similar to his at a young age, but with her mother's lips. Hours after her existence in this word, Lee promised his wife would be home more, maybe he'd even hire a few new officers to handle the countless petty crimes that end up on his desk. Y/n believed his promise, but it changed when he out of nowhere declared that he was going to run for mayor.

"You enjoy being the sheriff's wife. I'm certain you'd love being the mayor's wife even more. And now that we got a baby, my chances are even better."

All of her years of being Lee's wife and she never heard him express any interest in being mayor. Sure he got off on power of any type, but he never uttered the words "mayor" unless he was talking about some trouble the mayor's son ran into. But Lee did always make it clear that his career and maintaining his position was a top priority for him. Y/n often missed the man who did his best to court her and was successful after a few failed attempts. He changed a bit when they started trying for a child, but Y/n could always see it in his face that his old habits will die with him.

"She misses her father."

Lee didn't turn around to acknowledge her. He just rocked his daughter back and forth, ignoring Y/n until she began to move out of the living room.

"Be ready when I get up there," Lee called to her.

Y/n wondered how harsh he would be, or if he would be at all? When he was this on edge he liked to keep Y/n in line; he couldn't go to a stressful work environment and come home to the same. He was always gentle with their daughter and that's all that mattered. Y/n could endure his brutality, but her daughter did not deserve it when she just didn't understand much. She would be too young to remember anything but Y/n would never forget.

She washed up in the bathroom, wiping away the sweat and tears that had clung to her face throughout the day. Her appearance in the mirror looked foreign to her. Her body had changed since giving birth, something that was expected, but she looked more rugged due to stress. Lee didn't realize that whatever he felt, Y/n felt it even harder. When he ices her out, she tries to understand but the feelings of inadequacy had piled up inside of her.

Lee put their daughter to bed without much trouble. She looked so peaceful, a stark difference from the screaming she was doing when he stepped into their home. He wondered how such a sweet little thing could cause so much hell. She was completely innocent yet she made her mama cry and nearly tear her hair out. Lee felt bad for his wife having to spend days alone without help, but there was nothing he could do about it, so he didn't feel that bad.

He was still in his jacket and hat when he finally came into their bedroom. He was well-intentioned on taking a longer shower tonight but he felt all worked up. His body felt tense, but seeing his wife sitting obediently on the bed made him loosen up.

"Pretty, little nightgown," Lee whispered to himself. Y/n's face burned at his compliment. She'd never get used to him being sweet on her.

Y/n held her breath, unsure of which side of Lee she was going to get tonight. She picked out the cream nightie that reached mid-thigh. She knows just how much Lee loves her legs, he has fawned over them since they were dating, and she hoped that the sight of them would make him go easy on her. Her nipples poked through her nightgown; she was going to be leaking in the morning but her only concern was giving Lee something that would make him soften up.

She melted into the palm that was placed on her cheek. He looked down at her, his ego still stronger than ever. He was a powerful man with a strong possibility to grasp even more power, and a pretty fucking wife. He's lucky that she gave him the time of day when she had the option to run off to Cincinnati with a pretty boy. Lee was older than her other suitors, but that's what made him enticing to her then 20 year-old self.

"I overheard Phil talking about the Sheriff's wife today," Lee began to stroke her cheek as she purred up at him, "was wonderin' why a stunner like her was with a fat bastard."

"Don't call yourself that," she cut him off. He had gained a significant amount of weight since he began finding solace in sweets. She feels bad because it began when she was three months pregnant and had him bring her back something sweet everyday. Her cravings turned into his, but the difference was that hers went away after giving birth but Lee's never did. Besides, Y/n found it endearing. Maybe it's just because she's wildly in love with her husband, but she couldn't deny how much she loved to feel the weight of his belly on her back when he took her from behind and pressed her face against the bed.

"You're so sensitive, Y/n. You think I give a damn about what a man who can't keep a girlfriend for more than two months has to say about me? He was right about one thing though," Lee began to unzip his work pants, "I do have a pretty wife with a pretty mouth too."

Y/n's face burned and her eyes moved away from his. Years of marriage, a baby later, and she was still bashful when he made such sexually charged comments.

Lee pulled himself out of his pants. He was hard, the tip dripping with pre-cum. From the look of it, he had probably been hard since the late hours of his work shift. Y/n hoped that he thought of her, she always did, but she knew that station was littered with smut magazines; Lee didn't see too fond of them though.

Y/n wrapped her hand around him and gave him a light squeeze just to feel how hard he was. He grunted and more pre-cum seeped from his tip. He was going to make a mess of her gown and exposed thighs if she didn't get him in her mouth.

"Good girl...always so good for me," he sighed in content.

He placed his hand on the back of her head and she welcomed him deeper into her mouth. Moments like this and all of his stress goes away. There is no county to oversee, no mayoral election, and no whispers; just his wife's wet mouth and something else that's wet between her legs. He felt at home inside of her. She sucked on him harder and his hips stuttered. Y/n did her very best to please him, to make him proud. His sweet little wife looked so wicked with his cock in her mouth.

"You keep that up and I'm going to fall over," he said through his pants.

Y/n looked up at him with innocent eyes. She was far from that when they were alone in their marriage bed. Y/n was anything Lee needed her to be, even without asking.

Lee grabbed ahold of her head and started to thrust into Y/n's mouth. She kept herself still, letting him take control of her. Her tongue applied pressure to the bottom of his shaft. His hips bucked as he lightly fucked her face until he was cumming into her mouth. She gagged when the liquid first splashed against the back of her throat, but she quelled herself and swallowed him completely, just how he likes.

"Let me see," she stuck her tongue out to show him that his seed was no longer in her mouth and he smirked, "good girl." He patted the top of her head and zipped himself back up.

"I'll be in bed soon, but don't wait up for me."

He could see how her body was begging for rest just in the way she lazily moved and the tiredness in her eyes. She wakes up before him every morning to make him breakfast, thus making her days longer than his. She didn't get up to much like he did, but long hours of nothing had probably dulled her. It was even worse when you add a screaming baby to the situation.

Y/n wanted to wait for Lee to come back to bed despite him advising against it. However, as soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out. There were no sad cries from her daughter and no worrying about where Lee.

------------------------------------------

The sound of sizzling bacon in the cast iron skillet and percolator going in off was louder than Lee’s footsteps coming down the stairs in his heavy boots and jacket. He paused in the doorway, his daughter the only one to notice his presence in the room. A smile formed on his face as she squealed in delight and reached her arms out for him. Y/n looked over her shoulder to see her looking at Lee. She’s surprised that he came down for breakfast later than usual, but she was happy to see that he seemed to be in good spirits.

"You're going to be uncomfortable eating breakfast in that."

"I might not be able to stay for breakfast,” he tutted while smoothing the downy hairs on his daughter’s head.

Y/n furrowed her brow, but didn't protest. She continued with breakfast anyway. She felt Lee’s presence next to her as he pulled a teething ring out of the freezer. There were two little teeth coming in that contributed to last night's meltdown. She was much happier this morning after a good sleep; she was so oblivious to the world and everything happening around her.

The phone rang disrupting their regular morning routine. It was 7 am, too early for anyone to be calling. Lee picked it up anyway; his face first confused then sullen. Y/n couldn't help but try to eavesdrop when Lee turned away from the kitchen and walked away as far as the cord would allow him. Surely whatever he was talking about on the phone, he would tell Y/n. He always complained about whoever he had talked to on the phone. But, he had become more secretive since he entered the mayor’s race. He didn’t want her to worry, or worse, go around blabbing to one of her girlfriend’s or her parents about something Lee told her in confidence. Besides most of it was information that he didn’t think would interest her.

"Alright...I'll talk to you soon...take care."

Y/n busied herself with cooking again to cover up her nosiness. Lee stepped back in the room spilling the moment he put the phone back on the hook.

"People in town are talking."

"About what?"

"About me."

There was something about the way he talked to her that made Y/n believe he wasn’t telling the complete truth, or that the talking town was something much worse. 

Y/n was not fully aware of Lee’s reputation when she had met him. She knew of him, and also wondered why a man like him was talking to her when she was fit for being a housewife at the time. Over time she learned that Lee didn't have the cleanest reputation. Little bits and pieces would be revealed to her, but by the time she heard the most damning things about him the two were already married; and the information came from Lee himself. While Y/n didn’t want to concern herself with what others thought about Lee, she absolutely did. His position depended on what people thought about him. Y/n believed that their marriage and the birth of their daughter made people see Lee in a different light. Y/n was a very nice, bright girl from a good family. She turned Lee into a family man and a man who doted on his baby girl and treated his wife sweeter than people expected from him. Whispers about him had gotten quieter when her belly became visible under her dresses. No one looked at Lee with contempt or worry anymore, they gazes softened when they saw him walking with his waddling wife.

Shortly after Lee became her boyfriend, Y/n began to hear about some of the rumors that followed Lee throughout the years. She had been told he was corrupt, frequented a local brothel, and turned a blind eye as long as he got something out of it. She was so naive to believe that people were just jealous of her. There were some women who wanted the sheriff from themselves. A year or two into her marriage, Lee began to confide in her about some things. It would only happen when he was drunk. He'd say a thing and Y/n would ask him to elaborate and he would. Covering up murders, drug deals, and allowing the brothel to stay open as long as he "got a sample" was all true. No one else in the town knew the extent of his troubling choices while on the job. Y/n didn't know what to say. He had done bad things, but he was her husband, she took an oath.

Y/n often imagined what would happen if she had told someone about his confessions. He was already the sheriff when they got married, and who would cross the sheriff? She believed that if she ever said anything he'd divorce her, spread lies about her, and she'd end up an outcast. Her options were very few especially now that she has a young child. Her fear and her devotion to him as a wife kept her silent. She has loved Lee since their third date; she wasn't going to throw her life away with him over her husband’s business that didn’t concern her. They made a promise to each other in front of family, friends, and God. Lee's burdens would become hers, and the same goes for Lee's darkness.

"Someone's been sayin that one of the girls' at that whore house been sayin' I beat her."

Lee seemed to explain it to her with ease, like he knew it wasn't true, but Lee was a good liar.

"Well, did you?"

"Why would you ask something like that?"

Lee started towards her and Y/n partially expected him to chastise her. He wouldn't do anything with their daughter a few feet away from them, she assured herself.

"You really think I'm stepping into a whore house when I come home to you every night?" His arms wrapping around her waist made Y/n smile. This is what Lee did often to deter her from asking many more questions, and it always worked, she melted right into his arms. "The last time I was in that place was to arrest someone for causing a fight, and it damn sure wasn't a whore I roughed up."

Y/n wasn't satisfied with the answer, but she nodded as if she was. She knew not to question him after he had given her an answer he deemed fit. No woman wants to believe that their husband would be at a brothel getting “serviced”. She never found signs of another woman on Lee's clothes or his car. All she'd come across was dirt on the bottom of his pants and candy wrappers in his car. "You've got to believe me Y/n." His eyes spoke the truth, she believed. Y/n pecked his lips and Lee’s arms dropped from her waist.

"Sorry I can't stay for breakfast, but if I want to get back home earlier then I have to go in early. You two girls have fun together," Lee kissed Y/n's lips again before walking over to his daughter and kissing her forehead. She giggled when she felt his lips on her head. He was happy to see her in a better mood, but he didn't want a repeat of last night, "don't give your mama such a hard time today, okay? If I hear you been bad, I'm gonna have to put you in baby jail." She had no idea what he was saying, she just enjoyed hearing her daddy's voice.

"Be safe Lee. Please."

He nodded at her sympathetically before leaving. She heard his patrol car rev up and he was pulling out of the driveway. Y/n worries so much, but every night Lee has come home to her without a scratch on him.

------------------------------------------

Paul Sullivan has been the mayor for as long as Y/n could remember. He’s getting up and age but he’s a very beloved man. His popularity made Y/n worry about Lee’s own chances. The only thing that could knock the man down was his son’s reckless behavior. Darrel Sullivan was a few years younger than Lee and had a penchant for hard liquor and trouble. When his name started being involved in almost weekly bar fights, people started to wonder how a man as good as Paul could raise a son like that?

Lee had used the mayor’s trouble kid to his advantage. It just so happened that once Lee decided to run, Darrel ran into even more trouble. The last offense ended him up with a three month jail sentence (of course his father was responsible for such a lower number of months he spent in jail). A baggy of cocaine was found in his car. When did the mayor’s son escalate to cocaine when his vice had only been alcohol for years?

“It was bound to happen at some point. That boy’s brain is so used to booze that he had to turn to something much harder.”

The talk of the town had satisfied Lee for weeks after the arrest.

Y/n didn’t have to be told by him to know that the cocaine wasn’t Darrel’s and that it was planted. She felt bad for Darrel, but he wasn’t so nice to women so maybe some time in jail would do him and everyone around him some good. Still, Y/n was sort of shocked to see what lengths her husband would go to win. He often played dirty to get what he wanted, but messing with the mayor’s son who has evaded so much trouble was a very close call. Lee was lucky that he got away with it and many people didn’t have questions about it.

That phone Lee received this morning spooked her a bit. No one has ever called just to say there were rumors about him. It was a much bigger problem than her husband wanted to let on.

Y/n did her best to campaign upon Lee’s behalf. She’d tell all the girls at the salon about the newest dress Lee bought her and let the strangers know who stopped to tell her kid was cute just who her father was. Her efforts didn’t go unnoticed either. Her closest girlfriends were always eager to tell her that they overheard someone talking about how wonderful Lee’s wife and daughter are. Y/n believed that she wasn’t going to have to do much more than that, but some people didn’t care much about pretty wives or cute babies when the sheriff was allegedly causing trouble. 

Lee’s approach lately has been much more careful. He can’t get caught planting evidence on the wrong person or having someone rat him out. He was growing increasingly paranoid that the townsfolk were watching him closely. Even his deputies got the brunt of some of his delusions. Y/n saw the wild look in his eye every time he would confide his problems to her. Sometimes his words would blend together in a drunken ramble. Bodies...the river...laundering. He scared her sometimes, but she didn’t say anything. Y/n knows her husband has at least killed someone in cold blood; he confessed it in so many words. She wouldn’t be surprised if it has happened two or three times. She didn’t concern herself with the circumstances. If Lee had killed someone then it was probably justified in the eyes of morality and it wasn’t her business.

All of his revelations hardened her. She stopped being shocked after the fourth time Lee let something slip. Lee had never been violent with her the entirety of their relationship. He gets mad, he yells, and he has been guilty of calling her a name or two, but never ever has he laid a finger on her. Y/n was mostly an obedient wife so Lee never found a reason to be forceful with her. The only time Lee took out any aggression was on her was in the bedroom, but he figured she liked it because she’d moan louder than when he’s most gentle with her. Y/n wasn’t too fond of it at first, but she learned to love it and all the rough edges that began to appear as the years together had gone on.

“Here’s the plan for today, little one. You’re going to spend some time with the nice neighbor girl and you’re going to be a very good girl for her, okay? Okay honey?”

Her daughter just looked up at her from her little pallet on the floor. The toys that surrounded her were mostly bought by Lee. There were a few from her parents, but Lee was responsible for buying her too many toys.

While Y/n had never considered hiring a nanny before, it was often suggested to her. Lee  even told her to hire some help before the days get too rough and he's gone for longer throughout the day. However, Y/n was always hard-headed. She didn’t need the help, this was just a tough time with their daughter’s teeth coming in. Besides Y/n’s mother was just a phone call away. She always had an answer for Y/n that came from her years of being a midwife and from raising her own children. 

The only reason why she was calling over the Peterson's teenage daughter to come babysit was because she couldn’t help Lee in the ways that were needed and bring her baby along with her. Normally she’d put her daughter in her stroller and they were out and about, but this wasn't a regular daily task. It was summertime and her neighbor's daughter probably needed something to do while making some money on top of it.

"Does she need to go down for a nap, Mrs. Bodecker?"

"Not for another hour or two. She shouldn't be hungry or wet. Her teeth are starting to come in so she may get fussy, her teething ring is in the freezer and if that doesn't work then sing Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star to her."

Y/n knew it was a lot for the 16-year-old girl to take in, but she still nodded at every word Y/n said as if she got it all. Of all the little time her daughter had been here on Earth, Y/n had not left her alone with a stranger. It was hard for her to say goodbye to her little girl and leave her with a teenager, but it was bound to happen someday. And the afternoon was almost over, her day was calling for her to begin it.

Lee would be so pissed if he learned that Y/n was driving his car. She wasn't that great with the manual transmission, but she was only taking a short trip to her parent's house. Her brother was home to visit from Cincinnati. He was the child who went to the city unlike his sister. His original plan was to stay while Y/n wanted to go, but she had met Lee and decided to stay. Her brother never explained to her why he left for the city. She didn’t want to ask him too much in fear of prying into his business.

Y/n's parents were incredibly happy about Y/n’s relationship with Lee because that meant their only daughter was bound to stay near them. Her father respected Lee and often disregarded the town’s gossip because he saw it just as that: gossip.  

Her brother David was a different story. He didn't really like his brother-in-law. The age gap between them was his biggest concern. “Don’t meddle in your sister’s life. Lee is a good man,”  there mother had once tried to persuade him. It was tough when he heard rumors that Y/n didn't even know about at the time because she was younger. He moved to the city before he could hear just how worse things have gotten with the gossip about Lee Bodecker. David wasn't too thrilled to return for Y/n and Lee’s wedding.

Y/n found his disdain with Lee rather comical. Lee was a protective older brother just like David was, but they just couldn't see eye to eye. She recalls the Christmas fight that happened three years ago. David nearly kicked Lee's ass but his little sister protected her husband by shielding him. Y/n didn't want to involve herself, but if she had to pick where her loyalty lied, it would be with her husband.

"Why you stop by without bringing my gorgeous, little niece?" David wrapped his arms around his sister, surprised to see her pulling up by herself, but happy nonetheless.

"You can come over any time to see her David," Y/n ignores the frown that falls on her brother's face, "are mom and pop home?"

"Ma's at the salon and pop is outback cutting up some wood. I tried to stop him. His arthritis is getting worse, but he gives Ma and I hell every time we tell him to slow down. Is everything alright?"

"Yes. I just need a favor."

If she was asking her visiting big brother for help instead of her husband or their father, then it must be something she's trying to keep quiet. David was weary about his sister being secretive when she has an eight month old baby at home. In his eyes, if she's sneaking around then it's some sort of trouble.

"What kind?"

"Can I borrow your truck?" Y/n didn't elaborate, she just hoped that he'd say yes.

She can't go around town driving in a familiar car. Lee's personal car was too expensive not to notice and her father's truck had a damn logo on it. David's car though was perfect; no one would recognize the plates because he bought it two years ago from a dealership in Cincinnati, but it would blend in with any car that would be driven in Brewer Heights.

"Is something wrong with the cadillac?"

"No. I just don't want to be noticed. You know Lee doesn’t like me driving around in his fancy car."

If it wasn't for the immense trust David had in his sister, he'd say no. Something about her was off; her sweet demeanor replaced by something more discomposed. It was the same look on her face the night he had caught her trying to sneak out of the house when she was 14. Whatever she wanted to do, it would probably be better handled by someone else, but he didn't ask anymore questions, just handed her the keys.

“Get back before it gets dark, and be safe.”

“You sound just like pop,” she tried to joke to mitigate his worry but he kept a stern look on his face.

“I’m serious Y/n.”

"I'll be back soon," she promised. Of course she would, she has a child at home.

David watched her peel out of the dirt driveway and his car disappeared from sight. He only worried because he didn’t know what the problem was and she looked like she was dying to say something. Maybe in due time she’ll be able to tell her brother everything. Maybe they’ll laugh about it when the years have passed and they’re up in age. 

The streets started to become unrecognizable as she drove away from her parent’s home and a much different part of the county. Y/n struggled to materialize the exact location of her destination but from what she had gathered it was at the edge of town, almost entering a different county. All she's ever heard about it was that it was in a "shady part of Knockemstiff." “Shady” meant so many different things because she found the bar that Lee liked to stop at sometimes after a shift to be “shady.”

She hoped to God that Lee was stuck at the office with paperwork and not out patrolling. The sun was going to be setting soon and if he caught her over here all alone past dark, he may just never let her leave the house ever again.

Y/n was not ready to admit what she had planned, especially not to Lee. She herself hadn’t reckoned with it herself. The station her brother had on annoyed her. She turned it off and sat in silence. The only noise that accompanied her was the whirling sound of the wind that slipped through the cracked window. Her eyes peered at every building until they became less frequent. She could hear her blood moving through her veins as she gripped the steering wheel. Did Lee get this way when he did something he wasn’t supposed to? Surely he would be more composed than her, but he has the experience. 

She tried to lighten herself up by putting herself in Lee’s shoes. He probably wouldn’t hesitate or second guess his actions. If he did it, he most likely believed that the end justifies the means. No one who was innocent was ever hurt. They may have not committed a crime at the time, but they had before and would do it again. Y/n would have her own confessions to tell Y/n some day. She doesn’t need alcohol to spill her sins. Lee’s presence alone was compelling enough to get her to divulge her crimes, even the harmless ones.

The fact that she’s been driving around for a good half-an-hour lessened her anxiety but increased her impatience. She didn’t realize just how big the county was. It’s been a while since she drove herself anywhere. It was freeing, but she did miss her husband acting as her chauffeur. The thought of Lee driving her to the very brothel he has been accused of frequenting before he was a married man was comical. The consequences of her getting caught was only scary when she thought about how Lee would react. 

There was a large clearing of land before Y/n reached another set of buildings. A memory about one of them made her pump the break before passing the entry to turn in. She made a sharp turn into it's parking lot. Jimmy, her high school boyfriend, tried to sneak her into some bar but she was caught about her brother who also happened to be there. She remembered the distinct color of the door; neon green. It was an eyesore but it had never been changed, even when they switched owners. The place had closed down years later due to an excess of minors being able to sneak in. 

The crappy bar was not her concern, but the place next to it. She remembers Jimmy’s distinct voice whispering in her ear, the smell of alcohol ripe on his breath.

"That's where the girls who got nothing but good pussy between their legs go."

She had flinched at the words he used. She wondered what he meant by that, only 14 at the time and not really able to comprehend the concept of a brothel. It was the first time she's heard anyone refer to a woman's private parts as a "pussy..

Y/n didn’t expect the parking lot to be so empty. It was pretty early in the evening, maybe people did not want to be at a whore house when there was still daylight. Only one car sat in the parking lot of the bar. There was a makeshift parking lot on the side of the building and next to the old bar. It looked like it was not taken care of properly and a fire hazard waiting to happen. 

She circled around the building, eyeing it to see if there were windows to see inside somehow. Only a few small windows were on the building, but they were either foggy or covered in moss that it was a futile attempt.. Tire markings covered the dirt right in the back of the building. Y/n figured that most people parked back here so they wouldn’t get caught by any passing cars or authority. There was not much that could kill a man’s reputation like being caught in this place. 

Y/n settled for parking her car on the side of the bar. The likelihood of someone driving by and being able to see the plates of her brother’s car was very slim, but she found herself being extra careful.

Upon her arrival at the door, Y/n told herself she had no idea what she's doing, nor what she should expect. It probably wasn't common for a woman to walk into a whore house unless she was a whore herself. She hoped that she was unrecognizable with her usually pinned-up hair cascaded over her shoulders and a different shade of lipstick on her lips. The sunglasses were a last minute, ridiculous purchase, but it gave her a layer of protection. At least she could wear a disguise, Lee didn’t have anything to protect his identity when he did his own sinful acts. The least she could do for her husband is to not get herself caught.

Y/n wonders if Lee hadn’t been so secretive, would she have to do this? Lee did his best to hide things from his wife, but she isn't stupid, she goes out in town and hears things about her husband. Those rumors weren't small like he tried to lead on. "Someone" always meant more than ten people. In her eyes, this had been a long time coming; it was only a matter of time before she got sucked into his world without the intention of doing so. She could only feel so compelled to protect a man no matter the consequences if she loved him more than life itself. 

If he wanted to be secretive under the guise of “protecting” her then fine, but she hated that she had to piece everything together on her own. She heard his late night conversations when he failed to make sure she was sleeping. Whoever he talked to, they talked about a lot of things that didn’t sound wholly legal. From what she picked up from his phone call concerning this dilemma was that the owner of this place was referred to as “Reed”. He didn't seem too fond of Lee, and from the sound of her husband’s voice, the feeling was mutual. She had trouble keeping up with all the technical jargon of Lee’s phone conversations, but from her understanding Lee was threatening to get the place shut down. It would be a good look for him in his bid for being mayor. He would look like a hero if all the crime and sleaziness of this county was suddenly dealt with. Maybe they’d put his picture in the newspaper and dedicated a lengthy article to him and Y/n could clip it to the refrigerator. 

No one would think twice about connecting the dots that Lee was connected to several illegal operations going on around the county. Of all the rumors she has heard about Lee, the whore house bothered her most. It made her feel vain that she was only concerned with her husband cheating on her and not potential murders he has committed. Insecurity crept into her as she visualized her husband stepping through these exact same doors and finding his pleasure in a woman that had more experience than her. She did believe her husband when he said he hadn't stepped out on her while they were married, but that didn’t include their entire relationship. It shouldn’t matter because she was the one he decided to marry, but it still lingered in the back of her mind.

Her body shook to the core as she opened the door. She swallowed thickly as she wondered what sight she would be greeted by. It was an anti-climatic moment when she fully stepped inside to an empty place. It looked like a makeshift motel lobby and bar at the same time. Y/n thought it would be something more shabby and slimy, but it was not. Some pin-up model posters were plastered on the wall along with photos of random musicians. There were oddly a lot of photos of Frank Sinatra that had their own little corner of the wall. It was hard to determine what the vibe of this “establishment” was. One thing for sure is that she felt like an intruder. The posers on the wall made her feel stupidly bashful; this was a man’s domains and not a place for someone’s wife.

"Can I help you darlin?"

The smooth voice belonged to an older man. Y/n figured he was “Reed” because he looked like a Reed. And he appeared to be the only person here. She doubts a random patron would take to cleaning the place up by sweeping the floors.

"Uh -- are you Mr. Reed?"

Surprisingly, he just laughed at her stumbling over her words. It hadn’t dawn on her prior to a few moments ago that he knew his way around talking to a nervous girl. She ironically hoped that he thought she was just a lost whore, and that she wasn’t recognized as the sheriff’s wife.

"I am darlin’. Is there something I can help you with?" He asked again. Y/n was surprised that he wasn't intimidating, or greasy. He seemed so simple and kind, but he just happened to run a brothel. And he was the man who was saying awful things about her husband.

"I'm looking for a job," she made sure her words were as natural as possible. The little script she created in her head seemed like it would be easy to see-through, "I-I’m just wondering if you were looking for a waitress or someone to clean the place?"

A sly smile spread across his face. A shiver ran down her spine as she felt just how insidious this man was. A glance at him and he was unsuspecting, but a few moments with him, especially when he’s alone with a pretty girl and his true nature was hard to hide.

"You've come to a good place, darlin’. Let me put this away and I'll show you to my office."

He put the broom he held back into a closet and beckoned for her to follow him. Her heart thumped loudly as she followed him to potential danger. He could assault her or do something worse if he really wanted to. She was vulnerable now and just had to trust the process. 

They had passed multiple doors to get to his office, probably the doors where the girls would stay and please customers. Y/n tried not to imagine Lee being behind one of those doors with a woman touching his body. This place smelled like tawdry perfume, luckily something she has never smelled on Lee’s clothes.

"Do you have any experience waitressing?" He said the word as if he wanted her to believe that this place was anything but a brothel. For him it was possible that she really thought this place was something innocent, but he could always persuade a pretty girl who looked lost to work for him. 

"A few years...I was a waitress with my friend in Columbus for a year."

"Columbus? Why did you leave darlin’?" Y/n wanted to cringe at his constant pet name. No man talked to her like that besides her husband. It felt dirty to hear him call her something reserved for Lee and Lee only.

"Got into some trouble. My ex roughed me up a bit and I had to leave," Y/n recalled the story her brother told about one of his college friends: a homely sorority girl who got caught up with the wrong guy. She felt bad using the poor girl's story and reclaiming it as her own, but a sob story would make this man more likely to take her in if she guessed correctly.

"Well, I don't know if I'm taking anymore girls in-"

"Please!? Please? I don't have anywhere else to go. I really need the money and a place to stay. It was hell getting up here," she implored. 

Hearing her beg like that made his cock harden in his pants. There was something about a sweet little thing begging for his help that turned him on. He had no intention of turning her away from the beginning, but it was also nice to know how desperate a girl was; that made it easier for him to get a taste for himself.

However, Reed was either too horny or just an idiot to realize that a girl who had been traveling alone and from Columbus wouldn't be wearing such a nice dress that looked untouched. He was a sadistic bastard who liked employing girls that he can push around and Y/n was beginning to see that due to his negligence.

 His appearance absolutely covered up for how mean he was. Most bruises that ended up on his girls weren't from customers, but from him. He had to control himself when customers started to complain about the marks on the girls. (It was not like they cared for their well-being, they just wanted to fuck girls who were looked clean and pretty. Those men just wanted their fantasies fulfilled). His rage was taken out in psychological ways now instead of physical. He made sure those girls were in hell with no escape. He was sweeter on them if they opened their legs for him, but he was well aware that he could get away with doing whatever he wanted to them because they had nowhere else to go. If Y/n knew half the stuff he did then she wouldn't feel as guilty for what she was planning to do to him.

"I don't just hire anyone -- say, what’s your name darlin’?"

"Mary. My name is Mary."

"You gotta prove you deserve to work for me, Mary. Why don't you stand up and turn around for me."

Y/n dreaded following his orders, obeying him and spinning around slowly in her dress for him. The only man she had done that for was Lee. She felt like she was cheating on him, but she remembered that it was for him. His face was etched in her mind the entire time. The thought of him comforted her as she pretended like he was there with her as if he was God’s spirit, wrapping her in a feeling of vengeance instead of love.

"You sure are a pretty little thing. You been fucked before?"

"Once. Just by my ex-boyfriend."

"Good. I'm sure that pussy is still tight, I can just say you're a virgin and make one of those fuckers pay a heavy price for a piece of you."

Y/n nearly looked at him in horror, but gave him a half-hearted smile instead. She would act like she was grateful for him giving her a chance to make money. Her stomach churned at the thought of possibly not making it out of here. Reed’s eyes had darkened once he knew that she was in his grasp with no easy escape. He was a big man who could easily overpower her if she tried to do something stupid. But she seemed so obedient, like a perfect little girl.

"I can get you a bed, but you're going to have to reuse the clothes that are in there already. The girl who stayed there last up and ran away,” Y/n was very doubtful about that. Reed began rummaging through his drawer, pulling out a bottle of liquor before continuing, “If they don't fit you can trade with one of the other girls. You and the rest of the girls stay in your room until it's time to open. Can't have any of you roaming around in case one of those bastard cops decide to give me some trouble."

Her eyes glanced at the clock on the wall, it was nearly 8 o’clock. She did not think it would go this smoothly so far. Her anxiety didn’t cause her to make any major flubs that would get her caught; she just came off as an unsuspecting girl. Y/n just didn’t realize how simple a man could be in the presence of an attractive woman.

"Place opens at 9 every night, ‘cept for Sundays. I’m going to let you go get ready soon but I need you to learn my rules before you go out there and do something to piss me off," he shuffled in his seat for a few seconds, his face painted with discomfort, "first I need to go piss. Can you stay here and wait for me darlin’? Of course you can,” he left without waiting for a response from her.

Y/n waited until he opened his office door and closed it behind him. She had limited time to do what she had to do. She quickly moved behind his desk and began to fly through his drawers looking for arsenic.

There was a conversation she remembers Lee having with one of the men in town when they stopped in the middle of an aisle at the grocery store to talk. Most men believed that their wives weren’t interested in listening to whatever they’ve got to talk about with other men. Or that they just don’t understand what the hell they’re talking about. That may be true for Y/n most of the time but her ears perked up when she had heard certain words. Y/n had a penchant for being nosey ever since she was a kid, but it usually got her in trouble. She tried not to eavesdrop on Lee’s conversations but he made it so hard when he started to whisper and look around to make sure no one else was near. 

A word like "syphilis" had Y/n scratching her head. She hadn't heard of it before but apparently a man in town died from it after contracting it "at the whore house." It sounded serious. and from the context, something you get from fucking someone without a condom.

 A few books at the library confirmed her suspicions. She had to re-read some sentences to fully grasp what she was reading. From what she gathered, syphilis was treated with “magic” arsenic before they switched to penicillin. However, with Mr. Reed being referred to as a "cheap” and “old school” man multiple times in Lee’s conversation with the man at the grocery store, she believed (or at least hoped) that he still used that old method. But instead of Salvarsan, she found something that looked much cheaper and like it wasn’t obtained legally. She grabbed as many vials as she could and just began to dump them into his glass that held his dark liquor. She did it rather sloppily, her hands shaking when she realized that this was it. It was possible that she was more scared of getting caught by him than killing the old man. He’d probably beat her until she was unrecognizable.

Y/n desperately hoped it would work. If it didn't kill him, then it would certainly impair him since he was up in age and probably didn't take good care of his health anyway. She tossed the empty vials into one of the drawers of his desk and wiped whatever residue was on her hands onto the tacky shag rug on the floor. She had to get it off of her hand before getting in her brother’s car. She didn’t consider the risk of poisoning herself, but it arose inside of her the moment she felt a few splashes onto her fingers.

"Ok sweetheart," he had caught her on her knees, "what are you doing?"

"I-I dropped my earring."

He couldn't see her ears due to her hair covering them. He grumbled something about "women" but moved to his seat without question.

Y/n got off the floor and sat in the chair in front of him. He looked a little annoyed with her now instead of eyeing her like a piece of meat like he had done for the entirety of their time alone. She watched his hand intently, waiting for him to wrap his hand around his glass and bring it up to his lips.

"I run a tight house here. None of my whores act up and I expect the same for you. If you're good for daddy, he'll be good to you."

A loud buzzing in her ears made his words unintelligible. She panicked and wondered if it was the little amount of arsenic that got on her hand that was making her feel sick to her stomach. She needed to clean herself up, and Reed needed to wrap this up. But he just talked and talked and talked while she nodded along like she really cared or was paying attention. She held her breath as he picked his glass up and took the first sip of his poisoned alcohol. Y/n isn't sure why she expected an immediate reaction from him, maybe for him to spit it out or clutch his chest, but he just carried on. It was going to take time, and she just had to wait it out. She had probably about 45 minute left before it was opening time. What if there were people already starting to come? What if one of the girls was roaming around now?

"You got that darlin'?"

"Yes," Y/n choked out, not realizing Reed had finished his spiel.

"Alright. Your room is upstairs, take a left and it’s the third room on the right hand side. Just because you’re new doesn’t mean I won’t have your ass if you’re late," he kicked up his heels and reclined in his chair as he placed a cigarette between his lips. He lit it up and blew smoke right in Y/n’s direction, disregarding her grimace, “I’ll probably just let a few men use your throat tonight. Don’t worry, I won’t let them touch that pretty little pussy yet.”

Reed smiled coyly as if he was doing her a favor. He nodded towards the door and Y/n hot tailed it out of there. She didn't realize that she wasn't breathing right until she let out an exhale and then inhaled deeply. If he wasn't going to experience symptoms right away then it was going to take some time. There she ran the risk of him being able to get some help. It wasn’t likely that many people would call the cops to help a dying brothel owner, but she panicked that maybe somebody would.

Barricading him inside of his office was the only thing to give her reassurance. She grabbed one of the bar stools, heavier than she expected, and trudged towards his door. She gently placed the first one against the door so as to not to make a noise that would cause him to see what’s going on. Y/n did her best to run back and forth in her flats and placed each stool against his door until there were no more left. She added a few chairs to the growing pile to make sure it stuck.

Y/n paused when she heard someone starting to rouse. Whoever it was, or what, stopped making noise after a few seconds. Y/n looked up and started praying to God that she would not get caught, but the irony of wishing for someone to die did not escape her.

God just may have been on her side though. She got out of there with clean hands and not a single mark on her skin. Y/n knew that Lee couldn’t know about this just quite yet, but she begins to fantasize about Lee being proud of her and taking her to bed afterwards.

------------------------------------------

"Where have you been?” Imagine Lee’s surprise when he saw his neighbor’s teen daughter holding his little girl. Nothing seemed to be wrong, in fact his daughter was giggling at something the teen was doing. However, Y/n had not told him hiring a babysitter, nor did he know she was going to go out. She always told him if she was going out. If it was a spontaneous decision then a new question rose of where the hell she was during the darker hours of the day.

"I went to visit my parents and must have lost track of time,” Y/n kissed his cheek like she always does. She knows how to get Lee’s attention on something else, “David is in town and I wanted to see him-”

She was cut off by the sound of her husband groaning. It wasn’t often that his brother-in-law came into town, so it was only a matter of time before Y/n was dragging him over to her parents house for dinner.

“Whatever. Just put the girl to bed.”

Probably the first time, Y/n was happy to see that Lee was too tired to talk to her. She doubts he’ll have questions later about her whereabouts, especially if the death of the brothel owner hits his desk by tomorrow morning.

Y/n won’t worry about it tonight. She’s fine. Everything will be fine.

Their daughter went down easy tonight. She was tuckered out from her day with the babysitter. “Good night baby,” Y/n kissed her forehead and prayed that she would sleep through the night instead of waking up crying for a feed.

Y/n walked into the bedroom to Lee undressing himself. “Join me,” he nodded his head in the direction of their bathroom. There was a smile on his face, a sly one but not as lascivious as Reed’s. After being in the presence of such an awful man she was surprised that her body warmed at the idea of Lee’s hands roaming her body. He’s the only man she wants to be obedient for. The hot water on her skin cleaned her and the cum that sputtered out from Lee’s hard-on anointed her. 

“You feel so fucking good. Oh God...I was thinking about this pussy when I was at work...almost had to touch myself.”

Lee’s words were similar to the ones Reed had used earlier but they purified her. Her cheek pressed against the tiled wall as he fully pushed himself inside of her, hands gripping her hip. There was a low sound of their wet skin slapping together coupled with Lee’s own grunts. Y/n wasn’t particularly in the mood to have sex, but she just needed Lee close to her.

“I’m gonna cum Y/n -- I’m gonna cum honey-” his voice was cut off by his orgasm as he emptied himself inside of her. 

He slumped against her, his face pressed against her back as his arms wrapped her waist to bring her body closer against his.

“Do you think I’m gonna win?”

Y/n wiggled out of his grasp and turned off the water that was beating down on their skin. Water continued to fall down his face; his eyes were more than tired, they were sullen. 

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think people are really going to vote for me? They love that old bastard so damn much even though he’s old as shit.”

“Lee? Where is this coming from? Why are you so worried? People respect you-”

“But it doesn’t mean they like me. You and I both know that most of the people didn’t even start being friendly with me until the little one came along.” It was sort of his own fault, but Y/n would never tell him that.

“Don’t worry Lee,” she cupped his face, something he normally does, but it was nice to switch roles, “everything will be alright. I promise. You’re going to be mayor and I’m going to be the mayor’s wife.”

He nodded at her reassurance, but his doubt was hard to push away. He felt foolish being so vulnerable and borderline emotional about this, but his wife made him feel better. Her eyes were honest and words earnest when she said, “everything will be alright.”

Lee believed her.

[hockeyboysiguess]

four calling bird -> four broken sticks | a. matthews

a/n: it’s me, again, hoping you aren’t yet sick of christmas fics from me. if you aren’t, here’s a link to the rest of this 12 days of christmas series!

word count: 4,161

warnings: two curse words and some angst. 

“How many broken sticks is that today, Matts?”

Auston didn’t know the answer and he didn’t care about the answer either. He just cared that his stick was broken and he couldn’t practice his slapshot with a broken stick. And he needed to take a slapshot right now, and another one, and another one. He needed to send a puck through the netting, through the glass behind it, and bury it deep in the wall behind that. Maybe his feelings for you would get buried with it if he could just hit the puck hard enough.

“I think he’s at two,” Willy supplied as Auston grabbed a fresh stick from the rack that unfortunately wasn’t pre-taped. He’d broken all of those already. 

“You missed one,” Mitch corrected. “That’s the third one he’s broken.”

Auston started a fresh roll of tape, starting with the heel of his new stick like always.

“I’m right here,” Auston reminded his teammates who were talking about him like suddenly he was invisible as he taped his stick lazily. One of his worst tape jobs in awhile, but he didn’t really care. “I’m not breaking any more. Just in case you were wondering.” 

That promise worked for another twenty minutes. Until Mitch dared to ask the question everyone had been avoiding. 

“So, did you tell your mom you broke up and that she’s not coming with you for Christmas yet? If not, you kind of need to tell her. You can’t just show up without her.”

And there came the fourth broken stick as the final whistle of practice came, with Auston thinking about the inevitable phone call with his mother and really having to say it out loud that he lost you after everyone told him ad nauseum not to lose you because you were so much better than him. You were so much better than him and Auston couldn’t pretend he was even half of the person you were. He couldn’t even think about watching you shove your things in a box as you raced out of his place, or the drawer that your things had inhabited now sitting empty, or the fact that his mom loved you and he hadn’t told her you weren’t coming to Arizona. He really couldn’t think about losing you a week before Christmas, the time of the year that was supposed to be magical and pure and good and joyful. Instead, Auston was pretty sure he hated Christmas now. 

Auston knew for a fact he hated Christmas as he pressed his mom’s contact on his phone while climbing into his car. He loved his mother and loved talking to her. He loved that he was going to get to go home for a few days and spend the holidays with her. But you were supposed to be there too and telling his mom was the last barrier that made the breakup real. A large part of Auston still thought he’d open his eyes in the morning and your hair would be in his face and your bobby pins would be all over his bathroom counter and your clothes would be haphazardly stuffed in your drawer and overflowing into two of his that technically weren’t yours but might as well have been. 

But then his mom answered the phone and he knew that wasn’t going to happen. This wasn’t a nightmare. Well, it might still have been a nightmare before Christmas, but it wasn’t all in his head like he desperately hoped it was. 

“Hi, mijo!” She greeted him with a warmth that always made him feel like he was back in Arizona, but today it also made Auston feel sick to his stomach because he was about to break her heart, never mind the fact that his was already broken too. “How are you? How was practice? We’re all so excited to see you both tomorrow!”

Auston let out a long breath, the kind that let his mom know there was something heavy and unspoken that was going to disrupt the Christmas cheer she’d been building since the Leafs schedule came out and she realized Auston was actually going to be able to make it home for Christmas this year. 

“Actually, um, about tomorrow…”

He trailed off, mostly because his bottom lip started to shake and his eyes started to get cloudy, but also because he wasn’t sure exactly how to admit that the girl his mom adored, who she fully and honestly wanted him to marry, wasn’t coming with him for Christmas this year or next year or any of the years after that. She was gone. He lost her and it was all his fault.

“Mijo, what’s wrong?” 

Auston bit his lower lip hard, hoping that would stop the shake and make his eyes gloss over from a pain that wasn’t in his chest. The words were so timid coming out of his mouth, syllables broken, shattered as they left his lips, “She broke up with me, ma. She’s not coming for Christmas.” 

Ema Matthews didn’t mean to; she wanted to be supportive of her son, but what came out was, “What did you do, mijo?” even though she should’ve just asked him what happened.

“I guess I just didn’t love her enough to overcome how shitty it is to date me,” Auston mumbled, replaying the night over in his head as he spoke. “Sorry for swearing, mama.” 

Auston remembered your sweater from a few nights ago when you showed up at his place, your snowflake one, subtle office appropriate Christmas, is what you’d called it in the moment. Auston had laughed, until he saw an empty box in your hands. He was confused when you set it down on the counter and didn’t take your shoes off. You didn’t bend down to pet Felix like you always did. Your shoes got kicked off haphazardly by his front door and then you pet Felix and then you came over and gave him a kiss. It was your routine when you came over, but this time your shoes stayed on, you barely acknowledged Felix, and there was an empty box sat on a counter in place of kissing him. 

“Auston,” you had sighed and he knew the second he heard the way you said his name that you were breaking up with him. He had been so scared of ever hearing it that he’d imagined every single way it would sound if you were going to do it. Finding you, and you somehow being willing to date him, had been the biggest blessing Auston had ever received. He had always thought that some day you would wake up and realize you could do so much better than him, so he’d imagined what it would sound like when he couldn’t sleep at night on the road without you. He thought if he familiarized himself with every possible permutation of it that when it eventually happened, he wouldn’t cry in front of you, that maybe he wouldn’t beg for you to stay even though you shouldn’t want people who don’t want you. 

It didn’t work. The way you said his name made him cry.

“Please,” Auston had said softly. “Please don’t do this now. Please. It’s Christmas. I know that stupid, but please don’t break up with me at Christmas.” 

You had hung your head and sighed again, “I’m sorry, Aus. I just, I can’t take it anymore. I’ve tried. I’ve tried for so long to just tune it out, just focus on you and us but lately everything has been just so loud that I can barely hear myself think. My friends and family are getting harassed. It’s not just me anymore. It’s too loud. It’s too much. And I don’t want to spend Christmas with your family knowing I just want to end it. That’s not fair to you or your mom or anyone.” 

“How is showing up at my place with a box to dump me for stuff I can’t control without even having a discussion fair either?” 

Auston had tried to fight back. He had tried to have a conversation, to communicate, something he had been absolutely awful at when you started dating. You had been so patient, so kind, and so steadfast with him as he figured out how to be a partner, how to meet you halfway. Here you were, after he worked so hard on himself because he thought if he worked hard enough maybe he could be worth a small part of you, acting like it wasn’t enough, that everything he couldn’t control mattered more than him. Unfortunately, sometimes, people can try as hard as they can, with all of their might, and still lose. He was so good to you, so good with you, but in the effort of fixing himself, of learning to be a better partner with as much of his energy as he had to give, he’d slipped a little in one area. Auston didn’t protect you enough from the noise and you were damaged because of his lack of ability to shield you from the press, from the fans, from every hungry person who fed on other people’s drama and suffering, from people who didn’t want you and Auston to be happy. Auston lost because he didn’t have more to give than he was already giving you. He lost you because what he had to give just wasn’t enough like a rejected Christmas present, rejected not because the gift inside wasn’t beautiful, but because it came with a toxic addition that Auston had tried not to wrap up with him, but failed. 

Driving down the street, all the Christmas decorations seemed to be mocking him. This was supposed to be his best one in a long time, getting to be back in Arizona with his family, plus getting to spend it with you. If Auston had drawn up his perfect Christmas at the start of the year, what he had planned was what he would’ve drawn up. But even the best laid plans, even the most carefully selected gifts, didn’t always pan out. 

“I’m sorry, mijo,” his mother told him softly, any earlier traces of disappointment over losing you from the family gone. She’d have to work through that herself later. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Auston felt like he was supposed to want to talk about it, about what it felt like to lose you and what he was feeling like now that he was being forced to become settled in it even though that was the last thing he wanted. Auston didn’t want to talk about the breakup though because he just tried so hard with you and he came up short anyway. Talking about shortcomings that couldn’t be fixed, because he could never fully shelter you from the noise of everyone else, wasn’t healthy. He could do everything in his power, use all of his energy, to protect you from it all, put zero effort into your actual relationship, and he still couldn’t do it. Talking about something Auston would always fail at and how it had cost him you wasn’t something he was all that interested in with the wreaths on the light posts and the Christmas carols on the radio station that you had insisted he play in his car mocking him. 

“Not really, ma,” Auston admitted softly. “Kind of just need to be alone tonight.” 

“Of course, sweetheart,” she mumbled as assuringly as she could. “Do whatever you need to do.” 

What Auston needed to do to feel better was drive over to your place and beg for another chance, a chance to do it better. He couldn’t even fully protect you, but maybe he could find more to give somewhere in him and do it better, while not being a worse boyfriend for it all. Except Auston knew you didn’t want him to try. You hadn’t asked for him to try. You had just broken up with him, just like that. Now, he was spending Christmas where the only gift he had received so far was his own heart shattered, given to him in an unwrapped box. 

“Yeah, I think I just need some time,” Auston sighed, running a hand through his hair before returning it to the steering wheel. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“If you change your mind and want to talk, you know you can call anytime,” Ema tried to assure her son softly. 

Auston just hummed softly in agreement, before telling his mother Merry Christmas and that he'd see her tomorrow. He tossed his phone careless into the cup holder, one of the side buttons hitting the side of the cup holder and greeting him with a picture of you kissing his cheek, arms wrapped around him, love obvious in your closeness. He hadn’t been able to change it yet, but your face squished against his cheek in that photo made his eyes tear up whenever he saw it. Luckily, the only lucky part of the last few days, he just pulled into his garage, so he could let the tears roll down his cheeks without worrying about not being able to see the road. Like every night since you’d left, Auston slept on the couch that night, the Christmas tree you had insisted on getting, mocking him in the corner. His sheets smelled too much like you to sleep in that bed, so he picked the mocking Christmas tree instead. 

Auston was on autopilot as he grabbed his bag, the one he’d left space in for your extra things that you wanted to pack that lived at his place. He didn’t fill the space he’d left for you because it was still your space. Like yesterday, the Christmas decorations and the Christmas music and the fake gingerbread smell coming from every shop in the airport mocked him as he waited for his flight. He just wanted to be home where he thought being around his family would feel enough like Christmas that he’d feel at least marginally better. He felt better when his mother wrapped her arms around him as he stepped off the plane, and when the warm Arizona sun hit his skin on the wall to the car. But it was all as temporary and out of place as the snowy decorations littering his parents’ home. Snow didn’t fall in Arizona and he didn’t have you anymore. 

His mom tried. His dad tried. His sisters tried. They all tried to cheer him up, shoving an ugly sweater over his head and a Santa hat on top of it. But he couldn’t engage in it. His mind was on you, on how you were supposed to be here, how he wanted to ask you to move in as part of your Christmas gift. He had a key made for you. He was so ready for you, for you and him for as long as he could see into the future, and now he just hated your favorite holiday. His bed felt too big that night, but at least the sheets in Arizona didn’t smell like you even though the space next to him was clearly meant for you. 

Auston woke up the next morning feeling hungover even though he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol. He rubbed his eyes slowly and reached out to the space you were supposed to occupy, finding nothing but cold sheets and an emptiness that felt so much more vast than half of a king size bed. His phone reminded him that it was December twenty-fourth, Christmas Eve, but it had never felt less like Christmas for Auston. Christmas was supposed to be sickeningly sweet, like all the candy his mother would stuff in his stocking later tonight. It was supposed to be happy, and maybe that was the worst part of it all, that Auston felt like he was supposed to be happy but just couldn’t be. Hhe lost you and he felt like he was letting everyone down by not being happy, by not being filled with Christmas cheer that was just making him feel so sick he couldn’t even eat his reindeer shaped pancakes his mother made, like she did every Christmas Eve morning. 

“You want to help me with the cookies?” his older sister asked him, trying to will Auston away from where he’d settled on the couch after being unable to eat his breakfast.

“I’m fine,” he replied with his eyes still trained on his phone. 

He was flipping through photos of you, something he knew would only hurt worse, but he couldn’t stop. He was trying to find out when something had changed, when you stopped looking at him with all the love in the world, the look that people had made fun of you for ever having about him of all people. Now that Auston was looking back on it, maybe they were right to do so. Maybe he was inevitably going to ruin what he had with you and everyone else had seen it from the start, noticed the inevitable unmarked intersection where you would crash into each other. When you crashed last week, it seemed only Auston walked away with any damage, shattered like an ornament that fell from the top of the tree, only to have the fragments of him carelessly tossed in the trash, no attempt made to repair him. 

Auston didn’t leave the couch except to move to the outdoor couch at his mother’s insistence and then back to the indoor one after the sun had set, time passing as it always did but affecting him less. He felt the same from moment to moment, an out of tune, incongruent symphony of thoughts of you, good, bad, and all the gray area in between, like the poor excuse for a symphony the carolers probably behind the knock on his front door would make that interrupted his private thoughts. His family was in the kitchen and he was closest to the front door. He didn’t want to answer and be faced with the prospect of ruining the Christmas spirit for a van-load of local children, but he didn’t have much of a choice when his mom called out for him to answer the door. 

Auston didn’t bother to look out to see who it was, choosing instead to get the shooting of children’s Christmas caroling dreams out of the way as quickly as possible. 

“Hey, guys, I appreciate you coming by, but we’re not really-”

Auston’s words caught on the tip of his tongue when he fully opened the door to see not the group of Christmas carolers he thought he would, but to see you standing there. You had nothing but a broken smile and a small duffle bag, the kind of small that indicated you didn’t know if you were about to be getting right back on a plane or if you were going to be allowed to come in. It was a kind of honest small, one that didn’t want to hope for the best, just expected the worst. You were wearing a Christmas sweater, one of your ugly ones. It was too warm for Arizona, sweat on your temples and the sleeves pushed up to your elbows as evidence of this, but Auston knew you wouldn’t take it off. He knew so much about you. He knew your favorite color, he knew that you always slept at an angle in the bed with the comforter bunched in your arms, he knew you loved Christmas with a passion that rivaled Santa Claus himself, he knew why you had broken up with him, but he didn’t know why you were here. 

“Hi,” was all you offered and it didn’t serve as an explanation. 

“What are you doing here?” Auston managed to put together the question from all the others crashing together in his mind, questions and statements and incoherent thoughts clashing and making it hard to come up with anything specific to say. “What? How? Why?”

You ran a hand through your hair and let out a long breath, before taking your bottom lip nervously between your teeth. You had a thousand reasons, really more than that as to why you’d bought a ridiculously expensive one-way ticket from Toronto to Arizona on Christmas Eve, why you’d squished yourself between a grandmother with a purse of overflowing powdery mints and a crying infant to show up at his door. None of your reasons were clear now though, all of them jumbling together, tangling up into an indistinguishable mess in your mind that only led to one statement that you weren’t sure if it even properly captured everything you needed to say to him. 

“I never want to spend Christmas without you, Auston.” 

There was so much unsaid, so many things Auston had been feeling since you walked out with a box of your things, leaving him with nothing of you but his memories, the photos on his phone, the gifts he’d picked out for you but never got to give you, and a dread of the holiday he had come to love with you. There was so much those nine words didn’t cover, so much hurt and agony underneath them. But fuck if they weren’t the prettiest bandage Auston had ever seen in his life. 

“I never want to spend Christmas with you either,” Auston breathed out, words spoken with relief so real and honest you felt like you could touch it.

You adjusted the duffle bag in your hand, shifting it from your left to your right as you looked at Auston. He looked horrible, dark circles under his eyes, a hollowness in his cheeks, but his eyes were so hopeful looking at you now, bright and deep, exactly like he looked the day you fell into him for the first time and decided to stay. His eyes were like Christmas morning, a beautiful promise breaking through the heaviness of a December that carried pain it wasn’t supposed to understand. You took a deep breath and hoped nine words, hope, and a little Christmas miracle were on your side. 

“Baby, can I come home for Christmas?” 

Auston didn’t hesitate. He knew his answer through and through, “Only if you stay for every Christmas forever.” 

You felt the tears sting your eyes as you stepped toward him, head nodding up and down as you accepted his terms. You thought you could handle being without him if it meant all of the negativity you felt from other people was no longer a factor. Except you couldn’t have been more wrong. People were still mean. The world still had a lot of darkness in it. All you had done by leaving him was create more darkness for yourself when his love and the light it brought left with him. Crawling back into his arms, feeling the familiar warmth of his chest, you felt his love wrap around you tightly, and your world became just a little brighter again. 

“I love you and I’m so sorry,” you mumbled into his ugly sweater covered chest. 

“Shh,” he mumbled softly into your hair. “It doesn’t matter now. You’re home for Chrismtas.”

You squeezed him impossibly tighter because if you let go, he might slip through your fingers like smoke, a figment of your imagination evaporating in front of you. You clung to him and he held you just as firmly, fearing the same thing, fearing his Christmas miracle would cease to be real if he wasn’t holding you. Hell, you weren’t a Christmas miracle. You were the best thing he had ever gotten in his entire life, the best gift the universe ever gave him. This year for Christmas, Auston Matthews lost you and got you back. While he could’ve done without the losing you part, he had you back. You were right here, in his arms, where you belonged and Auston Matthews wouldn’t be spending Christmas without you. He never had to spend another Christmas without you, the real Christmas miracle, the fact that his Christmases would forever include you now. 

You were home for Christmas. You were home for forever. Home was Auston and Christmas just isn’t Christmas with thousands of miles between you and your heart. But you were holding him now and you knew that waking up in his arms on Christmas morning was the only way you ever wanted to wake up for every Christmas in the future, starting with the one coming in a few short hours that you knew would make you crave the next one as soon as it finished. 

You loved him. He loved you. Love was inherently complicated, the joining of two people. Christmas uncomplicated it all, boiled everything down to the most simple thing possible; Auston Matthews was your person, and you wanted to share every Christmas with him. So, you walked into the house and started with this one.

[somenewsarah]

Dear Draco ~ Part One

Summary: Ten years ago, Draco was sure you were dead. But after receiving a letter from none other than you, his world is flipped upside down.

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Word Count: 4k+

Genre: Fluff, a lil angsty

Requested: No, requests currently closed while I finish my sitting requests :)

Warnings: None

A/N: I know it’s been a while, and this is likely all over the place~ just something that’s been on my mind for a while and finally had some time to sit down and plot it out! Part 2?

The warmth of the fire can’t drive away the cold. It creeps in, starting from his toes and runs all the way to his chest. That cold that can only be associated with his own sadness. Draco sits in his favorite chair by the hearth, his eyes scanning the letter over and over again. Surely he’d seen this before.

“Darling,” Astoria, his wife of six years starts. “I’m putting Scorpius to bed, are you coming?”

“Not tonight,” he says. It’s firmer than intended, but he can’t even drag his eyes away to apologize.

Astoria lingers in the doorway of their meager living room of their meager cottage that they’d fallen in love with when they first saw it, but now needed more space. She eyes her husband warily and the letter in his hand, that smelled of the sweetest perfume and has him in a tizzy. She knew there’d been someone before her. Someone that never made it out of the war. Someone he loved more than anyone.

Astoria sighs, her eyes still watching her husband for a single second before she slips down the hallway.

Draco brings the letter to his lips, kissing the very paper it was written on, his mind wandering back to all the kisses he gave to you, all the times he’d kiss your forehead and hold you and tell you how much he loved you. He can’t believe the letter had even come.

Dearest Draco,

I’m sorry if this letter reaches you late. It is now May 10th, 1998, and by now you must be sure that I am dead.

Draco puts the letter down for a moment, his heart almost completely stopping in his chest. Alive? Is she alive? Should he leave now?

I hope someday you can forgive me for letting you think I’d ever meet such a fate in a war, but I assure you I am, for now, safe and sound. I made a deal with Dumbledore before your task. I’m continuing his work, growing my own power and studying as much as I can. I’ve followed the knowledge, as I always told you I would. I wrote the first half of this letter once I’d gotten out safely, but couldn’t bring myself to finish it. It is now August 25th, 2008. Ten years since I started.

She’s alive. She must be, if he’s receiving this letter now. He sets it on the arm of his chair and stands, pacing in that Draco Malfoy way. He stoops at the chair for his whiskey and the letter, his eyes scanning it.

I’ll be returning to London soon. I’ve taken up the Potions Master position at Hogwarts under Mrs. Granger’s rule, and I wanted you to be the first to know that I’ll be coming back. I hope to see you in Hogsmeade on the 29th of August. You know where. I’ll be there at 3pm, and I hope you show. I want to hear all about your life, Draco. Did you ever marry? Are you happy? I miss you, and I hope that you’ve built a life for yourself.

See you?

Love,

Y/N

Draco sits down in his chair again, his eyes wide and his heart pounding. Seeing you. Tomorrow. For the first time in ten years. The longest ten years of his life, thinking you were dead. The worst ten years. No, he married. He has a son. He became one of the most well-respected and astute healers in the entire wizarding world. He’s had a wonderful ten years. Right?

He stands again, pacing and pacing and pacing. Alternating between his drink and smelling your sweet, sweet smell that he’d tried so hard to preserve in one of his t-shirts you always wore to bed.

Astoria leans against the doorjamb, watching Draco pace and pace. She knows that pace. He’s stressed and conflicted and terrified. That look on his precious face…

She walks to him, taking his face in her hands.

“Draco,” she says firmly, catching his attention. “What is it?”

He’s quiet for a moment and she holds her breath, searching his face for any kind of answer.

“It’s Y/N,” he says, his voice almost a ghost of a whisper. “She’s alive. And she’s coming back. And she wants me to meet her tomorrow.”

Astoria drops her hands from his face, taking in his words. So, this was it, then. She knew who he would choose should it come down to it.

“That little twit,” Astoria breathes. “How selfish can she be?”

Draco, taken aback, gazes at his wife. “Selfish?”

“You were in hell for the first years of us being together because of her! You moped at our wedding. You won’t dare allow me to do simple things like wear your clothes to sleep in or go through your old Hogwarts trunk. All because you thought she was dead!” Astoria roars, finding her voice now.

“Darling, calm down,” Draco starts.

“Calm down?” Astoria roars, growing louder. “You’re going to tell me, your wife, to calm down, after telling me you’re going to meet the woman you’ve secretly wished I was for the last ten years? Don’t tell me to calm down, Draco. Don’t.”

Draco sighs. He paces the length of the family room, only stopping to sink into his chair.

“Astoria, I don’t know what to say,” he sighs. He drags his hands down his face, haunted almost. “She was the love of my life. She taught me everything I know about love and how to do it. That I was capable of it.

“Would you leave me for her?” Astoria asks suddenly, eyeing her husband.

“I wish I had an answer for that,” Draco relents.

 Astoria nods. She squares her shoulders, holding her chin high as her eyes water. “Then you can sleep on the sofa tonight.”

She turns and exits into the hallway, and Draco can hear her stalking to the bedroom and the telltale door slam.

~

Astoria doesn’t speak to him all morning. She gets Scorpius ready for his mid-day lessons and ignores Draco.

So, he gets up, showers, tousles his hair, and squirts on some of his best cologne. He’d look like the happiest man in the world today. Maybe because he is.

He leaves the house without a word to Astoria, only stopping to kiss Scorpius on his head and whisper a quick “I love you,” words he never heard from his own father.

~

Hogsmeade bustles with shop owners and consumers and students, all exploring the new world and everything it has to offer. Draco walks amongst the crowd, his teeth chattering despite the warm August day. His nerves make every step feel longer than it is, and his palms sweat profusely. He allows his mind to wander as he forages down the cobblestone pathway; what would you look like? What would you be wearing? Would you smell the same? Did you ever marry? Are you happy?

His train of thought is halted as he approaches the place that you used to call your spot. The little ice cream shop across from Creepy Cauldrons, a vehement Halloween only shop. You and Draco would go on ice cream dates almost every Hogsmeade trip since fourth year when you admitted you fancied him, and he you. It was the one spot he couldn’t bring himself to walk into when he thought you were dead. Not even with Scorpius.

He pushes open the door, the little bell jangling as it always does. It doesn’t take long for him to spot you. You were in the same booth you were always in when you’d meet up. Your booth you shared together.

Draco approaches you, though your back is to him. He wonders if it’s a dream. Could it really be you? Is this a cruel prank?

Upon hearing his footsteps, you turn, Y/E/C eyes locking with his grey ones. Draco stops. His heart stops, his mouth dry, his eyes watering. It’s really you.

 You stand and move to hug him, but Draco is stiff. He doesn’t hug you back.

 “Draco,” you start, pulling away from him. “I’m sorry this is so sudden. I understand if you don’t want me back in your life at all, I just wanted a moment to explain myself.”

 Draco nods. He takes his old seat, and you sit across from him.

 Over his shoulder, Sir Harrington- the owner of the ice cream parlor- gives you a thumbs up. He’d been serving you ice cream since you were kids, and you had no doubt he would forget you or Draco.

 “So,” Draco begins. He hides his shaking hands underneath the table. “You’re back? For good?”

 “For good,” you relent.

 “I thought you were dead,” Draco says. His voice betrays him and cracks. He clears his throat, but doesn’t continue.

 “I know,” you say. You reach across the table for his hand, but he doesn’t move. You withdraw your hand, knowing he’ll be cold as ice until you can crack him. “I know what everyone thought. I knew the repercussions of what I did, but I’m only sorry to you.”

 “Sorry to me?” He asks. “You’re sorry? You came here to tell me you’re sorry?”

 “Draco,” you start, but he cuts you off.

 “Don’t. You don’t know what it was like. I thought you were dead. I moved on. I lived in hell every single day that you were gone. I can’t even look my wife in the eye without wishing it were you,” he says through his teeth.

 “You married, then,” you say. Your resolve weakens, and you know it’s hopeless.

“I did. Astoria Greengrass and I wed in 2001. It’ll be seven years in December.”

 “I see,” you say. “I’m happy for you, Draco.”

 “We have a son. Scorpius.”

 You nod, chuckling to yourself. “The name we picked out for our first son?”

 Draco nods, and has the grace to look slightly embarrassed. “Astoria knows what you meant to me. I wanted to keep you alive in my memory somehow.”

 “Meant?”

 Draco remains silent, his eyes on his hands as he considers his own words.

 “Mean,” he says, finally meeting your gaze.

 You sigh and allow yourself a moment to get lost in his eyes the way you wanted to every minute you were gone.

 “I didn’t want to leave you, Draco,” you admit. “But it was for the best. I was doing dangerous potions work. Collecting samples of serums from creatures that can only be found in the deepest, darkest corners of the world. It was the type of exploring that I had to do alone.”

 “You could’ve at least told me you were alive,” Draco says. He leans across the table, taking your cheek in his palm. “I died over and over again every day that I thought you were gone.”

 You bring your hand up, holding onto his wrist, letting his words soak into your brain. You know you’ll likely never hear them again.

 “I didn’t know if I would ever come back,” you whisper, your voice catching in your throat. “So many times I was sure I was dead, but I kept fighting. I wanted to come back to you.”

 Draco drops his hand, though you had the feel of his warm palm on your skin already committed to memory.

 “What are we to do?” He asks, reaching for your hand.

 You trace the silver wedding band sitting on his left hand, fourth finger. “We go on with our lives. I’m sure I’ll be teaching Scorpius someday. I’m glad that you found love, Draco, and I’m sorry that it wasn’t with me.”

 You stand, turning your back on the boy you love so dearly, and walk out of the shop.

 Draco sits for a minute, taking everything in. Why hadn’t he tried to stop you? Why hadn’t he reached out for you? Why did he let you walk away from him again?

~

When Draco enters, Astoria rises from her place at their dining room table. She’s prepared for the worst, but Draco doesn’t look haunted anymore. For the first time in her life, he looks alive.

 “Draco?”

 His head whips to her, like he hadn’t seen her.

 “Oh,” he says. “Hello.”

 “How was it?”

 “It was… good?” he says. He takes a seat at the table, his eyes trained on his hands, recalling the feeling of her finger on his wedding band. “She said she’s happy I’m happy.”

 “What else?” Astoria pries.

 “She just wanted to let me know she was alive,” he says. “She’ll be teaching potions at Hogwarts. She likes that we used her name for Scorpius, said she looks forward to teaching him someday.”

 “She didn’t… she didn’t ask you to be with her?” Astoria asks. She can’t hide the shock from her voice.

 “No,” Draco says. “She didn’t.”

 “Well,” Astoria starts, her voice returning to normal. “I’m happy she’s okay. Come now, let’s shower.”

 Draco rises, follows his wife into their bathroom, all the while in a daze. His mind wanders to his time at Hogwarts with you, how much he loved you then and he wonders if maybe he still does.

 ~

 You look back at Draco, giggling as you pull him through the snow, trying to outrun Crabbe and Goyle to Hogsmeade.

 “Darling, come on!” You grin back at him. “They’re going to eat all the chocolate chip, and you know it’s my favorite!”

 “Slow down,” Draco laughs, pulling you to a halt. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his side. “You’re freezing!”

 “Oh, it’s just a little cold,” you smile up at him. “We’re going to get ice cream, come on!”

 “Maybe we should get some soup or something?” Draco asks, keeping you tucked into his side. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

 You lean up, kissing him sweetly. “I love the way you take care of me, even when you’re stressed.”

 Draco’s cheeks redden as he smiles down at you, his blond hair flopping in his eyes as he kisses your forehead. “You’re my love. I’ll always take care of you.”

 Your returning smile is dazzling as you stop in the snow to hug him tightly, relishing in his warmth.

 “Just two more years and we can graduate and be married!”

 ~

 Draco towel-dries his hair as he sits on the edge of his bed. His mind feels like an unraveled ball of yarn, but he can’t ever remember feeling so happy?

 “What’s on your mind, love?” Astoria asks, crawling behind Draco on her knees. She rubs his shoulders softly, kissing at his shoulder blades.

 “Her,” he admits. “I was just thinking about some of our time together in school. Just some memories, that’s all.”

 “Let’s have another baby,” Astoria says suddenly.

 Draco turns to look at her, his heart torn. “I don’t think now is really a good time, Astoria.”

 “Why?” She pouts. “I think it’s as good a time as any.”

 “I don’t,” Draco says. He removes himself from her grasp, standing so he can properly look at his wife. “I just… I can’t right now. I know you can’t understand this, but I’m really trying to be the husband that you expect me to be.”

 Astoria gazes up at him. “You’re rejecting me?”

 “No, Astoria, I-“

 “If you wanted to meet my expectations as my partner, you’d give me another baby,” she says, determined.

 “I don’t want another baby with you,” Draco says almost immediately. His eyes are wide as he takes in the enormity of  what he’s just let slip. “Astoria, I’m sorry-“

 “Don’t,” she hisses. She closes her robe and moves to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

 Draco sits on the bed again, dragging his hands down his face once more. There it is, then. He doesn’t love his wife, he’s a terrible father, and everyone at St. Mungo’s would hear about this. With Astoria’s connections, he doubted there was a way out of this one.

 ~

 Knock knock knock.

 The door swings open and Narcissa Malfoy stands in the doorway, looking at her son who looks like he’d just walked miles and miles to even be at the manor. She takes him in her arms immediately.

 “Hello, my darling boy,” she smiles, kissing his hair.

 “Mum,” Draco says.

 Narcissa ushers him inside, closing the door behind him. The manor had changed significantly since Lucius’ trip to Azkaban, where he remains for conspiring against the ministry. Everything is white and crème, no more blacks and greys, though the telltale Slytherin green still decorates the throw blankets and some statues.

 “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Narcissa asks, sitting comfortably on the sofa.

 Draco takes a seat across from her.

 “Do you remember Y/N?”

 “Oh, how could I forget? She was fierce. It’s a shame what happened to her, I quite liked her,” Narcissa says, reminiscing to herself. “She would’ve done incredible things.”

 “I saw her today,” Draco says. “She’s alive.”

 “Oh, darling, are you still mourning her? I can get you some help, though you are the healer of the family,” Narcissa rambles.

 “No, mum,” Draco says. He wipes his palms on his pants legs. “I mean, she wrote to me, and we met at the ice cream parlor. She’s alive. And she’s come back to teach at Hogwarts.”

 Narcissa sits up immediately.

 “Draco…” she starts, choosing her words carefully. “But, what about Astoria? Scorpius? You have a responsibility to your family.”

 “I know,” Draco says. He rests his chin in his palm. “If she’d just told me she was alive… If she’d just… I would’ve waited.”

 “Don’t say that,” Narcissa goads. “Then you wouldn’t have Scorpius.”

 “I can’t pretend that I don’t love her, mum. Astoria wants another baby. I just… I would’ve waited.” Draco sighs. He runs a hand through his hair.

 “Does Astoria know?”

 “Yes,” Draco nods. “She’s not happy about it.”

 “No one would expect her to be,” Narcissa says. “She’s just found out the same news that you have, but now it’s a waiting game for her.”

 “A waiting game?” Draco asks, looking up at his mother.

 “Draco,” Narcissa smiles. “When have you ever picked anything over that girl? You were almost killed trying to protect her. It’s only a matter of time until you can accept the consequences and chase after her.”

 “I’ll lose everything,” Draco says, his eyes searching Narcissa’s. “I’ll lose my life, Astoria will make sure of that.”

 Narcissa stands and crosses the space between them to sit next to her son. She takes his hands in her own.

 “Answer me this, darling,” she starts. “Are you happy?”

 Draco takes a moment to consider this, chewing on his lip.

 “I love Scoripus, and-“

 “That’s not what I asked,” Narcissa interrupts. “Can you honestly look at me and tell me that you’re happy.”

 “No,” Draco admits. “I’m miserable. I’m stuck. I don’t love Astoria, she was just a good option, as harsh as it is. She deserves better, but I can’t lose my son.”

 “Go to her,” Narcissa instructs. “Tell her how you feel.”

 “Which one?” Draco asks, holding onto Narcissa’s hands for dear life.

 “That’s up to you,” Narcissa advises. “But always remember this: You’re a Malfoy and no matter what, there’s respect given for the name alone. I can spin a bad reputation, but I can’t heal my broken boy.”

 ~

You flit around your kitchen- though it’s not really a conventional kitchen- throwing herbs and animal parts into the large cauldron that adorns the middle of the room. Who needed a dining table when you can eat in bed?

 Taking a whiff of the potion, you smile- it’s perfect. You’re just about to extract it when there’s a knock on your door.

 Draco stands behind it, hands in his pockets, cheeks rosy, hair perfect.

 “Draco,” you smile. You hold the door open, inviting him in. “What a pleasure! I would’ve tidied a bit had I known you’d be dropping by.”

 “Pardon the intrusion,” he smiles. “I called in a favor with the Weasleys to get your address. Still messy as ever?”

 You laugh that cathartic laugh of yours, throwing your head back momentarily as you gesture around you. “Would you expect anything less?”

 “Frankly, I don’t know how you function,” Draco laughs. “How do you find anything?”

 “Organized chaos,” you shrug. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to goad me into cleaning, though. Is everything alright?”

 At your question, Draco is pacing again. Honestly, this boy could pace a hole in the floor, but you only lean against the kitchen counter, your arms folded, watching him in all his amusing glory.

 “What I’m about to say is going to sound daft,” he starts, chewing his thumb. “But I think I might still be in love with you.”

 He stops pacing and looks at you finally, but you can only raise an eyebrow at him.

 “Draco, you’re married.”

 “I know. And it feels so wrong,” he admits. He closes the space between you, taking your face in his palms so gently. “But I’ve never felt as alive and free as I do when I’m with you.”

 You pull away quickly, trying to be as gentle as possible as to not offend him.

“I know how you feel, because I feel the same way,” you start. Draco’s eyes light up. “But… I can’t be with you.”

 “Why not?” He asks, visibly shrinking.

 “You’re married!”

 “What if I weren’t?” He counters.

 “That’s not the situation,” you retort. “You are married. Had I known, I likely wouldn’t have written you. I would’ve let you find out on your own. I never meant to come between you and your family.”

 Draco runs his fingers through his hair, clearly frustrated.

 “You are my family,” he growls. “Can’t you see? You and Scorpius and my mum are the only people in this world who truly matter to me. I married Astoria because it was what was expected of me.”

 “I’m afraid that’s not the way the world works,” you sigh. “I love you, Draco. I always have. I’ll probably love you forever. But I’m not a backup plan. You thought I was dead, you moved on. That’s something I’ll have to live with.”

 “Y/N,” Draco starts. He folds his hands in front of him, and he grows more and more flustered by the second. “I’m standing right in front of you, telling you that I choose you.”

 “And have you told your wife that?” You counter, folding your arms again.

 “I wanted to see how you felt first,” he confesses. “I was leaving either way, or so it seems. I just wanted to see what you thought.”

 “Draco,” you sigh. “Worry about your family for now. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

~

 Though the night is calm and peaceful, a storm brews in Draco’s mind at the thought of walking inside of his home. He sits outside on the front steps, encased in darkness, when it occurs to him that the home shouldn’t be dark.

 Curious, he stands and pushes open the front door with no resistance. It should’ve been locked. Flipping on the lights, Draco chokes back a sob. The home is empty of any presence of anyone other than himself. No photos on the walls. No dishes in the pantry. No drawings or lesson reports on the table from Scorpius. Everything lay bare and abandoned and sad. Everything but one envelope sitting on the small kitchen table, now devoid of any flowers or vases.

 Dear Draco,

After hearing of your escapades with Y/N, I’ve taken Scorpius away. I don’t know for how long we’ll be gone, or where we’re going, but I will not be a second option. I’ll allow you to decide: Me, your wife. Your son. Your home. Your career. All of your dreams. Or her.

Should you make a decision, send my owl immediately, as I’m sure she will have no problem finding me.

With all the love in my heart,

Your Wife

Astoria Malfoy